E-mail Dump, Pecans & Forrest Gump

*
The day finally arrived. Forrest Gump dies and goes to Heaven.

He is at the Pearly Gates, met by St. Peter himself.

However, the gates are closed, and Forrest approaches the gatekeeper.

St. Peter said, "Well, Forrest, it is certainly good to see you. We have heard a lot about you I must tell you, though, that the place is filling up fast, and we have been administering an entrance examination for everyone. The test is short, but you have to pass it before you can get into Heaven."

Forrest responds, "It sure is good to be here, St. Peter, sir. But nobody ever told me about any entrance exam. I sure hope that the test ain't too hard.
Life was a big enough test as it was."

St. Peter continued, "Yes, I know Forrest, but the test is only three questions.

First: What two days of the week begin with the letter T?
Second: How many seconds are there in a year?
Third: What is God's first name?"

Forrest leaves to think the questions over.

He returns the next day and sees St. Peter, who waves him up, and says, "Now that you have had a chance to think the questions over, give me your answers"

Forrest replied, "Well, the first one -- which two days in the week begins with the letter "T"? Shucks, that one is easy. That would be Today and Tomorrow."

The Saint's eyes opened wide and he exclaimed, "Forrest, that is not what I was thinking, but you do have a point, and I guess I did not specify, so I will give you credit for that answer. How about the next one?" asked St. Peter.

"How many seconds in a year? Now that one is harder," replied Forrest, but I thunk and thunk about that, and I guess the only answer can be twelve."

Astounded, St. Peter said, "Twelve Forrest, how in Heaven's name could you come up with twelve seconds in a year?"

Forrest replied, "Shucks, there's got to be twelve: January 2nd, February 2nd, March 2nd... "

"Hold it," interrupts St. Peter. "I see where you are going with this, and I see your point, though that was not quite what I had in mind.... but I will have to give you credit for that one, too. Let us go on with the third and final question. Can you tell me God's first name"?

"Sure," Forrest replied, "it's Andy."

"Andy?" exclaimed an exasperated and frustrated St Peter. "Ok, I can understand how you came up with your answers to my first two questions, but just how in the world did you come up with the name Andy as the first name of God?"

"Shucks, that was the easiest one of all," Forrest replied. "I learnt it from the song,

"ANDY WALKS WITH ME, ANDY TALKS WITH ME, ANDY TELLS ME I AM HIS OWN."

St. Peter opened the Pearly Gates, and said: "Run Forrest, run."

*(This was received in an e-mail from my brother-in-law, Donald. Thanks, Don!)

PECANS IN THE CEMETERY**

On the outskirts of a small town, there was a big, old pecan tree just inside the cemetery fence. One day, two boys filled up a bucketful of nuts and sat down by the tree, out of sight, and began dividing the nuts.

"One for you, one for me. One for you, one for me,"
said one boy. Several dropped and rolled down toward the fence.

Another boy came riding along the road on his bicycle. As he passed, he thought he heard voices from inside the cemetery. He slowed down to investigate. Sure enough, he heard, "One for you, one for me. One for you, one for me."

He just knew what it was. He jumped back on his bike and rode off. Just around the bend he met an old man with a cane, hobbling along.

"Come here quick," said the boy, "you won't believe what I heard! Satan and the Lord are down at the cemetery dividing up the souls."

The man said, "Beat it kid, can't you see it's hard for me to walk." When the boy insisted though, the man hobbled slowly to the cemetery.

Standing by the fence they heard, "One for you, one for me. One for you, one for me."

The old man whispered, "Boy, you've been tellin' me the truth. Let's see if we can see the Lord."

Shaking with fear, they peered through the fence, yet were still unable to see anything. The old man and the boy gripped the wrought iron bars of the fence tighter and tighter as they tried to get a glimpse of the Lord.

At last they heard, "One for you, one for me. That's all... Now let's go get those nuts by the fence and we'll be done."

They say the old man made it back to town a full 5 minutes ahead of the
kid on the bike.

**(This came from that truck driver, Earl. Thanks, Earl.)

No.1336

When Life Imitates Art

There's nothing like a good dose of irony to put the problems of day to day life in proper perspective.

You are no doubt familiar with the phrase "art imitating life." Conversely, sometimes life imitates art.

What follows is a sampling of five theatrical releases in which reality (life) seemed to imitate the film (art):


Wag the Dog, a political satire starring Dustin Hoffman and Robert De Niro was released late in 1997. The film was about political spin doctoring. When the President is caught with his pants down, his administration orchestrates a war with Albania to divert attention from the President's dalliance.

The film proved to be eerily prophetic when only a few weeks later in January 1998, the Clinton-Lewinski scandal broke. Not long after the scandal appeared in the headlines of the nation's newspapers, the U.S. was threatening air strikes against Iraqi dictator Saddam Hussein for breaking a United Nations treaty.

"It's surreal," said Dustin Hoffman. "It's the first time I've ever felt so clearly that the actual news is like a movie."

A film adaptation of a science fiction novel written by Arthur C. Clarke, 2001: A Space Odyssey was released in 1968. In a scene from the film, HAL, a talking computer, informs NASA of a malfunction with the statement, "Houston, we've got a problem."

Only moments before the explosion that ended the Apollo 13 mission while the crew was playing "Thus Spake Zarathustra," the theme song of the 2001 film, Captain Jack Swigert radioed to Mission Control, "Houston, we've got a problem."

An administrator for NASA later sent Clarke a copy of the report, and noted under Swigert's word: "Just as you always said it would be, Arthur."

Clarke was quoted: "I still get a very strange feeling when I contemplate this whole series of events - almost, indeed, as if I share a certain responsibility."

In the 1989 film, Back To the Future Part II, Marty McFly's (Michael J. Fox) nemesis, Biff, brings a copy of "Gray's Sports Almanac" back from the future to his younger self and tells him to bet on sporting events. Skeptical, he looks through it and comes across an unlikely entry. "Florida's going to win the World Series in 1997," he reads. "Yeah, right." (At the time of the film and in the story line, there wasn't even a baseball team in Florida.)

By 1997, Florida did have a baseball team - the Florida Marlins. And amazingly, they did win the World Series in 1997!

The Chase, a 1994 action film spoof starred Carlie Sheen as a wrongly convicted man who is pursued in a high-speed chase by the police.

A couple of months later we were among an estimated 75 million people who watched on our TV sets the California police involved in a slow-speed chase of O.J. Simpson in his white Bronco.

Film director, Adam Rifkin, told reporters: "People called and said it was just like my movie. I told them, 'No, no, my movie is just like this.' It's a perfect case of art imitating life imitating art."

Perhaps the most celebrated and most prophetic of these films is the following:


The China Syndrome, a 1979 film, was about a near-meltdown at a nuclear power plant. The term "China Syndrome" refers to the potential of nuclear materials to melt "all the way to China" when a reactor fails. The film ignited fiery debates between anti- and pro-nuke forces. One pro-nuke executive for Southern California Edison told reporters, "[The movie] has no scientific credibility, and is in fact ridiculous."

Twelve days after the release of the film on March 28, 1979, the nuclear plant on Three Mile Island near Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, reported a partial core meltdown.

The incident was so similar to the movie's plot that its executive producer feared "someone had seen the picture and sabotaged the plant."

Co-star Jack Lemmon said incredulously: "Every goddamned thing we had in there come true."

No.1335

Echoes of Eddie -18

Can a dead man reach out from the grave to exact revenge against those responsible for his death? Welcome to the eighteenth installment of a story that explores that possibility. If you've not done so, read the story from the beginning HERE.

"Damn!" Dobbs exclaimed as he tossed the CB mike into the passenger seat. "Not another accident!" To his chagrin he was the only one on call to drive the tow truck. He rubbed his furrowed brow and eased up on the accelerator to find a place to turn around. "It looks like my trip up to the quarry will have to wait."

The dispatcher had identified the vehicle as one belonging to Brad Sampson. He shook his head in disbelief. "How many does that make now?" He methodically counted on his fingers, "Five? There aren't many of them left now, is there?"

As he sped back to town to retrieve the tow truck he couldn't help but ponder the irony of all the fatal accidents that had been occurring recently. What with that cryptic ad in the paper, his made up tale of the strange blue light, Steve Cooper's return and of course the deaths, was it any wonder that so many of the residents felt the town was haunted?

All they had ever wanted was for the truth to come out once and for all. They just wanted all of their closet doors to be busted wide open. He hadn't counted on all the deaths. They were not part of their plan. No one was supposed to die!



Tiffany pulled back the kitchen curtains overlooking the driveway. Billy was riding back and forth from the sidewalk to the garage on his new bicycle. She smiled warmly and turned back to the table. As she sipped her tea, her thoughts were a tangled web of the past and the present.

Ten-year-old Billy was all that kept her going. Her marriage to Hunter was a sham. She'd only married him to give her baby a name. If Hunter ever knew he was not Billy's father... A shiver ran down her spine as she forced herself to remember the true identity of Billy's father. Many a night she'd laid awake in bed trying to will the hands of time to turn back to that moment of passion.

She fought back her tears as she recalled how Eddie had declared his love for her. She was horrified that night because he'd made his declaration in front of her friends. She still felt the shame of her actions as she had not only verbally, but physically rebuffed him.

They were of different worlds and traveled in different circles. She, the pretty cheerleader belonged to that elite crowd that included only jocks and beautiful people. Eddie and his friend Steve played chess and made straight A's in math and science. They were geeks. She knew and Eddie knew that geeks could not cross the line into the ranks of her crowd.

The guilt began to overcome her and she sighed deeply. She had been attracted to him. She was fascinated with his intelligence. She was just smart enough to realize even then that he would go farther and be more successful than those in her stuffy crowd. As for her jock friends, they would probably end up pumping gas or delivering mail. She had wanted more, much more than that.

She wiped away a few stray tears from her cheek. Then there was the irony that had she not rejected Eddie, not only would she have lost standing with her crowd, she would have still been living a lie. It wasn't Eddie to whom she'd been attracted. It was Steven! She'd been playing Eddie to get closer to Steve.

Steve however, had not accepted her subtle advances. Although she knew Steve had been attracted to her, he would not risk hurting his friend. She'd admired his dedication to his friend and was all the more enamored with him. She allowed a brief smile to form on her lips. Steve was still carrying a torch for her. She sensed it earlier that day when she'd visited him in his room. Maybe, just maybe there was still a chance for them.

That moment of hope quickly passed. There was still the matter of Billy's father. How would Steven handle that?



The perspiration from his forehead was running into his eyes. Despite the sting of the lachrymal droplets Hunter continued to swing the business end of the pick axe into the packed earth of the grave. It was with sheer determination that he was able to ignore the pain in his arms and shoulders while wielding the heavy tool.

Someone was messing with them, of that he was certain. Those idiots, the Soddy-mites as he liked to call them, might believe in ghosts, but not he. When he was finished opening the casket that lie less than four feet below his feet, he would prove to them all that Eddie was not dead. He knew he was going to find either an empty casket or the body of someone other than Eddie. Had they forgotten that it had been a closed-casket funeral? Then they would have to believe him that Eddie and Steve Cooper were working together and had hatched an elaborate plan to eliminate everyone who had been at the quarry that night.



When he pulled up to the scene of the accident he was surprised to see a crew of men operating the Jaws of Life on the passenger side door. When he stepped out of the cab of the tow truck he was greeted by a solemn policeman who'd been directing traffic around the wreck.

"It'll be a little while longer, Mr. Dobbs. We found a second body in the car." He pointed over at the departing ambulance. "The driver was decapitated by a steel beam. It passed clean through the car and into the trunk."

"...And the second body?" he asked the officer.

"A female. We found her ID in her purse. She was ... ah ..." He paused as he skimmed through a small notepad, "Here it is. Her name was Jennifer Pope." He pocketed the pad and motioned toward the car. "Her torso is pinned under the dashboard and against the seat. Her head was crushed by the steering wheel."

Dobbs mused aloud, "Well, well. It appears Mr. Sampson was blown away in more ways than one!"

The deadpan glare from the officer was enough to let him know that his morbid attempt at humor was not in the least appreciated.



"Mommy! Mommy!" She jumped when she heard Billy's excited calls for her. She rushed to the door to find him standing on the front stoop waving a piece of paper. She took the paper from him and slowly unfolded it. Her face grew pale and she sunk to her knees before her son. It was a copy of the newspaper ad that had seemingly heralded all the recent tragedies.

"Billy, where did you get this?" she implored.

"A man gave it to me. He told me to bring it you," he replied in innocent demeanor.

"What man?" she almost shrieked. "Who was it?"

"I don't know," he shrugged.

She stepped outside and looked in all directions but there was no one to be seen. She was trembling so much that she almost didn't hear the rest of Billy's response.

"Why did he call me, 'nephew?'

( to be continued... Echoes of Eddie -19)

No.1334

Pushing All the Right Buttons

I just love work!
I can sit and watch someone doing it for hours!

Most people like having machines to do their work for them.
Just push a button - and voila!

But as for me,
I'd need something to push the button!

As the Rube Goldberg cartoon suggests man has something else on his mind. I didn't need Sherlock Holmes to come to that conclusion!

Sex on the brain! There is no button to be pushed. There is a primordial soup locked up in the male cranium and it is photo-optically triggered.

Creating Rube Goldberg gadgets to go bowling as in the video above are nice, but a "button" had to be physically manipulated. While physical stimulation works also, all a man really needs is visual stimulation to get "the ball rolling."

A man in a bar walks up to a bosomy woman wearing a tight teeshirt and says to her, "Say, where did you get that shirt with the high beams and big bumpers?"

Nonplussed she gives him the once over and replies, "The same place you got those pants with the stick shift."

Sex on the brain? Some might suggest that the photo to the right accompanying the joke contains a subliminal reference to pushable buttons. As you can readily see by the previous joke, men don't always have sex on their minds. The woman had no such thoughts either. Isn't it obvious that the pair have struck up a conversation about the features of their respective cars?

Secret Code

A husband and wife decided they needed to use "a code" to indicate that they wanted to have sex without letting their children in on it. They decided on the word "typewriter."

One day the husband told his five year old daughter, "Go tell your mommy that daddy needs to type a letter."

The child told her mom what her dad said and her mother responded, "Tell your daddy that he can't type a letter right now because there's a red ribbon in the typewriter."

The child went back to tell her father what mommy had said. A few days later the mom told the daughter, "Tell daddy that he can type that letter now."

The child told her father, returned to her mother and announced, "Daddy said never mind with the typewriter, he already wrote the letter by hand."

Sex on the brain? The following is reportedly to be a test to check men's eyesight. It does not use the standard matrix of letters reading down a chart in decreasing size. After studying the test I realized however, that it is actually a subliminal attempt to prove that men have only one thing on their minds.

The instructions require males to study the following image for 5 seconds and then locate Seattle's famous Space Needle. Well, I took fully 5 minutes scanning the topography of the hills and valleys of the image and there is no Space Needle in the picture!

Special Night

A married couple decided to spend the night of their 20th anniversary alone, with the husband planning a special night for his wife of many years.

When the big night arrived, he surprised his lady with a beautiful limo for the evening. Inside the limo were chocolate-dipped strawberries, champagne, and tickets to a show.

After the show, the husband took his wife to an expensive restaurant, where they enjoyed a wonderful meal.

At the end of the evening, they journeyed home, and to the wife’s delight, her husband brought out a small, wrapped box and gave it to her.

She gasped and tore into the wrapping. Inside the box were two perfectly round aspirins.

“I don’t have a headache” she stated.

The husband smiled. “Gotcha!”

Sex on the brain? I studied this picture also. There is nothing wrong with my eyesight. There is no Space Needle here either.

When In Sweden

At a local college, there was a dance.

A guy from America asked the girl from Sweden to dance. While they were dancing, he gives her a little squeeze, and says, "In America, we call this a hug". She replies, "Yaah, in Sveden, we call it a hug too."

A little later, he gives her a peck on the cheek, and says, "In America, we call this a kiss". She replies, "Yaah, in Sveden, we call it a kiss too."

Towards the end of the night, and a lot of drinks later, he takes her out on the campus lawn, and proceeds to have sex with her, and says, "In America, we call this a grass sandwich". She says, "Yaaah in Sveden, we call it a grass sandwich too, but we usually put more meat in it."

Sex on the brain? My wife every now and then likes to prepare a special meal for me. She calls it a Buff-et! She stands naked next to the table set with a feast of my favorite foods and seductively coos, "Your choice."

It's a matter of pushing all the right buttons. I'm no fool! I go for the food first. Hey! You can't be expected to go to work on an empty stomach!

Sex on the brain? Not this male.

No.1333

...And the Geek Shall Inherit the Earth

...And the rest of us shall be at the mercy of Support Techs.

Things You Don't Want To Hear From Technical Support

"Do you have a sledgehammer or a brick handy?"

* "That's right, not even McGyver could fix it."

* "So -- what are you wearing?"

* "Duuuuuude! Bummer!"

* "Looks like you're gonna need some new dilithium crystals, Cap'n."

* "Press 1 for Support. Press 2 if you're with 60 Minutes. Press 3 if you're with the FTC."

* "We can fix this, but you're gonna need a butter knife, a roll of duct tape, and a car battery."

* "In layman's terms, we call that the Hindenburg Effect."

* "Hold on a second... Mom! Timmy's hitting me!"

* "Okay, turn to page 523 in your copy of Dianetics."

* "Please hold for Mr. Gates' attorney."
No matter how much you think you know, there is always someone who knows more!
GUANO, another white meat!

There was once a young man who, in his youth, professed his desire to become a great writer.
When asked to define "great" he said, "I want to write stuff that the whole world will read, stuff that people will react to on a truly emotional level, stuff that will make them scream, cry, howl in pain and anger!"
He now works for Microsoft, writing error messages.



The True History of the Internet
In ancient Israel, it came to pass that a trader by the name of Abraham Com, did take unto himself a young wife by the name of Dot. And Dot Com was a comely woman, broad of shoulder and long of leg.

Indeed, she had been called Amazon Dot Com.

She said unto Abraham, her husband, "Why doth thou travel far from town to town with thy goods when thou can trade without ever leaving thy tent?" And Abraham did look at her as though she were several saddle bags short of a camel load, but simply said, "How, Dear?"

And Dot replied, "I will place drums in all the towns and drums in between to send messages saying what you have for sale and they will reply telling you which hath the best price. And the sale can be made on the drums and delivery made by Uriah’s Pony Stable (UPS)."

Abraham thought long and decided he would let Dot have her way with the drums. The drums rang out and were an immediate success. Abraham sold all the goods he had at the top price, without ever moving from his tent. But this success did arouse envy.

A man named Maccabia did secret himself inside Abraham’s drum and was accused of insider trading. And the young man did take to Dot Com’s trading as doth the greedy horsefly take to camel dung. They were called Nomadic Ecclesiastical Rich Dominican Siderites, or NERDS for short.

And lo, the land was so feverish with joy at the new riches and the deafening sound of drums, that no one noticed that the real riches were going to the drum maker, one Brother William of Gates, who bought up every drum company in the land. And indeed did insist on making drums that would work only with Brother Gates’ drumheads and drumsticks.

Dot did say, "Oh, Abraham, what we have started is being taken over by others." And as Abraham looked out over the Bay of Ezekiel, or as it came to be known "eBay" he said, "we need a name that reflects what we are," and Dot replied, "Young Ambitious Hebrew Owner Operators."

"YAHOO", said Abraham. And that is how it all began, It wasn’t Al Gore after all.

Advice: Be careful in those chat rooms, guys - you never know who or what you are talking to.



Bill Gates dies and goes to hell.

Satan greets him, "Welcome Mr. Gates, we've been waiting for you. This will be your home for all eternity. You've been selfish, greedy and a big liar all your life. Now, since you've got me in a good mood, I'll be generous and give you a choice of three places in which you'll be locked up forever."

Satan takes Bill to a huge lake of fire in which millions of poor souls are tormented and tortured. He then takes him to a massive coliseum where thousands of people are chased about and devoured by starving lions. Finally, he takes Bill to a tiny room in which there is a beautiful young blonde with an alluring look on her face, sitting at a table on which there is a bottle of the finest wine. To Bill's delight, he sees a PC in the corner.

Without hesitation, Bill says "I'll take this option." "Fine," says Satan, allowing Bill to enter the room. Satan locks the room after Bill.

As he turns around, he bumps into Lucifer. "That was Bill Gates!" cried Lucifer. "Why did you give him the best place of all?"

"That's what everyone thinks," snickered Satan. "The bottle has a hole in it and the girl hasn't."

"What about the PC?"

"It's got Windows 95!" laughed Satan. "And it's missing three keys."

"Which three?"

"Control, Alt and Delete."

(It couldn't have happened to a nicer guy!)

No.1332

Pennsyltucky Paul

Pennsyltucky Paul read the latest entertainment section of the daily paper with disgust. Spielberg and Ford had announced that they were making a new "Indiana Jones" movie about a quest for a crystal skull.

"Is there no justice in the world? What ever happened to fair play?" he mumbled to himself.

He found no justice at home either. While surfing the Web he found that even Miss Cellania had put up a post about the new Indiana Jones movie!

Hell, he didn't begrudge Spielberg or Ford. But it wouldn't hurt them to give him a little recognition. After all, the character was based on his life. Before Indiana Jones there was Pennsyltucky Paul! He still wore the hat and hanging on the wall by the door was the whip. Like an American Express Card, he never left home without them!

Yeah, he'd sat down with that whippersnapper producer on a number of occasions and told him stories about his many adventures. Spielberg had seemed to be fascinated when he'd told him the tale of the disappearance of a local fast food restaurant's arches. Paul was quite upset when the first Indiana Jones movie came out and revolved instead around a golden ark and not the golden arches he had recovered from a German family.

Growing up he lived in both Pennsylvania and Kentucky. His mother told him he was born in Pennsylvania but with a different father. His father told him he was born in Kentucky but with a different mother. So it was, even though his name was Ignatius, he took on the name Pennsyltucky Paul. At first he was going by Phil, but everyone keep confusing him with that rascally groundhog.

He also told Spielberg about the time when he was working as a janitor in a local church and he found some money while he was sweeping the floor. He lost the job because instead of turning in the money he used it to buy a pack of Mail Pouch tobacky. Sad because he'd lost the job, he referred to the church as as the Temple of the Broom. Wouldn't you know it? They went and changed the story around and somehow came up with a movie about a 'Temple of Doom.'

Well, he thought one day, he could make up titles for Indiana Jones movies too, like those that that Miss Cellania gal used over at her site (see link above).

Indiana Jones and the Golden Fleece - An older Indiana Jones due to thinning blood is always cold at night. He sets out in search for the same fleece that Jason and the Argonauts had sought. The fleece would make a great extra blanket and a throw for when he was sitting in his rocking chair watching reruns of Indiana Jones movies.

Indiana Jones and the Blue Jewels - Indy, suffering from erectile dysfunction and tired of listening to a frustrated female partner seeks a legendary aphrodisiac called Viagra.

Indiana Jones and the White Gems - (Sequel to "the Blue Jewels.") Indy is on trail of lost treasures once again, this time for magical white capsules. It seems that his female partner, no longer frustrated, has developed a mysterious case of debilitating headaches.

Indiana Jones and the Lost Files - Indy discovers a lost computer disc on which is contained the cures for every ailment known to man, including Alzheimer's disease. Unfortunately he cannot remember the password.

Indiana Jones and Solomon's Mines - Following clues written upon an ancient scroll, Indy is on the trail of the legendary mines of King Solomon. He discovers a clan of people said to be ascendants of the Biblical King who can lead him to the exact location of the hidden mines. There is one hitch, they are mutes and cannot speak. Finally, with the aid of his father and Marcel Marceau he realizes he had made an error in translating the scroll. He had not found the hidden mines but had instead discovered King Solomon's Mimes.

Pennsyltucky Paul just shrugged and crammed a wad of Mail Pouch in his mouth. "Someday," he thought, "The world will learn about me and I will finally get my propers."

He had his doubts whether this Blogger's post would help much, but every little bit of exposure helps.

No.1331

This Weed's For You!

Uncle Sam Says No To Weed.

In what could be a script for a Cheech & Chong movie, the federal government has threatened sanctions of fines against the Mount Shasta Brewing company. It seems that the Bureau of Alcohol Tobacco and Arms has a problem with the brewers of Weed Beer because of their bottle caps which read, "Try Legal Weed."

Art Resnick, a spokesperson for the bureau said that the bottle caps tell consumers to support an illegal drug. Vaune Dillman, owner of the brewery has appealed the decision. He said that the beer's labels have a picture of the Weed arch and of the city's founding father, Abner Weed. He added that they were dealing with a surname that's been used for hundreds of years.

The brewery and the community of Weed, California, sits in the shadow of Mount Shasta. The town is also noted as the setting for John Steinbeck's "Of Mice and Men."

Dillman also said that he's outraged that Weed Beer is being singled out for using a possible pot play on words when Anheuser-Busch has used "Bud" - another name for marijuana - to promote its Budweiser line of beers. While not cited by the feds, the beer caps also are printed with "A Friend in Weed, Is a Friend Indeed."

Whatever the outcome, I do know that if ever I'm looking for weed, I'll find it at Mount Shasta.

Future Crackdowns:

Toro Lawn Products - The Feds will mandate that lawn trimmers shall not be referred to as "weed eaters." Also lawn mowers cannot be called "grass cutters."

Scott Lawn Products - The company can say that their products insure healthy lawns, but cannot state same products help to grow healthy grass.

Hopscotch - The schoolyard game can no longer be called by its familiar name because of the obvious references to alcoholic products and would promote such to small children. The Feds cite the obvious use of the word "scotch," as well as the reference to "hops," an ingredient used in making beer.

Hula Skirts - Even though it is tradtional to the Hawaiian Islands, there will be a crackdown on any and all attempts to refer to this article of native clothing as "grass skirts."

The Feds cite individuals like the man pictured at the right as an example of a person who has been using illegal drugs to the point of his sensibility being weakened. He was probably smoking his dress!

SHOCKING ANNOUNCEMENT

The annoucement in and of itself is not shocking. The fact that an announcement was even made is the shocking part of this story.

Chelsea Clinton has endorsed her mom! (Be still my heart, so earth-shattering this news!) I think the reporter(s) who bothered to print this and to release it to the wire services must have been tapping into some of the aforementioned wacky-tobacky!

In making this announcement Chelsea said that she thinks her mother will make a better President than her father. "I think that she'll be a better President because she'll be more progressive and she's more prepared," she said at a campaign event at Duke University. "She'll just hit the ground running from Day One in a way that my father was not as equipped to do."

(Honestly Chelsea, if we really wanted to know how equipped your father is, we would go to a well-informed source such as Monica Lewinsky.)

There is something we really would like to hear from you, Chelsea. If you are endorsing your mother, why is it that you are trying so hard not to look like her? The before and after pictures above suggest you are holding back a little secret.

Why does it take a trusted news source like The Globe for the American public to learn of your plastic surgery? Can breast enhancements be not far behind? ...And oh yeah, only your hairdresser knows for sure, right?

No.1330

Y Zero K

Drinking Suspected in Four Chariot Pileup

Translated from Latin scroll dated 2BC --

Dear Cassius:

Are you still working on the Y zero K problem? This change from BC to AD is giving us a lot of headaches and we haven't much time left. I don't know how people will cope with working the wrong way around. Having been working happily downwards forever, now we have to start thinking upwards. You would think that someone would have thought of it earlier and not left it to us to sort it all out at this last minute.

I spoke to Caesar the other evening. He was livid that Julius hadn't done something about it when he was sorting out the calendar. He said he could see why Brutus turned nasty. We called in Consultus, but he simply said that continuing downwards using minus BC won't work and as usual charged a fortune for doing nothing useful. Surely we will not have to throw out all our hardware and start again? MACROHARD will make yet another fortune out of this I suppose.

The money lenders are paranoid of course! They have been told that all usery rates will invert and they will have to pay their clients to take out loans. Its an ill wind ......

As for myself, I just can't see the sand in an hourglass flowing upwards. We have heard that there are three wise men in the East who have been working on the problem, but unfortunately they won't arrive until it's all over. I have heard that there are plans to stable all horses at midnight at the turn of the year as there are fears that they will stop and try to run backwards, causing immense damage to chariots and possible loss of life. Some say the world will cease to exist at the moment of transition.

Anyway, we are still continuing to work on this blasted Y zero K problem. I will send a parchment to you if anything further develops.

If you have any ideas please let me know,

Plutonius

In small village under the control of the Roman Empire there lived a poor farmer. Thanks to the fertile soil of his land he always had success growing berries, especially strawberries. That year, because of drought-like conditions his berry yield was going to be very poor. One day as he walked about the barren berry patch he spotted one single, rather large strawberry.

He watered the berry and tended to it faithfully for several weeks. Incredibly, the berry continued to grow and grow and it reached a circumference of more than six feet. Still the berry continued to grow.

It wasn't long before news of the giant berry spread throughout the countryside. Villagers came from miles around to admire and to praise the farmer's berry. It was inevitable that the news would also eventually reach Rome.

Julius Caesar decided that the berry belonged to the Roman Empire. So he called upon his trusted friend and well-known speech maker, Marc Anthony. (This was before he married Halle Berre.) He instructed him to lead a legion of troops to the farm to claim the berry for "the greater good" of the Empire.

To insure that there would be no uprising, Antony had prepared a speech to to be given to the farmer and the village inhabitants. He stood before the gathered villagers with the intimidating line of soldiers behind me.

He thus opened his speech, "Friends, Romans and countrymen, I come not to praise your berry, but to seize it."

Sign at the Coliseum Entrance:

Today Undefeated Lions vs the Gladiators
1st Roman: "What time is it?
2nd Roman: "XX past VII."

If Ancient Rome Had The Internet...

* The destruction of Pompeii in 79AD is the most viewed video at YouTube. The first comment is..."OMG so cool! Volcanos ROCK!"

* Attila the Hun has his own MySpace page. Nobody ever rejects his "invite a friend" emails.

* The soothsayer's "Ides of March" email fails to get Caesar's proper attention as it's inadvertently filtered into his junk folder.

* But at least Caesar's "Et tu Brute?" comment is available as a free ringtone download.

* The domain gladiator.rome sells for the record sum of 1,000,000 denarii.

* The owner of hadriansucks.rome is compelled to hand over both the domain name and selected body parts by an independent domain tribunal chaired by...Emperor Hadrian.

* "Naked Cleopatra" is the top search term on Google.

* Unfortunately, the Queen of Egypt dies an early death after misunderstanding IT's call to embrace an ASP solution.

* Hannibal blogs his way across the Alps with posts like, "Whoops, lost another elephant today."

* But he runs out of money when his PPC budget is plundered by an iberian click scam organized by Publius Cornelius Scipio.

* Tiber.com opens, initially selling scrolls and tablets before expanding to include togas, pottery, and do-it-yourself mosaic kits.

* Websites like handsome-literate-male-british-slave.com pollute the search listings thanks to generous commissions at the slaves.co.rome affiliate program.

* Roman programmers moan about projects outsourced to cheap coders in Mesopotamia.

* The Colosseum is renamed the eBay Colosseum, with free wireless hotspots outside the lark's tongue restaurant.

* The volume of spam collapses when the penalty for not providing a working opt-out mechanism becomes equal billing with the lions at the eBay Colosseum.

* But we still get emails featuring Brunhilda, the lonely Visigoth, and hot deals on cheap peacock livers from Gaul.

* Nobody invents a spam filter good enough for the House of the Vestals.

* Classical geeks wear t-shirts proclaiming, "there's no place like CXXVII.0.0.I" (bonus points if you get that one)

* Finally, Rome burns to the ground while Emperor Nero battles online with Hakkar the Soulflayer in World of Warcraft.


Billboard at Construction Site
of New Iterstate 1:

Another Appian Freeway
(Slow Cariots Keep Right)

COMMERCIAL BREAK
We interrupt this blog for a word from the following sponsors:

Producers Tycoonius and Typhoonius present a new Ballet: Et Tu-tu, Brute?

Pontius Gyms: Try the new exercise sensation - Pontius Pilates

And the makers of AQUADUCT TAPE.
Keeping aquaducts leak-free since 150 BC.

No.1329

Green Grass of Gnome

Green, green, it's green they say
On the far side of the hill.
Green, green, I'm goin' away
To where the grass is greener still.
-New Christie Minstrels

Although Elmer "Len" Dresslar, Jr., died Oct. 16, 2005 at the age of 80, his baritone voice can still be heard as the Jolly Green Giant. The commercials for Green Giant products aren't seen nearly as often now, but his "Ho-Ho-Ho" was once as familiar as that uttered by Santa Claus.

I suspect that the same special interest group that decried Santa's jolly laugh, has also spoken against up against the Green Giant. I'm sure (sic) that they were correct in their assertions that this icon was calling every woman in America a "HO."

I digress. The Jolly Green Giant was mentioned only because of his color, the color green. Green is in! Isn't it?

It seems to me that the whole world is turning green. Rather, there are those whose "crusades-du-jour" boomerang between global warming and organic foods and products. Don't get me wrong, their causes are worthy.

All I want to know is ... who gave the Vegans and Greenpeace the right to decide what foods I can and cannot eat and which products I can and cannot use? Normally those kinds of intrusions upon my choices and tastes would have me "seeing red." So why am I seeing green?

Check out the next five dollar bill to be issued:
Oil, it's the life blood of our planet. Is our excessive use of it to blame for global warming? Perhaps, and perhaps not. Remember the "hole in the ozone layer" debates? Guess what, there is no such hole! It's been determined that the density of the ozone layer changes in cycles, probably caused by sunspot activity. Where are those sign-toting save-the-world protesters now? Why weren't the findings afforded as much publicity as the fears? Because it was not in their best interest to admit they might have been wrong.

They didn't wish to appear to have egg on their faces. Well, I say they can have some green eggs and ham rubbed in their faces! Of course they didn't have time to admit they were wrong, they had to hustle to find a new cause.

Greenpeace's efforts to save the whales were valiant and to some degree quite successful as the the numbers of these aquatic mammals have been increasing. Their work to save our rain forests is a noble one, but only time will tell if they are successful. Their latest target is Unilever, the makers of Dove. Dove makes its soap with palm oil, which is bought from companies destroying the rain forests of Indonesia to produce it.

It is a known fact that trees absorb carbon dioxide and in turn give off oxygen which is necessary for life as we know it. Does the destruction of the tropical rain forests contribute to global warning? Perhaps, and perhaps not. Again scientists have evidence that global warming, like the density of the ozone layer, is a cyclical process. The temperatures of our planet apparently rise and fall in cycles of hundreds of thousands of years, the last such event resulting in the last Ice Age.

If the Vegans have their way, we'll all someday be eating only bean sprouts and tofu. When that day comes this planet Earth, the third rock from the sun will be inhabited by a race of weak protein-deficient beings. We'll be more susceptible to diseases and sicknesses than ever before. Is this why even now that viruses and bacteria are mutating and become more virulent? Perhaps and perhaps not.

If the "Greenies" have their way, what will be the outcome? Will Bloggers also have to become green? Will be limited in our subject matter to all that is green? Will we all have to use green backgrounds on our sites and to post only in green fonts?

I say that Bloggers will not stand for that. That would be infringing upon our rights to freedom of speech and expression, indeed the freedom of the press.

I think I would be speaking for all Bloggers when I say, "That would make us very angry. They wouldn't like us when we get angry."



Yes, they'll all come to see me
In the shade of that old oak tree
As they lay me 'neath the
Green, green grass of my gnome.
- Tom Jones (with apologies)

No.1328

Echoes of Eddie -17

Can a dead man reach out from the grave to exact revenge against those responsible for his death? Welcome to the seventeenth installment of a story that explores that possibility. If you've not done so, read the story from the beginning HERE.

Steve and Jack traded puzzled looks and turned back to their sister. "What are you saying, Cath? Because of you?" Steve implored.

"Just listen to me, Steven!" she said and turning to Jack she continued, "Don't grill me. Just listen to what I've got to say."

Dumbfounded her two brothers looked at each other and nodded. Jack was passive, relieved that his confessions had finally been voiced to his younger brother. Steve, on the other hand was perturbed that Catherine had chosen that moment to interrupt them. He felt that Jack was still hiding something. Yet he seemed unconcerned that their sister had heard their conversation. Could it be that the two of them shared some common knowledge of the missing facts?

For a moment his mind replayed that frozen moment of time when his father was beating him. Catherine was bawling and shouting something. What had she been trying to say? 'It was me. Stop hitting him. She made me.'

"Let's go down to the kitchen," Catherine said motioning to the hallway stairs. "I'll put on some coffee and throw some sandwiches together." Her two brothers didn't move but stood fast where they stood, bewilderment showing on their faces. "Look," she pleaded, "You might as get comfortable. There's a lot to tell, more you don't know about ... Even you, Jack."



"What? he shouted into the phone. "Damn! The way things are going ... there won't be anyone left to show up at the quarry this evening." He listened to her terrified voice with growing concern. He fumbled for the folded piece of paper in his shirt pocket. Beads of perspiration began to form on his forehead as he read the words of the cryptic poem that had appeared in the local paper two days ago. His facial features turned from worry to cold determination.

"No, I won't call off the meeting," he said to the hysterical woman. "Listen, I know what's got to be done. Pull yourself together. I'll pick you up in fifteen minutes. Be ready to go." He shut off his phone, grabbed his jacket and hurried out the back door. A sense of urgency guided him to the rickety old tool shed at the end of the driveway.

He emerged from the shed carrying a rusty pick axe and a long-handled spade. He tossed the objects into the trunk of the car. He stood looking down at the tools for a moment until he was satisfied he had all he would need for the task ahead. Perhaps to ease his tension he spoke aloud, "It's about time this nightmare came to an end. I've had enough of these ghost stories."



She was pacing the floor in front of the man standing in the shadows of the drapes. "I know you said this was the only way, but I can't help but feel something's going to go horribly wrong," she said to him.

"Relax, Marjorie," the man said with an air of morbid confidence. "I've been back in Soddy-Daisy for two years now and no one has shown even a hint of recognizing me. I've mixed and mingled with the lot of them. They don't have a clue who I am. Hell, I've even had a few beers with a couple of them."

"Everyone thinks Steve Cooper is responsible for all those deaths. I've heard them talking in the shop about some bluish glowing thing. They said it only appeared after he came back to town. They think it is somehow linked to Eddie's spirit. They think Steve is working with his ghost!" she said.

"Ha! The superstitious fools! They'll never know how easy they are making it for me," the man gloated. "You should have seen the looks on their faces when I told them that I've been seeing that same strange blue light floating in and around town. "

"What is that thing they've been seeing anyway? " she asked.

"Hell if I know," he answered with a shrug of his shoulders. "A mirage, maybe? Do you think it might be their ghost?" he queried in jest before winking. "Well, whatever it is, it added fuel to the embers. Soon ... Soon it will a blazing fire, my dear."

"Not all of them believe in ghosts. Just the other day I overheard Hunter telling Tiffany that he was beginning to think that Eddie never died in the first place, that someone else's body was buried in that casket," she said in response to his smug confidence.

"What's that? Marjorie! Marjorie, you were supposed to tell me about anything, anything that might put our plans in jeopardy," he roared. He calmed himself by pacing across the living room rug. "Okay. No problem. Not a problem at all," he snapped his fingers and turned to her. "Look, keep that cell phone close. Call me if anything doesn't look or sound right."

He opened the back door and said, "I'll have to get up there, just in case our boy Hunter shows up with any bright ideas and decides to go messing around that grave." He looked back and said, "Look, don't worry about him. He'll be alright. My son is just an unwitting pawn in the game."



Deep in thought, she was startled when Steve set the coffee cup down hard onto the table. "Alright, we've had our sandwiches and coffee, Catherine. I think Jack and I have waited long enough to hear what you've got to say." His arms folded across his chest Jack stoically nodded in agreement.

She took a deep breath and spoke in a slow and deliberate tone, "That night David came into my room crying. He told me wanted to go too," she paused and looked at her brothers. "When I asked him where it was he wanted to go, he said he wanted to go to the quarry too. He wanted to know why he couldn't go with his big brothers."

Jack leaned forward, "Huh? I didn't hear him crying. Why didn't you come and get me? ...And how did he know where I was going?" He glanced at Steve and added, "How did he know where Steve and Eddie were going?"

She lowered her head and swirled the remaining coffee in her cup with her teaspoon. "He could hear you and Eddie making your plans, Steve. He watched you and Eddie ride off on your bikes. Jack, he heard you talking on the phone with that girl you took up there. You were in the shower, Jack. That's why you didn't hear him crying."

Jack clinched his fists and cursed himself. "So, he went out to the truck and hid under the tarp in the back. Then I drove him there. That's what I thought must have happened. So tell me Catherine, how does that make you responsible in any way? Are you just trying to make me feel better? It's not working!"

Steve placed a hand on his brother's arm, "Jack, cool it. I think Catherine has more to add."

A stream of tears began to flow down her cheeks and dripped onto the table between her hands. "I don't know why I did it! God knows it has been killing me, eating at my insides all these years," she said ignoring the tears. "I helped him put on his shoes. I took him and his dinosaur downstairs. I helped him into the back of the truck," she was sobbing. "I ... I told him to hide under the tarp ... Oh God, what did I do ... why?" She buried her face in her hands, "Please forgive me. Please?"

Jack slammed his fist against the table top and screeched at his sister, "You little bitch! All those years ... all that time blaming myself ... blaming Steven too!"

"Jack," Steve whispered, "Leave her be. She needs to be let alone. She's suffered enough ... we've all suffered enough. In our own ways, we're all responsible for what happened to David. It's time to let go of David once and for all!"

She jumped up and ran from the room. She couldn't face her brothers for another minute. She ran up the stairs to her room. She need to be alone. She slammed the door shut and with her back pressed against it slumped to the floor.

She didn't have the strength to tell them the whole truth. How would they have reacted if they'd learned what happened to David was just the tip of the iceberg? What would their reaction be when they finally learned the dark family secret she'd been keeping and how that secret was connected to David.

She couldn't bring herself to tell them that David wasn't in that truck and that he was not at the quarry. How would she ever find the courage to tell Jack that she had placed the toy dinosaur under that tarp? She doubted that she would ever be able to tell them the reason behind her actions.

She looked up to the ceiling and spoke to whatever god might be listening, "What will they say, what will they do when they learn of David's real fate? I couldn't tell them, not now. I have to tell them soon ... that we've been in contact, that I've spoken to him. When can I tell them ... David is alive?"

(to be continued... Echoes of Eddie -18.)

No.1327

Short Books

The following titles are suggested summer reading for Bloggers.

The Shortest Books Ever Written

25. "Things I wouldn't do for Money" by Dennis Rodman

24. Human Rights Advances in China

23. The Differences Between Reality and Dilbert

22. "The Book of Virtue" by Bill Clinton

21. "To all the Men I've Loved Before" Ellen DeGeneres.

20. "My Plan to Find the Real Killers" by OJ Simpson

19. "Strom Thurmond: Intelligent Quotes"

18. Al Gore: The Wild Years

17. Amelia Earhart's Guide to the Pacific Ocean

16. America's Most Popular Lawyers

15. Career Opportunities for History Majors

14. Detroit - A Travel Guide

13. Different Ways to Spell "Bob"

12. Dr. Kevorkian's Collection of Motivational Speeches

11. Easy UNIX /* GCFL: come on! it's not that difficult! :-) */

10. Ethiopian Tips on World Dominance

-9. Everything Men Know About Women

-8. Everything Women Know About Men

-7. French Hospitality to non-Francophones

-6. George Foreman's Big Book of Baby Names

-5. "How to Sustain a Musical Career" by Art Garfunkel

-4. One Hundred and One Spotted Owl Recipes by the EPA

-3. Staple Your Way to Success

-2. The Amish Phone Book

and the Number One World's Shortest Book:

-1. The Engineer's Guide to Fashion

No.1326

Unplugged

I never realized just how much my life centers around the computer. It's as if I and the machine have been integrated into components of the other.

There must be a Borg influence at work in the form of assimilation. I never really thought about my time on the computer in terms of hours, most likely because I didn't really want to know.

No, I never really realized how much time I spend plugged into my computer. That is until today when I found myself ... unplugged.

Actually, I got a new computer, well sort of. To be more precise, it is a newer one. It has almost twice the memory and in comparison its speed can be likened to a cheetah versus the snail-like precision of the older unit.

My son-in-law, who has forgotten more about building computers than I probably will ever learn, was handling the switch over. He estimated that it would take the better part of the day before I would be up and running. His installation chores included running new fiber optic wiring into the house from the main cable line, re-programming the modem, testing the system and finally loading the necessary software packages.

I found that it's one thing to be off-line because of choice, but it's quite another not to be able to go on-line when you want, because you can't.

Harking back to the old days before the modern washing machines of today, an old saying comes to mind: "I feel like I've been run through a wringer." I'll update that old adage with a more up to date version: "I feel like I've been run through a floppy disc drive!"

After he completed the installation, I sat down and started loading some of the old files I had earlier copied to disc. These included a collection of jokes, cartoons and pictures. While I was doing that, I discovered I had a near encyclopedic tome of them relating to computers alone. Since it was 10 pm by the time I copied the files onto the computer, it only seem natural that today's post would have a computer flavor.

When We Were Our Kids' Age...

Memory was something you lost with age
An application was for employment
A program was a TV show
A cursor used profanity

A keyboard was a piano
A web was a spider’s home
A virus was the flu
A CD was a bank account

A hard drive was a long trip on the road
A mouse pad was where a mouse lived

And if you had a 3 inch floppy. …

… you just hoped nobody ever found out!

A Client once asked me to look at his computer. He said it was running so slow when he went into a Barely 18 porn site. By the time it loaded up the girls were in the Mature Site.

The secretary changing the toner accidentally drops a pen into the office laser printer and can not retrieve it. She then makes up a sign to warn people of this problem. The sign reads:

Please Don’t Use
PENIS STUCK in Printer

Artist, Lawyer & Computer Geek

An artist, a lawyer, and a computer scientist are discussing the merits of a mistress.

The artist tells of the passion, the thrill which comes with the risk of being discovered.

The lawyer warns of the difficulties. It can lead to guilt, divorce, bankruptcy. Not worth it. Too many problems.

The computer scientist says "It's the best thing that's ever happened to me. My wife thinks I'm with my mistress. My mistress thinks I'm home with my wife, and I can spend all night on the computer!"

12 Step Plan For Web Addicts

-1) - I will have a cup of coffee in the morning and read my PAPER newspaper like I used to, before the Web.

-2) - I will eat breakfast with a knife and fork and not with one hand typing.

-3) - I will get dressed before noon.

-4) - I will make an attempt to clean the house, wash clothes, and plan dinner before even thinking of the Web.

-50 - I will sit down and write a letter to those unfortunate few friends and family that are Web-deprived.

-6) - I will call someone on the phone who I cannot contact via the Web.

-7) - I will read a book... if I still remember how.

-8) - I will listen to those around me about their needs and stop telling them to turn the TV down so I can hear the music on the Web.

-9) - I will not be tempted during TV commercials to check for email.

10) - I will try and get out of the house at least once a week, if it is necessary or not.

11) - I will remember that my bank is not forgiving if I forget to balance my checkbook because I was too busy on the Web.

12) - Last, but not least, I will remember that I must go to bed sometime... and the Web will always be there tomorrow!


No.1325