Jet Booze

Believe it or not, I never heard this one told this way!

Shane and Phil were a couple of drinking buddies who worked as aircraft engineers in Melbourne, Australia. .

One day the airport was fogged in and they were stuck in the hangar with nothing to do. .

Phil said, 'Man, I wish we had something to drink!' . .
Shane says, 'Me too. Y'know, I've heard you can drink jet fuel and get a buzz. You wanna try it?' . .

So they pour themselves a couple of glasses of high octane booze, get completely smashed, and have a great evening. . .

The next morning Phil wakes up and is surprised at how good he feels. In fact he feels GREAT! NO hangover! NO bad side effects. Nothing! .

 Then the phone rings. It's Shane.

Shane says, 'Hey, how are you this morning?' . .

Phil says, 'I feel great, how about you?'
Shane, 'I feel great, too. You don't have a hangover?' . .

Phil says, 'No that jet fuel is great stuff -- no hangover, nothing. We ought to do this more often. In fact I'm going to be having only jet fuel from now on' . .

 Shane,'Yeah, well... there is just one thing.' . . 'What's that?' .
'Have you farted yet?' . . . . 'No.' . . . . 'Well, DON'T, 'cause I'm in New Zealand'

The Girl and The Flagpole

Yes, it is THAT joke! 

I remember being told this joke by an older kid when I was in grade school.  Standing in front of the Stafford School in Cherry Hill, staring up at the flag pole and wondering why a kid would want to climb the blasted thing in the first place.

Typical kid response!

The Girl and The Flagpole

Boy: I'll pay you 10 bucks to climb up the flagpole.
Girl: Okay. (climbs the flagpole)

Girl: Mommy Mommy a boy paid me 10 bucks to climb the flagpole.
Mom: He just wanted to see your underwear!

...Next Day...

(Same boy): I'll pay you 20 bucks to climb the flagpole!
Girl: OK thanks! (climbs the flagpole)

Girl: Mommy Mommy today the boy paid me 20 bucks for climbing the flagpole, but today I tricked him this time I wasn't wearing underwear.

Mom:...

Command Shrapnel and the Collateral Damage Dog

Admit it.  Most dogs are badly trained.

Actually I should say that most if not almost all owners are badly trained and their dogs show it as a result.

Walking around the neighborhood, I see far too many stereotypes of small dogs.  Yapping, barking, straining at the leash.  The owner is apologizing, or worse.  Whispering comments of "No, Dear" does not instill any confidence.  The three pound bedroom slipper had decided a long time ago that this clown at the other end of the leash is not the leader, so I will be.

BarkBarkBarkBarkBark.

If you think it's only yappers that do that, you're mistaken.

See, I don't normally worry about the middle of the pack.  The comfortable 40 to 50 pound dogs.  For some reason people see them as the sweet spot.  Not consciously, but in how they treat them.  It is rare that I see a midsized dog acting stupidly untrained as a bedroom slipper.  But it does happen, rarely.

However, you get to the big boys and now you have a different problem.  The Loaded Gun.  Somehow that 70 plus pound dog realizes that Mr Owner is not quite where he could be.  Mrs Owner is trying to walk a 100 pound beast and the pup knows that she can get pulled down.  So they're sly and wait.  There will come a chance when they can have a little bit of freedom.  They may be runners, or barkers, or worse.

What happens in any of those cases? 

I'm learning that Rack is learning.  We know that the easiest thing that you can do with a Herding Breed dog is to get them out and keep their minds busy.  Long walks.  Very long walks.  It helps that I am up before 5AM every day for the most part.  At 5AM the neighborhood is quiet.  Trucks are just starting to refuel the businesses for the next day.  The bus lines are beginning to get moving.  But not like another hour later when everyone is rushing for the office.

So, walk we do.  That first walk is usually around a mile and a half.  Helps keep the weight off both of us.  I'm rather happy not to be a stereotype of the fat dude sitting polishing a chair all day with his butt.

The good thing is it also keeps Rack happy.  He gets going and it requires a lot of management.  Lots of Come On, and Good Boy, and Lets Go, and This Way.

Where it gets amusing is when Command Shrapnel hits my dog and causes him to become Collateral Damage.

We'll be walking along and I'm doing basically what boils down to Threat Assessment. 

You hear barking first. 
Then you spot the dog.
It's already seen you, but you knew that.
Rack's tail had been wagging, then it stopped. 
Now the tail is hanging behind him.
Ears were perked, but have been flicking nervously.

I start to hear the commands.
The other person is saying things like "quiet" or "down".

Then a "Sit!"
Rack Sits.

The other owner gets confused.
He barks another order.  "Come here!".

While his dog is being insane about the presence of another person and heaven forfend, another dog, on its planet, he is firing off a volley of commands to his dog.

None of them work.  He simply does not have any kind of control over his relationship with the dog, the environment, and basically life.

What he has done is to give us a lot of information among the firing range approach of commanding a dog.

Not that it works, mind you.

But what he has done was to inform us that he has no idea what he is doing with his own dog. 

He's also amazed.  Rack Sat.  "How did you do that?" 

He's a McNab dog.  If you can't train a McNab, you can't train a dog.  I say "I didn't, he listens."
"But?"

"He's collateral damage.  He was listening to you, decided this was for the best."

I'm getting a really confused look at this point from the other owner. 

"Rack?"  I get brown eyes in a field of black with a white stripe looking up at me.  A Smile on Canine lips.
"Rack, come on, lets go!"

Rack happily agrees and we plod on our way.

He's learning.  While other dogs can be fun, the crazed leaping of a greeting is only to be reserved for friends.  He is also part Mountain Goat, especially where D. O. G. is involved.

D. O. G. is one of two Rottweilers in my area.  For a while, they were the dog-weapon of choice.  Now they moved onto Pit Bulls and have ruined that breed's reputation.  D. O. G. is just a sweet pile of 165 pounds of love inside a big block of a head.

So much so that he will whine when he's out front of his house so that I will come over to visit.  Now mind you, the entire time, I'm firing off my own Command Barrage.  Rack DOES listen, but when he's excited there's a limit to that.   D. O. G. is one of his favorite "people".  He will actually whine at my front door when he spots him through the glass.  His owner makes Rack forget just about all training and become a stupid wiggly puppy goofball love sponge that doesn't understand how to follow the rules until he blows off some energy.

I'll hold him back to burn some of that off and let Kirby, D. O. G.'s Owner approach at his own speed.

Yes "Deeohgee".  Or "Dio".  Or giant love sponge.  You choose.

At this point the leaping goes nova and Rack is climbing higher to get closer to Kirby who he has been casting googoo eyes at through the glass all day.  Every time Kirby's car or motorcycle starts, Rack does his ground hog impression and peeks at him through the window. 

Yes. Rack has jumped on top of D. O. G.'s back.  And Dio is just too sweet to stop him.  Kirby pets Rack a bit, then helps him off or I help him off Dio's back, I forget exactly which. 

But yes, even well trained dogs have their stupid moments.  Luckily for me, my own Omega, Rack the McNab SuperDog (TM) is  not snapping at others.

He just ends up being Collateral Damage from Shrapnel in a Command Barrage.

It even happens when watching TV.  He's "Come Here" to the TV.  "Sit" to Cesar.  Even "Roll Over" to other shows. 

I didn't know he knew that and it didn't happen often.

But what do you expect?  After all, he knows how to say "Yes" by nodding his head when you ask him if he wants to go out, or even in, or for a ride.

That's a McNab.  They sometimes even train themselves.

A Man and a Woman have an Accident

A Man and a Woman have an Accident, a bad one. Both of their cars are totally demolished, but amazingly neither of them is hurt.

After they crawl out of their cars, the woman says, 'Wow, just look at our cars! There's nothing left, but fortunately we are unhurt. This must be a sign from God that we were destined to meet and be friends for the rest of our days.'

The man replies, 'I agree with you completely. This must be a sign from God!'
The woman continues, 'And look at this, here's another miracle. My car is completely demolished but this bottle of wine didn't break. Surely God wants us to drink this wine and celebrate our good fortune.'

Then she hands the bottle to the man. The man nods his head in agreement, opens it and drinks half the bottle before handing it back to the woman.
The woman takes the bottle, immediately puts the cap back on, and hands it to the man.

The man asks, 'Aren't you having any?'
The woman replies, 'No, I think I'll just wait for the police...'

Three Friends Die and Go To Heaven

Three friends die and go to heaven. When they reach the Pearly Gates, St. Peter greets them, giving them the usual spiel that everyone gets when they're about to enter, and as they are walking in he says " By the way, I almost forgot the new rule. Whatever you do, don't step on a duck." The three friends think this is an odd rule, but they agree to it and step in.

The second they enter they realize that the final rule might be harder to follow than they thought. Heaven is TEEMING with ducks! Try as they might, they quickly realize that avoiding the birds is going to be a difficult task. And then it happens, "QUACK!" Friends Two and Three look over in shock as Friend One steps on a duck. Quickly, an angel rushes over with one of the most unattractive people the three of them have ever seen. "Because you stepped on a duck, you are condemned to spend the rest of your time in the Kingdom shackled to this person. Have a good eternity." The angel shackles the two together and flies off.

After seeing what happened to Friend One, the other two are more wary of the consequences and begin treading extremely lightly. The two of them make it another three days before, on the dawn of the fourth day, a loud "QUACK" is heard. Friend Two looks to Friend Three, wide-eyed, fearing the worst. The angel rushes over, ties Friend Two to a hideous being, and flies away.

The third friend, now petrified that this will be his fate, becomes incredibly paranoid, barely walking anywhere. He lasts one week, two weeks, but on the beginning of the third week, an angel brings one of the most stunningly beautiful people the friend has ever seen, shackles the two of them together, and flies off. Bewildered and excited, Friend Three proclaims, "Wow! What did I do to deserve this?" And the person the friend is shackled to turns and replies "I don't know what you did, but I stepped on a duck!"

Friendly Random Butterfly

You get used to this sort of thing.

When I had the flu, like most of the Western World, I sat in my chair and looked out the window.  There wasn't much more that I could have done since I truly didn't have the energy, moan, coughing fit, curse, swear, moan again when will this be over.

Yeah it was that bad.  Literally.  I was listening to a podcast from Armin van Buuren and they were talking about the "Flu Making Its Way Through Holland." at the same time I was coughing up a lung.

Freaky.

I watched the sun come up.  I watched the sun set.  I watched the same people walk down my block at the same time of day.  Watched the dog walkers including the guy who carries the Chihuahua who looks like its dead since it has melted over his arm.

Really, dude, the dog would be happier walking on the ground, trust me.

But it seems the wildlife here was the bright shining star in the nighttime that the flu induced.

We have ducks that visit.  My neighbor calls the ones that look inside the front door that is more than a meter, 6'6" of security glass, Peepers.  There is a triple of ducks that visit every day.  The largest has a droopy right wing, and two smaller ones.  I figure it is a family.   Just don't colonize under my Jeep, you're leaving a smelly mess.

I eventually convinced them to relocate to my neighbor's island of flowers.  The constant hosing down of the carport was a bit much.

I was noticing that the butterflies here are thick on the wing.  I would watch as my Monarchs would glide past looking for the Mexican Milkweed I have in the backyard for them to eat.

There's a black and yellow striped Zebra Longwing that flies past occasionally.  That pattern will strobe as it flies past.

The point is we've been lucky.  Due to the efforts of the neighbor and the various parks in town like M.E. DePalma Park, we're seeing more varieties of butterflies.

I have been out in the yard puttering around more than once while cleaning out my irrigation lines and had to be told to stand still as there were butterflies on my back.  Plural, as in more than one.

In the case of the orange one, I have never seen those before.  It wanted to see me.  I was over by the pool and the bougainvillea looking around aimlessly, and this little beauty landed quite at my feet.  I moved away, it got up and followed me.  For a good ten minutes. 

Ten minutes is a long time to be On Guard, I suppose, but I was entertaining this little creature in the whole time.

I moved to the trash can spilling water as I carried the basket from the pool skimmer, and it followed.  I guess nobody wants to drink pool water except my dog.

I decided that the best course was to enjoy the encounter and go about my business.  Eventually it did fly away off to find more flowery fields.  All a part of being in the great outdoors.

Joe The Train Conductor

Joe, a train conductor, was driving his train when he fell asleep at the controls. The train suffered a terrible crash and only those in the front of the train survived. Joe was put on trial for the negligent homicide of nearly a hundred people. He was found guilty and sentenced to death by the electric chair.

When asked what he'd like for his last meal, he replied simply with "A banana, if you will." The prison guard shrugged, got a banana, and gave it to the poor man. Joe ate the banana in regular fashion and braced himself for death. He was seated on the chair, fastened in, and was ready for what was about to happen.

However, after the electricity was activated, nothing happened. The guard was astonished. Not knowing what to do, he simply let Joe go.

A few days later, Joe was back to work conducting trains. Shortly after his return, he managed to derail yet another train, again killing nearly a hundred people but surviving the crash. As before, he was charged and found guilty of multiple negligent homicides. Again, he was sentenced to death by electric chair.

It was the same prison guard as before. He was surprised to see Joe again but held his tongue, for the man was about to die and it would be rude to question him. "What would you like for your last meal, sir?" Joe respond as he did last time: "A banana, if you will." The prison guard shrugged, got a banana, and gave it to the poor man. Joe ate the banana in regular fashion and again braced himself for death. He was seated on the chair, fastened in, and was ready for what was about to happen.

The electricity was activated and Joe was prepared. But, as before, he was unhurt. The prison guard checked for any malfunctions but found nothing, not believing the entire situation was possible. Now even more incredulous than before, and not knowing what to do, the guard let him go.

Joe was, against all odds, alive and was incredibly still allowed to continue his job as a train conductor even though he was responsible for the deaths of almost two hundred people.

He was thankful to be allowed to continue his job but also scared. He would try to drive more carefully from now on. However, this effort didn't help much, as the very next train he was conducting, he managed to somehow crash. He was the only survivor of the train, which again contained over a hundred people. He was again charged, and again found responsible for the deaths of over a hundred people. He was sentenced to death by electric chair.

The prison guard was the same, the meal was the same, the procedure was the same. After giving Joe the banana, the guard was silent. He couldn't bring himself to say anything, all he could do was prepare the chair.

Joe sat in the chair, expecting death. The guard activated it and, again, Joe was unscathed. The prison guard couldn't contain himself. He simply had to ask, "Sir, how did you manage to crash a train 3 times? And how did you survive the chair 3 times? Did the banana have something to do with it?"

Joe paused for a moment. Then he replied: "No, I suppose I'm just a terrible conductor."

When I Went To The Guggenheim Museum

So I went to the Guggenheim museum with my brother and father because the other museum was closed and no one bothered to check if it was open today.

So when we walked in, there was huge spiral in the center.

We walked up it and went into the first room. There were three paintings on the wall. The first one was all white except for a black dot in the center. The one next to it had two black dots. The one on the right had three black dots in a triangle. I looked to the right and there were two more, one all black and one all white.

We walked out and went up to the the next room. It had a chandelier with one light burned out. Underneath it was a perfectly symmetrical pyramid of sand.

We went up to the third room and in there was a very nice natal behind velvet rope and a single rotting sandwich on it.

After exploring a few others rooms on my own, I found my father staring at a wall looking at something, thinking what it meant. I thought, wow, my father's a dumbass, but since I'm his son, I pondered with him. Pretty soon my brother joined us and then even more people showed up. Very quickly a large group of us were staring at it, wondering what it meant.

We were all staring at the exit sign.

How to Keep An Idiot Busy - Give Them Low Flow Irrigation

When we got this house, it came with a well.  Ground water.  It watered the yard, front and then back, and all was well.

It kept the lawn green, lush and has been so far pretty easy to care for.

Oh sure, you have to go out from time to time and use the weedeater on the fittings, but you have to use the weedeater on the yard anyway.

This is South Florida.  You drop a seed on the ground and it will grow.

The backyard has hedges, and we were getting some dry spots, so we tweaked the system.  At one point we got a computer to control it all, and put in a third zone.

Zone 3.  It's the super-duper low flow zone.  Everything is drip-feed and designed to comply with all watering restrictions.

Now mind you, that is a big lot of problems in itself.

You see, Zone 3, also waters my pots.  Pots full of Orchid, Banana, Podocarpus, Bamboo, Mexican Milkweed, and other cuttings that I am giving a start to.

Four pots of Orchid on the fence, four more on the shed.

Figure it all out yet?

If you drive around South Florida, you will see a lot of homes with a red stain on the walls.  Mine has it too.  It's rust from the ground water.  The easiest fix is to pave it all under and put in gravel then turn off the pump, but I like green around me.  I could never live in the Desert as a result, and my childhood bedroom had tables of flowers, succulents, and vines that I had because I liked it indoors too.

No, really way too much of that stuff.  I moved all that outside.

So the thing with Low Flow Drip Irrigation?  It uses teeny tiny little sprinklers.  About the size of a dime.  The water lines that feed them?  They are plastic lines the size of a fish tank air supply or a straw from a drink in a bar.

You know those small things that you tried to drink from when you got old enough to go to a bar?   Yeah they didn't work then and they don't work now.

They all clog.

Oh sure, they'll work great for a while, but just wait.  You will have to clean them.

Why?  That rust stain.  It's ugly on a wall.  I solved it by planting screw palms in front of the walls where the sprinkler stained it.  I figure if there is enough water to keep staining my walls, I can grow stuff there.

If it is coating my walls with a film of rust and other sediments, then what is it doing to those tiny lines.

Arteriosclerosis.  Yep, it basically gives my sprinklers a heart attack.

A coating of rust inside the lines that grabs hold and locks down the mud that is in the water.  Stick a pipe into the ground here and you get water, but that water has sand and other muck that gets up into the lines with it.

Slowly it constricts the flow until you are out there and realize that your sprinklers aren't sprinkling and your orchids are dying.

How do you fix that?

Join me in the yard.  7AM.  I'll show you.

Remove the sprinkler head, get a thin wire and ream out the water holes.  Oh wait, you can't pull that off?  No worries, just cut the line and replace the head.  Did that make the line shorter?  Yes.  You'll have to replace that line to the sprinkler.

How about the junction.  That "T" that you made to connect the two pieces of licorice whip together?  It's clogged.  When you removed the line and cleaned the sprinkler head it still didn't sprinkle.  Clean out the "T".

Hmmm, still not working?  Go back a step.  You connected the lines like a row of "T"s?  Like "TTTT"?  Not too good.  You will have to remove each "T" and clean them out with a thick wire or some fishing line.

Floss those "T"s! 

Still no flow?  Ok, blow out the feeder line that the sprinkler's connected to.  Just don't point it at yourself.

I lost a pair of jeans and my sneakers that way once.  You see at the end of each line all the mud and rust collects.  I turned on Zone 3, opened the purge valve and sprayed about a gallon of rust on my Jeans and Sneakers.  After dancing around and screaming a pile of obscenities, I closed it back up as the water was already running "clear".

So how do you spend your time?  Mine is dancing, cursing, and stabbing myself with cutting tools when I try to get these lines clear. 

Yeah, I need a better hobby.

So A Guy Sees His Ex-Girlfriend on the Train...

...on the way to work. Now they broke up rather amicably, so he gives her a friendly wave and she smiles back.

Once he gets to work, he sees his colleague at her desk and says to her "So I saw my ex on the train on my way over..." and before he can finish, his colleague abruptly stops typing and asks him: "What was she doing? What was she wearing? Where was she going? Tell me!"

He's quite taken aback, but he obliges her the details.

After doing some work, he meets his friend for lunch and brings up the issue while they were eating. His friend drops his knife and fork and immediately begins questioning him: "How did she look? Was she doing anything? Which station did she get off at?"

He's confused, but he tells his friend what he wants to know.

After work, he heads home and sees his roommate watching television, and wonders if his roommate will react similarly. So he casually mentions "So I ran into my ex on the way to work..." and without missing a beat, his roommate picks up the remote, turns off the TV, looks him in the eye and says "Tell. Me. Everything."

The guy is completely bewildered at this point, but describes the incident to the best of his ability.

Puzzled by the day's occurrences, he gets his phone and sends a text to his ex: "Hey, I told some of my friends I saw you in the train this morning and they all started asking me questions about it... Did you tell them anything? Did you talk to them?"

She soon replies: "No, but the same thing happened to me! I guess it was an ex-sighting event!"