Titanium Spork as alternative lifestyle

So, along with the usual 4' hunting blowguns, lemur skulls, fish fossils and dried frog carcass-as-cell-phone-cozy that everyone I know received for Christmas this year, I also received a titanium spork. Much like the various versions of my TiVo thinks I'm gay out there, I begin to wonder what the gift of a titanium spork indicates that my good friends think of me.

I pretty much doubt that the people that bought me the spork have ever seen me eating with a spork. Hands, pocket knives, toothpicks, gravity and the occasional bendy-straw, but not a spork. So the focus is potentially on the hardy, will-survive-apocalypse nature of a titanium instrument, which holds more promise since they probably do know about the extensive system of underground tunnels under my house (and several neighbors houses if you want to get technical - see "hole digging") and the 3 years supply of food, water and silly putty stashed away just in case.

So, I'm thinking that they have thoughtfully provided me with an indestructible combination spoon/fork utensil on the off chance that Seattle will be destroyed by a combination of the Juan de Fuca Plate Tsunami / radioactive creature attack and spontaneous devolution of the Seattle city council and mayor into CHUD (their mothers would almost certainly notice the difference.) If that happens, I'll be packing around a very light weight single eating utensil while all of you are dishing up your rats and squirrels with your bare hands. You'll be all like: "Rarrrrgh aaarrgh, Spork man civilized" and I'll be all: "Quite true. Please pass the salt, this mutant opossum-squid is a bit gamey."

I'm glad folks are looking out for me. Oh, and for the record, my TiVo thinks I'm a llama.

Chitinous Gravy

So, as you are eating this holiday (or any other time of your choosing) you might want to point out to everyone (especially impressionable children) that the cell walls of mushrooms are made of the same material (chitin) that insect exoskeletons are made of, only since it's 95% of the mushroom's mass, it's like you're eating an insect with a 1/8 inch thick shell, or maybe the equivalent of a whole handful of beetles. Then, tell the kids that some cooks sneak mushrooms into all kinds of stuff like casserole, gravy, stuffing and lasagna. Feel free to add items that kids like to the list, though they might question you on soda-pop and ice cream - although "mushroom ice cream" does yeild 212 entries from Google.

My friend Mark points out that Jones Turkey + Gravy flavored soda would be the perfect beverage to accompany dung-beetle flavored food, and I have to agree. I would also like to suggest the following flavors to Jones, as they would complement much of the food we eat by bringing out the subtle flavors:

• Dr. Hamburger
• Bacon (root) beer
• Salmon Cola

Clearly, these would be big sellers with people that like meat flavored beverages, and who doesn't? For the truly adventurous, they might even consider sushi beverages - maybe an unagi Italian Creme (eels are good with creme) or a squid & chocolate soda, but we may have some hurdles when it comes to packaging raw fish in a soda bottle for distribution. Sushi beverages may have to be a fresh beverage only product for a while.

I'm sooooo looking forward to Christmas dinner now.

Hole digging

So, I've dug maybe 426 holes in my life, which I expect is about average for a shovel weilding non-gardener. Keep in mind that these holes have ranged across five or six states, and I've used most of the commonly available digging tools. The holes range in size from small ones to plant a mustard seed in through shallow graves for dead things that I had NO HAND IN KILLING to septic tank sized holes which certainly were for septic tanks and NOT dead things that I HAD NO HAND IN KILLING.

So, with this grand variation and variety of hole purposes, I'm wondering how it's possible that each hole was filled with 62% rock, one of which was 50% of the total hole volume and offset, such that the only way to extract it was to dig it out leaving a hole 75% too large. (For the purposes of this diatribe, I'm not particularly considering the other non-dirt contents of each hole, which include 2% roots, 1.3% glass and .05% cd wrapper plastic.)

When they show someone disinterring some hapless body that they had NO HAND IN KILLING in a movie or on television, it's pure dirt. They just remove shovel after shovel full of dark fluffy loam. In fact, if they are digging up a treasure chest of coffin, they suddenly know they've reached it when they go to lift out another shovelfull, and it goes "clink" or whatever that foley sound is. If I was near a treasure chest or coffin every time my shovel went "clink" I'd be up to the rafters in bodies and/or treasure....

And I'm not.

Really.

Cows absorb cellular phone signals

So, I've noticed that every time I see cows, I have poor cell signal. I mean I'll be driving around in rural America and see a cow - look down and I'm at one bar or less. So, I think we know now what the aliens have been up to with cow mutilations and such. They're pissed about trying to phone home and the smirking cows just absorbing their signal.

If you're not convinced of this, try this simple experiment. Buy a big beef roast, something 4 or 5 inches thick. Cut a cell phone sized pocket in the middle of it (closer proximity is required as dead cow meat is less effective) and stuff your cell phone in there. Now, sew the opening up tight and wait for an hour or two for the effect to take hold, and call your cell phone. See? No ringing. In fact, the phone itself may have been totally ruined by the cow effect (don't say I didn't warn you.)

So, try and keep the cows out of the major metropolitan areas where they might disrupt important communication infrastructure. Seriously, if you see a determined group of cows headed for your city, it could be the precursor to a terrorist attack. Repel them at all cost. Remember that not all cows are terrorists, but you don't want the one that is walking down your street.

Walking on the ceiling dressed like an elk

It's time to decide if you like cheese or not. I mean, think about it for a minute or two, and make a decision.