What Are The Chances?

I don't think that I've said anything on my blog about disc golf, but it's something that I really enjoy--even though I've watched all of my friends get better while I still stink.

Just in case you don't understand the concept of "disc golf" I'll explain it. It's quite simple. Instead of paying a lot of money to hit golf balls with really expensive clubs into little holes in the finely manicured grass, you pay nothing (usually) to throw special discs into "pole holes" placed around a big field or wooded area. The discs used to play are often very thin so they can slice through the air faster and longer (similar to and yet not at all like a "Frisbee"). This is important to remember when I get to the story below.

Anyway, I was out for a round at Sahm the other day and saw something that was so freaking improbable that I had to share it. The group playing behind us indicated that they were going to throw so we made sure to pay attention as they were heading right in our general direction. Getting hit with a fast moving disc can be quite painful.

I stood under a giant ash tree and watched while one of the guys let loose with a disc that managed to lodge itself into a broken-off, dead tree branch parallel to the ground but at least 40 feet up. It actually split through the end of the branch like a wood splitter. So, I ask, "What are the chances of this happening?" You could try to do this and NEVER do it in a million tries...two million tries--that's my guess. We managed to see the twosome later on and I think it took them about a half hour to throw something up heavy enough to knock down the disc. Of course, I had my cell phone camera handy to snap a shot...

NOT A HAND HOLE!

I'm not making this up...

The other day I carried a box around in the office and sat it down only to discover this:


Of course, I was holding it by the "NOT HAND HOLES!" What else would two perfectly placed holes on the side of a box be used for? That's like putting a note on a soda can that says you're not supposed to use the hole on the top of the can for pouring or drinking.

Fame, Fortune and Crummy Church Signs

Many years ago, I had the idea to write a book full of pictures of awful church signs. You all know what I'm talking about. Usually it's something corny like this:

CHCH
What's Missing?
"UR"

I started taking pictures and putting them on my computer. Then I conveniently forgot about the whole thing.

Recently, I signed my blog up on the Humor Blogs* list hoping that I might generate some more readers and stumbled upon a site called Crummy Church Signs. So, I sent the blogger a few of my signs and one of them has already been posted (it's the "Chris Farley" sign). Be sure to take a look. The entire site is quite a hoot.

*Feel free to go over to Humor Blog and rate my site. Like I said, I'm just hoping to bring a few more people by the blog just to see what happens.

Lifting Heavy Objects

Just today I was mounting a 24-inch Dell monitor on a kiosk that we use for trade shows. I've opened this box a hundred times, but it's the first time I really noticed the helpful line drawing created for my own safety. Apparently, these monitors are considered to be heavy in Mexico where they are manufactured. But don't worry. The solution is to get two children to carry the monitor for you--problem solved!

Oops at Old Navy

This morning my sister-in-law, Leah reminded us of a BIG SALE going on today only at Old Navy. Basically, it amounted to all of their denim (i.e. jeans) being on sale for $12 a pair. That's a nice deal since I love their jeans and they normally run $30.

The place was a mad house. It opened at 10:00 a.m. and we managed to mosey on it at around 11:00 a.m. to find a line going all around the store to check out. As I opened the door for my family to go in, I let a whole host of other people in because that's just how I roll. It must have been a LOT of people that I let in the doors after my family because I put my hand on my wife's back and said, "This place is a mad house."

The only problem with this story is that it wasn't my wife's back. In fact, she didn't even look anything at all like my wife. She was just wearing the same color of shirt--white. She looked over at me and said, "Ex-CUSE me!" It was just one of those horrible moments that I don't like to think about and yet here I am blogging about it.

NOTE: At least one of the comments so far is for mature audiences only--but still quite funny.

Pointless and Easily Amused--That's Me.

Today I found a rare gem on the Internet. Honestly, I don't know how old this page is or who the author is. No...wait a minute...I take that back. The author is "Betsy" and she may have resided in Bloomington, Indiana at some point in her life. However, I know nothing else about her or the site that hosts these amazing stories. I hope that you, too, are inspired by the likes of Fred the Chicken, Bob the Rabbit, Pete the Iguana, Halberd the Worm, Millie the Hummingbird, Rory the Smiling Squirrel, and Sam the Anteater.

The original link to these stories is here, but I've decided to post all of them in fear that they may some day be removed. Betsy, if you're still out there, we need more stories like this--stories that really make you think.

Pointless Stories
for the easily amused
Betsy

Fred the chicken was always a happy chicken. He liked to play with his friends, and go swimming in the lake. One day, his friends, who were all chickens, asked what he did when he didn't play. He said swim. So they said chickens can't swim. So he told them that they were just jealous, and went swimming. And he was eaten by a frog. Always listen to your friends.

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Bob the rabbit lived a placid existence. He slept and he ate, he ate and he slept. And when he didn't do either of those, he spent time thinking. He was a fairly good philosopher, and one day he came up with the idea, I think therefore I am. Considering that enough thinking for one day, he went to go find something to eat. And poof, he departed from existence.

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Pete the iguana never really fit in. Sure, he was green and scaly, he climbed trees with the best of them, and he stuck his tongue out as much as was socially required. But he just didn't like the berries. So, as the other lizards ate more and more of the berries, he just slept in the sun. Until the day he got eaten by the bear because there weren't any more berries.

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Halberd the worm lived in a flowerpot. He loved his flowerpot, and watching the plant inside grow and grow. Every day, after tunneling through the soil, he would sit by the plant, chewing on a dead leaf and talking to him. It seemed that every day, what he considered the head of the plant would be closer and closer to him, as if appreciating his talk. It even seemed to smile at him, with its happy green teeth. Until he realized what the real reason was, as the plant began to digest him.

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Millie the hummingbird loved to talk. She'd talk to fence posts, turtles, old shoes, anything just as long as they didn't try to get a word in edgewise. She talked so much that her friend stopped paying attention, the turtles stayed in their shells, and creature avoided her area like the plague. Pretty soon, the only thing left for her to talk to were the fence posts, and they got boring. So Millie wandered down to the river, where she saw a log. She talked to it for hours. And then, there was a sudden silence. And the log opened its two gleaming eyes and smiled

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SAM THE ANTEATER STORIES

Sam the anteater was a jealous little critter. His best friend was an armadillo, and he couldn't get over his awesome armor. I'll trade you, he said one day. Your armor for my fur. No way, his friend said. Find your own, his friend said. So, Sam went back home. And built himself the most awesome armor out of scrap metal, even more awesome than his friend's. And as he went to show it to him, the lightning struck.

Sam the anteater was a happy anteater. He lived in the forest, and liked to skip along, picking flowers and singing happy songs to all of his woodland friends, the cheerful chipmunk, the smiling squirrel, and the merry moose. They all loved Sam, and would often collaborate for musical numbers celebrating their happy existence. They all lived together in the forest, forever, eternally blissful and content with their own self esteem and destiny of infinite sunny days with puffy white clouds and azure skies.

Rory the smiling squirrel was going for a walk one day. He said hello to Mr. Sun, and to the seven clouds in the sky, whom he had thoughtfully named Horbert, Gilfred, Kilzo, Bofert, Lolput, and Wendell. His best friend Sam the anteater though, disagreed. HE wanted to name the clouds Chuckles, Mr. Fluff-ums, Happy, Lucky, Sparkles, Giggles, and Puffy. So, Sam decided to act. He pulled out his feather, and proceeded to tickle Rory to death, who choked on his own laughter. This made Sam laugh, and pretty soon there were two dead animals, and not a cloud left in the sky. Which suited the vultures just fine.

Ok, the truth is that I just decided to search for "Pointless Stories" via Google and this was the first thing I found. It reminds me of something that I'd write (or that Jason or Scott would create back in our The Daily Journal Days). So there.

Do Butts Laugh?

Here in the Indy metro area (don't laugh--we're a population of over 1.6 million and growing) we are privileged to have Gen Con come to downtown Indianapolis every year. Gen Con is an excuse for grown men and women to dress up in their favorite Star Wars, Star Trek, Lord of the Rings, Chronicles of Narnia, Dungeons & Dragons, etc., costume and walk around town into the wee hours of the night (or morning) pretending to be that character. It's like Halloween for grown ups but taken to another level.

These folks are easy targets to make fun of. And while I'm sure that deep down inside many of them are normal people with jobs, marriages, kids, action figure doll collections and the like, I thrive on easy targets. Furthermore, I cannot pass up the childish opportunity to make fun of someone just based on their last name. Thus the question, "Do butts laugh?". And if they do, what does it sound like (we probably know the answer to that question).

You can read about Gen Con it in today's Indianapolis Star. For your convenience, I've pasted the story below. I've taken the liberty of emphasizing the last name that I'm referring to. Enjoy!

Gen Con draws gamers to Indy

It's nearing midnight, and the most serious gamers at Gen Con are getting a second wind.

They're fairly easy to spot in their dark T-shirts and backpacks as they traipse along Downtown streets in search of games, cheap eats, caffeine and beer. They're also fairly friendly, although they might growl while sitting with others in a circle or speak in a language that's unintelligible to nongamers. ("I play LARPs," for example.)
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This is the part of Gen Con most people never see. But many attendees swear it's the best part of this weekend's annual gathering of 85,000 gamers and fans of science fiction and fantasy.

Every night, from about 9 p.m. to about 4 a.m., Todd Wiley and his friends grab passers-by to sit in a circle on the floor and play a game called "Werewolf." It's a role-playing game in which some characters pretend to be werewolves, others humans, with survival being the goal.

Each circle makes for a noisy, growling bunch and usually draws a crowd of onlookers.

"It's easiest to get people to play at night," Wiley said early Friday between games.

Neil Swint, who traveled by bus from Toronto, said that every time he comes to Gen Con, he picks one day to stay up for 24 hours.

"I'm not coming here to sleep," he said during a break at RAM Restaurant & Brewery.

Mary Ann Scheiderich, Syracuse, N.Y., agreed: "When you go home from Gen Con, you are not relaxed. It's no trip to the beach. You're exhausted."

Erick Butzlaff explained that it's the games -- even more than energy drinks -- that keep people going.

"We've stayed up all night playing the same thing," the Washington, D.C., resident said. "The reason we don't want to go to bed is we're playing the same thing."

The card games he plays are addictive and fun. Still, he said there are lines he won't cross.

"You see some really weird things around here. I saw a chick sleeping on a ledge of a window with a blanket," Butzlaff said. "I have slept against a wall waiting for people to get done (playing), but I've never used a blanket."

Some attendees, in fact, don't get hotel rooms at all. They spend all four days playing games and sleeping on couches and floors.

By Sunday, not surprisingly, the Indiana Convention Center can smell pretty ripe.

"We stay away from those people," Butzlaff said, getting eager nods from his friends Tony Davila and Travis Chapa.

The three were awaiting their turn in a tournament inside the Hyatt Regency. Around them, others sipped energy drinks and ate takeout, and dug in their backpacks for cards and dice.

Waiting for tournament games to begin is a big part of late-night Gen Con. Tables are set up inside the convention center, but nearby hotels, such as the Hyatt and Westin, get most of the traffic.

Food is a big deal, too.

But gamers don't go just anywhere. They want cheap and fast. No St. Elmo's. Heck, not even Houlihan's.

Steak n Shake is usually the place to be. By 10:30 p.m. Thursday, there was line out of the door. RAM was packed, too. The restaurant extended its hours to 3 a.m. and added new beers to the menu solely for the convention.

"We really cater to Gen Con," said bartender Amelia Briggs, nonplussed by a gamer taking a nap at the bar just after midnight.

Chris Johnson, a gamer from Oregon, Ill., said the crowd is one reason he's not an all-nighter -- a burger and fries aren't worth an hour wait in line at McDonald's.

Besides, he had another LARP (that's live action role-playing game) to prepare for on Friday.

By 3 a.m., when Johnson was probably fast asleep, much of the carnival that is Gen Con after dark had started to die down.

Even Chris Brickey, who had been selling light-up swords and wands between Steak n Shake and the convention center, had moved on.

On the streets, only a trio were left, one stumbling more than the other two near Rock Bottom Restaurant and Brewery. He had on gray wings trimmed in red lights.

"Happy Gen Con!" he shouted.

Happy Gen Con to you all, indeed!

To Shave Or Not To Shave?

That seems to be a serious question going on in blog land lately. And since I have no inspiration to create anything new today, I'm going to punt to two of my favorite blogs.

First off, there's my pal skypigeon (also known by his nickname, "Jeff"--or is it the other way around?). Jeff's most recent post is called, "CAT SHAVING: Fashion Statement or Hideous Evil?". It's worth checking out. In fact, it's worth leaving a comment as he specifically asks for your opinion.


And then there's Tappity Tappity (Thomas Kingsley Troupe) with his "Mom Won't Shave Me. Jesus Can't Save Me." post from a few days ago. He's growing a mustache along with several other volunteer fire fighters where he serves.

Not only are both posts worth reading, they are blogs that you should bookmark and read regularly. I highly recommend them to both of my readers!

If you're still interested in cats and don't want to click away from the safety and security of Big Doofus Blog, you can watch a movie that I liked about flying cats by clicking here.

NOTE: I borrowed the shaved cat picture from The Hudsons Blog which looks like an incredible wedding photographer's site (I just Googled, "shaved cat" and found it--imagine that). The straight razor is from some site called "The Art of Shaving" that sells really expensive shaving paraphernalia. If people are willing to pay over a hundred dollars for a razor, I may need to start a business/web site called "The Art of Toenail Clipping."

TDJ on Umbrellas - Ten Years Ago Today

A profound truth unearthed from the entries of The Daily Journal. You'd think we'd get a real handle on technology by now.

August 12, 1998
You'd think that with science as advanced as it is today, we'd develop giant umbrellas to put over cities whenever really important outdoor car part shows are going on. To think, we can put a man on the moon. Geesh.

Entertainment from the Front Yard

A few weeks ago I spent the entire weekend in the yard making things look nice for a group of people coming to visit. Near the end of one of these days I decided to take a break for a few minutes so I plopped down on a lawn chair and had a beverage (as Dave Letterman used to say, "There's nothing like a tasty beverage.").

Looking across the street I could hear what sounded like hundreds of birds congregating in my neighbor's twin pear trees. These were not large trees by any scale, but quite full and round. While I could hear hundreds of birds, I couldn't see a single one unless it chose to fly out of the "safety" of the tree. I used quotations marks around the word, safety for a reason. These birds only assumed they were safe in the canopy of the pear trees. I just happened to be looking straight ahead when a giant hawk (perhaps a Cooper's Hawk) shot into one of the trees. Honestly, it happened so fast that I don't know if the magnificent bird of prey swooped in from above or below the tree. The chirping and rustling of birds suddenly grew frantic, but paled in comparison to the rustling of leaves created by the giant wings of the invading hawk. Most of the birds in this tree managed to escape and the hawk quickly made his way to the other tree followed by more chirping and more rustling. A few seconds later one of the little birds emerged from this tree and attempted to make his way to the neighbors bushes to take cover. However, the hawk was right behind him. In a moment it was all over. The hawk held onto it's prey long enough to squeeze the life out of it and then devoured it piece by piece.

Should I have been grossed out by this? I hope it's ok that I thoroughly enjoyed being a witness to it all. I've seen these birds attack from a distance, but never from so close. I only wish I would have had a camera to get a few pictures. I grabbed this picture of a Cooper's Hawk from J. Cassady's "Vultures, Osprey, Kites, Eagles, Hawks & Falcons" page. Enjoy!

ZIPPER! You cannot make this stuff up.

Last night we finished up our church softball league. Our church doesn't actually have a team, but a few of us play with our friends at Calvary Chapel. As bad as our team has been all year (but still fun), we managed to win our way into the tournament championship game where we were pummeled by the Catholics. I also managed to drop way to many balls as 1st base, but that's not the point of today's entry...

During the first game we played last night (the semi-final) I saw something that goes into the "You cannot make this stuff up" category. The opposing team's pitcher was a fifty-something year-old man with shoulder-length, wavy, salt and pepper hair and a thin, black bandanna around his head . My guess is that this guy was probably referred to as a "hippy" back in the day. He was wearing an old high School football jersey. I suspect that it was his when he was younger. On the back of the jersey was his number and the name (or nickname), "ZIPPER".

First off, let me just say that if your name or even your nickname is, "ZIPPER" that's kind of cool no matter what. I never really had a nickname as a kid or even as an adult, but I always thought it would be neat to have one. Just my luck, I'd be like George Costanza on Seinfeld trying to get people calling me, "T-Bone" and ending up with "Cocoa The Monkey," but I digress.

There was an incredible irony in all of this. Believe it or not, ZIPPER's zipper was down. Someone must have mentioned it to him in between innings because when he came back out later it was fixed, but it's one of those moments I don't want to forget.

Why Do I Still Giggle At This?

I finally decided to take the Facebook plunge today. I have no desire to really get into Facebook, but I want to be able to see the pages of friends and family who have sent me links. So, don't get too excited. Personally, I'm a LinkedIn user. LinkedIn is like the Facebook/Myspace for business professionals (in my opinion).

Anyway, I was signing up and the immature schoolboy in me couldn't help but laugh at this...
Of course I will "select sex." But does this mean I can only select it on my birthday? It's just a weird way to select whether you're male or female. On a related note, I was pleasantly surprised that "male" and "female" were the only two selections.

Can You Rescue the Fat Princess?

The video game industry has done a stellar job of creating content that manages to offend the general public. Of course, they don't usually offend the video game customers--just everyone else who doesn't buy the games.

The Halo series for Microsoft's XBOX and XBOX 360 fueled the firestorm of adults who believe that kids are exposed to too much violence. The latest Grand Theft Auto game takes it a step further with the clever addition of stealing, pimping, running over people and all sorts of extra curricular activities. I've got to be honest with you, I'll join in on the protests over that one. There's just no reason for a game like this to exist--and even if it's rated for adults only, kids are playing it (probably more than the adults). Seriously, I know parents that don't pay attention to the games their kids play. They just buy them and let them have at it. It's sort of like it used to be with cartoons. Years ago, it was assumed that if a television program or movie was a cartoon, it was safe for kids. That's not the case today with cartoons or video games.

So, the latest, and most bizarre, game to garner the media's attention is called Fat Princess available exclusively for PlayStation 3 (darn, I don't have one of those). Here's a description of the game from the PlayStation site:

Frantic and fun, Fat Princess pits two hordes of players against each other in comic medieval battle royale. Your goal is to rescue your beloved princess from the enemy dungeon. There’s a catch though: your adversary has been stuffing her with food to fatten her up and it’s going to take most of your army working together to carry her back across the battlefield.

What's not to love about a game like this? Well, I can tell you that some feminists groups are not too happy. Plus, what was Sony thinking when they approved this idea? Can you imagine a bunch of Japanese business men wearing suits (they still do) and sitting in a board room somewhere in Japan (that's just my assumption) talking about this game? It reminds me of a bad Japanese game show. But from what I've been able to attain online, it was developed here in the states with a woman as the "Senior Producer".

The sad fact is that this game shouldn't be this controversial. Is it a dumb idea? Yes. But we live in a time where just about everything is controversial for some reason or other. This could have been a Saturday morning network TV kids cartoon twenty five years ago and no one would have noticed. It probably would have gotten canceled--and I doubt that anyone would have even known about Fat Princess until it became media fodder.