Oscars for Dummies

Tonight is the Academy Award show. We can barely control our excitement. We, here at Life Explained, have started a pool, not the kind you swim in, of course. A device to make gambling easier and seem more legitimate. Let’s face it, saying I put twenty dollars on A Star is Born to win best picture would sound like a desperate cry for help. Not as bad as saying I put $100.00 on Mary Queen of Scots to win the Oscar for Makeup and Hair Styling. That would sound as if you had a real problem. And, too much free time. And too much money.

But, if you have a “pool” everything is just for fun. Just a good time. Just entertainment, that’s all. Things can get heated, though. We had to break up a fist fight in the laboratory.

“No way Vincente Minnelli deserved the Directing Oscar for Gigi in 1959. Any idiot with a bag of popcorn and a television can tell you Mark Robson and The Inn of the Sixth Happiness owned the award that year.” Said Bob, from Applied Chemistry.

“What are you, a moron?” Asked Felix, from Physics and Composites. “Stanley Kramer and his stark vision of modern society The Defiant Ones was clearly the obvious choice.”

That was all it took. Soon they were rolling on the floor. Somehow they missed all the jagged shards of broken beakers threatening to leave them sliced and bloody. But, security came, picked them up, dusted them off and told them Richard Brooks and Cat on a Hot Tin Roof was the only choice. Bruised feelings and sprained joints for everyone.

In what turned out to be a real wet blanket none of us had seen any of the movies that have been nominated for any of the awards. We are, it seems, uncultured slobs with the taste of philistines. In fact, unless Bugs Bunny is nominated for best actor, or Transformers is up for best picture we are all going to lose. So, we rented Alien bought some pizza and are having our own Academy Award party. Feel free to nominate your choice by leaving a comment at Life Explained, the Facebook Page.

Thank you,

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 Day Before Pay Day, or Cheating Your Way to the Top.

It is the last day before payday, and things always get a little weird. Even in the fast paced world of high stakes, life altering, history making research people live from check to check. And on the last day caution is the best defense.

I packed a lunch that I could keep in the bottom drawer of my desk, in a box labeled "Beware, Toxic Waste." It had a peanut butter sandwich, a small bag of Parmesan flavored chips, an apple and a thermos of iced coffee, extra cream and sugar, with just a dash of chocolate, man I was looking forward to that. It was safe and secure, away from the starving masses roaming the aisles between the banks of cubicles, asking for scraps.

Some people used to make the mistake of leaving their lunch hanging on the hook that was attached to the back wall of the cubicle. The company, in a generous nod to Christmas had them installed for coats, purses, backpacks, even fanny packs back when they were popular. One day, though, a pack of on site sales people went into a murderous rage over a dented can of chicken tortilla soup that had been hanging in a plastic grocery bag. We had to evacuate the building and replace the microwave oven.

At one people were offering to pay the security personnel, after pay day, to stand guard over the refrigerator, keeping their lunch safe from starving coworkers, excessive bacterial growth, and the overwhelming urge to eat it while sitting at their desk. But, the security people started eating all of the stuff they wanted and bartering the rest for vacation days, comfortable office chairs and parking privileges. Eventually we turned security over to automatons. They don't really work well, but they seem to be incorruptible, so far, and food is safe around them.

Lunch time rolled around and I went to the kitchen/break room. As I rounded the corner there were two members of the accounting department dressed in dirty overalls, straw stuck out of their hair, greasy hats, tilted forward in a way that suggested a complete disregard for societal standards. One of them (Amy) had a cigarette behind her ear, the other (Cassie) a wooden kitchen match. They were holding signs.

"Oh, come on, that will never work." I said. "Nobody is going to give you their lunch to help them cheat on their taxes."

Cassie looked at me and burped. "I am stuffed, just finished a whole pizza, and a chocolate ice cream cone."

"Yeah, and we just got promoted, so this will be our last lunch in the loser's kitchen. Loser." Amy added.

"One of the executives came down and we got all of the servants on his private island added as dependents, he is going to save a bundle." Cassie said, and they gave each a high five. And opened a bottle of beer.

"Congratulations, I am glad to see you moving up," I said. They always hogged the espresso machine anyway.

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.

Party Night. Karaoke Contest.

We, here at Life Explained, have been very busy, it is our holiday rush. The Joint Chiefs, and all of the generals, and admirals, and advisers are always in a rush to get their little weapon systems, and improved ordinances, in time for Christmas morning. Nothing says Merry Christmas like an autonomous air to surface missile with surgical accuracy and 98% kill classification. Imagine the joy.

Since it is Friday, we decided to let our hair down a little bit, which is funny because so many of us are so bald we look as if we have been exposed to dangerous levels of radiation... Hey, one of you guys run down and check the shielding on the reactor, please.

Anyhoo, we are going to really cut loose tonight. We are ordering pizza, soda pop, candy bars and a karaoke machine!


We are going to have a big competition to see who is the best singer. No voice enhancement allowed. And certainly no mind control machines. We learned our lesson last Saint Patrick's Day, when Bob, from R and D wanted to win the best costume, and used an ad-hoc thought control device and everybody went shrieking from the kitchen. No one is sure whether they thought they saw snakes, or were snakes. It was an ugly day in the history of the company.

On the plus side we sold the device to a third world despot for a small fortune. He didn't realize it was not directional, and he ran all the way to the War Crimes Court in the Hague, and we collected a big fat reward. Since we fired Bob for scaring the be-jesus out of his coworkers he didn't even get a cut. But, he did win best costume, a gift card to the company commissary. Of course, since he was canned he never got the chance to use it.

Now, rumor has it that Bob has hired legal council to reclaim his lost $25.00 gift card. Bob was always kind of a jerk.

That is the past, and we don't like to dwell on the past (you hear that, Bob, you bastard?). Tonight is a celebration, bring your golden voices and your dancing boots, we are throwing down tonight.

Space, it belongs to everybody, get some now.

Astronaut Scott Kelly, who is not married to a congress woman, which is shocking, the resemblance is remarkable, they could be brothers...  Wait, this just in, astronauts Scott Kelly, and Mark Kelly (husband of a retired congress woman) are brothers.  Back to the news.  Astronaut Scott Kelly is preparing to spend a year in space.

It has been quite a while since Americans have had the opportunity to feel any sense of accomplishment in space exploration.

We watched with wonder, and amazement when the European Space Agency landed a washing machine sized probe on a comet.  We applauded the feat with the rest of the world, all while thinking, "that could have been our home appliance."

We thanked Sir Richard Branson for having the entrepreneurial spirit, fortitude, and ingenuity to launch the first commercial, privately owned space tourism business.  Knowing full well, "we could be gouging rich people for a few minutes in low space orbit."

Now, though, thanks to NASA, Scott Kelly, American grit, sticktoitivness, bulldog like tenacity, and what can only be considered an ingenious end run around a gridlocked, bickering, tantrum throwing, responsibility ignoring, finger pointing assembly of elected officials, we finally have something to say, "space, we'll take a little, thank you," about.

It really got the guys, and girls, scientists, and engineers, here at Life Explained excited.  It was time to dust off the old "potential space experiments" file and see what they (our government, and its space agency) could do to help us help you, and everybody else, of course.  We like you, and all, but that is a lot of time and money, too much for one person, even you.

Unfortunately, we found out that not everybody shares our zeal for research and development.  According to a NASA spokesperson "our scientists disagree with your conclusions about the greatly reduced cooking time for rising crust crust pizza in zero gravity.  Further, they feel that the crust rises sufficiently for any pizza enthusiast in Earth's atmosphere.  To complicate matters, there is not room for pizza oven and stone in the small craft used to shuttle Astronaut Kelly to the International Space Station.  If you would like to attempt your experiment in the depths of the ocean we would be happy to put you in contact with the NOAA.  Thank you, for your interest."

Dang it!  We pay taxes.  We have rights.  That is what happens when you put a bunch of old people in charge of anything.  Nothing ever gets done.

We have decided to develop a space station of our own.  It should be pretty easy, all of the technology has been developed, we feel this was probably the most difficult, expensive part.  Now we just need to adapt to fit our budget.  Cargo containers are going for a song.

If you would like to get in on the ground floor of this exciting venture, and possibly become an astronaut yourself, don't delay.  Send a donation to "Life Explained, Explains Space Travel." today.  The biggest donator gets "shotgun."

Wanted, Person to Run Top Secret Organization.

Today, we here at Life Explained (#lifeexplained) are working on an organizational chart.  It is not an idle exercise.  Last week we were planning to get lunch, a little reward for a year of hard work, well not the whole year, goals reached, sometimes, accomplishments, in a way, and teamwork, occasionally.  The planning seemed simple.  All we needed to do was pick a day, a time, and a meal.

We met in Kitchen / Break Room, on the 6th floor.  That is where the party was going to be.  It made sense to have the meeting there.  We could experience the aura, ambiance, and the party details would flow from the feeling of the room.  That was the plan, anyway.

We started with a little small talk, some polite conversation.  Shortly, we commenced business.

"We should have Pizza."  Bob, from Research and Development said.  "Giuseppi's is great, close, and they deliver."

"No," Bob from Building Services, said, with emphasis.  "We have pizza all the time, my department is sick of pizza.  We should have Indian Food, it carries a wide variety flavors, and textures, it is a rainbow of options, and tastes.  We never have Indian food.  There is a great little place not too far from here.  I will pick it up myself."

Bob, from Accounting would have none of that.  "Indian food for that many people would be ridiculously expensive.  We might as well just feed everybody money."  He was angry, and it showed.  He was shaking, and his voice trembled.  "We should have a pot luck buffet, everybody can bring in their favorite dish and some paper plates, and plastic cutlery, and maybe a roll of paper towels to use as napkins.  It will be so fun, and interesting, a look into the lives of all of our associates."

"Yeah, that is a great reward for a wonderful year of sacrifice, hard work, and dedication, fix a meal for your coworkers, some of whom have been goofing off most of the year, and will probably bring something awful for lunch.  No thanks."  Bob, from Marketing, said.

Bob, the accountant threw a solar powered calculator across the table.  It bounced off of Bob the marketeers head.  He jumped up, pulled a stapler out of his briefcase, and tried to smash it into Bob, the accountants hand.  He missed, and staple stuck in Bob from R & D's sleeve.  He swung his fist, missed, and knocked a cup of ice water into the lap of Bob, I don't remember which Bob, sorry.

Things got a little out of hand, and the fight spilled over into the hallway, Bobs were wrestling, fighting, rolling down the aisles between the cubicles.  Curses, and cries of agony were echoing off of the walls.  Chairs, desks and tables were overturned, and people were starting to swing  table legs, notebooks, and computer keyboards.

Fortunately, everybody has been working so hard all year that they have not been making time to go the gym.  It did not take long for the combatants to end up laying is sweaty, panting, useless piles all over the 6th floor, and the worst injury was to Bob's hand.  He fell asleep laying on his arm, and strained his thumb.

We decided the best way to say thanks was donuts, coffee, and some money, everybody was very grateful, except for the people on the 6th floor, who are waiting on new desks, chairs, tables, and keyboards.

We decided that having one person in charge was probably a good idea.  Someone who would make the tough decisions, like what to have for lunch.   So, we developed this chart, now we need to decide who to plug into all of the slots.  If you have what it takes to run a world class, top secret, research facility, with ties to governments, and corporations around the world, and solar system, and beyond, please apply in the comments, and we will schedule an interview, unless we decide to hire a friend.

Another Post About Us.

2014 is almost over, which means it is time for a year in review post.  It was quite a year.  Highlights were numerous, extravagant, and highlighted.  There was so much good.  Since we have too busy to pay attention to you guys, and your accomplishments, we decided to talk about ours.  We hope that is ok.

Doctor Dawg combined a color copier, a hot glue gun (loaded with a large box of crayons), the reactor from a nuclear submarine and a microwave to invent the worlds first three dimensional copier.  Don't ask how he got the reactor from a nuclear sub, it is a long story of bartering, bickering, bullying and larceny, and he will go on and on, until you wonder if a talking, scientist dog with several advanced degrees is such a good idea. Be comfortable with the knowledge that Eastern Europe is Craig's List for unusual shopping needs.

Of course, the fact that he invented it just to save on pizza costs for company parties doesn't really detract from the accomplishment.  Copied pizzas are pretty tasty, if a little waxy, but the problem is not really the taste, it is the scale.  When he pressed copy it not only reproduced the pizza it also copied the guy grabbing a soft drink from the refrigerator.

Having two Bobs from building maintenance is alright, but not really in the budget, and his wife and children are a little upset.  On the plus side, despite the obvious difference in the pizza, the Bobs are identical, and even his mom can't tell the difference.

Thank goodness we are so close to the years end, and we can add another Bob to payroll.  It will be a little tight, but Doctor Dawg has a plan to cut back on the drink budget, using a fire extinguisher, an aerosol can, a garden hose, and an almost new (mostly clean) cement mixer.

Of course, that was not the best thing that happened last year, but it was noteworthy.  At least for Bob.  And his family.  And our budget.  Don't worry, though, there are still some days left in this fading year, and we will have other accomplishments to share, boastfully, maybe.

Weekends, a nice place to visit.

"Summer days and the summer nights are gone,
Summer days and the summer nights are gone,
I know a place where there's still something going on."

Ah, Dylan you are still the man.  And last weekend those lyrics were so appropriate.  We (my wife and I) were invited to a party.  It may not seem impressive, but we do not get invited to many things, so it was kind of a big deal.  And we had a good time.  Our friend Susan always has great parties, lots of food, including spicy chicken bratwurst, which were amazingly good, and my wife tells me contain a lot less fat.  Lots of laughter, joking and reminiscing, of course it was kind of a voyeuristic pleasure since the memories so cherished were from other lives, but it is almost too easy for me to get swept up in happy, cheerful tales of indulgent youth.  Good music, there was a lot of music from my childhood, Credence Clearwater Revival, and I am sure I heard Mr Soul by Buffalo Springfield, and who doesn't love a song that explains modern life in such vivid detail.  "Stick around while the clown who is sick does the trick of disaster."

"Everybody get ready - lift up your glasses and sing,
Everybody get ready to lift up you glasses and sing
I'm standing on the table, I'm proposing a toast to the King"

We left the party in time to get home and buy our sons a pizza, and rent a movie ("hey, Mom what credit card do you want me to put it on?"  "How about yours, your highness".  "Muppets; Most Wanted."  A great movie with appearances by several well known stars, including Frank Langella as a Vicar, Salma Hayek, as Salma Hayek, and Usher, the hip hop star, in a surprising twist, as an usher.  My favorite part was (not a spoiler alert) when Evil Kermit, (yes, evil Kermit, the frog desperado) tells the muppets that Fozzie bear quit the Muppets, and one of the Muppets asked excitedly "you can quit the Muppets?"  As a movie it had it all, action, song and dance, prison escapes, explosions, and Muppets, who could ask for more.  Which brings me to my next point.

When my sons were younger they would never watch "A Muppet Christmas Carol" with me, I love that movie.  A classic tale of reformation, with Muppets.  Life makes little sense.  Which brings me to my last point.

While driving to work this morning I saw three school buses lined up side by side at a stop light this morning,  They had just turned onto an important street in this town, one with three lanes in each direction, and a turn lane.  And, they were lined up side by side, waiting for the light to turn green.  Naturally, as a normal human being I couldn't help but pick one that I thought would win the race to the next light.  I chose the one in the middle.  It was too hard to pick right or left that early in the morning, and middle seemed safe.  Unfortunately, the middle bus came in last, the one on the right was the clear winner.  I cursed the driver of the middle bus, and went on my to work.  I am used to picking the wrong horse in almost any race, it is kind of a gift.

Until next time, when you will see a video history of our company, (with video, still pictures, titles, transitions, and musical background) in no particular order if I get it done, keep your head down, stay frosty, and vote for Dr. Dawg it is your only hope.

Dr. Dawg for President.

It is almost time to choose, it is almost time to make a decision.  Who will be suited to carry us into the future, who will be the one to make a difference, who will we choose to lead the country?   

Oh, sure there are a lot of choices this early in the pre-season, virtually everybody who has ever run for office, is still alive, and hasn't been president yet is a potential candidate, has an exploratory committee, and is raising money.  Plus, there is always the threat of a wealthy, unelected, dark horse candidate, who doesn't mind the insurmountable odds, and rushes headlong into the fray, without a chance of winning. Though, if a person is looking for fifteen minutes of fame this is perfect, and if you can manage one misstep, gaffe, or indiscretion you could go down in history.  Please, stay tuned for this seasons model. 

However, for those who are tired of career politicians, and all of their experience, and knowledge about what makes the government work, for those who grow weary of Washington insiders, and all of their accomplishment, and connections, and credibility around the world, we offer you a fresh choice, a new solution to an old remedy of a non existent problem, we offer you Dr. Dawg for President. 

Not only does he not have any governmental experience, at any level, he has never even held a real job.  He is the ultimate political outsider, he has never even voted, and he knows nothing about almost everything political.  If you are tired of all of the coiffed, tailored clowns trying to give away the whole circus Dr. Dawg is your man, well not really your man, he is your candidate.   

Let's look at several questions from our panel of experts.  In the sake of honesty, we are not sure how many people a "panel" requires, so it might be a forum, or a group, if anybody knows the qualifications, please post a message with the details. 

Q:  "Do you have a plan to balance the budget, without raising taxes?" 

A:  "Yes, I do have a plan to balance the budget, and unlike my opponents, the fools, buffoons, and clowns, I am not going to slash spending, and unlike the idiots who are stupid enough to oppose me in this election I am willing to share the details of my plan.  Phase one of my plan is to use the police department as a taxi service.  They spend most of their time driving around anyway, right?  Why not have them pick up fares, and bring in some much needed "revenue enhancement."  Here is the beauty of the plan, if you are running late, and need to pick up the pace just tell the officer, and for an additional fee he will flip on the lights and sirens, and get you there in a hurry.  And, if you are lucky enough to be in the car during a high speed chase, ending in a shootout, and have the necessary funding available we will let you squeeze off a few rounds.  The ultimate thrill ride.  We are going to open Fire House Pizza, and Chili Burgers, in real fire houses.  Delivery in thirty minutes or less, or your next ride to the emergency room is free!  That alone should provide a budget surplus like this country has never seen.  If not, we are noodling with some plans involving Armed Services Demolition Co., but these are still on the drawing board." 

Q:  "Where do you stand on immigration?" 

A  (sort of): "I have a very strong stand on immigration." 

Q:  "What is it?" 

A (more of a Q, really):  "What is what?" 

Q:  "What is your stand on immigration?" 

A (not really, but we pay by the letter)  "That is all the time we have for today, I am going to work on some very important policies, and procedures, and reforms, and maybe a quick nap.  Thank you all for coming." 

Another Budget Saving Idea

On the radio this morning they said the White House is going to give operational and tactical control of the drone program to the military. It makes sense for the Executive Branch of the Federal Government to distance itself from the day to day running of such a time consuming division of the United States Military Conglomerate (suggested motto, "Look At Our Stuff, It Is So Cool").

In light of the current budget impasse and the inability of the elected officials to agree on anything that might offer any kind of solution, at all, it might make more sense to allow a commercial enterprise take over.

They could sell the rights to drone strikes to the highest bidder, "Pizza Hut, the home of the $10.00 pizza deal, and a proud sponsor of predator drone stikes in the mountains of Afghanistan, north of Charikar, and south of Fayzabad." They could even name food items after key components of the weapon systems. "Don't forget to order your Spicy Hot Hellfire Wings, to go with your pizza today."

It has worked so well for the NCAA Bowl system, and trust me college football programs know a little about budget excess, why not let the Feds get a piece of the pie, or pizza, as the case may be.