When ah Bandit Calls

A bandit suddenly pulls out a gun and points it at a man coming out of his car on a lonely road.

Bandit: Get out ah the car, this is ah holdup!!

Victim: What? Doe shoot mih, ah begging yuh!

Bandit: Give mih yuh wallet!

Victim: Here, take it but leave me alone!

Bandit: Wat dat is in de back seat?

Victim: A laptop, doe take dat, it wouldn’t be of any use to you. Ah have all mih file in it.

Bandit: Why, because I is ah bandit yuh feel ah doe know how to use ah laptop? Yuh feel I is a chupidy? Yuh think I ain’t go noe about files. Sir, in prison is only files we does think about. How yuh think ah reach here? Is ah file ah use to cut mih way out yes. You telling me about files!! Look, ketch yuh self yes.

Victim: Leave me with something nah. Leave the laptop alone!

Bandit: You talking too much, yuh is ah big man. Get a grip and get in the trunk!

Victim: Ok, ok, take the laptop!

Bandit: Ah not asking permission yuh know breds! Nah, ah change mih mind, ah just upgrade the crime to ah kidnapping.

Victim: What you mean upgrade the crime! Yuh say it was hold up!

Bandit: So ah bandit cah change he mind? Look get in the dam trunk!

Victim: Yuh wasting yuh time, mih wife ain’t going to pay noe money fuh me.

Bandit: Looking at you ah doe blame she nah.

Victim: Wah yuh mean by that!

Bandit: Like yuh doe have ah mirror or wat. You forget who you talking too! Look at dis gun, see it! You look like one ah dem businessman who people does like to rob. You think is we alone is bandit. Every time yuh turn yuh back all yuh raising prices! Yuh think is we alone is bandit because we have gun? Nah, nah, you is ah bigger bandit! You does even take Linx!

Victim: Boss, is not me who raise prices, is inflation, and ah does take credit card too.

Bandit: Well sir, because of inflation, I have to upgrade this crime to a kidnapping with aggravation. You really aggravating me yes! Get in the trunk, NOW!

Victim: Ah have too much things in de trunk, ah cah fit dey nah.

Bandit: Boss, yuh so skinny yuh goe fit in ah 120Y glove compartment. Open de dam trunk!

Victim: Look, see for yourself.

Bandit: Jeeze, yuh is a mad man or wat? Yuh never clean dis trunk since yuh buy dis car, yuh doe go on de beach with it, yuh is ah psycho freak!

Victim: Nah, ah doe like beach too much.

Bandit: Yuh have any rope?

Victim: How long?

Bandit: About two or three feet nah, it a go take much to tie up yuh skinny tail. Big businessman like you an yuh never get tie up by a bandit before?

Victim: Yes, once at mih business place buh he use ah phone cord. New, new phone and he cut up the cord jus so.

Bandit: Man you look like trouble yes, gih mih de dam rope and leh me tie you up yes. Ah feel ah wasting mih time with you. Time is money in my line ah wuck.

The bandit ties up the skinny victim and leaves him at the side of the road. The bandit then drives away with the victim’s car, with laptop in the back seat and trunk still full with things to horrible to mention, even in this blog.

The Cringing Man and Other Tales of Woe

"When women speak, men cringe" is the popular saying from the perennial 10,000 B.C bestseller, "Surviving Women - A Caveman's Guide To Happiness and Sanity - Vol. 3." published by Baboon Press. Recent scientific studies done by the Men's Survival Institute and Strip Club has made a direct link between women's speech and men's apparent deafness and cringing. It has also suggested a theory to explain the sudden rise in mid-week strip club attendance and the Colombian strippers, but that will be the subject of another long awaited photo-blog.

The Institute discovered that most men have an attention span of almost 30 seconds to a woman's voice but a very small fraction of men mustered an amazing 45 second tolerance. The study also revealed that men's attention span dwindled to 5 seconds once they were roped and placed into captivity by a female. This ground breaking research showed the comprehension rate of men deciphering women's babble was half of a percent at best. However, The Institute surprisingly discovered that men's attention span at strip clubs and miss bikini contest was somewhere close to infinite, with male test subjects having to be dragged away, sedated, and in extreme cases, neutered.

p.s. this blog was inspired by a certain bloger who is quite unforgiving to aka so he has decided to take his chances and run :)

A Word or Two

I have to apologize to all those readers who find my blogs infrequent and funny if you look at it in a certain light and if you squint just enough. I have been occupied reading certain unnamed blogs of which there is one I cannot name. Also, I was recently bombarded by one email from someone, who will go unnamed for now, to have a tagboard installed on my blog. Thought I knew what a tagboard was I didn't know it by that name and in reality didn't even know it by any name. As you can see I managed to overcome my ignorance and have the shout-box (a word coined by another nameless bloger) installed. Please feel free to use it, or not free to use it.

The First Word

Since my entry into the world by the normal means used for entering the world, I have spent countless days wondering why something was given a certain name. One of these names I pondered over was the word spoon. I choose to go into spoon in this blog because if I were to go into the word fork I might offend some. Believe it or not, fork is an offensive word to some, especially if mispronounced correctly. How exactly these good folks ask for a fork at dinner time remains a mystery to me. I suppose they would be too afraid to ask so they would either do without or take one if they see it. To do without a fork is not acceptable to me but I was also brought up to ask politely for a fork, or even a lowly sopoon if I wanted one. I don't want to stray too far form the subject and get back to spoon and the possible origins of the word. The word spoon was more than likely an amalgamation of the words spud (potato) and noon (lunchtime) - you eat spuds at noon with a........Spoon.

The Second Word


The kiwifruit was originally known as the Chinese gooseberry but for some strange reason that name didn't have mass commercial appeal. Some also thought that the name may have been offensive to the Chinese so it was renamed kiwifruit. Apparently the Kiwis are not easily offended. This fruit is rich in many vitamins, minerals and fur on its skin. It is said to be quite tasty to those inclined to find it tasty. Apart from being a fruit, the kiwifruit has many other uses which has eluded me. I suppose it can be easily decorated to look like a Martian's head or to scare of attackers who are terrified by furry fruits. I am one of those people who cannot eat something which looks unattractive and for that reason don't eat kiwis. Outside, the kiwifruit looks like a sapodilla, but on the inside it looks like a kiwifruit.

Ask aka: 1

Dear aka,

I am glad that you finally listened to your fans and decided to host an advice column. I couldn't get an answer to a certain troubling issue and all my friends suggested I should ask aka, so here goes.

I decided to spring a few extra dollars on my wife and bought her a DVD player. I have to admit this was the best idea I have had in seven years and now she continually thanks me for it by using it all day and night. On receiving my generous gift she promptly went out and bought Kill Bill Vol. 1 and Vol 2, and urged me to look at it with her. She is particularly fond of the final scene in Vol. 2 where Bill meets his demise. I am a bit worried though since she has not been doing much of anything else since the DVD player arrived. I just don’t get it.

Bill

Dear Bill,

Maybe you don’t get it now but I am sure you will get it later. Women communicate in a very different way to men and recently they have been communicating through DVD movies such as Kill Bill, Buried Alive and Six Feet Under. I don’t think you have anything new to worry about since your faith was sealed long before the advent of the DVD.

aka

RIP Turbo 2001 serial number ZBC 421 C13

RIP Turbo 2001 serial number ZBC 421 C13

26th April 2003 - 11th February 2006

My car battery died today without warning. It was a sad moment for all in front the poultry depot when its final surge of cranking amps turned into a trickle as the Civic's starting motor failed to volunteer even a churn. Good Samaritans, in shock and disbelief, rushed from all around with jumper cables, spanners and suspect advice in hand, trying to revive the dieing lead-acid power house. But, at last, it was not to be as the voltmeter confirmed what we all had dreaded. The Turbo 2001 serial number ZBC 421 C13 was no more.

Though I am deeply saddened by the sudden passing of my faithful battery, I am grateful he lived a long, fruitful, and energized life, never failing to crank even once until his sudden demise. He was nearly three battery years old, which is almost one hundred in human years. His cells were practically free of impurities since I fed him only the best in distilled water from the finest distillers in the country. His poles were always clean and coated with petroleum jelly as specified by his maker. Though he did have a negative pole, he was always positive in his duties.

His replacement cost a whooping $590.00 as the price of lead continues to rise to almost astronomical levels on the international market since 2001. There was no rebate to be had since he died well outside his warranty period of eighteen months. This made my sadness even sadder. But, say what, and as a notorious roadside mechanic once said, a battery's got to do want a battery's got to do, - life cranks on.

RIP Turbo 2001 serial number ZBC 421 C13 and may your plates not pollute the soil and cause lead poisoning.

Fat Chance

The wind was cold by tropical standards and I shivered like all tropical people do, which is quite unsightly to the untrained eye. I started to look for the sun at around 5:45am, but when the first useful light appeared I knew the sunrise would be as bland as a politician on a door-to-door campaign. This prompted me to pack up the meager camera equipment and go back inside to enjoy what was now a room-temperature breakfast. Photographing a spectacular sunrises, or making an ordinary sunrise look spectacular, is all a matter of being at the right palace at the right time, understanding a bit about controlling the light exposure with the camera, and having a sturdy tripod along with two cans of anti-bandit spray in the cocked position. The point-and-shoot in Auto mode doesn’t quite cut it in the world of presentable photographs of sceneries. The day in the life of someone who is photo-minded and who needs to leave a visual legacy behind because he is not prone to making people happy with his visibility, is stressfully exciting at times. I have taken more photographs with my mind than with my camera, which proves to me that photography is mainly a mind thing, a learning to see something in nothing type of activity. Drawing is the art of seeing and so to is photography and Carnival.

Unfortunately, I have not been good at making people look real and exciting in my photographs and this made many people angry causing them to throw painted stones and bundles of dry grass at me. I think I don’t try hard enough, or have subjects who are accommodating when I try hard to accommodate. I am one who also believe all people can look good in photographs since I am into silhouettes and shadows. This, and my fear of painted stones, have me doubting if I will ever become a well-rounded photographer unless I continuously eat Hershey Bars for a few months. Since I don't care too much for sweets there is not even a fat chance of that happening.

AGWS

In an attempt of achieve developed country status and protect innocent gravel, Government has not only passed an OSHA bill, but has also deployed an Advanced Gravel Warning System (AGWS). This highly sophisticated and technologically advanced system is currently being used to abruptly warn gravel-oblivious drivers away from the heaps of gravel, and onto oncoming traffic. The system is said to be highly successful as very few gravel heaps were reported to be injured or scattered since the warning system was deployed.

The Music Sucks!

Legend has it that one morning a certain politician, who, like all politicians, was famous for pretending he cared about the people and for being rather arrogant though he was incredibly stupid; woke up, stretched, yawned, scratched here and there, then sleepily picked up the daily newspaper to look at the picture splashed across the front page. The picture showed an inconsolable and grieving Mother and Father at the funeral of their young son who was brutally murdered by bandits just a few nights ago. This bright and wonderful young man was a victim of an unprecedented crime-wave sweeping the country. It was a crime wave encouraged and fueled by the power-hungry, kick-back-ready, ego seeking, power-is-everything-people-mean-nothing, never-wrong, inhumane and evil politicians of this country.

This talented young man was what politicians like to call collateral damage, ah well, no big thing, or so what. It was not surprising to learn the first and only thought that came to this politician's mind was this will cost me more political mileage. There was no compassion, no sympathy, only feelings for himself and his political survival, and he was proud of these feelings. That is what politicians are famous for; useless souls, and destructive existence. But then, the evil and devious part of his brain, which is by far the most dominant part of every politician's brain, reminded the rest of his neurons and all of his soul, he had more than enough votes in the bag to maintain his status quo since his supporters see him as representing what they want.

People, regardless of who their political idol is, have developed a belief that the leader they choose should favor them at the expense of those who opposed their choice. What The Legend tried to desperately point out is that people get the type of politicians they deserve for he will be made from their wishes. If the chosen representative is heartless, arrogant, unkind, wicked, cruel, vindictive, and power-and-kick-back-hungry, then he is merely a reflection of his supporters. The situation gets even more hopeless when we realize the music is the same at all The Parties and the music sucks!

Add Vice For The New Year

It is 2006 and practically half the year is over. No, I am not a mad man, well at least two people think I am not but they are not very sane either. Anyway, as I was saying, half the year is over and not in terms of time. It's half over since all resolutions start to come apart during the first week in January and by the 10th of the month they are halfway gone. In mathematical terms it is expressed as the equation shown below, popularly known as the Failure Equation or The Why We Amount To Zero Equation.

Will Power * Resolutions = Outcome

Where Will Power quickly tends to Zero and Resolutions can be any number from One to Infinity. The Outcome, aka End Result, can be seen on bathroom scales, KFC shirt stains, empty beer bottles, bloodshot eyes, same shady friends, fat-filled cholesterol test results, mounds of dust on religious books, the obscenely low standard of blogging, and probably the amount of porn bookmarks on web browsers.

As a good friend told me on Ole-Years-Nite, I have no meaningful vices and vice-driven people find me annoying to be around. Naturally, I hung my head in shame while I puffed my cigar and guzzled my eight or twelfth beer for the night, while my free hand hung around a still unidentified female's neck for support. It was there and then I resolved to pick up at least one or two vices for the coming year since I had none. As if time didn't stand still, I quickly stumbled around my vice-riddled friends on the floor and asked the few conscious ones what were the more common vices among bright and handsome males like myself. As I suspected, they had no idea what a vice was and quickly dismissed my pleas. But, having placed my faith in Google and the better search engines in general, I was amazed and impressed at how much I was missing in life and why my life seemed so boring at times. With this new secret to life in hand I vowed that 2006 would be a vice-filled year.

Positions Vacant

The countries of this planet called Earth are on the lookout for budding politicians. The candidate must have the ambition to serve as back-bencher, government minister, member of the opposition, leader of the opposition, and even prime minister, president, pathetic senator (government, opposition and even independent) or any other useless, loathsome life form.

Suitable candidates must be able to lie, steal, hate, have no conscience, suffer from delusions of grandeur, think the world revolves around him or her, live for power, be unable to show or act with kindness, incite hate in their supporters for non-supporters, and must be functionally illiterate despite the level of education achieved by the prospective candidate. The ideal candidate must be able to not only hate non-supporters, but also victimize them at every opportunity. Naturally looks are not critical but the look of arrogance and cluelessness will go a long way in achieving success in this much sort after field by the brain-dead and facially challenged. Having the personality of a low-class sewer rat would also be a great asset.

If you are incompetent at everything you ever do and believe hate and arrogance is the answer, then this job is for you.

Tell Me

The more people become “religious” the more likely they are to hate. For many people, religion is the kick they need to boost their self-esteem and rise above the rest of a pathetic World according to them. These “religious” people are quite frightening in their baseless hate for particular groups and religions in society. I am not knocking religion and it’s purpose but I am knocking those who see themselves as superior begins based not on their ability to show universal compassion, but on their ability to show very selective compassion, if any. Tell me who you hate and I will tell you who you are.

a poor blog aka another fiasco

aka: Hello?

Mini: Is this aka?

aka: Yes, this is the aka speaking.

Mini: aka, this is Mini, Mini Skirt.

aka: Well hello Mini, Mini skirt, long time no speak.

Mini: It has been a while.

aka: So what’s up Short Hem?

Mini: I just got my new cell phone and decided to test it and couldn’t think of a better guinea pig than you.

aka: If I didn’t know better I would say you were meaning to offend.

Mini: aka, no one could ever offend you.

aka: Glad you remembered.

Mini: How could I forget, I nearly had a nervous breakdown trying to offend you.

aka: Short skirts are never offensive unless accompanied by unshaven legs.

Mini: Sheesh!!! I should have known better!

aka: Is there another reason for this conversation besides you suffering form cellularitis?

Mini: You haven’t changed one bit; you are still the same obnoxious aka.

aka: Thanks, so as I was saying, what else is the reason for you using up your minutes with my time?

Mini: Well aka, I was reading your blogs recently and I have to admit I wasn’t impressed.

aka: I am not impressed with your reading ability either but there are classes which you can take. Even you can benefit.

Mini: Get-a-life aka, I mean I wasn’t impressed with what you were writing. It just so-so.

aka: It’s just so-so not It just so-so. You really need more remedial classes.

Mini: Pardon my French, but you are avoiding the issue.

aka: You are barely surviving the English and now you want to take on the French...... If we were having this conversation face to hem line I would not be avoiding The Issue.

Mini: Aka, is your mind straying into the gutter again? You seem incapable of having a sensible conversation. Just tell me what has caused your recent spate of poor blogging?

aka: You seem to strive with my mind in your gutter but since you asked I will reply. I cannot say exactly why the poor blogging because I don’t know exactly why. What most people fail to realize is that we all make blogging choices and we have to live with those choices for the rest of our lives. It could be a case of blog pressure. The way I see it is when we are dead and hopefully gone, what we would have left behind are our deeds and our blogs. If they were any good then they will bear fruit, if not then obviously more fertilizer was needed.

Mini: If I understand you correctly, you mean you are all out of fertilizer.

aka: To put it in simple layman terms, yes, but this conversation seems to be inspiring more fertilizer than you could ever imagine.

Mini: You always seem so full of it, who would have thought.

aka: Don't write me off yet my dear short-skirt, I am still very fertile.

Mini: Oh, I get it, fertilizer comes from the word fertile.

aka: Yes, one can say it's the root word.

......the end, or something like that

Stranger Than Fiction

Mission:
To find evidence to prove the world is a strange place.

Method:
I did a check to see if there were people as strange as I am out there in the nearly once civilized world. I wanted to register a strange name website and came up with the fact that there are people out there who are no only as strange as me, but strange before me.

These are all registered domains. They may not be operating web sites but they certainly are owned by strangers:

www.lookatme.com
www.areyoustupid.com
www.whome.com
www.yesyou.com
www.isitreal.com
www.yesitsreal.com
www.canitouchit.com
www.notthistime.com
www.ohbrother.com
www.leavemealone.com
www.smellyfeet.com
www.fingerfungus.com
www.myheadhurts.com
www.myballsitch.com
www.sosmall.com
www.wearandtear.com
www.goodgrief.com
www.theend. com

Thank you. Thank you all.

Things with simple names can floor us such as the common cold, cars, and girlfriend(s)…. and even car(s) with girlfriend(s). I was floored at least once by two of these items but not on consecutive days. However, they can all take a toll on us, both on impact and during our hospital stay. Turning off the oxygen can also be a real killer.

I am currently recovering from the common cold and was once again deeply bothered by the name and a certain pharmacist. Who in their right mind would call a common cold a common cold, certainly not someone moaning under the influence of overheating and a bloody red, tissue-from-a-tissue-box wiped nose? Could this be Rudolph’s secret that Santa and the CIA trained elves don’t want us to know?

Rudolph, with your nose so bright would you kindly use a Kleenex tonight but keep it quiet.

The one thing that is not documented in recent medical journals of questionable integrity and readership is that the mind behaves even stranger while suffering from a bout of the common cold. I don’t know if you spotted it, but mind behaves is an oxymoron. As for me, I am simply a moron deprived of oxygen. Exactly how strange the mind behaves depends how strange the mind was behaving when the common cold struck. It simply builds on that level of strangeness and peaks when the do-gooders offer you chicken soup for the umpteenth time.

Thanks for asking and I want to let the general bloging public, and other shady characters know that I am well on the road to recovery. I also want to thank the countless bottles of pills, who never hesitated to give up a bit of themselves so that my time spent under the influence was a bit bearable. Pain killer, decongestant, you know who you are even though you are generic. At last, but not in the least, I want to thank my mind for taking insanity to a higher level.

Thank you. Thank you all.

Shrinking Happiness

This blog first appeared today (24-11-2005) as a comment on the popular blog Just Stuff. In the absence of any new material aka decided to publish this as his blog for today. This blog has been slightly edited to fit nothing specific.

I am also skeptical about the perpetual show of happiness and optimism. Now, please note, I am not a pessimist but I know the mind simply cannot tolerate too many "happy pills" for too long. Yep, that's my theory about those who refuse to give up their good cheer and that irritating bubbly tone of voice for even a second.

I have a theory which also states that sadness and depression has a positive effect on the economy and the progress of the Planet as we know it. Without sadness and depression there would not be the multi-billion-dollar drug (legal) industry churning out the likes of Paxil, Viagra and various colon clensers. There would also be less psychologist buying yachts, beachfront homes and penthouse apartments for their girlfriends, while their wives sign up for liposuction, facelifts and boy toys. Needless to say the reason why some are called shrinks might have some relation to their chronic use of, and need for Viagra.

I think happiness is very similar to Aptie's Chicken Roti, Joe's Pepperoni Pizza and other perversions which may or may not involve meat dishes. If you have it everyday it doesn't taste as good. We would indeed be happier people if we learn to quell extended periods of happiness just so that it doesn't become worn and incite our friends to blog about it. The worst thing that could happen to a person is for sadness and depression to creep up on them. We would be much better off if we control when these bouts of unhappiness were to appear. Similar to medication we all need happiness but only in small doses and only at the times we choose.

Christmas With The Martians

It was on Christmas day 1953 when the Martians first landed on our planet. These aliens had no idea that Christmas Day was a War Holiday since they had downloaded the CIA World Fact book from the CIA’s website nearly two years before and were pleasantly surprised at the amount of hostility and bloodshed on planet Earth. Little did they know this “Intelligence Agency disguised as a website” was a war-based organization that seldom documents peace and joyous events in a good light. Based also on their searches on Google, Planet Earth seemed to be the ideal planet for a Martian vacation resort and conference center. Unfortunately the bloated Martian Government report titled “Planets We Should Invaded – aka Hostile Atmospheres for Martians – aka 101 Things Brain Dead Governments Should Do Before Christmas” didn’t paint Earth as even a remotely aggressive Planet after the Christmas Landing of 53. Martians are a people (oxymoron) who strive on War and other forms of meaningless aggression. The aliens from The Red Planet would not last a week if someone repeatedly greeted them with “Peace On Earth,” “Joy To The World” or even the worn, hidden-aggressive greeting “Have a nice day.” Their body chemistry and odor would never allow it. Needless to say this lack of Earth invasion by The Martian military may soon come to an end since Earth as a possible planet for a Martian invasion comes up for review sometime in 2007 by the Happiness Committee of Mars, who is actually scheduled to visit a shopping mall on Earth a few days before Christmas this year.

p.s: This blog was inspired by the first Christmas blog for the Season. Please visit The Cuke Is In during the week and selected holidays between normal opening and closing blogging hours.

Universal Filler

To put my thoughts in writing is taking less and less effort. The reason; I am having fewer and fewer thoughts. A blank mind is a receptive mind is one of the biggest fallacies of our time. A blank mind is blank for a reason and the reason is usually not good. Look at all the great blank minds of our times and you would see what I mean. I am more like a drop of oil on an ocean of water; spreading very thin on the surface until I appear one with the water. In reality I have become unnoticeable but happy. That’s another thing, being inconspicuous doesn’t mean having no effect. Look at the wind in the hurricane season – the inconspicuous has decided to make its power known. It’s like the silent majority banding together or a speck of dust in your eye. Those would be poor examples but poor examples cause more neuron activity than good examples. Symmetrical shapes are only briefly admired but an unsymmetrical woman burdens the mind for much longer. Since the mind isn’t perfectly symmetrical it gets turned on by some of the weirdest things like hairless moles above the lip, spaced out front teeth and long legs in tight jeans (even short legs for that matter.) By now you may be wondering what is the purpose of this particular blog and I can’t blame you for wondering. I can’t blame you because I don’t know you as well as I think. We never know what people are like until we lend them money, try to cut in front of them in traffic or go out with their girlfriends. The point I am trying to make is very simple and it is this. Jeez, I forgot what it was again….oh yes, now I remember. The reason we blog is not for the entertainment of others or that we are overflowing with wisdom, but because the Universe is filled with empty space (as opposed to filled space which is probably an oxymoron), and blogging is just one more way in which the Universe is attempting to do away with unstable equilibrium and other oxymorons.

Random Thoughts - Two

• I never sleep late because my mind won’t let me. My mind has a mind of its own. There are advantages to getting up early such as sunrises and quiet. There is a distant neighborhood rooster who insists on announcing daybreak but lately I am beating him to it. No, I am not the new neighborhood cock, and FYI rooster and cock are synonyms. I suppose if the rooster didn’t crow in the morning he would be considered a dysfunctional rooster, and we all know what happens to dysfunctional roosters.

• I recently found a good recipe for pelau. I am not big on cooking but I think cooking is a soul-satisfying art form just as photography is, except you can’t download the results to your PC or email it to friends. I understand some dishes were put, or is it thrown, on walls but not for beautification purposes. However, photography and cooking are similar because when done poorly they both can induce nausea.

• Photography is amazing because it trains the photographer to see what no one else sees and to look when there is nothing to look at. It can help eliminate boredom and, by extension, reduce insanity levels. It can also cause your friends and acquaintances to whisper whenever you approach and give praise when you are gone.

• My friends are poor photographic subjects since Photoshop doesn’t have a “remove ugly” feature just yet. That might be Photoshop’s biggest challenge to date and we can only wait and hope for a breakthrough :) I think the World is now spending more on eradicating ugly than on eradicating deadly human diseases.

• Our second Local Over-Inflated Wonder, The Blimp, (the first being our leader’s head), flew over my house on the 30th of September 2005 at approximately 10:50 am. I suppose The Blimp was on an intelligence gathering mission. Apparently, no signs of intelligence could be found inside The Blimp on landing so the mission was deemed a failure, and as a result, the floating cash drain felt deflated.