Chasing an Alien Looking Truck.

Every morning on my commute I see one or two trucks that defy explanation. Official, cryptic and covered in wicked looking attachments, claw looking things on the end of articulated arms, huge chutes, tubes and pipes, malevolent, unexplainable, monstrous gadgets protruding at odd angles from everywhere. They always have some vaguely reassuring, yet oddly uncomfortable name plastered on a board and stuck on the side.

You never know what they do. It seems impossible to even imagine a use for all those things. It is as if they tried to invent a truck to do too many things. Or, a truck to do one thing, one terrible thing, a dark, unimaginable thing.

I had to know. So I followed the truck today. It wasn't difficult. A truck with that much stuff moves slowly through downtown traffic.

Keeping a couple of cars between us I followed them down 4th street. They stopped at 4th and Long. Two men climbed out and walked into "Maven's Heavenly Donuts."

In about twenty minutes one came out carrying boxes, big donut boxes, three of them. The other had cups of coffee in those cardboard carriers. Each held four cups. How many guys were in the cab of this truck?

It made me a little hungry. I should have followed them in and bought one of those chocolate frosted cinnamon rolls. Maven kills with that one. It has to have 1,000 calories and it is a whole meal, but it is my favorite roll in the whole city.

Two block east on Main, the truck pulls into a parking lot and a guy gets out of the driver side. He walks over to the small gourmet catering truck that serves the businesses in the surrounding buildings. This truck serves chicken sandwiches, wraps and salads all made with a unique Cajun sauce and a mild, smokey chipotle seasoning. Rated number one by the local paper it is a great place to eat, reasonably priced, with fast, friendly service, it is a favorite of many who work downtown. He must have spent a hundred dollars. Sandwiches, chips, drinks, salads, all piled into his arms and carried back to the truck. I was going to grab something but they were rolling.

Heading north the truck pulled into the Street Home Market, home to the Monster Pizza, a dangerous amount of pepperoni, bacon, sausage, and salami piled on a thick crust covered in Parmesan, and Romano cheese. It only comes in one size, the Godzilla.

At that point I was starving, went to work ate my lunch, I had a turkey on wheat with low fat dressing, a side of carrot sticks and tomato juice. I need to get a better job.

The Coming Disaster, A Precautionary Tale.

There was an article in a scholarly journal recently indicating that insects, spiders, mammals, in fact most species that are not human evolve more quickly. The assertion was generational influence operates on a fairly static principal, and since these “lower species” have a much shorter life span the influence is accelerated. The members who live, and reproduce create more robust, elusive, and able offspring.

No matter how you feel about climate change meteorological evidence proves that winters have been milder, and summers warmer. One of the effects of this climate change is the increased opportunity for reproduction. All of the sudden species are racing down the evolutionary highway.

Yesterday, my friend, John, was working in the dock of our building. He came across a huge spider. Even John found the size of this spider to be unnerving, and he doesn’t panic easily. He captured the spider in something sturdy, and tossed the beast outside.

“It turned around and looked at me, and I swear it gave me the finger.” He said. “It made me a little mad, but it was so big, and looked so angry I decided to let it go.”

I don’t blame him.

Today, I stopped to get gas. There were a couple of birds bouncing around on the concrete pad of the gas station. Dusty, brown birds, hopping closer and then retreating on the harsh gray concrete, looking at me, then bouncing up on the grass. They would start over again, coming to within a few feet of my car, then hopping away. Stupid birds, I thought.

Since I was dangerously close to getting to work early I decided to stop and get a cup of coffee. There was a Tim Horton’s right on the way. Coffee for me, and some donuts for my associates, bar keep.

As I walked back to my car, a cup of coffee, and box of donuts a wonderful companion to my little stroll, I saw two birds right by my car. They looked like the same birds! One of them flew up and came to rest on the railing of the cargo carrier on top of my car. He looked at me, black, pupil less eyes flashing, anger, resentment and contempt.  It was a little unnerving.

“What are you doing?” I asked, trying to sound intimidating.

The other bird flew up and landed on the hood over the motor of my car, turned, looked at me and said, “We’re going to follow you around. You can’t escape. We are going to ruin your day.”

Stunned, I stopped, feet frozen, knees locked, mouth moving making no sound. I didn’t know what to

do, what to say to a bird who was threatening me.

“Yeah, we hate you.” The one on the top of the car said.

“Why?” Squeaked out.

“Oh, I don’t know. Pollution, deforestation, urban sprawl, wars, walls, windmills. A general lack of concern for every other creature on the planet.” He said, his voice whistling through the air, cutting like a tree branch being swung in anger, the barbs and thorns right in the front, ready to rip off flesh. He bounced and turned, and looked at me sideways.

“But, I have this World Wildlife Fund commemorative leather wrist band with a panda device right on the badge. All proceeds from the sale went to protect the environment.”  I said, my voice shaking, my hand shaking as it attempted to point at the ornamental band on my wrist and hold the coffee. My wrist was shaking, trying to turn the emblem out and hold the donuts.

They screeched with what I am assuming was bird laughter. The bird on the hood looked at a group of squirrels who had gathered on the wooden privacy fence that kept the mechanics shop dreariness from spilling onto the donut shop parking lot, and said, “Isn’t that cute, he has a bracelet?”

One of the squirrels laughed so hard he fell off the fence.

“Our hero,” the big squirrel at the end said, wiping tears off his face with little squirrel paws. “I guess that makes up for driving the car, all alone, every day. Or the years of trash, and waste, and neglect.” He was starting to sound a little angry. 

I jumped at a sound behind me, turning so quickly most of my coffee ended up running down my leg, burning all the way. Hot, steaming, delicious liquid, dark and tempting, soaked into my sock, the loss was painful, the pain was immense.

Two of the angriest geese I had ever seen were walking towards me, cursing, and hissing. Language so awful I can’t repeat it here, or anywhere.

I backed up toward the store, my left heel bumped into the raised sidewalk and I knew the wall was only a few feet away. I was trapped. All of the animals were fanned out in front of me, chanting softly, uniformly, something deep, primal, terrifying. It resonated in my bones, in my ears, I could feel the anger in my chest and stomach.

I was out of options, and time. I threw the box of donuts at them. It fell short and they spilled over the parking lot.

“Hey, donuts!” They all sang. And started eating ravenously.

I jumped in my car and sped off, breaking speed limits, traffic regulations and common decency. But, I got away. If you happen to be in the north part of town and a bunch of city animals ask about me don’t tell them where I am, please.

And the Beat Goes On.

It was only a matter of time before somebody found out. And when they found out it was probably going to make somebody angry. And when they got angry it was going to spill over onto the others, and soon the whole place was going to melt down into chaos, confusion and potential violence.

Almost predictably, it was the sales staff that blew up first.

A chair flew out into the hallway, followed by an unearthly screech, laden with profanity, enough swearing to make a pirate blush. It didn't take long until the sales associates stormed the Marketing department, taking seven hostages. They demanding an increased commission on the newest Youth Rejuvenating Face Cream, and a cappuccino machine.

In a surprising act of brotherhood the shipping and receiving department grabbed two forklifts from the warehouse and put all of the office workers cars on the roof. Swearing they would stay there until the sales staff's demands were met, and the company agreed to buy fresh donuts every Friday.

Corporate negotiators arrived armed with leather brief cases, Gucci suits, expensive Italian shoes, and some of the nicest watches anybody had ever seen. Everybody had ample time to see the watches, because the negotiators kept glancing at them. As though they were late for something more pressing than the release of seven hostages in the Marketing department.

After hours of tense meetings, thinly veiled threats, and some of the most delicious pizza the company any of them could remember negotiations broke down. They were all confused about what to do next so they agreed to go back to work, and pay for the broken chair.

The Chairman sent a note thanking everybody, and everybody got a nice gift card to a local grocery store and a pint of Rejuvenating Cream. Everybody was happy, except the custodial staff, who were excluded from the negotiations, and didn't get any pizza.

In the Janitor's closet you could hear the ends of the wooden broom handles being whittled to a fine point, the scrape of chalk across a board as plans were drawn up. You could smell the anger, see it bubbling from under the plain, gray steel door.

They burst from the room, a rising tide of second shift fury ready to ransack the building leaving a mess that could never be cleaned. On a cart right outside the door they found a box of fresh fruit, and a carafe of freshly ground, freshly brewed hot coffee, and a small pitcher of fresh cream.

They looked up and down the narrow, dimly lit hall but no one was there. After having some fruit, and coffee they felt a little foolish, and went to work. The building had never been cleaner.

I made a new friend.

This morning, I went to the kitchen, and as is normally the case, I emptied the dishwasher, and made coffee. On the counter was a cup, turned upside down. Thinking maybe somebody trapped a spider underneath it I just left it alone. Grappling with a spider is no way to start your week.

Attached to the coffee maker, though, was a note, "Don't move coffee cup, an ancient, evil demon of the Moloch variety(the abomination of Annon, the devourer of children, and the innocent) is trapped under there. I accidentally released it opening recently discovered artifacts. I will dispose of it first thing Monday, Bob, Archaeology." Helpfully, it had an arrow drawn that was pointed in the direction of the overturned cup.

That was quite a relief, it wasn't a spider.

"Hey," I asked, "how's it going under there?"

"It's OK, I thought by now you would have better drinking vessels, this is not much of an
improvement from Babylon, though the high gloss finish would make it easier to clean, I suppose. And I love the decorative, contrasting rings, they really add a nice touch." He answered very politely.

"Oh, and that is bigger than the average coffee mug," I assured him. "It is Pamela's, she works in Customer Service, and it is quite a trip from the kitchen to her cubicle."

"What's a cubicle?" He asked.

"Oh, it is like a little room, with short, movable, carpet covered walls. It gives the illusion of privacy, and significance without providing either. We have hundreds of them on every floor, and people come and occupy them every day, working at various tasks. All designed to advance the greater good of the company, and provide profits for the shareholders and upper management."

"Sounds like hell, and I would know," He said and we both laughed.

"Hey, do you want to see one?" I asked.

"No, I told Bob I would wait here. But, if you could put one of those donuts under the cup I would be very grateful, I haven't had a bite to eat in over 5,000 years."

"Sure," I said, sliding a donut under the mug. "Hey, if you get out, I am on the third floor, down at the west end of the building, I am the one doing all the work, you can't miss me, my name is Tim."

"If Bob has time we will swing by and see you in action, Tim, Thanks for the donut."

You know, sometimes Monday is not so bad.

Efforts are always rewarded, sometimes.

Things have been picking up at work, which is nice, for the most part.  It is nice to know that the company is going to continue to write paychecks, a guy can really get used to those.  And, people are much more "manageable" when they have something to do.  There are all kinds of benefits.  Sometimes things get a little hectic, though, and I am not always the best person to be around in stressful situations.  But, so far we are all still on speaking terms, almost, for the most part.  At least everybody is still talking to me, most of the time, and it is generally pretty amiable, and that is how a manager should be judged, we can all agree on that, right.

Anyway, I thought with all of the additional work and the stress involved it seemed a little reward was in order.  Donuts, for everyone!

I stopped at the donut shop, I am not going to mention the name, no endorsements, or lawsuits, here, but we will call it Him Torton's for convenience sake.  We (my family, and I) like to shop at Him Torton's because they have very good donuts, and we support the local economy.  Not that Him Torton's is local, but they seem to be tied very closely with our local NHL team, the Columbus Blue Jackets (Motto; "Hey, that is one nice blazer!"  "Thanks, it is Azure.").  And without them we would have a big, empty building downtown, which is very bad for the economy.  I like to do my part.

Since I go to work pretty early stopping for donuts is a simple task.  There is hardly ever anyone in line ahead of me, and the parking lot is almost empty.  After hurrying across the drive through lane, always dangerous, day, night, whenever, and walking up to the counter an employee greeted me, and boxed up the donuts of my choosing.

Here is a particularly important point.  Always choose your own donuts, never let them grab a prepackaged dozen and pawn that off on you.  You have no idea what is inside and you might be the most hated man at work.

Now, my donuts are packaged, and we have agreed, the Him Torton's employee, and me, that I don't want any coffee, or hot chocolate, and he sets down my donuts, on the counter, by the cash register, and walks off.   About fifteen feet (457 centimeters) away he begins assembling breakfast sandwiches.

I am left, standing there, fiddling nervously with a handful of napkins.  In the background "Lido Shuffle" by Boz Scaggs is playing;

"He'll be makin' like a bee line,
Headin' for the border line,
Goin' for broke, sayin'
One more hit ought to do it,
This joint, ain't nothin' to it,
One more for the road,"

Should I grab the donuts and leave?  But, my wife gave me a gift card to Him Torton's with specific instructions.  "Use this card, and don't lose it, and try to remember how much is left on the card when you are done."  What am I going to say?

"There is still $25.00 left on the gift card, and yes, I did buy donuts, no I didn't pay cash, and no I didn't use a credit card.   I didn't pay for them at all.  They just gave me a dozen donuts." Somehow this will all end up to be my fault.

Fortunately another employee asked if he could help me.  I told him I wanted to pay for my donuts.
 He looked at me, and my box of donuts suspiciously, (he must have thought I was trying to buy someone elses donuts, or maybe I had packaged my own) and we kind of stood there for a few tense minutes, looking at my box of donuts.  Finally he asked how many there were, I said a dozen, and he let me pay, and I was off.

Things like this are always happening to me.  But, the donuts were good, and everybody appreciated them.  So, it was worth it.  Next time, they get bagels, though.

Oh, how I hate Tuesday.

Thank God this day is almost over. It has been hellish, agonizing, unendurable torture.

First the coffee maker didn't start. No fresh brewed aroma wafting through the house, welcoming the dawn. No, LED illumination lighting the way to a good morning. No, the button had to be pushed, by hand, in the dark!

Then it was cloudy, drizzly, crappy, the kind of weather that is so bad that it only get worse. Not enough rain to run the windshield wipers, but enough to make it difficult to see. Just enough for the wiper to smear into an awful mess. With a terrible screech assaulting the ears. No amount of the Grateful Dead can cover that sound, not even He's Gone from the Europe 72 Live, which will fix almost any problem imaginable.

Next my blue tooth headphones were dead. I forgot to charge the battery! Now I am tethered to my phone, like a dog on a leash. Every time I move the collar tightens choking the life from my pathetic, wasted day.

And to add a little insult to the injury laying in ambush, to scrape away the last bit of hope, they installed a new traffic sign over by the donut shop! They are taking this health consciousness a little too seriously.

But, hey tomorrow is Wednesday, and that is whole new game!

Another chance, probably wasted, to save the world. Why do we bother?

Driving to work today we were behind a car that had personalized plates, with a purchased plate holder, and a bumper sticker.  So, in a couple of miles, driving about 70 miles an hour we learned that the woman driving the car was a fan (or graduate) of the local university, who liked to have fun, and was striving to be exceptional, and drove a Honda.  It was as though we were old friends.

We felt so connected to the woman in the Honda we started calling her Janet.  Everybody was excited to get the chance to follow such a dynamic, fun loving sports fan as Janet to work.  It would be a great way to start every day.

But, Bil, from accounting asked, "what if she just bought that stuff, what if it wasn't true?"

It was an epiphany, there was no truth in advertising for the back of a car.  For all we knew the woman in the Honda was a slothful, blissfully sub average, party killing, wet blanket who despised the local university.  It might have been a sham, we felt betrayed.

But it led to a conversation at the morning new product meeting.  What if we had to advertise our true character and emotional states on the backs of our cars.  Wouldn't the world be a much saner, safer place if you knew what the other people were really feeling.

With that in mind we would like to introduce;

THE LIFE EXPLAINED HONEST END OF CAR STICKER SYSTEM.

Everyday is different, everyday you are different, one adhesive, vinyl sheet espousing some emotional cliche cannot possibly convey the evolution, and changing condition of a person as diverse and wonderful as you, trust us.

Using a hook and loop fastener this system will allow the application of almost any state of being you can imagine.  We are constantly adding new sentiments to the catalog, there is something for everyone, everyday.  In a few seconds you are on your way to work, and the world will understand you a little better.  Not a bad way to start the day, is it?

Why settle for canned, pat, trite generalizations when you can cover the range of potential possibilities.  Humanity is diverse, wonderful, and slightly (or completely) psychotic.  A car should reflect that.

Act now, and check out our complete line of "Emotional Response Stimuli Conductors" to let the world know how you are feeling, every damn day.  It is your right, it is your privilege, it is your duty.  And your friends, coworkers, and fellow commuters will thank you.

We are getting ready to introduce our Mass Transit Line soon so all of you bus, and train riders start hounding city officials to loosen up the purse strings, and shell out the small pile of cash to install the Early Warning Mood System.  It will make it so much easier to choose the correct subway car, or bus.

A long overdue security upgrade here at Life Explained.

We here, at Life Explained, are huge, positively huge, fans of technology.  We use Apple stuff, Google stuff, Microsoft stuff, we even looked for some Linux, but they seemed to be completely out at the local gigantic Electronics Stupendous Shop.  We looked all over the place, and couldn't find any boxed Linux.  Or an employee to ask for help.  It is not the best place to buy equipment, but you can get a new movie and a 10 pound (4.53 kilogram) box of chocolate covered raisins, a 2 liter (8.45 cups) bottle of soda, and a couple of packages of Fruit by the Foot ($450.00 dentist bill), while you are picking up a new cell phone, laptop, or microwave.  We love that place.

Obviously, we are huge fans of technology (and snacking, and movies).  So, when we saw the outrageous monthly fee charged for monitoring the security system we jumped into the fray, and came up with a much less expensive, more elegant solution.

We took the panel the thieves former security company had installed and wired it to a dedicated computer.  After running an artificial intelligence routine with a variable to account for human interaction, with the ability to choose between several options we programmed all of the "personality" traits of each employee, past and present into the software.

We felt this would help the computer decide on the best action after carefully weighing all of the alternatives.  We don't want a heartless killing machine watching over the building.  Power requires discretion and choosing when to use force is not to be taken lightly.

This morning we went live.  Here is the video.

We might have to remove some of the "human," out of the algorithm and install a little more "machine."  Still we are saving a bundle on fees every month.  Most of us feel fairly secure, and we have some donuts, somewhere, in the building.

Life Explained, the movie.

Good news, for all of you who wondered what it was like to work at a top secret research and development facility.  We have brought in a film crew, (actually it is a guy who works here and owns an iPhone), a big time director (the same guy, allowing him to be the director was the only way he would agree to stay awake for the whole day) and a top flight, big budget special effects lab (ok, it is just an iPhone app, but it is pretty amazing, and it did cost $6.00 or $7.00 dollars (honestly, we were all so excited nobody really remembers how much it cost) which is at least a dozen donuts) to put it all together.

It is kind of exciting, we have the storyboard laid out, using two of our favorite pens.  Casting is going to be a little unconventional, with the expense of the new app, and the donuts, money is a little tight.  But, art is not contingent on,or tied to capitol outlay.

Good news is, there is a rumor, unsubstantiated so far, that Samuel L. Jackson is considering looking into the possibility of taking a bit part, as "scientist 3" or "unnamed engineer" just to say he had a part.  It is against the Screen Actors Guild guidelines to work of donuts, even the tasty ones we prefer.  But, everybody is keen to have their name associated with this project.

In fact, several presidential hopefuls are handing out cabinet appointments, and ambassadorships just to have a spot in the parking scene, a beautiful exchange between two lonely workers, both wanting the same ideal spot, close to the sidewalk, and far from the dumpsters.  Really touching, really emotional, filled with drama, almost guaranteed to get some votes.

There is a lot of excitement, and a little tension, and some bickering over who gets to operate the little clapper thing between scenes.  Those things are pretty cool.  Oh, by the way do any of you have one of those little clapper things they use between scenes we can borrow?  It might get you a shot in the movie.

The Search Continues. Now Hiring part Deux.

We posted an ad for a new CEO last week, and the response has been overwhelming.  People are lining up outside the office now, looking for an edge.  Some carrying signs, "hire me, I am perfekt for the job," or "hire me, I have a degree in 'top secret organization management,'" or "hire me, I need a job, and I know where you live."  Clearly, there are many strong candidates for the position.  But, we have also been inundated with internal candidates as well.  It seems everybody wants a chance to choose what to have for lunch.

Feeling it would be a mistake to overlook a choice that was already sucking up some of the payroll we started evaluating the prospects within.

We have always been an egalitarian group, and that isn't going to change.  Everybody contributes to the success of our organization, and everybody has a stake in our continued growth, and everybody should get a say in a matter this important.  So, we took all of the names of the people who expressed an interest in being the big kahuna, the wheel, the suit that runs the store, if you will, (oddly enough it was everybody in the whole company) and voted.

It was a close race, but in the end, it was a tie, everybody had one vote.  At first we thought Dr, Dawg won, he had two votes.  A recount revealed he had voted twice, though.

It didn't take long for that little trick to catch on and people were rushing to pens, paper and ballot box. The sound of pens, scribbling furiously, was almost unbearable, and the boxes were bulging, overflowing with scraps of paper, index cards, napkins, anything that a name could be written on.

We decided the best way to handle the promotion was an essay contest.  "How I would handle authority, and the responsibility of being in control."  Everybody turned in copies of the US Constitution, the Emancipation Proclamation, the Magna Carta.  Good examples of the use of power.  It was too hard to choose, we should have said it had to be original.

We thought about an arm wrestling contest, but Bob from the Department of Weight Lifting was too big.  Which is kind of surprising, most of did not even know we had a Weight Lifting Department.  A good executive would know these things, another reason to continue the search.

One idea that seemed plausible, taking turns, everybody would get to run the company for one day.  We setup a rotation.  Every day the CEO would be from a different department.  We felt this was the fairest method, plus it would provide a fresh perspective daily.








On the first day, Bob, from Customer service sent the following email.  

When he was informed that was probably beyond the scope of his authority, he tried to fire everyone in the company, screaming, "you will feel the wrath of Bob, the Invincible."  It took the entire secretarial pool, and the guy delivering the donuts, and cookies to subdue him.  Fortunately, none of the donuts, or cookies were damaged.

We are still looking for a CEO, and will continue our search.  If you know anybody competent, have them contact us at TweettweetJohn@yahoo.com, or leave a comment with their qualifications, educations, and list of medications below.

Thank you,

Retirement, LIghts, Camera, Action.

Work has been going well, it has been busy, and occasionally a little hectic, but we have been keeping up quite well.  In fact, most days we manage to get ahead, and perform some of the work scheduled for the next day.  It is like altering time, where Tuesday (at least a part of Tuesday) happens on Monday.

With a little help from Customer Service we can actually, on occasion, do some of Wednesday, or even Thursday on Monday.  This frees up Tuesday to finish the rest of Thursday, and Friday.  On Wednesday we have Saturday, which has really started to irritate the owners of the company who don't like it when we fire up the grill, throw some bratwurst and burgers over the smoldering, red hot briquets, and pop open a few frosty ones.  Also, this makes Friday a real drag, because we are having Monday, or Tuesday, and wondering what to do on Saturday.  Time travel is tricky stuff.

But, that is not the point of this story.  This story is about the kind, gentle spirit of the older generation.

We have been doing so well at work I thought bringing in a dozen donuts for the people at work would be a kind gesture.  So, I did.  Tim Hortons is right on the way to work, so I just stopped there.  In the parking lot was a big passenger van with "St. John's Church of the Holy Eucharist" emblazoned on the side. I parked a couple of spaces away, I hate parking next to other cars.

People get out of their car as if it were on fire, particularly when there are donuts involved, throwing open the doors, leaping out to rush into whatever building they happen to be visiting.  My poor, innocent car will be sitting there, minding its own business, peacefully waiting for me, when one of these half crazed shop-a-holics, with the appearance of  a monstrous, post apocalyptic, lunatic from Mad Max will slam their door into my car, like a caveman, leaving a big gouge, some awful, gaudy paint, and an emotional scar that will never heal, right there on the side of my car, it is the act of a criminally insane, heartless...  Oops.  Sorry, that is not what this story is about, either.

Anyway, I went in to the donut shop, and was waiting in line, trying to decide what donuts would make the people at work the happiest.  Donuts are such an individual, thing.  Some like Boston cream, some go for the the white cream, some like cake, others glazed, others still, crullers, chocolate dip, honey dip, vanilla dip, maple frosting or apple fritters, sprinkles, or plain, these are the decisions that accompany a good deed. These are the trials of the kind.

Fortunately, there were several people ahead of me in line, giving me considerable time to decide.  While thinking I looked around the dining area.  In the center, having pushed several tables together were a group of elderly people.  Wearing dresses and suits, looking neat and proper, and talking quietly amongst themselves, it was almost certain they were the occupants of the church van.  A younger man was sitting with them, reading a pamphlet for the Columbus Museum of History."  It was a field trip, and it made me smile, and feel a little better about things.

Looking back to study the menu, it seemed like nothing could go wrong, this had been the right decision, and any donuts picked would be appreciated, and enjoyed in the spirit with which they were given.  It was going to be a good day.

"That was my sour cream plain donut, you tramp."  I heard, a shrill, grating shriek,  it was the voice of uncontrollable rage.

Turning to look, just in time to see a woman on the right hand side, stand up, slowly, grabbing a cup of coffee, she tried to throw the hot liquid in the face of the woman on the other side of the table.  Fortunately, she was old, and moving slow, and the lid was secure, and most of the coffee landed, harmlessly on the table, and dripped to the floor.

The tramp who had taken the plain donut was not waiting to see what happened next, she reached
into her purse, moving aside several bottles of medicine, an address book, and a mini purse sachet, lavender, I think, and grabbed a letter opener that gleamed with a wicked reflection in the fluorescent light.  Being a little older, she dropped it on the floor, and had to pick it up.  As we age, it becomes increasingly difficult to get all the way to the floor, and back upright again, trust me on this, sometimes I take a nap between tying my shoes.  But, this gave the coffee thrower the opportunity to make her move, she climbed up on the table, I think she was coming over to deliver a little justice to the donut thief in the form of a good beating.

Soon, the whole table was up and swinging, coffee, tea, donuts going everywhere.  The air echoed with curses and swearing, grunts, groans, and insults.

It took about 5 minutes, but the younger man, with the pamphlet, finally got them settled down, back into their chairs.  Wiping up the table, bandaging cuts, and tending to fallen walkers, and oxygen tanks, with a quiet, calm efficiency that suggested experience.

As I was leaving, donuts in hand, I heard the lady who threw the first coffee, ask "we should stop at the Cracker Barrel for lunch."

"Oh, that is such a good idea," the other lady replied as she put away the letter opener.

I smiled, and thought "I can't wait to retire."

Tomorrow is a new day, if we make it.

We are in the midst of the mid November Snow storm, an early variation of the polar vortex.  There was concern that this could be the end, so hauntingly depicted in the classic Doors so fittingly named The End;

"This is the end, beautiful friend,
This is the end, my only friend, the end
To our elaborate plans, the end,
To everything that stands, the end."

Thank you, Jim Morrison.

Local meteorologists were scrambling yesterday to find imagery raw, and terrifying enough to depict the coming apocalypse.  It was an afternoon spent warning people that we were in for a rough commute this morning, possibly heavy snow, and potentially, the end.

Stores were packed with combative, frightened shoppers, laying in supplies, bottled water, canned food, candles, batteries, ammunition (to shoot the roaming bands of looters, ravenous packs of timber wolves, and occasional polar bear), and bleach.  Why do they always buy bleach?  Some sort of bizarre need to keep whites white?  Nobody wants to face the end in a dingy, stained t-shirt.

This morning, stations were trampling all over the peaceful, virgin snow, each other, and poor slobs who just wanted to get to work, to bring you the latest, frightening video of snow falling, gently and lightly on a gas station parking lot somewhere south of town.  Local networks called every available reporter, and cameraman into work, for the "team coverage."  They were almost cruel in their capture and interrogation of motorists.

"What do you think of the snow, and driving to work in such hazardous, deadly conditions?"  The reporter asked, pointedly, accusingly, with a scornful, wicked smile.

"Well, people just need to slow down, you can't be in a big hurry."  The older gentleman, who looked as if he would never be in too big a hurry for anything, he was probably a grandfather, wearing a hand knitted stocking hat, and matching scarf, said softly, and politely, leaning into toward the microphone.  He probably did not want to inconvenience the reporter.

"So, you think slowing down, and being careful are enough to save us from the Snowpocalypse*?  Do you really think caution, and common sense will save us from this?"  The reporter asked savagely, with a sweeping, angry swing of his free hand to indicate the falling snow.  Since the older gentleman had moved closer to speak softly into the microphone the pronounced, emphatic arc of the reporters arm hit him right in the forehead and knocked him onto his back, in the new, wet, soft snow.

Thinking quickly, the dedicated journalist stepped over the prone, fallen older gentleman and interviewed someone who was coming out of the gas station with a two liter bottle of Mountain Dew, and a bag of powder sugar donuts.  He was "worried sick" about getting to work on time.  This made the reporter happy, and he patted the person on the back.

Of course, I could only watch so much, I had to get to work, and traffic was heavy, and slow, people were worried, and the freeway just inched along, but, I made it.   I hope you are safe, and warm, and somewhere with coffee, because I care about you, as a person.  Let me know if you had any problems, I will alert the stations.




* Snowpocalypse, much to my surprise, was not flagged as misspelled, neither was snownado.  It just struck me as odd.  Such is the evolution of English.

More Good News, No, More Great News.

It is now 5:30 in the morning, well, 5:36 if you are keen for precision, (I'm not), and I could not wait to bring you the good news, no the great news.  I will wait here while you get a cup of coffee, and maybe a donut, or a roll, if you want go ahead and make some toast, I will wait.  Hey, if you think I am going to sit here while you whip up a pancake, or a tin of muffins, you are crazy, this is big news, huge news.

Are you sitting?  Good, you will want to be sitting for this.

The kind people at Lefty Pop in all of their boundless generosity, and unequaled brilliance have agreed to post another of my entries.  Please take a look at it here Wow, what a great piece of writing.

If you have any decency you will rush right over, read the article and leave a comment demanding more from this unusual talent, (that would be me, by the way)  and you might want to throw in something about the wonderful toupee I am wearing in the picture.

Never pass up a good thing.

Next week the company that employs me is having a meeting, several ranking members of our marketing, product development and sales teams are flying into town.  It will be a serious, considered meeting, and there will be many important things discussed, and potentially the road to boundless success, untrammeled good fortune, and exotic riches will be mapped, and the first steps taken.  But, with any luck there will be donuts.  Not that I am invited to the meeting, (thank goodness, I can get myself in enough trouble without being stuck in a room filled with important company people, and donuts) but often they buy donuts for everyone (thank goodness).

Bagels would be ok, too.  Donuts are the hallmark of a good meeting, though.  And, I have researched this very carefully, "meeting donuts" don't count against daily caloric intake.  It is a little known rule of mathematical physics that ("MD(c)=<(H2O+C(ndc))".  MD(c) stands for the (c)alorie from Donuts provided at a Meeting are equal to or less than a glass of water and a cup of Coffee with (n)on (d)airy (c)reamer (which means it is not from a dairy, it seems).  OK, I just made that up, but it would be rude to ignore free donuts.

Even my doctor, who despises almost everything I do, does not approve of being ill mannered.  And really, who does, particularly when it comes to donuts, or bagels, or cookies, (cookies would be ok, too, or maybe cupcakes, those are always good).

Anyway, one good way of planning a weekly menu for your family is by the meetings being held where you work.  Since I am in charge of making lunches for my wife and I, it is crucial to keep a careful eye on the facility use where she works.  if there is a meeting of the managing directors I can probably skip making her lunch that day, figuring she can scavenge from the buffet they are sure to have.  There are always leftovers and if lunch does not need to be made, we can hit the snooze button one more time.

Plus, a free lunch is free.  And that is good for the old budget.  As Ray Davies sang, so wisely

"Cheap is small and not too steep,
But best of all cheap is cheap."

So, if you want to save some money, get some extra sleep (and who doesn't?) offer to clean up after the company meetings (for the love of God, don't offer to join the meeting, those things can last for decades).  Not only will you look like a team player, you will get some free food, plus sometimes you can find a little change that fell out of one of the Armanis.  Plus, it will get you out of performing whatever meaningless, thankless,humiliating, task you were performing so admirably and with such finesse and precision.

Vacation, oh sweet, lovely vacation.

One day, and then vacation, those sweet days off where you get paid for not going to work.  It is a really good system, and I am not sure who thought it up, but they deserve a couple of extra votes.  I will donate mine.

This year is going to be fun, we are going to Louisville, KY, and Gatlinburg, TN and living the high life, and eating too much, probably, and not drinking quite enough, as we are now old, and tired, and will probably be pretty full.  But, my barber, the inestimable, undeniably intelligent, and very nice Ted told me about this place in Gatlinburg where you can sample several different flavors of moonshine.  

Honestly, I had never thought too much about the flavors of moonshine, thinking it was all just clear, really strong, burn the hair out of your nostrils strong, but depending on what they use for the sugar it can be quite different, according to Ted, whose opinion I hold in very high regard.  So, there is one fun activity.

Then, there is the donut place, the "Donut Friar" in Gatlinburg, it is a place where they take sheets of some sort of dough, spread it thin, using a rolling pin made from magic wood harvested in the Great Tasty Forest of Heaven, and produce what Dante would gladly call the "circles of Heaven."  When I was younger, and kind of dumb, no let's face it, really dumb, I would have driven down there, eight hours just for a mixed dozen, and that would have been pretty smart.

Of course, we are bringing our friend, my oldest and best friend, who is now completely blind, so I should offer my apologies to Kentucky and Tennessee, he is very able, and very careful, but he still runs into a lot of things, so we are sorry.

In retrospect, we wouldn't really need to take him all the way to Tennessee, we could just go to Yellow Springs (I've heard that is one cool place) and tell him we were in Gatlinburg, he wouldn't know.  But, I have started a facebook page for him, (if anyone is interested in keeping track let me know and I will add the link) so someone might notice and rat me out, and then there would be some explaining to do.  Probably not a good idea, after all.

For all of those who are interested I will turn this into a travel blog for a week or so, detailing the best things to do in the places I am at the moment.  For those of you who aren't interested, you probably quit reading a long time ago, maybe two years or so, and have continued to not read, so I won't worry too much about it.

Remember, in the words of the great Bob Dylan;

"Everybody get ready, lift up their glasses and sing
Everybody get ready to lift up their glasses and sing,
I'm standing on the table proposing a toast to the king"

No, it probably doesn't fit too well with this post, but man I can groove to that song, that whole album rocks.

Will it never end?

As we drove to work this morning, the air in the car never warmed enough to be comfortable, wisps of snow chased us down the freeway, swirling playfully around the car. The thermometer read 18 degrees.  That was almost as warm as it was going to get, it was going to be colder tomorrow, and the rest of the week was already ruined by bitter, arctic cold, and predicted, impending, paralyzing snow.   The Polar Vortex was back.

+Luna LaBlue, owner of the incomparable my lowercase life blog commented on one of these endless, posts whining about the unfairness of this terrible, awful winter, that she was learning to adjust, and had taken the approach of relative discomfort.  She looked at temperatures that used to seem very cold, as comparatively mild, and weather that once seemed life threatening as almost bearable.  We are taking a different approach, and have several plans to combat this latest invasive species, the arctic winter, from destroying the American Way of Life.

The first, and most likely to succeed, plan is complex and will require some cooperation from the power companies in the Northern States, Canada, and the United Nations.   Everybody knows about all the windmills dotting the landscape across the Northern part of our country.  Normally, they use the wind that sweeps across the plains to generate electricity.  This plan involves reversing the flow of electricity and turning the faces north, using all of these windmills as giant fans to push the Polar Vortex back to Canada, from whence it sprang.  This will have the added benefit, if Doctor Dawg's calculations are correct, of generating drenching, much needed rain across the Southwest, and reducing the drought that has been so damaging.

Since it is so difficult reaching all of the parties needed to bring that project to fruition, we have begun a more metaphysical, (maybe supernatural) guerilla campaign.  Placing the blame squarely on the local weather people, mostly that Mike Davis guy from the local CBS affiliate (WBNS 10tv) because that is the station we watch the most, for creating the news, in this case the weather news, by prediction.  We have begun a noisy crusade of boycotting all of the sponsors of the local news programs.  Writing letters, sending emails, making phone calls, all demanding that they make the weather people predict nice, comfortable conditions, and loudly proclaiming my disdain for any company that would support such an awful, deplorable week.

Of course, this could backfire, since many of the local companies are places we shop, and a boycott wouldn't carry much weight if everybody saw us patronizing the places we threatened.   But, Doctor Dawg, and I have figured a way around this, until we win the war.  When things get improve we don't expect a lot of thanks, or praise, or free food, just knowing we made life better for everybody, and temperatures above freezing will be enough for us.

Scientific Research, at it's Finest

According to a recent, scientific study conducted by Life Explained scientists, in a carefully controlled environment with adequate safeguards, and verifiable, quantified results there are two types of people in the world (at least the part of the world with cars).  Drive through people and walk in people.

Walk in people are more tolerant, and patient.  They weigh their options, and try to focus on the big picture.  Considered, rational, and charitable.  While drive through people are rushed, harried, and willing to settle for whatever they get.  Irritable, tyrannical, and domineering, drive through people can be a little tense.

"Excuse me, sir, can I help you?"  The counter person will ask the walk in customer.

"Not quite yet, I am still deciding among the many beautiful, varied, and delicious options."  Is the answer, while the customer says a silent prayer for his brethren who is about ready to navigate the no mans land of the drive through lane.  After careful, thorough deliberation the patient, kind walk in customer orders a large coffee (any size only a dollar this week) no cream, no sugar (why ruin good coffee)  and a cream filled, chocolate donut that is so good it would make Dante rethink the 9 spheres of heaven.

While in the background is the sound of someone grunting into a speaker, "gimme doughnut!"

"Yes, sir.  Would you like anything to drink with "doughnut"?  The clerk asks.

Fast food.

"Gimme coffee, cram in the cream and sugar, and make it fast, I'm in a big dammed hurry."  The driver shrieks into the intercom.  Throwing the money in through the window, he grabs his cup, and bag and speeds away, stuffing the doughnut in his mouth, using the coffee to keep from choking.  While the next person in line revs the engine, waiting for the green flag to drop, when the pained scream of squealing tires and the sickening stench of burning rubber will provide the backdrop for breakfast on the go.

"Life is sweet"

The walk in customer walks, happily, (except for the terrified sprint across the drive through lane) whistling a cheerful tune, back to their car, stopping just long enough to lend a helping hand to a poor, lost soul, down on their luck.  Who, using the unique opportunity provided by this wonderful, charitable, beloved person, begins to make good choices, gets a job, goes to night school, earns a degree, finds a wife, gets married, has children and is elected to city council, where he helps usher in a new era of industrious prosperity, and hope for a desperate population.  Good fortune rides in on a chocolate covered, glazed chariot, with sprinkles.



While it is true that people are people, scientific evidence proves that some people are not the same people as other people, and there are people who are more people than other people.  It gets a little confusing for the those without the proper education, and framed diplomas, and white lab coats, but trust us, we are doctors.

National Donut Day.

Great News Everybody, it is National Donut Day!

I know this to be true, because this morning I stopped at Dunkin Donuts to get a cup of coffee, and they gave me a free donut.  Of course, there were requirements I had to buy a cup of coffee.  But, that was the plan anyway.  Anybody who knows me could tell you, I love free stuff, and I love donuts, so imagine my ecstasy at a free donut.

Of course, I played it cool.  When I saw the sign I acted like it was no big deal.  Nonchalant, casual, unconcerned, on the outside I was relaxed, almost lethargic.  On the inside I was in hyper-drive my mind quickly starting crunching the numbers.   Inside somersaults, outside, maybe I will take a free donut, maybe I won’t.

“Let’s see,” I thought, “ a small coffee is 10 ounces and cost $1.40, that means a 14₵ and ounce, and a large is 20 ounces and costs $1.90 so that means 9.5₵ an ounce now we factor in an 89₵ delicious, made in heaven donut, and that changes the equation, first, we add the cost to the per ounce cost, no wait, we will need to add it to the total cost, hold on, it needs to be added to the unit price after deducting the cost of…”

By now the counter person was getting a little irritated.  “Are you all right, sir?  Can, I help you, sir?  Are you sure you are all right, sir?”  I panicked.  “Give me a large coffee and a free donut, please.”

I don’t even remember what kind I got, but it was delicious.  So, rush out, get your free donut, (you won't regret it) and a coffee, I will wait here.

We are only human, some of us, after all.

People often send in resumes, asking for unpaid internships, offering bribes and kickbacks, anything to get their foot in the door at Life Explained.  After all, this is a hard working group of dedicated servants of the planet, who want nothing but an improved quality of life for the residents of Earth, and not just the people, either, plants, animals, insects, we care for them all.  True, we are not all that fond of spiders, or snakes, or giant, mucous covered snails.  But, we want them to be happy, and healthy, just not around here, then we can be happy, as well.  That is why it is troubling and brings much us much sadness to report that even we are not immune to the scandals that are buffeting the nation.

Recently, we developed a small unmanned aerial vehicle to fly stealthily around the Life Explained campus finding the true stars, those who go above and beyond to make things better, the heroes who sacrifice selflessly, giving their all in a valiant effort to improve everything, for everybody.  It was only an effort to recognize those toiling, sweating, bleeding, willing to give their all in An Effort to Make Everything Better for Everybody All of the Time.  Our new company motto, by the way.  Unfortunately, Occasionally Reality Stomps Good Intentions Into The Ground. Our old motto, it is easy to see why we needed a change.
Since we are so comfortable with technology (we are bloggers, after all) we outfitted our drone with  thermal and video cameras, radar avoiding composites, an array of aroma detection sensors (in case anyone brings in fresh donuts) and some light weaponry, nothing lethal, just fun stuff, you know?  This would be a good time to apologize to the people in the hallway, on the 7th floor of building E in front of the elevator at 9:33 this morning.  We are very sorry, but, you did look funny, running, screaming and  waving your arms, it looked like you were being chased by a swarm of bees.  You will be able to see it on YouTube as soon as we clear it with the lawyers, and as soon as Bob from Human Resources gets out of the hospital, we had no way of knowing about the hernia surgery.  Sorry Bob, it was all in good fun, we are sending over a form, nothing important, please sign it and send it back, right away.

It was a terrible surprise when we caught one of our own, laying down on the job.  Dr. Dawg, was supposed to be researching important methods of combating lethargy.  It seems he lost the battle.
We are very sorry to say, in light of this terrible breach of protocol, complete disregard for rules, and workplace ethics, and dereliction of responsibility, we had to dismiss Dr. Dawg.  Sent him packing, all dues paid,  good bye, good luck, and God bless you.

Oh, heck, we can't fire Dr. Dawg.  For one thing he is the designated driver, the majority share holder, and the short stop on the soft ball team.  Plus, he throws the best parties, last year at his birthday bash Three Dog Night performed songs by the Stray Cats.  Man, that guy kills us!

Sam Dorpman. The Ongoing Saga of Satan’s Attorney.

Hades has a lot of noise, there is all the anguish and moaning, gnashing of teeth, rending of garments, and general pained bitching and whining.  It is hell, after all.  In an atmosphere like that you need to have a liberal view of volume while watching Television.  So it was with Satan, he had it gassed while watching “Keeping Up With the Almost Famous.”  He planned on taking some notes, and using them in his next negotiation, but forgot to grab a pen, and thought, “I’ll just remember, I’m real good at that.” 

When you keep your TV loud enough to drown out all that misery you need to make sure your phone rings like a siren.  Satan doesn’t take chances, his phone could wake the dead, if they weren’t already awake, and doing the lowly jobs that keep the fires of the underworld stoked.  When it rang, Satan was so startled, he may have been dozing, he spilled a little of his drink, right on the front of his fiery red, asbestos pajamas.

“Damn,” he exclaimed.

“Hello, Beelzebub here, can I tempt you?” he asked the caller politely.

“Hey, it’s Sam, Sam Dorpman.  Your lawyer.  I have a deal, a sweet, sweet deal, for you.  We can make some serious dough on this one.  Do you have a minute?”

“Not sure I should give you a minute, you have been pretty hard on me the last few times I was there.  Remember that guy, Bob, I think, from the roof, he was on board, ready to ink the deal, and you let him slide.  But, the donuts were good.”  Satan said, longing for something sweet, thinking there was a package of cookies in the cupboard, and making a mental note to get a cordless phone.

“It never would have stood up in court, I was looking out for you, that’s all.”  Sam sounded a little hurt.

“Listen, though, here is my plan.  I will represent you, and we will sue me!  It is genius, Lucifer.  We will start with the Bob Williams case and work our way through all of those contracts you fouled up so much.”  Sam was getting so excited his voice was beginning to rise.

“Not so loud, soon we won’t need a phone.”  Satan said, moving the phone away from his ear a little.

“Sorry, but this could make us rich.  I will put you on the stand, and you can tell the jury how I took advantage of our relationship to make you look incompetent.  You can tell them how you started losing self confidence, it cost you souls, and you started drinking, which only exacerbated the whole situation.  Juries love to take pity on a lost soul, and normally they hate lawyers.  That is where we will get them, too.  I will put myself on the stand, and badger and browbeat me, I will be ruthless.  Until finally I breakdown and admit that I have been intentionally misleading you.  The jury will have no choice but to award you a huge settlement, and we can split it 60  /  40, and both come out way ahead.  What do you think?”  If you had been in the law offices of Sam’s Good Legal Advice you would have seen him wipe the sweat from his brow and the spittle from the handset.

“I love it,” replied Mephistopheles, “but, who is going to pay the settlement?”

“You know, I never really thought about that.  Let me get back to you.  I won’t bill you for this call, ok?”

“Thanks, I’ll talk to you later, Sam.”  Satan hung up, got some cookies and thought about getting a new lawyer.