The Brady Bunch taught me long ago that tikis are cursed. A giant tarantula on Peter's chest... Greg can't surf perfectly... obviously a tiki is to blame. Spiders and surfing wipe outs don't just happen on their own. And so I have to side with the Bradys on this one... tikis are cursed.
The greatest curse of the tiki is its inability to move its arms for swatting or wiping, combined with the frequent company it shares with tropical birds. And even more of a curse to the tikis - the birds sing the exact same songs all day long on a 21-minute loop.Birds are a curse to tikis. Tikis are a curse to humans. Humans eat birds, flip birds, and carve tikis. It's a complicated cycle, but a cycle indeed.Hey... this is my 100th post! Thanks to all of you who have kept me going with your visits and comments. I'm having a good time with the blog... a hundred more posts are on the way shortly. Well, not too shortly.
Turkey goes great with bacon and avocados on sourdough, but as attractive as turkeys are, the meat that hangs from their bones just isn't my favorite. So this year we've decided to do the humane thing and not eat the traditional Thanksgiving turkey. On a less humane note, this Thursday's dinner will feature my very first Thanksgiving Ham. Sorry, pigs... there's simply no getting around the fact that you're delicious. Don't get too comfortable, though, turkeys... as long as there's bacon, avocados, and sourdough bread to be enjoyed, every day you're on deck as a possible sandwich.
While staying in a motel in Universal City on Monday night, I saw the greatest thing ever on the news... a story that began as a boring traffic report. Cars were backed up for miles on the Golden State Freeway near Sylmar (about 25 miles north of Los Angeles), after two trucks collided, causing the cargo of one to be scattered over 80 feet of several lanes of freeway. That truck's cargo? Frozen pigs.
I hate when traffic is caused by drivers slowing down to check out the scene of an accident, but in this case I fully endorse it. You can't just drive by hundreds of frozen pigs on a freeway... that's against every natural law on this planet. Once I was passing through Vegas and found a section of the freeway littered with cheap, plush bears wearing backpacks... even ran over a couple. Before Monday night, that was the coolest cargo spill I'd ever seen. But the frozen pigs blew away the backpacked bears. These should be the names of sports teams... I can totally hear that last line as an intro on SportsCenter.
What a waste of pigs... right? Aren't they all inedible now? Didn't they all die in vain? No! Without their sacrifice, what would I have laughed at on TV Monday night? "Studio 60?" Hardly. Tuesday morning I had several strips of bacon for breakfast in memorial... nay! In celebration!
Thank you, frozen pigs. And thanks to the gentleman who drove the plow that shoved you all into the roadside ditch. You all presented a level of entertainment that Monday-night NBC refuses to provide. Frozen pigs on the freeway... wonderful in so many ways... one of which is not "smell." (Or so it was reported by the unfortunate news woman who was on location to cover this story as the spilled cargo began to thaw).
Cheetahs are the fastest of all land animals. They have been known to reach speeds up to 70 miles an hour. I had a Ford Tempo once that was known to reach speeds up to 67 miles an hour, at which point it shook so violently that the glove compartment opened on its own.
Seventy miles an hour, cheetahs? I find that difficult to believe. No one can ride a unicycle that fast... especially considering the wind-resistance commonly caused by party hats.I drew this for Jared Hess. He signed a "Nacho Libre" poster for me, and on the poster he wrote, "Maybe you could draw a cheetah for me some day." And so I did. I doubt anyone will ever understand why this particular cheetah is riding a unicycle... including me.
The first time the Wright Brothers flew, they landed after only 12 seconds. The only time this guy flew, he landed in just over two gasps and a scream. I'm not sure how many seconds that is, but it's probably more than twelve. The higher the cliff, the longer the flight... the longer the "flight," the deader the caveman.
I've heard that there are some animals that live so deep in the ocean that we'll never see them or even know they exist. But if we'll never know they exist, how do we know they exist? That thought just gave me a headache, like when I try to do math.
The Narwhalrus, whose existence will never be disproved, is the only animal that sports both a stash of food and a 'stache of gorgeous, flowing handlebar. Why aren't there more animals that carry a skewer of future meals on their heads? How primitive are we with our grocery bags and "take out" boxes? Something for evolution to consider.
This morning when I turned on the kitchen light, I was horrified to find a terrible thing on our kitchen table. Staring at me from right there where I had hoped to eat breakfast... a human skull. What the crap?! Is this some kind of joke? Who did this?
This kind of thing happens to me every year on the first of November. What was festive and fun the day before becomes deplorable over night. Waking up to November is like waking up from hypnosis. Why did I decorate my house that way? And what was I wearing? The minute Halloween ends, I'm ready to move on.
In moving on, though, I don't like to skip straight from Halloween to Christmas. As of today I expect to hear Christmas music and see holiday displays showing up in stores. But what about November? Pretending November doesn't exist is disrespectful to the fat, ugly, stupid turkey I'm going to be eating in 22 days... and if there's anything I have for turkeys, it is respect... and gravy.
The Brady Bunch taught me long ago that tikis are cursed. A giant tarantula on Peter's chest... Greg can't surf perfectly... obviously a tiki is to blame. Spiders and surfing wipe outs don't just happen on their own. And so I have to side with the Bradys on this one... tikis are cursed.
