6 posts tagged “funny”
A few days ago Lisa wrote about choosing her "voting outfit", explaining a desire to dress according to the significance of her vote and the election. It was a new and interesting thought and in part, it inspired me to be conscious of my outfit this morning.
Imagine this: it's Michigan, it's November, it's pitch dark outside, and it's 50 degrees!
Taking advantage of the weather I decided to run to Lowell city hall to vote! In my own way, I dressed for the occasion wearing the same outfit that I wore for Bailey's Doggie Dash, minus the hat and gloves (and the dog!)
City hall is only half a mile from home but I took a slight scenic detour to enjoy the weather and the remaining brown shades of fall leaves. After voting I ran home for a total of 2.1 miles. Considering that I arrived at about 06:50 Eastern Time, I may well have been the country's first voter who ran to and from the polling booth!
Lowell has always conducted smooth elections, one of the benefits of small town living. In past elections I've arrived at 7:15 and was the 15th or so voter in my precinct. Today when Amanda and I got in line (Amanda drove and met me at city hall) I remarked to her that I estimated about 50 people in line in front of us.
Only 20 minutes later I was sliding my ballot into the machine, which reported back to me that I was voter #51... Am I good or what? My estimate was right on! :)
The coolest thing about voting this morning was that despite 50 folks crowded into a small hallway, everyone was friendly, helpful, and cheerful. There we were, roughly half of us about to "officially disagree" with the other half via our ballots, yet we were all neighbors first and Democrats or Republicans somewhere further down the priority list.
My dad has boasted of (and subsequently often playfully ridiculed for) his high school strategy for popularity: tell jokes. He discovered that even if only 1 in 10 jokes are actually funny, people will consider you a fun person to be around. Whenever someone tells a bad joke, we say "that was one of dad's other nine". :)
The relevance of this is that standing in line waiting to enter the doorway into the room full of voting booths, it reminded me of elementary school when some rooms were converted into "haunted houses" for Halloween - we were all standing there eagerly waiting our turn to enter this mysterious and magical area.
It must've been dad's genes - for some reason I expressed my observation aloud. To my surprise, everyone around me in line busted out into laughter! I hadn't thought it was that funny of a comment, but maybe it helped alleviate some of the inherent tension of the voting process by evoking a sub-consciously uncanny parody of our situation.
After all, there's an element of spookiness because the whole process is necessarily secretive. Yet we all are eager to participate, sneaking into our walled-off booth, inscribing our coded opinions, stealing glances at friendly strangers who may or may not agree with each other, and walking out into the real world to start a regular day at the office.
Boo! :)
Dreams are rarely run-of-the-mill and last night was no exception, but since I remembered so much detail this time I thought I'd write it down and share the zaniness. For those who were "victims" of my earlier dream about Vox folks, don't worry, you're only spectators this time. :)
It begins as I'm driving home in Amanda's Subaru Forester and the usually-paved road becomes increasingly rugged until it's all rutted dirt overgrown with weeds, yet there's still steady traffic. At the top of a hill I try to turn left but it seems as if the car got tangled in the weeds! I shift to neutral, drift backward, and then engage 1st gear hoping to muscle through. No luck - the wheels have traction but the engine doesn't have enough power; I'm dumbfounded that weeds could hold back a car like that.
By now I'm holding up traffic so I exit the car to investigate, only to discover that an electric cable is caught on the undercarriage! No wonder I couldn't break free. I walk up to the car behind me and ask the guy if he has any wire cutters. He opens the center storage console of his car and offers me a selection of a half-dozen styles of snipping tools! I pick one out, put on my winter gloves to avoid electrocution, and cut the cable hoping that I can drive away before the nearby apartment complex figures out what (or who) caused them to lose power.
The scene cuts to Thanksgiving dinner at my paternal grandparents' house - although everyone is from "present day" my grandpa (who died in 1998 in real life) is there, too. All of my family - brothers, parents, cousins, aunts, uncles - are there and we're just hanging out when the doorbell rings. I answer the front door and find a mother and her 10-year-old son, who say that they're here for dinner. I explain that they can come in but that they have to walk around to the back of the house and enter through the garage.
Grandpa then asks who they are. "I don't know, but they said they're here for dinner" was my reply. I knew that he and grandma had invited local boy scouts and girl scouts to join us for dinner, but grandpa explains to me that only certain scouts were allowed and I was supposed to ask their qualifications. I reasoned to grandpa that they wouldn't be here if they weren't qualified because otherwise they wouldn't have received an invite, but it's a moot point as it turns out the boy is one of the ones who were invited.
The boy, not knowing anyone, just stands around until my brother Eric asks him if he likes video games. Of course he does, so Eric shows him how to play Super Mario Brothers on Nintendo and soon all of us cousins are taking turns playing competitively. Finally we all quit and move on to board games when cousin Gabe starts to dominate the high score list.
[Real life note: Our first video game growing up was Super Mario Bros and Eric was the first one to win the whole thing; in fact he outplayed Ryan and I at every video game. Gabe, as the legend goes, had the highest Tetris score among his entire dorm and is probably the only person to get a higher score in Tetris than Eric.]
Another boy, 8 years old, arrives with his parents. Someone asks what he enjoys and he mumbles "stuffed animals..." My brother Ryan jumps up and says "Come on, let me show you all about them" and they run upstairs where all of the plush toys are kept.
[Real life note: As kids, Ryan was the sucker for cute plush animals. Eric and I had a dozen or so each but Ryan must've had 50, most of them smaller than a softball. Whenever he saw a small, cute stuffed animal in a store he'd say "awwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww" and start counting his allowance money.]
The last of the scouts arrives, a 12-year-old girl, right before dinner starts. After eating we go back to playing various video games, board games; or for Ryan and the little boy, playing with stuff animals. I tried to play Nintendo with Gabe but after waiting 15 minutes he's still on his first life (trying to set a record by collecting every single coin in the game, no less) so I decide to walk around. As I leave I hear the girl asking Gabe if he's seen the Aliens or Predator movies, but he's too busy concentrating to answer.
I watch the girl as she walks over to Ryan and the boy and she asks them about Aliens and Predator, but the boy looks scared and Ryan says that she shouldn't talk about such scary movies in the presence of a young kid. She walks away as Ryan continues to explain to the little boy how the stuffed animals could gang up and defeat any aliens or predators.
I mosey over to the board game where all of my cousins plus Eric are playing a raucous game of Money! Money! Money!, yet also somehow involving a deck of playing cards. Eric and Kevin seem to be exclaiming "Dang!" after every hand and have almost no money. Eventually I realize that the gals - Betsy, Kerry, Ana, Adrienne - are ganging up on the guys - Pat, Kevin, Eric - except for being nice to Eric's new 10-year-old pal who doesn't really know how to play anyway. As I walk around behind everyone to see the cards in their hand, I realize that Pat has the gals fooled. They *think* he's losing as badly as Eric and Kevin are, but he's bluffing and building up a "shoot the moon" type of hand.
[Real life note: We played Money! Money! Money! a lot when we were younger, and as teens we played the physical card game Spoons were Eric and Kerry infamously battled over the last spoon as if it were an NFL fumble. Nowadays we still play Euchre, Crazy Cards, and other games but we might be a bit old for Spoons!]
Later on everyone gathers in the family room (somehow we all fit comfortably) to watch the Detroit Lions. I'm lying on the floor next to the 12-year-old girl so I say to her "Why do you ask about Aliens and Predator?" to which she exclaims "That's my favorite movie!" Since there have been a few of them, I ask her which one. "You actually know that there are more than one?" Come to find out that none of this girl's friends know anything about those movies (probably because they're 12-year-old girls!) and I'm finding it rather odd that this girl scout is such a huge fan.
Then in a weird, poltergeist kind of way, she explains to me that I should understand her. She begins drawing with her finger on the carpet and when she does, red lines appear on the TV similar to John Madden's telestrator! She draws a smiley face on the TV and scrawls "Aliens rock!" but nobody else appears to notice. The girl explains that I'm the only one who can see it - "It's just like The Shining" she says. Stunned, I trace an drawing on the carpet of a dog piloting a flying saucer and sure enough, it appears on the TV screen but nobody sees it except for the girl.
Eventually the Lions lose the game and it's time for everyone to go for a tractor ride. Grandpa drives his green John Deere loader towing a wagon with all of the "adults" (i.e. parents) who want a shorter, slower ride. Kevin drives his dad's red International Farmall pulling a wagon full of us "kids" for a longer, wilder ride. My dad joins us to ensure we stay safe while Uncle Denny (Kevin's dad) joins us to ensure Kevin doesn't damage the tractor.
Along the way we plan to drop off the scouts but soon we encounter Amy Poehler in the middle of a dirt road intersection! She asks for a ride to her house, pointing along one of the roads. We tell her that we're headed in the opposite direction and she begs "but it's not that far!" We laugh and explain that we're not giving her a tractor ride all the way to New York. Finally she relents, but then hops in the wagon and says that she'll just go where we're going.
We were supposed to drop off the three scouts to their homes, but first Kevin takes us to a huge hill of dirt next to a gravel pit. Kerry explains that it's the highest point in the county and somehow we decide to all race each other to the top.
[Real life note: This reminds me of when Ana, Adrienne and I climbed the bluff at Sleeping Bear Dunes.]
I'm the first one to reach the summit and there I spot a Giant River Otter! It's not full grown but still about 50 pounds, and it seems a bit sick and deranged. I try to shoo it down the hill before the others get up there, afraid that it might bite one of the kids. However, it's a persistent little bugger - every time I push it with my foot it tries to grab my leg with its hands. Eventually the kids reach the top and when the otter moves towards them, I finally get a hold of it by the scruff but it somehow grabs my arm as well and I can't shake it off!
Now I'm walking around with an otter hanging off my arm trying to keep my distance from the curious kids while also trying to get someone to help me get the otter off. Eric won't come near - he doesn't want to end up smelling like an otter. Ryan refuses because of the claws. My dad is afraid of getting rabies.
Finally Kevin says "Look, it's just an otter" and he grabs one of the otter's arms. The otter looks confused and I'm able to pull my arm away, and Kevin quickly flings the otter over the edge down the side of the hill. It lands with a thud partway down and doesn't move, and I'm concerned that Kevin may have killed it, but then I wonder if it's laughing at us when I see milk coming out its nose!
I resolve to go check on the otter once we all go back to the wagon - when everyone starts hiking back down the hill I hang behind, and when they're out of sight I quickly run down to the otter... it's gone! Thankful that it appears to have survived, I dash around the side of the hill to catch up with the group.
The End
The top two stories on the local west Michigan news Monday evening were these:
2) United Solar Ovonic announced that they will open a new plant near Battle Creek, adding 700 jobs.
Why is this so symbolic?
-- Both GM and Uni-Solar are based in southeast Michigan.
-- It takes many small companies to replace the economic impact of a few large corporations.
-- The GM plant is a major source of truck parts. Trucks don't sell like they used to.
-- Uni-Solar makes commercial and residential solar panels, which have a nice sales trend.
-- Metal stamping is low-tech no matter how many "robot" contraptions do the work.
-- Solar cell manufacturing, while still manufacturing, is high tech.
-- The average wage of the new Uni-Solar jobs will be $14-15 per hour.
-- The average worker at the GM plant is 50 years old. I couldn't find wage info there but surely it tops $15/hr.
-- WOOD-TV devoted the first 5-10 minutes of their evening broadcast to the GM plant closing.
-- WOOD-TV devoted about 30 seconds of the same newscast to cover the Uni-Solar plant opening.
What does this mean for the future of Michigan? I can see it now...
By 2050 Uni-Solar will be one of the "big three" solar energy companies and Michigan is the solar capital of the world. It's not ironic because global warming has moved the "sun belt" to the Great Lakes region and we don't get much snow anymore. Amanda and I will have long since moved to one of the many condo retirement communities in Vancouver after selling our house a few years prior for $1M, kicking ourselves because it's now worth $10M. People in Silicon Valley can't believe that their houses are worth the same as what they paid for them in 2005.
By 2090 there will be settlements in Earth orbit as well as on the surface of the moon and Mars, where solar is much more efficient; the space transport industry is booming. Michigan lawmakers, under pressure from the solar industry, fight to keep spaceports out of the state. College grads flock to Wasilla, Alaska (population 20 million - the mayor is a regular presidential candidate) to find work in the extra-terrestrial construction industry. 95% of Michigan's 11,000 inland lakes are privately owned by retirees from the USW (United Solar Workers).
By 2130 scientists discover weather-altering technology and in their efforts to "fix" global warming they mis-calculated and Michigan gets snow or rain 340 days a year. Coupled with the development of cold fusion, solar energy is obselete and Michigan's economy begins to crumble. USW workers near retirement are bankrupt; the national bank (private banks never did survive that bailout that we teach schoolkids about) forecloses on those private lakes and sells all of the water in them to Alaska. Because global warming never existed in Alaska the weather fixes weren't funded for them, so the state is now the world's largest desert.
By 2170 Amanda and I are long gone, but we willed our estate to our dogs - by this time dogs and cats are recognized as sentient beings and are given rights of citizenship. One of them decides to start a blog on the TelePathWay - people say it's the biggest thing since the WorldWideWeb - and writes about how Michigan closed one of its last solar factories but opened a new hub for the TPW...
This political season is driving me nuts. Obama is popular and voters apparently think this is a problem, McCain is using a negative campaign to accuse Obama of being too negative, Clinton behaves as if she can still get nominated, and the best political ad so far was created by Paris Hilton.
McCain is somehow still afloat on his platform, firing his shots from a rusting hulk sailing under the name "Fear Terrorism!" scrawled in peeling paint on the stern. It's a sitting duck, you'd think, except that Obama seems to feel that it wouldn't be sporting to return fire and sink the old boat.
So while I wait for Obama's campaign to find their balls (cannon balls, of course...) I thought I'd make a Hilton-esque attempt at whimsical political commentary by bringing "A Princess Bride" into the modern political era.
The Cast
Barack Obama as Westley
John McCain as Vizzini
Hillary Clinton as Buttercup
George W. Bush as Prince Humperdinck
Dick Cheney as Count Rugen (aka The Six-Fingered Man)
Al Gore as Inigo Montoya
and...
Bill Clinton as Fezzik
[note: the quotes were pasted from IMDB and modified as shown via strikeouts]
Scene 1 - earlier this spring at DNC headquarters
Buttercup: Farm Harvard boy, polish my horse's saddle image. I want to see my face shining in it on TV by morning.
Westley: As you wish Not a chance.
Buttercup: Farm Harvard boy, fill these with water money - please.
Westley: As you wish Not a chance.
Buttercup: Farm Harvard boy... fetch me that pitcher nomination.
Westley: As you wish Not a chance.
Scene 2 - Flashback: early 2001 in Florida
Count Rugen: You've got an overdeveloped sense of vengeance environmental responsibility. It's going to get you into trouble someday. [Rugen draws his sword and lunges at Inigo]
Inigo Montoya: Hello. My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father rigged my election. Prepare to die.
Count Rugen: Stop saying that!
Inigo Montoya: [Louder] Hello! My name is Inigo Montoya! You killed my father rigged my election! Prepare to die!
Count Rugen: [Rugen gets his sword knocked away and Inigo slices his cheek] No!
Inigo Montoya: Offer me money a Nobel Prize.
Count Rugen: Yes.
Inigo Montoya: Power Academy Awards, too, promise that! [he slices Rugen's other cheek]
Count Rugen: All that I have and more. Please.
Inigo Montoya: Offer me everything I ask for.
Count Rugen: Anything you want.
Inigo Montoya: I want my father political career back you son of a bitch.
Scene 3 - Flashback: early 2002 in Texas
Prince Humperdinck:
Once Guilder Iraq is blamed, the nation will truly be
outraged - they'll demand we go to war.
Count Rugen: [snickers, then examines a huge tree oil company] Now where is that secret knot government contract? It's impossible to find...
[he finds it and the tree oil company opens to reveal a hidden passage treasure vault]
Count Rugen: Ah. Are you coming down into the pit to Gitmo? Wesley's A human held without due process got his strength back. I'm starting him on the machine waterboard tonight.
Prince Humperdinck: [sincerely]
Tyrone Dick, you know how much I love watching you work, but I've got my
country's 500th anniversary 5000th military funeral to plan, my wedding judicial system to arrange, my wife economy to
murder and Guilder Iraq to frame for it; I'm swamped.
Count Rugen: Get some rest. If you haven't got your health, then you haven't got anything shouldn't go hunting with me.
Scene 4 - present day in Denver
Buttercup: We'll never succeed. We may as well die here.
Westley:
No, no. We have already succeeded. I mean, what are the three terrors
of the Fire Swamp Election Campaign? One, the flame spurt recession - no problem. There's a popping
sound preceding each; we can avoid that. Two, the lightning sand sex scandal, which
you were Edwards was clever enough to discover what that looks like, so in the
future we can avoid that too.
Buttercup: Westley, what about the R.O.U.S.'s?
Westley: Rodents Republicans Of Unusual Size Sincerity? I don't think they exist.
Intermission
Fezzik: Anybody want a peanut?
Inigo Montoya: You know Fezzik, you finally did something right.
Fezzik: Don't worry, I won't let it go to my head.
Scene 5 - summer 2008 town hall meeting
Vizzini: I can't compete with you physically, and you're no match for my brains.
Westley: You're that smart?
Vizzini: Let me put it this way. Have you ever heard of Plato Public Schools, Aristotle Artists, Socrates Scientists?
Westley: Yes.
Vizzini: Morons.
Westley: I challenge you to a battle of wits.
Vizzini: For the Princess Presidency?
Westley: [nods]
Vizzini: To the death?
Westley: [nods]
Vizzini: I accept!
Scene 6 - fall 2008 presidential debates
Westley: All right. Where is the poison fear for America? The battle of wits has begun. It ends
when you decide and we both drink make a stand, and find out who is right elected... and who
is dead.
Vizzini:
But it's so simple. All I have to do is divine from what I know of you:
are you the sort of man who would put the poison fear into his own goblet country or
his enemy's? Now, a clever man would put the poison fear into his own
goblet country, because he would know that only a great fool would reach for
what he was given optimism. I am not a great fool, so I can clearly not choose the wine plan in front of
you. But you must have known I was not a great fool, you would have
counted on it, so I can clearly not choose the wine plan in front of me.
Westley: You've made your decision then?
Vizzini:
Not remotely. Because iocane uranium comes from Australia Iran, as everyone knows,
and Australia Iran is entirely peopled with criminals terrorists, and criminals terrorists are
used to having people not trust them, as you our allies are not trusted by me, so
I can clearly not choose the wine plan in front of you.
Westley: Truly, you have a dizzying intellect.
Vizzini: Wait 'til I get going! Now, where was I?
Westley: Australia Iran.
Vizzini:
Yes, Australia Iran. And you must have suspected I would have known the
powder's terrorists' origin, so I can clearly not choose the wine plan in front of me.
Westley: You're just stalling now the economy.
Vizzini:
You'd like to think that, wouldn't you? You've beaten my giant big corporate backers, which
means you're exceptionally strong, so you could've put the poison fear in
your own goblet country, trusting on your strength to save you, so I can
clearly not choose the wine plan in front of you. But, you've also bested my
Spaniard conservative moderates, which means you must have studied, and in studying you must
have learned that man is mortal, so you would have put the poison fear as
far from yourself as possible, so I can clearly not choose the wine plan in
front of me.
Westley: You're trying to trick me us into giving away something our freedom. It won't work.
Vizzini: IT HAS WORKED! YOU'VE GIVEN EVERYTHING AWAY! I KNOW WHERE THE POISON FEAR IS!
Westley: Then make your choice.
Vizzini: I will, and I choose - What in the world can that be?
Vizzini: [Vizzini gestures up and away from the table truth. Westley looks. Vizzini swaps the goblet science with rhetoric]
Westley: What? Where? I don't see anything.
Vizzini: Well, I- I could have sworn I saw something. No matter. First, let's drink make our stand. Me from my glass position, and you from yours.
Westley, Vizzini: [they drink]
Westley: You guessed wrong.
Vizzini:
You only think I guessed wrong! That's what's so funny! I switched
glasses promises when your back was turned! Ha ha! You fool! You fell victim to
one of the classic blunders! The most famous is never get involved in a
land war in Asia the Middle East, but only slightly less well-known is this: never go
in against a Sicilian Republican when death is on the line! Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!
Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha! Ha ha ha...
Vizzini: [Vizzini stops suddenly, and falls dead to the right]
Buttercup: And to think, all that time it was your cup my campaign that was poisoned.
Westley: They were both poisoned. I spent the last few years building up an immunity to iocane powder politics of fear.
Epilogue - November 2008 in Arizona
Vizzini:
INCONCEIVABLE.
Sunday morning Amanda and I had a scrumptious breakfast at Perkins. While awaiting our food Amanda shot her straw wrapper at me; when her shot found the target she exclaimed "I hit your sole!"
You see, I was wearing the t-shirt from my Heart and Sole 5K in February and her straw wrapper hit my chest right on the word "Sole". By the way, Amanda was wearing her Hard Rock Cafe shirt from Niagara Falls which had lots of animals drawn on the front.
Naturally I retaliated by shooting my straw wrapper at her and I said just a little too loudly: "I hit your beaver!" It was true - my wrapper had landed right on the small drawing of a beaver on her shirt. Unfortunately, my mouth spoke before my mind could react and the dozen or so folks within earshot were giving me funny looks...
