50th Post, where's my parade?

To explain what the ark of the covenant was doing in the back of a 3rd grade classroom, a teacher had constructed one to teach about the tabernacle, the 10 Commandments, and what exactly seraphim is.
Estimates do place the actual Ark deep within a national archives, but they pretty much showed us the location at the end of the Indiana Jones movie, I can totally remember where it is, end of the row, all the way down, at the bottom of the stack. Show me the warehouse, get me a forklift, I'll get you an ark in 20 minutes.
I tried to tell the kids about the last people who touched the Ark (they died), they already knew. I hope none of those kids were Nazis, they're goners for sure.

I'll be over here in the corner, just looking the other way. Is that really the best way to avoid danger? No thanks Danger, I'll be averting my gaze if it's the same to you.

Rob beat me in chess last night, but I have a sneaking suspicion I'm getting better. Seriously, who wants a game? Give me a call.

A Wafting Motion. for sure.

Once in a while someone around me will complain about sinus pressure, sinus infection, or sinus drainage. While my first instinct is to console this person, so obviously in pain and suffering, there's a trigger deep down that reminds me- I have no idea what this person is talking about. I've never had a medical aliment that begins with the word sinus. This is because of one reason-
7th grade lab science teacher, Mr. Mourning.

It was a fateful day somewhere between dissecting earthworms (seriously, there's nothing there to dissect) and timing a wood cart go down a ramp (this also was designed to teach us something sciencey) that Mr. Mourning called me over and asked me to sniff this beaker and see if I could tell what it was. Ignoring all lab science protocol I stuck my schnoz directly into the beaker and inhaled. In retrospect, this is why the wafting motion to smell is so important, but never used. It was at that moment that I could see into the future and passed out at the same time, but just for a second. Mr. Mourning laughed and told me it was ammonia. And then chuckled in an old man teachin-those-kids kind of way.

Since that point, I'm pretty sure my sinus cavities are empty, and have no concept what it is to have sinus problems.
No, listen, this has huge ramifications, just sneak up behind your friend, it has to be a surprise, and make them smell ammonia.

This might sound heartless, but they'll be psyched once you explain yourself.
Have a great week.

As a postscript, quote of the day, from a 3rd grade classroom: Guys, for the last time, don't touch the Ark of the Covenant. Geeze!

Of course I'm on the clock for this.

Just read the first few sentences as you would any other blog. Slowly, and with both hands where I can see them, turn up the volume on a usually silent internal monologue. Some of you won't have to crank it up to much, as your monologue it usually aired as is.
When I read other people's blogs, I can always hear them narrating in my head. The better I know the person, the more I can hear them. Scott is usually still yelling at me when I'm four blogs past his.
Does anyone else do this? I know that when I play chess I can hear Ben Kingsley's voice tracing through moves for me. He was the chess coach in "Searching for Bobby Fischer" and has become my internalized voice of chess.
I know that Tim hears Phil Hellmuth's voice narrating but that's only because of Celebrity Poker.
C'mon, someone else has to do this?

Count 'em, another great idea

When I was a kid, I had this theory. And now that I'm at the age...I almost deleted that comment because I was trying to think of something that I did then, but that I've matured out of and am now obviously much more hip and refined. I've got nothing.
And now that I'm at the age where my pants are longer, I'm pretty sure that it would still be rad. (Pretty swift right?)
When I was younger I was convinced that if I looked into the TV at an angle I could see what was going on just off screen. For instance, if it was something that was obviously made up, I could peek into the corner and see grips and gaffers doing stuff that they do. Like testing grips and making things more tactile for better and improved grip. And gaffers? I'm pretty sure they're someone who came by the lot for an afternoon to hang out and asked for a credit in the movie because they're obnoxious like that.
And the shows that were real, I could peek into the corners and see more of the show. It would be like widescreen for overachievers. Peekvision, yeah, that's the ticket. If you really invested yourself you could get that much more out of the show. Tragically, this was not the case with TV, because I remember I was bummed out. Ironically, I remember being cheered up when Mom gave me quarters to play Bad Dudes right after that. Why I remember these things and not my middle name, I've got no answers.

one-two pawn to e4

I'm just throwing this out there, Chessboxing. Even if I tried and sat down with a really good cup of tea for 40 minutes I'm not entirely sure that I could think of this myself. I do have redonklous thoughts if left to my own devices, like wireless electricity. Right? Why shouldn't that work? I'm sitting on gold mines here folks.
Back to chessboxing, apparently they alternate between a few minutes of chess and then hit each other for awhile. The point being that you can win the event at any time, by knockout or checkmate. Keep reading, I'm not even making this up. There's even a break before and after the chess portion for the boxers to put their equipment on or off. Personally, I would vote for keeping the gloves on and insisting they move the pieces around as such. This sport could be so much more hard core by leaving the board in the ring while they box.(rules insist they remove it from the ring)
This doesn't sound as much like a sport as a standardized fight over a chess game. This is also another fantastic reason to unveil Hang-gliding Scrabble(with new magnetic travel-size board). How sweet would MouseTrap be if it was life size? Check these shots out, and this one too.

One lump of Gamma or Two?

Let's suppose that by gamma ray exposure you have gained short-lived total control of the English language. I know, if I was going to get hit with some gamma action, I'd want it to be worth it, but it's My-Rules-Friday, nothing I can do about it.
And with this kung-fu grip on the English language, as your powers fade you have the capability to eradicate one catchphrase from the English lexicon forever, it will never come back, no one will ever think to utter it again. Anyone? Thoughts?

Easy choice: Git r' Done. I have no idea how this became popular, no idea how it remains popular, or that it even has practical application. On a deeply subconscious level, that phrase remains bonded with a left hook, can't be avoided.

Seriously though, where can I get some Gamma Rays? That's what My-Rules-Friday needs, more Gamma Rays. I'll get Scott to shoot me with his can-tenna.

Secrets, let's get it out there.

All this talk of school and classes, what is that about? Currently I'm at seminary selling a kidney for books and if I'm lucky I'll still have renal function when the day is done. However, I do have my intermediate Greek this afternoon, so I'm not going to make any promises. In other news, I'm glad that everyone(all three of us) hit their posting stride and made some exceptional observations about either how cool they are, or how dumb other blogs are. Few of the truely exceptional bloggers accomplished both.
This morning, let's get some secrets out on the table. I'm addicted to the "next blog" button on the top of all blogspot blogs. After I get done with a daily dose of banter I can feel it up in the top right hand corner and my mouse starts to quiver ever so slightly. The benefit of this function is that blogger will take you to a random blog in hopes you might like it. I like to think of blogger as a really energetic golden lab who's none to swift on the uptake, but would like nothing more than to make you really, really happy about the next blog.
The next blog is, inevitably, someone's poetry they haven't updated in nine weeks, something in another language, or blogger insisting that I must have really wanted to gamble in an online casino on a deep unconscious level or an ad for just that couldn't have just shown up. And for this, my lab is really, really excited.
I've seen the blogworld my friends, and it's not pretty, more than that, it's none too interesting. I'm suggesting that we forge a trail into the wilderness, and see if there is life out there, hopefully entertaining. But I'll just settle for something that's updated frequently in a language I can read.

A sub-secret, I get hooked on stupid java and flash games. Not all the time, I only get hooked when I have to write papers and do important things.

Kazoo Parade, 9 am, Be There

Maybe you don't know exactly what today is, maybe you're not aware. But I'm here to tell you gang, I have a reason for dragging yourself out of bed today. If you're not aware, of perhaps, still bleary eyed from all of your Friday the 13th parties, I'll take this opportunity to educate everyone.
If your looking at this blog, you could be one of the thousand that has seen this it. That's right, thousand. How many(interrobang!) Ten of Hundreds!
I actually can't back that up that it was thousands. There's a counter that comes with the map thing that tracks you, and sometime this weekend we had our thousandth visitor slip in and out. Because I wasn't paying attention, I didn't get the chance to deploy the virtual shower of virtual balloons and streamers and virtual baton-twirling penguins riding unicorns while scoring a touchdown. It's crazy expensive to rent those guys.
I can't really back up the claim that a thousand individuals have hit this blog, but we can celebrate in the fact that it has been looked at a thousand times.

Saying that much I'd like to thank:
My wife for her support, My brother for making enough fun of me to get a blog, The general blog ring that I'd be a member of if we were organized and had memberships, the Banjo Fishing Lure, everyone who throws down a comment, Sudoku(I've turned, sorry), Harry Potter, Bread Bowls, Chess, rugrats that I sub for, Meat Vision
No thanks to:
John Dewey and American Pragmatism

You've been Pre-Post-Selected

Not that I'd ever win, I'm pretty sure that I've never want to. Blah, blah, blah, and you've won a year's supply of ....something. To win would be alright, maybe a picture in the paper, but prizes always come in the large estimated size of "a year's supply of.." How cool would a year's supply of anything be? Sure it'd be awesome for the first month, where your friends could come over try to work through a pile of soda/comic books/toothpaste/applesauce/whatever you've won that's now weakening the tectonic plates under your house. Eventually you'd become "that kid who's got that pile of stuff, it looks like it'll last him a year, give or take".
The only exception my friends, is Silly Putty. Really, Silly Putty in bulk is upgraded to Redonklous Putty. Seriously, check this out and just try to tell me that an extra mound of flesh-ish substance hanging around the apartment wouldn't make everything better.
Anyone with me? No. How about my nerd brother?

The Wimbledon of Subbing

Equivalent of winning the Nobel Peace Prize when the Nobel Committee are all in 5th grade, I have just hit the grand slam of substitute teaching. Today I collected homework that I assigned, oh yes, that I assigned.
To those of you outside of the subbing culture(we call them "outsiders", it's an exclusive term used by subs) this might not seem like such a large feat. But to accomplish this you have to jump on that sweet train of chronic teacher sickness and ride it straight to the finish line.

There isn't actually a finish line, there's actually just more handouts.

And oh yes, I'll be going back for an unprecedented, Third Day. Unheard of in the subbing world, they don't even have a name for this, we're debating, but we might call it a "triple".

Seriously, I'm this close to learning names.

Individuals:
T- I remember getting a MickeyD's record in our newspaper and we had to put it under encyclopedias to flatten it before it could tell us we didn't win. Anything?

Rob/Ro- I can't vouch for Starbucks anymore, but Panera's will treat you right.

Tara- In class today, when asked what a third line on the inside of a circle could be, when the answer wasn't diameter or radius. This kid instantaneously shouted "Di-Radius!" The correct answer was "chord" but by that time the kid had packed up and left, apparently solving enough of the 5th grade for the day. I'm not even doing a bit.

Games of all Kinds.

Because nothing seems to be flowing today, I'll reach way back into the memory sludge, past the song lyrics and Greek that's clogging much of my synapses and jiggle loose the first couple thoughts that have any sort of cohesion. Turns out, Board Games win the day.

When my brother Tim and I were growing up we would play "Life: the Game". When Tim's blue peg got married to another pink peg I wouldn't let him name his own wife. I got to pick his wife's name. And it was always Princess Gyndolyn. No reason, but Tim never liked it.

Young enough to waste hours playing Monopoly, but old enough to understand property value, I couldn't understand why Mediterranean got such the shaft. Shouldn't the lot that shares a property line with Start do a little better than that?

Finally, when T and I were growing up, we invented a game called "Spend, Save, or Throw". We started out with all the nerf balls we could and then threw them at each other from across the room. Hold on, the game gets better, give it a chance. When we hit each other or a target, like our Father, we got an certain amount of money, which we could use to purchase additional pillows, mattresses, or other fort-making material.
The only hitch of the game occurred at the point where you earned money for either catching something or hitting something. Because Tim and I have always been concerned with economics, you must deposit currency to keep the game afloat. Otherwise, just about anyone could finance a fort on credit. And we were supposed to wait until they caught the requisite 40 balls it would take to pay off the loan?
This is why Tim and I ran to the federal mint and minted money every time we earned it. This became increasingly difficult because in the time to hit someone with a nerf ball and scrawl the official currency of SS&T(a piece of scratch paper from the tablet by the phone) and get back to the game took about a minute and a half. The actual game took days to play and saying the game moved slow was pretty generous. Most of the competition was in the running back and forth and frantically trying to peg anything peeking from the opposite fort.
This game never caught on.
But I did have dreams of being on the Alligator Charge Olympic Team.

Shipping for the Mediocre

Just a short post today, something to think about, because I saw it again today. And just what you may ask? My favorite trucking line, I know everyone has their favorites. I'm skipping the obvious choice, and going with the grandest truck line of them all. That's exactly right, the noble Brandt Truck Line, Inc.

Is it the snappy white on black color scheme? Not really. What grabs me is there forward-thinking mission statement. Take another look at that website, tell you what, I'll quote it here for you,
Over 80% Delivered by 10 AM the Next Day

Excuse me? That's really what you're going with? Every time I see that I can almost hear Bud Brandt sitting down at his desk....dream sequence fade out.....fade back in on Bud....

"Well, crap, the only thing that can jump start this thing is a humdinger of a mission statement, since the pony giveaway didn't pan out."
It's at this point that Bug has to go through all the modifiers that sound almost plausable, but still make the point.
"How about '50% delivered by 8:30 AM the next day, when Jerome isn't driving, and we've given all our ponies away'. Yeah, that's not gonna cut it. I'll fire Jerome, give him a pony as severance and see where that gets us. Yeah, that's the ticket.

All this happens in my head when I'm wheeling out of the way. Just remember, Brandt Truck Line, Inc.- When you have kinda important things, and you need then there,uhhh sometime.

3 Easy Payments to Nirvana

If you've known me for any length of time, you've experienced at least one of my vices. Much like my interests, my vices tend to waver daily, and if I'm lucky, weekly, if I can really stretch it out.
infomercial have stood the test of time as a vice that I can look back fondly and reflect, "yes, I've seen how the Banjo Fishing Lure works a few to many times, but I can't say that I've accurately memorized it."
It's something that I can't put my finger on, It's almost faster than a reflex- If there's an infomercial on, I'll watch it, no matter what. Aliens Invade? Going to have to wait. Aliens shooting laser holes in my door? No thank you, not until I've had my fill of E-list celebs shamelessly hawking their goods at me.
There are a few points that make one infomercial better than another.
1. The more you pretend that you're not an infomercial, the better. Feel free to include characters, use your $90 magic piece of whatever at pretend parties; Anything to suspend the belief that you're not possibly watching an infomercial. Fantastic examples of this include the Magic Bullet.
2. Showmanship- There's no way to fake this my friends, you're simply born with this. The more visuals you have, the more you can show me, the more that I want to buy it. Will I ever cut a boot sole in half, or need to cut shavings off an iron pipe? Never. Do those things make me want to buy Miracle Blade Knives? Of course, I'm even going to run over them with my car, because I'm so happy, and to test the warranty. This website even has a running infomercial on it. Check out the guy slicing the attacking pineapple in half. And anything by this guy is golden as well.
3. The more isolated the product is, when it has only one use, and deep down I know that I'll use it once, in one glorious moment, and then never think about it again, except to wonder where $90 went. That's when infomercial get really good. Take for instance, a food dehydrator. I can't even look at one of these things without wanting one. And right on schedule, I know in the back of my head I'd only ever use it once. Maybe twice when I tried to dehydrate something like a nerf football.
4. The sillier the product, the more I want it. Take for instance, dog stairs.

Never have I bought something off an infomercial. I just value them as entertainment. C'mon everyone watches infomercials. No? Just me?

I'll take Ruffage for $500, Alex

Ahhh, now that feels better. A whole new year to stretch out in, still with that New Year smell. Which I think smells a little like the old year, only 06-er. Great things about the New Year, I'm learning so much already. Such as, no one really makes Resolutions, but I know you'll still be indifferent to know that I'll still be reminding myself and the Chipmans to keep their resolutions.

A second thought: If your product can clean an old penny when you dip half in your miracle elixir, the general American public will buy it. No matter what it claims to do, if it can make at least half that penny shine, you're golden.

Final thought, with the new year, new beginnings, where am I going next, exactly, new colons. Or more precisely, colon cleanses. A few days ago, I was wandering the mall, a habit that Allyn finds mystifying,
A- "Why would you walk around if you're not looking for anything?"
J- "I have no idea."
A- "I don't know you at all."

I stopped in GNC, simply for the reason that I've never stopped in there before. Looking around, just minding my own chemically-induced pecs, I stopped, stunned by the attention that GNC has in the cleanliness of my colon. GNC cleared a whole section of the store just for the colon cleanses. Do I really need my system rooted that bad? Apparently.

There's no witty resolve to this posting, except that you really need to look at the colon cleanses at GNC. Or find a better standard for rating infomercial products. Like picking up a bowling ball with a vacuum cleaner. Yeah, that'll sell.