The Fabricated Adventures of a Certain Mister Larry Feathers

Nachos and The Pope

2006-09-20T22:33:00.000-05:00

The first things I remember being happy about upon moving to Texas were nachos. We moved from Indiana in 1979, and, at the time, Indiana didn’t have nachos. Because of Mexicans, I bet Texas has always had nachos. The first Mexicans didn’t settle in Indiana until around 1990. Now they are all over the place!

People say that the Mexicans’ greatest invention is the nacho. I say nachos are practically any kind of people’s greatest invention. Here is a list of some really important inventions:
1. Earth
2. Wheels
3. Space
4. Nachos
5. Skin

I can remember sitting in elementary school when the only thing that got me through the day was the prospect of an after school snack of nachos over at BILL Harland’s house. Bill had a really deep voice. His wife was Jacque. She made the nachos and had toe surgery. The son was David and he liked planets. There was a daughter called Kathy. She listened to Men At Work all the time. Jacque knew exactly how much cheese to put on the nachos, and how long they needed to cook in the microwave. She also pronounced Target like this - /tar’ jhays/.

The other day while I was thinking about The Pope, I started thinking that he has almost certainly never had nachos. I think that’s a shame. I had a hard time coming up with things The Pope can eat. Here is a game. I’m going to list some foods, and you get to guess whether The Pope gets to eat it. If I had a way to tally all responses, I bet they’d come out pretty similar. Here are the things that The Pope may or may not eat:

Salad, Cube Steak, Popsicles, Baked Potatoes, Frosting, Nachos, Pot Roast, Eggs, Fried Chicken, Miscellaneous, Mutton, Bread, Blood, Meatloaf, Teddy Grahams, and Salt.

Here’s a clue: THE POPE GETS TO EAT NINE OF THE ITEMS ON THE LIST, AND ONE OF THEM IS NOT POPSICLES.

Here’s the solution in webdings (you’ll need to decipher it by putting it in Word and translating back into American). Salad, Cube Steak, Pot Roast, Miscellaneous, Mutton, Bread, Blood, Meatloaf, and Salt

Recently The Pope had some true things to say about the Muslims. Now some of the Muslims want to kill The Pope (which kind of proves The Pope’s point). The whole thing plus nachos gives me a solution to all of the world’s problems:

Let’s put all of the world leaders down at a table and force them to eat nachos with one another. I don’t know about you, but I can’t remember ever fighting with anyone during nachos. It might not even be possible. People like eating nachos together.

I’m tired, but I have a question. If I were to write a series of illustrated stories called “Adventures of The Pope”, would it be offensive? I wouldn’t have him doing anything immoral. Instead, I would just stick him in unPopish situations. For examples:
1. The Pope Goes to Wet ‘N Wild.
2. The Pope Gets his Pope Teeth Cleaned
3. The Pope Surfs
4. The Pope in Garland
5. The Pope Eats Gravy
6. The Pope’s Body Does Somersaults
7. The Pope Visits a Hot Dog Factory
8. The Pope Gets a Perm
9. The Pope Makes Sausage

Please let me hear your ideas now.

Eggs

2006-09-06T20:38:00.000-05:00

This morning I took the train to work. Since I live near the beginning of the line, it’s always easy to get a seat. However, by the second or third stop, the train nears standing room only. I like paying attention to how the seats fill up. In general, the trains here go four seats across with an aisle down the center. As you would expect, the pattern is for everybody to try to sit in a seat without anyone next to them. Some jackasses sit on the aisle and refuse to move to the window when the train starts getting full. The rest of us sit down at a window and wait for people to sit down beside us.

Here are descriptions of the people without seatmates as the train approaches capacity:
* Guys with cuts on face
* Jackasses who sit on the aisle and refuse to move toward the window
* Smelly people who talk to themselves
* Me

I can remember a day when I’d sit there hoping with all my might that nobody would sit next to me. Not anymore. It’s not that I want to sit by anybody. Instead, it’s that I can’t figure out why they don’t want to sit next to me. I am nice and usually don’t smell horrible.

The same thing happened this morning. Every seat was full except for two – mine and that of a man with scabbed up stub arms with open sores on face. Then a woman came on board. When she got to the section with the human infection and me, she stopped, surveyed the both of us, and with a look of complete desperation plopped down in the seat next to me.

She was wearing a name tag. It seems that her parents decided to name her “Every”. I thought, “What a nice name. I don’t think I’ve ever heard of it before.” Then I remembered that I have heard it on account of it’s a word I use every day!

I started smelling stuff as soon as she sat down. When I sniffed her real close, I determined that her smell was eggs.

For the longest time I’ve had a love/hate relationship with eggs. On the one hand, I love the way they taste. On the other, I can’t think of anything less appealing than putting into my cakehole the reproductive cells from which a new chicken should have developed had I not become hungry.

Every’s egg smell grew and grew. The stronger the smell became, the more I wanted to smell her. I’d never smelled anyone like Every. I leaned over for an extra big smell when I realized that it wasn’t that Every smelled like eggs, but that the guy across the aisle was eating a Tupperware container full of leftover chicken.

I know it was leftover because it was 6:30 in the morning, and chicken places aren’t open that early.

At that point I was feeling sort of guilty for accusing Every of smelling like some eggs. I tapped her shoulder and said, “I’ve been thinking to myself that you smell like eggs, but it turns out that it’s just that man’s chicken. For all I know you might smell normal. By the way, is that a real name? Every.” She didn’t respond to my compliments and decided to move over next to Scabby for the rest of her ride.

I’m pretty certain I’ve never seen a man eat chicken so early. (P.S. The man eating the chicken did not have an “away-from-the-face” beard. I think this proves the latest addition to my beard theories. That is, bearded men don’t eat chicken for breakfast.)

I’m disturbed that my olfactory system confused eggs with chicken. I think it’s weird that something that came out of a chicken smelled so much like a chicken. That’s certainly not the way it works with stuff that comes out of people.

By the time my stop came, I was about to throw up from the chicken/egg smell. The weird thing about it is that when I thought it was eggs, I wanted to smell it real hard. Once I realized it was some chickens, I started getting sick.

Are other people like me? If I smell or taste something taken totally out of its normal context, it’s liable to make me kind of sick. For example, I can’t drink Coke (which I normally enjoy) out of a translucent green cup. It just doesn’t look right, and I think it tastes different.

Here’s another example…When I was in high school some of the other kids and I went to Mr. Gatti’s after final exams. While I was at the buffet re-loading my plate, my friend Brandon put a piece of spaghetti in my straw. When I sucked out the spaghetti, it nearly made me throw up. But I like spaghetti! I just wasn’t expecting it. I thought I was getting a drink, but got food instead.

I was expecting the smell this morning to be eggs. When it turned out to be chickens, I got thrown for a loop. I’m still trying to cope with what happened, and haven’t yet determined whether I’ll ever be able to eat eggs or chickens again. You can think I’m an idiot if you want, but I’m serious. Today was the first time when ordering fajitas that I didn’t either get chicken or combo. Instead, I went with the steak. Chicken was more than I could take.

P.S. I have a real niece now. Her name is Daphne and she is correctly proportioned. Evidently those sonograms distort head size on fetuses quite a bit. She came with orange hair and seems to enjoy being alive so far. The picture at the top of this is her. When she yawns, her mouth goes crooked. While I’m unwilling to tolerate much in the way of imperfections, this is one that I think gives her character.

My Sister's Baby

2005-11-30T20:35:00.000-06:00

Here’s some happy news just in time for the holiday season. My sister and Kevin are hauling off and having a baby. As much as I feel sorry for babies that they were ever made to be born, I can’t wait for this kid to come true. This is going to be a good family. I sort of feel like drawing a little picture of what I think the baby will look like when it is new. If I’m still having energy by the time I’m done typing, I might make that picture and post it for you to see!

The other day I saw a sonogram of the baby. Honestly, I’m more than a little concerned. The baby’s head is about three times as big as the rest of it’s self! It looks like somebody you would see in space. Hopefully things will become a little more proportional over the next couple weeks. People assure me that this odd shape is normal. I assure those people that my parts were the same scale as present from the get go. I was just a tinier version of how I am now.

Do you remember shrinky dinks? They were plastic shapes that you baked in the oven turning them into miniature plastic shapes. Did people-shaped shrinky dinks start out normal-shaped and end up with a colossal head compared to the rest of its body when they shrank? I didn’t think so, and I don’t see why it would be any different for regular people. When you really think about it, shrinky dinks are the exact same thing as people, but opposite. Just like the Jonathan Winters character (“Mearth”) on Mork. I hope I’m wrong about all this because if current shape holds this kid will be made fun of! Why don’t people work the same as shrinky dinks?

I have declared myself in charge of the baby naming committee. Evidence shows that a person’s name is what determines their fate in life. In your own head, imagine someone named Elmer. Now imagine someone named Lance. Finally, think about someone named Wayne. Tell the truth! You think of Elmer riding farm equipment, Lance with a comb sticking out of the back pocket of his tight fittin’ jeans, and Wayne either in the electric chair or beating up his common law wife. I take this naming business serious.

And if any Waynes out there read this and decide they are “going to whoop” me for what I said about your name, I say that that’s about the reaction I’d expect from a Wayne.

The other day I was telling my sister that she should give the kid two names. One for when it acts good, and another for when it misbehaves. I told her that she should name the bad version of the kid Bunstance (assuming it’s a girl). It sounds right to scream, “Shut up Bunstunce!” Try it for fun – “Shut up Bunstunce!” She told me that the words “shut up” and “stupid” aren’t allowed. Good Lord. Those words were allowed in my house when I was little. Plus I was never held. I was poked quite a bit, but never held. And I got sat on by my own mother as a form of punishment. What’s wrong with the way I turned out? Name one thing!

Here are a few of my preferred boy names: Plaul (it’s just like Paul only with a spare ‘L’), Crayon, Blarn, Kayo, and Robert. My friend Brandon said that they should name it La Jennifer if it comes out to be a girl. How good is that? If it’s a girl, I think just about anything is okay as long as it ends in “stunce” (e.g., Karnstunce). Stunce just sounds pretty to me. If you want to offer up a name by leaving a comment, it’s okay with me. I’ll run all suggestions past my sister and Kevin.

I hope my dog is nice to the baby. It would be horrible to have to give it away.

The SPCA Needs Foster Homes

2005-09-02T09:07:00.000-05:00

Good morning individuals. Here is something from somebody in charge of SPCA volunteers. If you can't foster an animal, perhaps you can donate food or blankets or whatever.

Dear SPCA Volunteers,

As you know, the SPCA is stepping in to help with the animals rescued fromLousiana. As of right now, we are at full capacity with our shelters. To continue helping these families, we will be holding foster trainings begining tonight through the weekend for anyone who can foster. If you are interested, you will need to RSVP. Keep in mind you may have these animals from 30-60 days. The classes are as follows:
Sept 1 at 7:30pm Mckinney
Sept 2 at 9am Mckinney
Sept 2 at 9am Dallas
Sept 2 at 12noon McKinney
Sept 2 at 2noon Dallas
Sept 3 at 5pm McKinney
Sept 4 at 11am Dallas
Sept 4 at 5pm McKinney
Sept 4 at 6pm McKinney

In addition, any of you who do TLC in McKinney can ask the adoptionsupervisors manager about helping them with animals housed on site from therescue. They will need to get out and be socialized also. If you or anyone you know can donate items for the animals, that would be great! Donations can be dropped off at any our of shelter locations.Examples of items are towels, blankets, food, etc..Last- I am waiting on confirmation from the shelter managers regarding the Labor day holiday. Our dept will get this to you today! Thank you all for being patient with me. If you need anything, call my cell214.507.9881~

Please Let's Help the Nice People of New Orleans

2005-09-01T21:11:00.000-05:00

I’ve already told you about a guy I met in the French Quarter named Daniel. He shines shoes for a living. Most nights he makes the two mile walk from his home in the Ninth Ward to his spot on Decatur Street where he gives the most thorough (and expensive) shoe shine you’ve ever had. His shoe shines last at least 10 minutes. The whole time he talks about the value of proper shoe care. When he’s not talking about shining shoes he talks about his mother who he takes care of with his shoe shine money. Daniel is a good man who makes the most of what little he has. He told me that his mother is proud of him.

New Orleans is full of Popeye’s Chicken and Biscuits. One night when I wanted some chickens, we went over to one of the Popeye’s stores on Esplanade in Metairie. There worked Patricia Robinson and another woman whose name I can’t remember. Never have you met anyone who enjoys her work more than Patricia Robinson. I live in a town where you can scarcely get a fast food worker to grunt at you. This Patricia Robinson treated us like she couldn’t wait until we came back for more chickens and biscuits or corns. Her staff was equally friendly. I’d eat a lot more Popeye’s if Patricia Robinson worked at the one in Garland.

The second to last time I went to New Orleans, we stayed at the Renaissance Pere Marquette hotel down by the French Quarter. One night I wanted some dessert, so I ordered it from room service. I think it was pie. The woman that brought my pie or whatever it was up to my room on the Dave Brubeck floor told me all about how proud she was of her daughter who had earlier that day been accepted to a very prestigious prep school in the area. The room service woman never graduated from high school and told me she was determined to see that her daughter gets the best education she could possibly get.

This has been about three of the people I remember from New Orleans. I don’t recall anyone who was unfriendly or threatening or cruel. For the life of me, I don’t get the mentality of the people creating havoc in that fine city’s most desperate time. Then again, I can’t remember the last time I was really hungry or desperate. Why should I understand why they do what they do? All I’m saying – to those of you who haven’t been there – is that the people of New Orleans are good people. I hope you’ll do whatever you can do to help.

Hodgepodge

2005-08-10T20:55:00.000-05:00

I’ve been meaning to write, but I just can’t think of anything else to say. There’s only so much stuff to put.

Put <-- I think that’s a funny word. Say this: "put put put put put put". Now that’s fun! "Put put put". Swing!

When I was too small to defend myself, my sister used to drive me through construction zones. She made me play a game called “Barrel”. The rule was that if I didn’t say “barrel” each time we passed a barrel (and there are numerous barrels in construction zones), she’d haul off and punch me right on the fat.

When I got big enough to drive, I put my sister in the car and told her we were going out for a game of “Weed”.

Speaking of relatives who did mean things to me when I was little…

Sometimes my cousin Tony reads this blog. I wonder if he remembers the time he put Preparation H on my toothbrush when we were spending the night at my grandma’s house. It’s weird to think that my grandma must have had some hemorrhoids. In the bathroom with the Preparation H, she also had some goopity goop goop called Dippity Do. People used Dippity Do in their hairdos. After I finished brushing my teeth with hemorrhoid cream, Tony and I took turns playing the Card Sharks bonus round. I had fun back then. But not anymore!

Does the H in Preparation H stands for “hemorrhoid”? Of all the things to prepare, I can’t imagine why you’d ever need to prepare a hemorrhoid. I wouldn’t even know where to begin.

I know a guy named Chet. He recently had several surgeries including adult tonsil removal. I bet he’s also had hemorrhoids. It seems Chet set the world’s record for biggest tonsils. According to Chet they weighed four pounds! Some midgets don’t even weigh that much.

The other day, my friend (who is quite brilliant) – let’s call her Gertie - issued the following two statements:
1. “Fat’s what makes everything good.”
2. “Bulls are big.”
Who could argue? The best part is that she wasn’t even trying to be funny.

I really must work to perfect the technology for the customized See N Say. As you may recall from childhood, this is the toy with a dial in the middle and barnyard animals around the circumference. You put the dial on the pig (for example), pulled the string, and the machine went “Pigs say, ‘Oink, oink, oink’.” I’d make a See N Say with Gertie's head on the dial. It would go, “Gertie says, ‘(insert funny statement)’”.

Tomorrow is my sister’s birthday. She’s going to be 37! I can’t believe she’s that old. Way to go, Tara! You did it!

I guess I need to figure out what to give her. It seems like she’s constantly asking for “a good cookie sheet”. Either we are bad at buying good cookie sheets or she is bad at cookies because my parents and I have made gift-giving careers out of supplying her with good cookie sheets.

From what I understand from people, the secret to good cookies may be something called “parchment paper”. They say you can put parchment paper on even a crummy cookie sheet (crummy meaning bad; not crummy meaning crumby), and the cookies will come out perfect (that is, they would be neither crummy nor crumby)!

Apparently parchment paper is on the same aisle as wax paper and plastic wrap. The other day I found out that plastic wrap let’s off cancer and you shouldn’t use it to cover up your leftovers.

What fun would it be if I made origami out of parchment paper? I could rub dough on the origami and turn it into a swan cookie (or something). These would be some fancy cookies. It would be neat to have a store called “Fancy Cookies by Larry”. I’d also offer fondue. Others would like me and wonder if I’m gay.

As this is clearly going nowhere, I’m going to go away until I get some better material. This has been crap.

I Sat on Some Urine

2005-07-14T08:05:00.000-05:00

Hello from the Quail Springs Holiday Inn Express in Oklahoma City.

I used to have an insane barber. When I was very young, he was an amateur boxer. He used to challenge me to matches. As I grew larger and larger, he stopped boxing and started manufacturing homemade shotguns. He liked pointing them at me during my haircuts (these days I get my hair “styled” by a beautician). His name was John Merrick. So was the elephant man’s.

I remember a time when I first got my dog, Albert. Albert liked eating Robert’s poop (Robert was also a dog). I tried and tried to get him not to eat the poop, but he kept eating it anyhow. One day I asked the Barber John Merrick if he had any ideas for keeping Albert from eating up all of the poop. He said I shouldn’t worry about it on account of poop is just “changed food”. I thought to myself that John Merrick is right! Robert died and Albert stopped eating poop. Nowadays, Albert is fresh. I guess every cloud has a silver lining.

Anyway, upon checking into this Holiday Inn Express, I did something a little out of the ordinary by laying down on the bed without first removing the comforter. After laying around for about an hour and forty-five minutes, I decided to remove the comforter. Then I sat on the edge of the bed for a minute. Suddenly, I started feeling soggy in my pants. I reached down to where my body met the bed and it was soaked. I smelled my hand and I’ll be damned if I wasn’t sitting in a pile of somebody else’s urine!

I stood up and thought about things for a while. Then I started to almost throw up. Then I remembered that if poop is changed food, then all I’d sat in was changed drink. For a second, I almost stopped starting to throw up. Then I realized that John Merrick’s poop theory was way off. Sitting in urine is disgusting.

So I picked up the phone to call the front desk. Then I hung it up. I was afraid they’d think I was the guy who made the adult butt-sized pool of urine in the bed. I kept thinking about everything. I knew I couldn’t sleep in a toilet. I decided to call the desk…

Worker: Front desk.
Me: Hello. You probably aren’t going to believe this, and, anyway, it didn’t come out of me, but I was just relaxing on your bed when I realized I was sitting on a very large amount of urine.
Worker: (silence)
Me: It’s really gross. Somebody who isn’t me went in the bed!
Worker: You can’t be serious.
Me: I’m serious. I don’t make up stories about sitting in waste. I really don’t think I can sleep in this bed.
Worker: (silence)
Me: Do you think I could possibly move to a different room?
Worker: Yes. Come to the front desk.

I hung up and decided to account for how wet I was. When I sat in it, I was wearing my work shirt, shorts, and underpants. My shirttail was soaked through, as were my shorts and underpants. I felt my butt. It was moist. It occurred to me that, in my adult life, I’ve never had a wet butt in bed. Have you?

I went to the front desk and the lady apologized. I told her that it was okay for she was neither the one who did the urinating or the one who failed to change the sheets. I recommended that whoever “cleaned” the room be fired immediately. They moved me to a new room where I kept imagining that the new bed also had wet spots. Finally, I settled down enough to sleep albeit poorly.

What diseases can I catch from sitting in that stuff? Who would do something like that? I figure it was an old, a sicko, or the person who cleaned the room. But why would anyone leave the bed in such a mess? I think it’s pretty weird.

People wonder whether I’m going to ask for compensation. I tell people that I don’t yet want anything. If they give me my room for free, they’re really giving the government (who pays for my room) the room for free. But the government didn’t sit on the urine. I did! I’m going to write a letter to the Holiday Inn once I go home. What do you think they should give me?

Hitting Rock Bottom

2005-07-14T08:02:00.000-05:00

Over the next week or so I’m going to try to document all of the things that have happened in the last six weeks or so. I’ll also stick in current stuff if it’s any good. We’re going to have fun!

Back before I could drive, I used to go up to Richardson Square Mall on the DART bus. The beauty of the Richardson Square Mall DART bus stop is that it’s within eyeshot of a Long John Silver’s.

The Long John Silver’s people didn’t like me. I would time my return to the bus stop so that I could stop in LJS for a box of crumbs, a cup of water, and an “I Sailed With Long John Silver’s Crew” pirate hat. Total cost - $0. Then I’d sit there eating crumbs and looking at my latest heavy metal purchase until the bus showed up. To this day, it’s easy to identify the LJS grease stains smearing the cover of my Deep Purple “Deepest Purple” record. From time to time you’ll catch me licking that album cover.

I still can’t get enough of them crumbs. They’re the batter particles that fall off all of the fried crap that Long John Silver’s serves. Six Thursday nights ago or so, I decided to stop at LJS on my way home from work. I got three chickens, hush puppies, fries, and a box of crumbs. Then I went home and ate the box of fried lard…while lying down…in bed.

As you’ll learn as I continue to update you on all of the different things that have happened to me during this blogging hiatus, I am a changed person. And it all began that night when I ate the crumbs in my bed. My mom often says that sometimes people have to hit their low point before they can make their lives better. That night with the crumbs was my rock bottom. Rest assured that despite lung cancer and heart attack scares, things are really starting to go my way! I’ll tell you about what happened next later. But first, get a load of what happened this week…

Doctor Shoeshine and the Arm Smeller

2005-05-10T21:31:00.000-05:00

Two times ago when I was in New Orleans, Vickie and I went to a place called Deanie’s. They’re the ones who serve a bowl of spicy new potatoes as an appetizer. This time Donna and I went back to Deanie’s. It wasn’t too hot.

First, I asked the grumpy old waitress (who Donna said looked like a Bertha) if there was a dinner equivalent of some chicken pasta thing they offered on the lunch menu. Bertha told me no. I asked if there was anything with chicken I could have. She offered me a salad with chicken. I asked if there was anything on the dinner menu with pasta. Bertha said there is some sort of a shrimp and pasta situation. I asked if I could either get the salad with chicken substitute pasta for salad or the shrimp pasta thing substitute chicken for shrimp. She said no. I think it’s crazy that all of the ingredients to make what I wanted were available, yet they were unwilling to combine them as I pleased. So I ordered a steak medium well. It came out raw. I sent it back. It came back tough.

This Deanie’s is a weird place. It looks like places where I used to go to dinner as a baby. Very seventies. From the time she took our order until the time the food came out, Bertha pretty much just sat there at another table doing nothing. Meanwhile – and this was my favorite part of tonight at Deanie’s - there was a bearded waiter who looked almost exactly like Popeye’s Bluto (or is it Brutus? Are they the same guy?). Blutus didn’t do much except walk around the restaurant smelling his arms real hard. He just kept smelling and smelling his arms. What would cause anybody to do that? I don’t even think he had any tables. Some restaurants have people who will come around and serenade you. Deanie’s has a guy who walks around smelling his own arms.

When I was a little kid, there was another little kid down the street called Robbie Tylicki. Robbie Tylicki had a bad habit. Actually he had two bad habits. First, he didn’t know the word ‘I’. Instead he said “me”.
“Me is going to go home now.”
“Why are you going home Robbie Tylicki?”
“Because me wants to.”
His second bad habit was that he sucked the heck out of his arms. He’d suck them until they bruised.

You may be thinking, “Gee, it seems a little mean of you to make fun of Robbie Tylicki.” Well, let me tell you that Robbie Tylicki was a little creep! I would always go over to Robbie’s house to ask if he wanted to play, and he’d literally slam the door in my face. My Dad is about as peaceful a man as you’d ever meet. He’s Popish. But he hated the Tylickis. Once when Robbie Tylicki slammed the door in my face, my Dad suggested that I go over there and swipe his big wheel. I asked him where I could put it. My Dad said we could hide it in our garage. So we did.

We’re staying at the Renaissance hotel in downtown New Orleans. We are literally a stone’s throw away from Sodom and, I think, just a couple of blocks from Gomorrah. If I wanted to see “World Famous Live Love Acts” (whatever they are!) all I’d have to do is step outside and walk about the length of a football field. This is a really great hotel, but I’m certain I’m going to catch some pants-related disease just from breathing the air.

I just don’t get peoples’ fascination with the French Quarter. If you haven’t been there, it’s true that lots of it smells like throw up. There are a ton of interesting things here in New Orleans without subjecting yourself to that French Quarter. For example, I saw a copper door today with Ben Franklin’s and other American heroes’ heads carved in it.

I love Ben Franklin! Did I ever tell you about the time when, as a small boy, he got in Boston Harbor with his kite? The wind pulled him and his kite right across the harbor! What a great idea! I wish I wasn’t afraid of water. I’d re-create floating across some water or other with my kite. Thanks a lot Assistant Den Leader Walt McElroy for trying to drown me as a Cub Scout. You are responsible for how I’ve turned out!

Speaking of throw up, did you know that Jelly Bellys are available in the flavors of vomit, dirt, grass, and anchovy? I’m not sure if I think that’s funny or just kind of gross.

We went to the House of Blues for dinner last night. That was a pretty good place. King Diamond is playing there May 20. Heavy metal’s Tesla played there last week. Also, Dallas’ own Reverend Horton Heat and Bowling For Soup are playing there in the next month or so.

Reverend Horton Heat has been around for a long long time. Back in the day, I had a Reverend Horton Heat t-shirt. On it was a picture of the fat version of Elvis. Under Elvis' picture was a list of all the planets and what Elvis would've weighed on each. That's one of my all time favorite t-shirts.

On the way back to the hotel, we met a guy called Daniel (the self-proclaimed Dr. Shoeshine). Daniel sits on Decatur near Canal every night with his shoe polishing equipment. I asked Daniel how much for a shoeshine. He said, “Not much.” So I hired the Doctor to polish my shoes. He did a really fine job. When he finished he informed me that he typically gets $20 plus a “bonus tip”. I ended up paying that character $30 to shine my shoes. Doctor Shoeshine bills out at about $180 per hour. What a racket! Or maybe I’m the only sucker in town. Anyway, I liked him and don’t feel bad about getting ripped off. I hope you’ll let him shine your shoes sometimes.

Denton has a good jazz radio station (FM 88.1). The problem is that it has a weak signal and can't be heard very well from most parts of Dallas. New Orleans has a great jazz station (FM 90.7). Would it be too much to ask for Dallas to get rid of KPLX or Young Country or The freaking Wolf or one of the other All Kenny Chesney All The Time radio stations and replace it with a good jazz station? I haven't even felt the need to turn on the TV tonight because I'm enjoying the radio so much.

I guess that’s just about it for now. So long.

Bearded Theories

2005-05-07T13:11:00.000-05:00

If you are an old time reader of this blog or if you have had to be around me in person for too long, you probably already know my following two bearded adult theories:

* Beard Theories
1. Good luck ever finding a bearded adult riding in the back seat of a car.
2. You'll rarely see a bearded jogger.

I'd like to qualify my theories as follows:
* Qualifications
a. The beard can't belong to a person who looks like they listen to Soundgarden or similar.
b. A qualifying beard must have beard/sideburn connection. GOATEES DO NOT COUNT!
c. There is an inverse relationship between the degree of cheek coverage and the probability of finding an example of either 1. or 2.. (e.g., the more cheek the beard takes up the less likely the adult has ever ridden in the back seat of a car or jogged.)
d. The further a beard comes away from the head the less likely the bearded one has ridden in the back seat of a car or jogged.
e. Beards in the back seat of mass transportation do not count!
f. Beards playing softball or some other sport do not count for the jogging theory. Jogging is the sport where you won't see the beard.
g. Beards on black people don't count for the jogging theory. Black men are willing to jog in their beards.

I am offering surprises to anyone who can provide photographic evidence of exceptions to my theories. However, you may not orchestrate an episode of bearded jogging or riding in the back seat.

While in New Orleans, we (Donna, Gina, and I) went over to the piano bar at Pat O'Brien's. There were two examples of classic beards in there. One of them came on a guy who was roundish, bald, and professor-looking. The other belonged to a poofey 50 something called Don.

Both of the bearded men said that they either currently or formerly jogged in their beards and that they actively ride in the back of cars. Gina said that my theories are blown. I said that my theory was that you never SEE examples of bearded jogging/riding in the back of cars, and that any bearded person who jogs or rides in the back of a car does so either in disguise or under the cloak of darkness. My theories are good!

Gina took my picture with the bearded Don. He was an awfully good sport about all of our beard questions. He even acquiesced when I asked, "May I touch your beard?"

Would people watch a television show called "May I Touch Your Beard?"? It would have me interviewing beardeds and finishing up with, "May I touch your beard?". Half the time the segments would end with me feeling beards. Half the time it would end with me having my ass kicked.

What about this - a TV show called "The Bearded Swimmer"? He (I) would shave all of his (my)body hair ala a swimmer. However, he (I) would have a fantastic beard! He (I) would do all of the things you've ever wanted to see a massively bearded guy do (including swimming), but can't since it doesn't happen. The Bearded Swimmer would swim, jog, ride around in the back seat of the car, tap dance, eat salad, tie his shoes, drink milk, cry, make sandwiches, and whisper.

What does anyone else have to say about all of this beard business?

Meyer the Hatter

2005-05-03T21:28:00.000-05:00

In New Orleans, there’s a place just off Canal on St. Charles called Meyer the Hatter. They sell hats. It’s been family owned and operated for around 111 years. I think that’s nice and interesting. Tonight after work we went over there so I could look at some hats. Of all times, Meyer the Hatter closes at 5:45. We weren’t at Meyer the Hatter until 6 twenty something. However, there was a Meyer inside so I mouthed through the glass, “Would you please let me inside? I want to buy some hats.” He let me in and could not have been any nicer. I bought two hats and Meyer gave me a free Meyer the Hatter ink pen as a souvenir. My Mom told me that customer service like that is probably what’s kept them in the hat selling business all these years. I think she’s right!

One of the two hats is a captain’s hat. Others tell me that it makes me look like a genuine captain! From now on I shall only respond to The Captain.

I wonder why I mouthed through the glass, “Would you please let me inside? I want to buy some hats.” It’s nonsense. After all, I never mouth stuff to people on the same side of the glass as me. Why would I be at my most quiet when the person trying to hear me is all the way behind a hunk of glass?

Plus, sometimes I’ll pull up to a four way stop at practically the same time as another guy. Every now and then the other guy waves me through at which point I typically mouth, “Thank you.” Why is that? I should roll down my window and scream the thank you.

The other day I was at the Rangers game and there was a guy on a cell phone standing up waving his arms like mad at someone on the other side of the park (and I would assume on the other end of the phone call). I’m sure the guy knew whomever it was he was waving to. He might even see that person every day. But there’s something about seeing somebody from across a baseball stadium that people find amusing. Those same two people probably saw each other at work the day prior scarcely mustering up the energy to mumble hello to each other as they passed in the hallway. Oh, but how we’ll roll out the barrel if something as hilarious as seeing someone you know from a distance happens.

Tonight I had my first baked beans encounter. I don’t know about those things. I need someone to offer me some baked beans with the guarantee that no mustard’s been added.

Here’s some stuff to think about. Is a bean the same thing as a seed? What is a nut? Also, what would happen if I planted a kernel of popcorn? Would it give me a corn? Could I pop beans? If not, what other stuff besides corn can be popped? Lots of stuff melts, so you couldn’t pop that stuff. But if stuff doesn’t melt, shouldn’t it pop? Are pop and melt opposites? Do chickens melt? I know they have popcorn chicken, but I’ve never noticed any corn in them so I think it must be kind of like chicken fried steak. Popcorn describes how the chicken is prepared. Popcorn-popped chicken. Since chicken pops, shouldn’t other meats pop? I mean, meat is meat. Why would one meat pop any better than another?

I bought my dog a duck the other day. My parents take care of my dog while I’m out of town. After my Dad dropped me off at the airport, he stopped by my house to pick up Albert’s duck. According to my sister and my Mom, the duck and my Dad have been going around quacking non-stop at Albert. Finally my Mom got sick of it and started yelling at my Dad. My dog likes his duck, my Dad likes to quack, and my Mom likes to yell. I guess everybody’s happy.

Being Rocky Dennis

2005-05-01T20:23:00.000-05:00

I have giant thighs. Also, I have an enormous neck and extremely long arms. Plus I have a really massive head. My self is a physical improbability.

Pants are either too tight in the legs but just right around the waist or too large in the waist and just right in the legs. I CAN’T STRIKE A PROPER PANTS BALANCE. Most shirts that fit my torso don’t allow for buttoning the top button. So I’m left with a choice. I either leave the top button unbuttoned or I buy a shirt whose top button I can button but that has lots of bonus torso material. Yesterday at Dillard’s I bought the latter.

So tomorrow I’m getting on a plane to New Orleans in my new shirt with proper neck but too much material otherwise. I’ll be uncomfortable the whole trip. All of the extra material will keep creeping up from out of my pants and blousing up around my stomach and chest areas. I’ll look extra bloated. The airline will probably try to make me buy an extra seat to accommodate all of my shirt material. Would it help if I tucked the parts of my shirt that I don’t need into my underpants? I don’t know.

The rest of my family isn’t disproportionate. Why me? I am taller from the waist up than I am from the waist down. Do you think I may have been dropped or beat as a youth and that that could’ve stunted my growth? I wonder how tall I’m really supposed to be. Once when I was about two years old my aunt fed me a whole pot of chili. Could that have anything to do with this?

Miscellaneous

Today at Kroger there was a dad who verbally assaulted the cashier for being out of Copenhagen. I’m ready for the End Times. The good news is that there was olfactory evidence in the bathroom at my work last Friday that they may be just around the corner!

This week I get to go back to Voodoo Barbecue!

Is broth and blood the same thing? If not, why?

Did you know that two words to describe hot dogs are “semi-solid” and “chubby”? Gross.

The new book called The Simple Faith of Mister Rogers is really good – unless you’re against Jesus.

The Fantastic John Wesley Harding’s (AKA Wesley Stace) debut novel Misfortune is impressive and long.

Sirius Radio on Dish Network is awesome.

When my dog Robert died, I stood a metal cross on his grave. I’ve never seen anything like this before, but the ground where he's buried has all but swallowed the cross. There’s about a half inch left sticking out of the ground. We’ll meet again.

When I used to work for my Dad, Robert came to work with me. I had a computer on my desk and it plugged in behind my chair. One day I was eating a bagel that I refused to share with Robert. Robert ran in back of my chair and unplugged the computer from the wall. I turned around to plug it back in. The next thing I know Robert grabs the bagel off my desk and runs over to my Dad’s office. I’d say that’s pretty good thinking!

Well I need to go pack my stuff. So long.

Hair Update

2005-05-01T19:37:00.000-05:00

Frequent readers may recall my February 22 trip to Style America. I was having my hair fixed. It was then that Beautician Lisa Dang informed me that I (a) am going bald, (b) have an unusual hair that’s growing from my otherwise bald forehead, and (c) have gray hair. What I didn’t tell you before about that day is that I told BLD of a work trip I had scheduled to Oklahoma City that made it necessary for me to have even prettier hair than normal. I thought she’d try to do a better job than usual if she thought I needed some really good hair for a business trip. She had lots of questions about my trip. Among other things, I ended up telling her that I was going to OKC to work, that I was staying at a Bed & Breakfast with a person from San Antonio (Vickie W.), and that my Mom yells at me all the time.

I went back for another hairdo yesterday. I was shocked when she asked me about my trip to Oklahoma City and my co-worker from San Antonio. I was shocked again when she asked if my Mom’s been yelling at me lately. “This Beautician remembers everything!” I thought. Then she said, “I don’t remember you having gray hair. You really have a lot of gray hair.” I asked how she couldn’t remember my gray hair, but could remember all of that other stuff not having to do with hair. After all, I told her, her whole job is to remember about my hair.

Clearly she is more concerned about things none of her business than she is about my hair. And you should see how she annihilated me this time! First, she cut the perimeter of my bald area shorter than the rest of my head. It’s the kind of short that makes it want to stand straight up. It really looks silly. Plus, if you will imagine that the area extending from the southern edge of my dual crowns down to where my neck hair ceases to naturally grow is a football field, she cut my hair clear up to the 50 yard line. So my hair bottom (sorry to use such technical hair terminology) stops just about midway up my ear. Tomorrow I’m going to New Orleans where I will look plain stupid.

Next time I go in there I predict she’ll ask me how American Airlines flight 2238 to New Orleans went, but will be appalled to learn that I am losing my hair.

It occurs to me that 90% of the crap I write about has to do with hair, meat, cheese, death, or pants. One day I'm going to write an entry that combines all five. Meanwhile, shouldn't there be more to life than this?

A Rough Fortnight for Jesus

2005-04-10T09:18:00.000-05:00

Well, whatever momentum Jesus had going during the Easter season came to a grinding halt over the last two weeks. I think the cases of Terry Schiavo and The Pope left Him with some explaining to do.

Let’s face it. Terry Schiavo got a pretty rotten deal. It would suck to starve to death. It would suck even more to starve to death with your husband and your husband’s attorney lurking around like vultures constantly asking “Aren’t you dead yet?” while, for some reason unknown to you, your real family isn’t around much while you’re laying there suffering, and your husband’s soon-to-be new wife is standing there at a makeshift alter hastily erected next to your death bed waiting to get married to that s.o.b. if only you would just expire. Starving to death should only happen when you’re lost in the desert or in some similarly barren locale. It shouldn’t come at the hands of the people who are supposed to like you the best. That must’ve been a pretty miserable couple of weeks.

I’m not saying that Jesus was punishing Terry Schiavo. I don’t think that’s how He operates. There is always some sort of a purpose for stuff. However, I think she was owed an explanation for all that suffering. Jesus could tell her about how many people are writing living wills because of her. Maybe He could tell her that He was pretty sure Michael Schiavo belonged in hell, but needed a little more evidence. I don’t know. The whole thing made me feel kind of sick.

My sister wrote a living will on her blog. I thought it was funny but it’s probably just the way she’d really want things (www.housepants.blogspot.com). One part of it says that her therapy should include being placed in front of a window so she can look at birds. I told her that I’m gonna be her Michael Schiavo. If any birds dare come near her nursing home, I’ll be sitting outside of her window with a shotgun ready to blow them to smithereens. And if one of those blasted American Kestrels that she likes so much gets within her eye shot, things are really going to get grisly. I’ll also have Ministry’s “Stigmata” constantly playing in the background. The only time Ministry will stop is when it’s time for Rush Limbaugh. I’ll set up her room like that one in Elvis’ house with all the TV sets. One set will show videos of glaciers melting. Another will have looped coverage of the Exxon Valdez disaster. A third will be a live video feed of traffic on 635. Maybe I can get those ATF agents who flashed strobe lights and played bad noises at the Branch Davidians to help. Plus I’m going to pay someone to come in and poke her every few seconds. She’d like that. I just want her to die in peace and with dignity.

That Michael Schiavo is a sick bastard.

Then there’s The Pope. He seemed like a pretty neat guy. From the way he helped end communism to the way he was kind to all to his wardrobe, I say The Pope was first rate! But I’m afraid that he may have been in for a little bit of shock when he went into Heaven. The guy Poped as hard as he could for twenty something years! I can see how he might have been under the false impression that he would get some sort of preferential treatment when he got up there. Hopefully The Pope always kept in mind that Jesus likes us all the same and that there is no special treatment in Heaven. Having said all that, I’m sure Jesus cut him a little bit of slack if he came up there with kind of a bad attitude about the lack of fanfare.

It’s going to be weird to look at The new Pope. I hope he doesn’t seem like a phony when he puts on all of The Pope’s clothes. Let’s come together and give this new guy a chance!

Bimbo Bakeries

2005-04-09T22:51:00.000-05:00

There is a Mexican bread company called Bimbo Bakeries that is building its corporate headquarters in the field next to my office. According to its website, the company is called Bimbo on account of Bimbo is the shortened version of the Italian “bambino” which means “small child”. I’m not sure what bread has to do with small children except, perhaps, that small children like bread. But who doesn’t? They could’ve just as well called the place the shortened version of whatever the Italian word for middle-aged man is. Anyway, why are they naming it something Italian when there are plenty of Mexican things to call it? They could’ve named it after whatever the shortened version of the Spanish word for old people is. They like bread. Plus they’re real Mexicans!

Bimbo’s mascot is a playful bear. The bear, according to the Bimbo website, is a symbol of freshness, quality, and service. I’ve never met a bear, but I bet there are a lot better ways to describe them than “fresh”. Bears can’t smell very good with all of the goopity goop goop they’re bound to eat. (Did you know that bears like eating pine nuts? So do I! But nobody can say I’m not fresh.)

The whole thing made me wonder, “Does Mexico even have bears?” so I went to Google and typed “Does Mexico even have bears?”. The first thing that popped up was a link called “Mexico Doesn’t Even Have Any Bears”. Further research showed that there are a few black bears in the northern part of Mexico, but certainly not enough to name a whole bread company after.

The corporate office has been under construction for a couple months now. For about the first three weeks all there was were three guys with what appeared to be shovels. They dug and dug without making much progress. Then out of nowhere, and without the aid of heavy machinery (except for a large crane that sat in the field without moving for about 30 minutes one day), a concrete slab was in place. Still there were just the three guys with their shovels. Then steel pillars went up. Today the thing is really starting to look like something, but there’s never been anybody out there working except for the three shovelers. I don’t know how they’re doing it, but these guys are magic. What these guys have accomplished makes a mockery of crap like Stonehenge and the Great Pyramid.

I can’t wait until they finish making the bread offices. I’m gonna go over there and get my eat on.

Tilapia

2005-02-22T20:59:00.000-06:00

Have you ever read a word in a book that is new to you and, suddenly, you start reading and hearing that word everywhere you go? It happens to me all the time. About a year ago I learned from a menu that there is a fish called tilapia. I’d never heard of it before. Now it’s all anyone wants to talk about! “Have you had the tilapia in a bag at Red Lobster?” “You should try tilapia. It’s good.” “I like tilapia.” “Three cheers for tilapia! Hip hip…” “Tilapia of the mornin’ to ya!”

Can anyone explain what’s going on with tilapia? Was I just not paying attention, or are tilapia some new sort of fish? Should I eat any? I only like the mildest tasting fish.

Hey, why don’t any of you who tease me for not liking moist meat put gravy on your fish? Hypocrites!

I’m told tilapia work well in aquaria. They’re native to South America and Africa, but were recently exported to parts of Texas and Florida. Is that why we’re just starting to hear about them? Or is it only me?

Style America

2005-02-22T20:36:00.000-06:00

Yesterday I returned to Style America to get my hair done. This time the beautician was Lisa Dang. She was horrible at English, but managed to make the following conversation.

Dang: “You have gray hair.”
Feathers: “Yes, I know. It isn’t so bad.”
Dang: “How long have you been balding?”
Feathers: “It’s been a while. I have dual crowns.”
Dang: “You have very thick hair right here.” She pointed to my head sides. “Too bad you can’t put some of it where you are balding.”
Feathers: “Yeah, too bad.”
Dang: “Have you ever thought about Rogaine?”
Feathers: “No. I’ve come to accept my baldness as part of Jesus’ plan for me.”
Dang: “Well I think hair is very important and you should do something.”
Feathers: “Isn’t it what’s on my insides that counts?”
Dang: (Noticing a stray strand of hair sprouting from my otherwise bald forehead) “I’ve never seen anything like this before.”
Feathers: “Do you think it can be permed?”
(At that point she took a straight edge razor across my forehead to cut off the hair.)
Feathers: “This has been a horrible trip to the beauty parlor. Why are you so mean about hair?”
Dang: “I think hair is very important.”

The whole Style America was laughing at me and my head. I hate getting haircuts.

Halibut

2005-02-15T06:23:00.000-06:00

Good morning. I have some pretty good news.

According to an informant, the basic difference between flounder and halibut is that the halibut's left eye migrates to the right side of its head. Flounder and halibut are opposites! Maybe flounder (halibut) sit around looking at the other halibut (flounder) and that probably makes them happy. I wonder if they taste the same. Long live Mother Nature!

In music news, my sister and brother-in-law's band is really climbing the www.nowhereradio.com charts. "Otra Parte" is #2 on the Latin chart and "The Chipmunk Song" is #2 on the Childrens chart. That's good. They are Heroes of Rock! You can listen to their songs by going to that website and searching "pphphb". Their "VH1: Behind the Music" is going to be really lame. It will be 30 minutes of my sister looking at birds, getting upset when the numbskulls fly into her window, and Kevin being quiet followed by 30 minutes of someone talking about current events while my sister closes her eyes in an attempt to mentally transport herself into The Neighborhood of Make Believe. That part will be kind of funny.

I remember when my sister was in high school and was a freak (somewhere I have her old Krokus concert jersey to prove it!). Her friends were John Q Morris, Jelly Jellison, and quite possibly the Prince of Darkness. Some weekends she wouldn't speak to any of us (my Mom, Dad, and me) for no apparent reason. Sometimes I wonder how you get from that point to the point where mostly you like global warming, Emeril, and birds.

Time for my bath! Vickie's coming to town.

Flounder

2005-02-13T08:55:00.000-06:00

Last week I got to go back to Oklahoma City. Once again, the week was chockfull of good food. Highlights this time included Ted’s (Mexican food) and Anne’s Chicken Fried (i.e., “the chicken fried of Anne” not “Anne is chicken fried”). Ted’s has fantastic tortillas and Anne’s has great KISS memorabilia. Thanks to the OKC field office for inviting me to the tradition that is Friday Lunch. We went to Red Lobster. I had fun!

Red Lobster’s waiting area walls are full of fish portraits. I find it a little unsettling to have to look at pre-mortem representations of what I’m about to eat. I also don’t like going to steakhouses where they mount the head (perhaps the very head) of what I am eating in the dining room. Who, except maybe the most sick among us, garner additional eating pleasure from viewing the carcass of whatever’s on their plate? Can you imagine sitting in a dentist’s office surrounded by paintings of impacted molars and gum disease? That would never happen! But, for some reason, restaurants (of all places!) bend over backward to make the event as unappetizing as possible. Plus, Red Lobster has an aquarium of bound lobster sitting right out in the middle of the lobby. It’s quite pathetic. The last thing I need before gorging myself with meat is a guilt trip.

One of the fish pictures at Red Lobster is the profile of a flounder. The picture made me confused inside because both of its eyes were situated on one side of its fish head! Others tried to convince me that that’s just the way flounders are made. But it doesn’t make sense to have two eyes on the same side. What possible good is it to have all of your vision springing from the same basic part of your face? It would be better (but not ideal!) to have one gigantic eye. A flounder’s two eyes are only a centimeter or two apart and on the same side of its body! How much additional seeing could this arrangement possibly provide? I left Red Lobster paralyzed in disbelief.

So I started back to Dallas. On route, I called one of our audit managers to see what she knew about flounder. Unbeknownst to me, she grew up with flounder. She told me that she remembered one, in particular, called Freddy. She assured me that he had symmetrically situated eyes. My relief that flounder are normal was quickly replaced by an upset feeling that my “friends” in the OKC office would make me the victim of a practical joke (about fish). It felt like betrayal. That’s when I got a text message from someone I still trusted from the OKC field office. Here is what it said: “Flounder start out with normal eyes and then right eye migrates to left side of head.” Now the feeling of betrayal was once again replaced with confusion about fish! But I trust this source, and had to tell the audit manager (Sylvie) that what she had could not have been flounder. She would’ve noticed its weird eyes. I could tell she was mad that I didn’t believe her. I promised to confirm the information I’d received via text message. Here’s what I found:

“Adult southern flounder leave the bays during the fall for spawning in the Gulf of Mexico. They spawn for the first time when two years old at depths of 50 to 100 feet. The eggs are buoyant.
After hatching, the larval fish swim in an upright position and the eyes are located on opposite sides of the head. As the young fish grows, the right eye begins to "migrate" to the left side of the head. When body length of about one-half inch has been attained, the eye migration is complete and the fish assumes its left-side-up position for life.” (Source: http://www.tpwd.state.tx.us/fish/specinfo/flounder/flounbro.htm)

So it’s true. Flounder have two eyes on the same side of its head. And, to make matters worse, the fish assumes its left-side-up position for life! This means adult flounder (1) can never look at each other (they are all looking up!), and (2) must always think they are on the very bottom of the ocean (they can’t see what’s below). I think this is sad. Can you imagine a lonelier existence than to feel like you’re always at the bottom of the heap and none of the others like you will even look your way? It’s just terrible.

Flounder is one of just a few varieties of fish I’ll eat. At first I was a little grossed out about eating something whose right eye had “migrated”, but they say “everything happens for a reason”. It must be depressing to be a flounder. Maybe the reason I like flounder to the exclusion of most other fishes is to put as many of them out of their misery as possible by eating them up. Jesus works in mysterious ways. I am the Flounder’s Jack Kevorkian.

Next time I go swimming I’m taking my mirror with me. I’m going to swim above the flounder facing my mirror down toward them. For once, they’ll be able to see each other. I wonder if fish can smile. If so, I bet they will when I go down there with my mirror.

P.S. My friend Erik told me that he works with a man called “Grady Bacon”.

Monkeys

2005-01-30T20:10:00.000-06:00

My Dad’s birthday was January 25. He is 59 years old. I’d say that’s pretty good! Anyway, his having the flu last weekend caused us to put off the celebrating until today. We had fun because of darts, chickens, an accordion, a Turkish spike fiddle, salad, the guy who urinated his way out of an avalanche, and stories from my parents about the olden times.

When a guy gets to be a certain age, he assumes he knows at least the important things that ever happened to his parents. So you can imagine my surprise when my Mom laid this one on us. Out of no place, she started talking about when she spent the night with one of her friends when she was a little girl. She said it was pretty gross because the house smelled kind of funny and everything – including her bedding – seemed a little bit damp. And, oh yes, there were a lot of monkeys living there, un-caged. Maybe that’s the kind of childhood experience that keeps her from touching all but certain very limited parts of my dog, Albert. She’ll gladly touch him on the top and back of the head. In other words, she’ll touch him where his tongue can’t reach. My Mom’s a little freaked out by moisture that comes out of animals. I’m freaked out by gravy. I guess that’s why we’re related.

Then I found out that my Dad was chased by a bumblebee around a baseball park ten years after he’d been stung six times in the eyelid by the same bumblebee. To me, that’s incredible! But he insists it’s true, and I’ve never known my Dad to make stuff up. Getting stung in the eyelid caused him to holler, “Son of a bitch!” His mother made him eat a soap, and my Dad has cursed seldom since.

The mother who made him eat a soap turned out to be my grandma. Once, when I was spending the week with her and my grandpa in West Virginia (my grandpa went to work in a pants factory there), Elvis died. That night I wanted to sleep in my socks, but wasn’t allowed on account of “We don’t sleep in our socks here.” I got mad and took off all my clothes. That’s the last time I appeared naked in front of people who aren’t me (and even when it’s just me I try to quickly put on my briefs).

I remember when I was a kid. My parents weren’t much for grounding me, and I can’t recall getting slugged or anything. The only discipline I can remember was my Dad saying, “Damnit!” He cursed so infrequently that all he had to do was say that word and I knew that I’d just about had it. My Mom, on the other hand, likes using curse words. Her problem is that she thinks it’s funny to cuss, and she’s one to laugh at her own jokes. Once I did something to really make her mad and she called me “Shit Head”. If my Dad had called me that, I would’ve started crying. But when my Mom called me it we both started laughing.

Oh! There was a guy last week that was driving along when an avalanche landed on his car. Fortunately for the guy, he had beers in tow. He started drinking the beers while he was stuck there, and then he thought to roll down his window enough to urinate on the avalanche. Sixty beers later, he managed to urinate the avalanche away. Authorities found him walking around the side of the road in a drunken stupor. This has been a story about how a man used his urine to defeat Mother Nature.

Musical Pants

2005-01-28T19:53:00.000-06:00

Man, if there are two things I have they are A) a never ending supply of fabulous ideas and 2) the inability to capitalize on any of them. Because this is a problem that I haven't been able to correct in 32 years, I guess I might as well start telling you about some of my ideas so that you can use them to get rich.

From the one who thought of but didn’t do anything about such products and services as The Smell Recorder, Pi Restaurant, the Dallas Light Rail Shopper, Magnetize My Ashes & Stick Me In An Etch-A-Sketch Cremation Services, Risk Consultant / Insurance Company, "People You Hate" Urinal Accessories, and the Personalized See & Say (just to name a few!) here is my latest concept that will inevitably go to and around waste and your waist, respectively - MUSICAL PANTS!

Here’s the idea. Whenever you get up and start walking this way and that, the back and forth walking motion of your human legs sets off some sort of a thing that causes your theme song to start playing. All that from right inside your pants! Think of how happy you will feel when all of a sudden you get up to walk someplace and "Forever In Blue Jeans" or "She’s Like the Wind" or other starts playing. Hey! Nothing can be better than Larry Feathers’ Musical Pants.

Now pretend you’re a baby. Let’s say that you are trying to learn how to walk. For lots of babies walking is hard. But for you it is not hard to start walking when you know that you’re wearing my Musical Pants. I guarantee that you’ll start walking a little bit earlier than the rest of the babies as long as you promise to wear some of these pants.

My sister and her husband think the pants will be even more fun if the music speeds up as you speed up. I think they’re right. They support my pants.

Oklahoma! Part I: The Grandison at Maney Park

2005-01-23T21:00:00.000-06:00

I wish I hadn’t left my notes at work because I’m bound to leave something out that I shouldn’t. Anyway, I had the pleasure of going to Oklahoma City for work on January 10 – 14. I was accompanied this time by Auditor Vickie Warfield. Here’s all about it…

I like traveling with Vickie. Either she kind of likes the same kinds of stuff as me or she is most willing to tolerate me. In fact, I can’t recall a time when we’ve been on the road that she’s nixed one of my eating, sleeping, or shopping ideas. I appreciate her tolerance because I’m admittedly not the easiest character in the world to be around – especially for long uninterrupted periods of time. Indeed Vickie got a small taste of what it would be like to be married to me, and, between you and me, I think she rather enjoyed that aspect of the trip.

Anyway, we needed to find a place to stay in OKC. When I go out of town I like trying to find lodging that is out of the ordinary. One drawback to Oklahoma City is that there isn’t much in the way of out of the ordinary lodging. However, I found a bed and breakfast called The Grandison at Maney Park that agreed to give us the $65/night government rate. What a deal! I was going to get a big ol’ breakfast in the morning and leisurely walks through beautiful Maney Park at night! And Vickie was going to get to live the dream of being married to me (The Grandison is ranked by some publication or other as one of the Top 15 Bed and Breakfasts in American for honeymoons and anniversaries).

Before telling you about our stay at the Grandison, let me just make it perfectly clear that I liked the house and the people who own it. I would stay there again.

Before we checked in at the Grandison, we went to our OKC field office to take care of some business. At lunch time our co-worker Gina said she’d drive us past the house where we were staying so that we could see how to get over there. (That’s just the beginning of how nice Gina treated us while we were in town. She is the best!) Another guy called Warren came with us which made me glad because Warren is nice. On the way over I was telling Warren how I intended to stroll through Maney Park later that night. Warren warned against any such stroll because the Grandison is very near “the ‘hood”. Oh well. At least I was going to get to eat a big ol’ breakfast!

Let me quickly tell you about Maney Park. There is no such thing. The house would more properly be called The Grandison Next to Another Old but Less Well Taken Care of House at the ‘Hood. I couldn’t even tell where a park might used to have been. Still, I would stay there again.

That evening we went to check in. We were greeted by a dog in the foyer who growls at people. Welcome to the Grandison! After a couple of minutes one of the daughters of the man and woman who own the house came out, checked us in, and showed us to our rooms. On the way, we stopped at a hall closet just at the top of the stairs. The daughter showed us that the closet contained a dorm-size refrigerator, a coffee pot, and a couple boxes of cereal. She said (I promise she said this), “This is where you will have breakfast.” Then she took us further down the hall to our rooms. Our rooms were in the back of the house and upstairs. Next to our rooms was a back exit to the house where you can take an outside set of stairs down to the Grandison parking lot. The daughter said (I promise!), “You can take that back door if you want. You don’t even need to come through the front part of the house.”

I went in my room, removed the comforter (as is my custom), and lied down on the bed. I noticed a small spiral notebook on the night stand. When Judge Judy went off the air, I picked it up and started reading. “What a delicious breakfast!” “Loved the breakfast.” “Keep up the good breakfasts.” “That’s the best breakfast I’ve ever had!” “Your breakfast is da shiznit!” What?!?! I was reading a spiral full of past guests’ comments about their stays, and either these people were A) the most sarcastic people ever, B) the biggest fans of Wheaties ever, or C) we were getting the government rate breakfast. I kept reading…."Loved the Jacuzzi bathtub. The rose petals in the bath tub really set the mood.” Set the mood? So much for taking a bath.

The next morning I was relieved to determine that no lewd activity could’ve gone on in the shower as it had in the bath tub. (Still, I wore my protective briefs as I showered.) The reason I know that the shower hadn’t been soiled is that it could only accommodate one very small person. (To turn around in the shower I literally had to step out into the rest of the bathroom, rotate, and re-enter.) As is often the case in other peoples’ showers, the water pressure left much to be desired. I went to work every day with a head full of shampoo residue. My sensitive scalp rebelled against Oklahoma City shower water.

By now you’re probably thinking that I didn’t like Oklahoma City. Well you couldn’t be more wrong. Tomorrow or some other time soon when I'm more awake, I’ll tell you all about the rest of our trip. You’ll learn why I consider Oklahoma City the best city in America. I’ll tell you all about the places they have to eat, how nice the people are, how good of a job they did with Bricktown, and how tastefully done the Oklahoma City Memorial is. And then I’ll tell you all about my return to Texas and how it makes me long for Oklahoma.

Note to self: Tell them about 1) Oklahoma: restaurants, people, Homeland, traffic, downtown, etc… 2) Texas: Pizza Hut, Sprint stores, backed up plumbing, the cat getting hit by a car, Super Target, shopping carts, etc…

Feelings

2004-12-19T20:32:00.000-06:00

Don’t you think that one of the fun things about getting to be alive is experiencing all of the different feelings? We have happy, sad, melancholy, tall, mad, glad, bloated, medium, and bad – just to name a few. I’m lucky because on just about a daily basis I get to experience many of the different feelings. That’s because of conversations I often have with a couple of co-workers who I will refer to as Auditors L. Last week I experienced misery, dismay, confusion, etc… Here are parts of conversations from last week.

Conversation #1
Larry: I’m not feeling so well.
A.L.: You are sickly.
Larry: Yeah, have I ever told you that when I was a little kid I averaged missing over 30 days a year of school? I used to get even more ill than I do now. Once I had mono and hepatitis at the same time. I nearly passed away.
A.L.: I had perfect attendance.
Larry: (dumbstruck)
A.L.: I was All-Defensive player of the year in softball.
Larry: (mouth agape, but silent)
A.L.: I was also All-State.
Larry: (walks away, defeated)

Conversation #2
A.L.: Hey, do you know how to make a double layer cake?
Larry: Yeah, you just make two cakes and put them one on top of the other with icing in between.
A.L.: Yeah, bet there is some kind of a cake pan you can buy that makes the whole thing together at once, right?
Larry: Not really. (stunned, walks away in disbelief)

Conversation #3
A.L.: Do you think a diamond necklace is a good gift?
Larry: I don’t know. It seems like an expensive gift.
A.L.: Well, it’s not about how much it costs. It’s about what it signififies.
Larry: Good lord. (walks away, defeated)

Conversation #4
Larry: My dog got hit by a car this morning.
A.L.: I could really use a smoothie.
Larry: I think my appendix is about to rupture. Will you please give me a lift to the hospital?
A.L.: No, I just had my car washed.
Larry: Well, could you at least call the ambulance?
A.L.: I might crack a nail on the dial pad.
Larry: Would you like me to go to the store and buy you some Nerd Ropes and Swedish Fish?
A.L.: Yes. Will you go now?
Larry: I would, but I’m internally bleeding to death.
A.L.: Did I tell you about saving 10% at Foley’s?
Larry: Yes, several times.
A.L.: They were giving 10% off to the first five people at the store at 2:30 in the morning. I am so tired.
Larry: (gasping for breath) Seriously, will you please take me over to the hospital?
A.L.’s cell phone: (ring a ling a ling)
A.L.: Hi Chris. What’s that? Really?
(hang up)
A.L.: I’ll see you later. They are raffling off tickets at Parks Mall.
Larry: Tickets for what?
A.L.: I don’t know. I think pre-season Cowboys tickets for 2007. See you later. Don’t die.
Larry: (laying in the fetal position, defeated)

Christmas Party

2004-12-19T17:59:00.000-06:00

So last night was my annual Christmas party. For those of you who weren’t invited, I must say that you really missed out on fun. We had music, dancing (one of my lawyer friends brought his old Alfonso’s Breakin’ Board), cookies, a Chinese gift exchange, plus some other stuff. We took makin’ the Yuletide gay to a whole new level!

You should’ve seen me dancing! My white pants and green plastic shirt plastered with white Christmas trees glistened under the light of my green and red disco ball as I moved in perfect sync to the “Footloose” soundtrack. As I looked around I noticed everybody getting jiggy with “Let’s Hear it for the Boy”. Everybody, that is, except for my dog Albert.

Later, as I was eating figgie pudding with some of my doctor friends, my mind’s eye flashed back to that image of Albert laying there completely flat and oblivious to the beat of the music. Why, I wondered out loud to my successful friends, don’t dogs snap their fingers or tap their feet to the beat of music? Fortunately Dwight Yoders (my friend who happens to be a veterinarian to the stars) chimed in and explained that dogs can’t snap because their fingers aren’t long enough. Still, none of us could figure out why dogs don’t tap their feet to the beat of the music. The only theory was put forth by Connie (a super model). She said that my dog probably doesn’t tap his paws because he is “just a mutt”. She was pretty sure that her pure bred Shih-Tzu can dance.

Do any of you know why animals like dogs and cows don’t tap to the beat? Even the most uncoordinated people I know can clap or snap to the beat of a song.

Here’s something else. How come when people tell you about conversations they’ve had with other people, they always say things like:
“Yesterday I was talking to my rich friend Alan, and he said…”
or
“I saw my lawyer friend Merle the other day, and he was saying that…”
or
“You’ll never guess who I had lunch with today. My proctologist friend, Clive.”

Am I supposed to believe that none of you have friends who work at a junk yard or some place? Just once I wish somebody would say, “Gee Larry I’d really like to have dinner with you tonight, but my friend Thad just got out of prison and we’re celebrating his new job as Luby’s janitor.” I wonder if some people are really impressed when their friends who really haven’t accomplished much in the grand scheme of things talk about their friends who allegedly have. I just don’t get it sometimes.

My sister and her husband just released their second CD – “The Palo Pinto House Pants House Band – Volume II”. I think it’s really good, and I’m most impressed by the singing of Julie Ohman and Rob Rhoden. If you’re interested, I’m selling copies of it for $10 without their permission. All proceeds will be donated to the SPCA of Texas.

Finally, for those of you who insist on buying me Christmas gifts, here is a list of what I’ve already received: an Albert calendar, a Fat Albert book, a Doc Watson CD, brown socks, a red tie, a white shirt that doesn’t have long enough arms, a leaf blower/mulcher/bagger, a book about the wicked wit of Winston Churchill, a book of America’s most boring post cards, a couple of framed arts, a jar of almonds, a whistlin’ tea kettle, a book of “Baseball’s Firsts”, a book about how statistics can lie, a book by Peter Drucker, and cash. I AM STILL ACCEPTING CASH. If you haven’t shopped for me yet, it’s time to get on the stick. And if you don’t feel like buying me something, you’re welcome to get over here and mulch and bag my leaves. Let me know you’re coming by and I’ll leave the blower/mulcher/bagger out on the front porch.

Dr. L. Feathers – “On Nutrition”

2004-12-17T23:38:00.000-06:00

Season’s greetings. Because it’s Friday night and Friday night is the night when I like to really let it all hang out, I just partook in a box of Pasta Roni. What better way to bring in the weekend than with a dinner of boxed pasta and butter sauce?

Before I began preparing dinner I noticed something odd in the “Nutritional Facts” section of the Pasta Roni box. It’s something I’ve noticed in the past on other foods, but for some reason it really got me thinking this evening. They provide two sets of nutritional info – one “as prepared” and another “as packaged”. Now who, pray tell, is the intended audience of the “as packaged” data? Are there people among us who like to eat uncooked pasta with a little packet of herbs and dehydrated butter?

Here’s another question: If I so choose to eat the “as packaged” version of the Pasta Roni do I get to eat the cardboard box? You’re probably thinking that it’s a ridiculous proposal to eat a cardboard box, but here’s why I brought it up. According to the nutritional information, the “as packaged” version of Pasta Roni has 210 calories per serving versus 320 calories if I bother to cook it. You should also know that the only thing you must add to the “as prepared” Pasta Roni is water – which, I am told by scientists, has no calories at all. My conclusion is that for every 320 calories you consume, you can reduce the caloric intake by nearly one third by simply eating an appetizer of cardboard box. Move over Dr. Atkins and make way for the Larry Feathers Cardboard Diet.

Now I’m looking at the Nutritional Facts on a bag of Fritos. Here are some lowlights: a serving of Fritos has 160 calories (90 of which are from fat), there are 170 milligrams of salt, 15 grams of carbohydrates, no Vitamin A, no Vitamin C, no Iron, and little anything else. Is it proper to put “Nutritional Facts” on what amounts to a bag of crap? Something should have to have nutritional value in order for it to have nutritional facts. Do cigarettes have Nutritional Facts? I know for sure that they come with a Surgeon General’s Warning, and I dare say that a similar warning about the potential effects of corn chips would be good information for consumers. And I am certain that it’s more honest than trying to trick people into thinking that corn deep fried in lard has some redeeming nutritional quality.

As a public service I’ve prepared a sticker to stick over the Nutritional Facts on bags of chips: “SURGEON GENERAL’S WARNING: Merely being in the same room with this product will probably make you fat. Consumption is guaranteed to make your heart explode.”

Seriously though - have I ever told you the secret to good heart health? The heart is a muscle. To prevent atrophy your heart muscle must be exercised. Now all of these “medical professionals” will try to fool you into thinking that artery plaque is a bad thing. That is utter nonsense! Arteries without plaque allow blood to flow unfettered to and fro. Such easy blood flow makes your heart weak. What you should really be shooting for are plaque-caked arteries. As long as the blood has a little bit of room to get through there, you’ll be okay. Friends, think of plaque-ridden arteries as the heart’s workout partner. It figures that the harder your heart has to work to pump blood through your self, the stronger it will be and the longer you will live!

Just in time for Christmas and especially for you, here is some holiday heart healthy advice. Mount two IV bags next to your bed. Fill one of the bags with squeeze butter and the other with nacho cheese. Each night before you fall asleep, hook up the IV bags and allow them to clog your arteries as you rest. You too can have a strong and healthy heart. Merry Christmas!

Been Caught Stealin'

2004-12-15T21:26:00.000-06:00

Hello and welcome.

First, let me tell you about a woman I know called Jean. She is a person and she likes to eat at La Madeleine most Saturdays for breakfast. A couple of times ago, she was sitting there eating her crepes or quiche or whatever they make when, suddenly, a guy at the next table started wiggling his chair this way and that right into Jean’s table! I’m not sure why that was a pre-requisite to what was about to happen, but it was! The guy – who we’ll call “LaMont” for reasons I can’t say on account of “what does him being black have to do with the story?” - hauled off with Jean’s wallet! The next thing Jean (who is practically 55!) did was take off after LaMont! She started hollering out, “I declare! Hand back my wallet!” and “Why you!” and “Stop thief!”. The man retorted, “Say, I did not take your wallet lady.” So Jean went right on up to him and started rooting through the papier-mâché he was carrying along. She quickly found out he was hiding her stolen wallet right inside the papier-mâché! Jean snatched back the wallet, turned around, and went back inside the bistro to finish her cuisine. At a time when I would’ve been too busy crying or wetting my pants to do anything about it if it had happened to me, Jean took justice into her own hands! I don’t give a crap what Doug Llewellyn thinks about it because I’m proud to know someone who took justice into her own hands. This is a story about bravery, and, like her fellow Democrat Zell Miller, Jean is a hero to all.

Hey, what kind of a lame crook hangs out at La Madelaine?

Now I’d like to tell you a couple of other fascinating stories I know about theft, s’il vous plait.

Before Garland turned it into yet another everything’s a dollar store, there once was a Tom Thumb. The Tom Thumb sat on the major intersection of Buckingham and Garland Road. One day a huge woman went in there to swipe some beef meat. The store manager (Merv) noticed her taking the meat, but waited until she exited the building to do anything about it. Merv started after the lady and the lady took off toward the street. As she ran toward the street her speed began tapering off at an increasing rate. When Merv caught up with her he found that her loot – which had been crammed into her long underpants – had slid down her big legs forming a set of beef shackles around her ankles! I love telling this story to others!

Then there is the case of a lady called Jeanette and her son who I think is Paul. Or it could be that Paul is Jeanette’s husband and I have no idea what the name of their son is. Anyway, these are a set of people that my parents knew while I was a baby. One day after I wasn’t any longer a baby and Jeanette, Paul, and possibly somebody or other had moved away to Charlotte North Carolina, Jeanette went over to the mall. As she was going back out to the car Jeanette got mugged by a white guy who let’s call Dan Vasser. The very next day Dan decided to go shopping with Jeanette’s stolen credit card. Dan went up to the counter to buy his pants or whatever and handed the credit card to the cashier. As it turned out the cashier was Jeanette’s son! Dan Vasser went to jail! This has been a true story about justice!

2004-11-28T20:19:00.000-06:00

Hey, this is the same house as below taken from a different angle. I BET THEY CAN SEE THIS HOUSE FROM SPACE!

Ho ho ho.

2004-11-28T20:07:00.000-06:00

Monstrosity!

Earlier I was sitting there on my couch when all of the lights in my house began to flicker and dim. I called the electric company to see what was going on, and they said that the house depicted above had just turned on its Christmas decorations.

Christmas Decorations Design Element #1 - Tons of Stuff Do Not Good Decorations Make

When decorating for Christmas, let's keep it simple. Jesus and I aren't impressed with the amount of crap you manage to cram in your yard. It's the thought that counts, and a little bit of stuff goes a long way.

Pancakes

2004-11-28T18:46:00.000-06:00

Here is the conversation that I had with my Mom this morning:

(Ring, ring)
L.F.: Oh boy.
(Answer)
L.F.: Hello.
Mom: What are you doing?
L.F.: Concentrating on minding my own business. What are you doing?
Mom: Well we’re thinking about having some pancakes. Do you want to come over?
L.F.: For pancakes?
Mom: Yeah.
L.F.: I don’t think so for I am studying for my test.
Mom: Why not?
L.F.: I am studying for my test.
Mom: Are you mad at me?
L.F.: Who would be mad at someone for offering me pancakes?
Mom: Well are you coming over or not?
L.F.: I just don't feel much like driving all the way over there.
Mom: (silence)
L.F.: Are you mad at me?
Mom: (silence)
L.F.: Well I better quit studying and come over there for some pancakes.
Mom: Okay, we’re having some pancakes at about 9:30.
L.F.: Okay. Bye.
Mom: Bye.

You’re probably thinking that I’m kind of a creep for talking to my Mom like that. First, you’re right – I am kind of a creep. Second, you’d just have to understand the nature of our relationship. We both tell it like it is, and, if nothing else, at least it’s honest. Meanwhile, I really like my Mom. Plus she makes good wheat germ pancakes. Did you know that a restaurant would charge you extra for the wheat germ? That’s what I learned from my Mom this morning.

It’s not typical that I get invited over there on a Sunday for some pancakes, but I think my Mom is currently concerned that I’m on the verge of assassinating myself. I started feeling blue Friday night at Barnes and Noble when it occurred to me that besides my family – who I talked to on Thursday – I hadn’t spoken to another human being who didn’t want to sell me some books or Chic-Fil-A Nuggets (12 pack) since I’d left work at noon on Wednesday. My anti-social behavior almost feels like a matter of necessity.

Last week was bad for my spirit. There was the lard ass on Northwest Highway who threw a half full bottle of Mountain Dew out his car window and into the trees during rush hour. Then – not two minutes afterward – was the Middle Eastern character who threw his burning cigarette at the car of the man in the next lane over. Then I got home and turned on the news in time to hear about the Plano Mom who elected to slice off her baby’s arms while humming songs about Jesus. (At the risk of opening up the largest conceivable can of worms, at least the Plano Mom’s behavior is excusable – she is just exercising her womanly right to choose what to do with her body (satire). Are her actions any more heinous just because her dependant child happens to exist outside instead of within? It all seems kind of like the same thing to me.) Anyway, these are the people in my neighborhood!

So I’ve been spending most of my time this Thanksgiving four day weekend sitting here on my couch. Yesterday I almost left the house. I was going to go over to Shreveport in order to test a theory I have about how to beat video poker. But – get this – my Mom forbade me from going! As you may have read, I am 31 and will turn 32 yet my Mom can tell me that I may not go to Shreveport, and I obey! I should’ve gone out of spite. I think that on Christmastime I will give her a box full of nothing but a slip of paper explaining that her gift didn’t happen on account of I didn’t have any gambling winnings with which to buy presents!

The good news, I guess, is that today I started to break out of my funk a little bit. Here’s what happened (and you already know about pancakes.)

From 4 o’clock until pancakes I read some books and studied for my test. After pancakes, I shot pool with my Dad and he took me two out of three. Then I came home and cleaned my den. Then I went over to get my sister. We went to the SPCA to see some dogs. I almost adopted one, but fortunately somebody else beat me to it. There was an adult dog there who may have been called Robbie. I should’ve adopted him, but Albert would freak out. Then I went to the Genghis Grill and ate a bunch of chickens. Now I’m getting ready to go take pictures of the houses of people who did a poor job decorating for Christmas. This will most likely be the topic of the next entry, and it will definitely make me feel happy!

Here’s hoping for a good week of people who don’t litter, smoke, or hack up their babies. I am asking each of you to try to remember to do something nice for some other people. I think acting kind is a worthwhile thing to do.

The Atmosphere In My Office Stinks!

2004-11-23T22:31:00.000-06:00

I’ve recently been extremely disturbed by something going on where I work. So I decided to write a song about it. I apologize in advance for going scatological on you.

Men’s Restroom Blues
(a parody of “Folsom Prison Blues” by Johnny Cash)

I smell the end times comin’.
They’re comin’ from the stall.
Just around the corner and
slightly down the hall.
My face is turnin’ purple,
But I’m afraid to breathe.
The fumes are overwhelming.
Seems like they’ll never leave.

How can any human
emit that kind of smell?
What must you have for lunch?
An entire Taco Bell?
I need to use the restroom.
I think I’ll wet my briefs.
Cuz I can’t go in the toilet.
The smell’s beyond belief.

(guitar solo)

It’s been over an hour
but I still smell the smell
I suspect is reminiscent
of the way it smells in hell.
I can’t hold it any longer.
I’m gonna go real fast.
And try not to inhale
all that gas he passed.

(guitar solo)

I’d nearly finished goin’
when the aroma hit my head.
Now I’m sad to tell you
that I am dead.
The smell in there was lethal.
He must’ve eaten a cat.
The OIG men’s bathroom
is where the smell is at.

Turkey in the Barnyard

2004-11-23T21:14:00.000-06:00

L. Feathers - Thanksgiving 2004

Man, if there's one thing I'm good at it's poetry. Here is one about Thanksgiving especially for you. It's called "Turkey in the Barnyard" and it's written by someone who is not me.

Turkey in the barnyard, what does he say?
Gobble, gobble, gobble, gobble, gobble all day.
Turkey on the table, what do I say?
Yummy, yummy, yummy, yummy, yummy all day.
Turkey in my tummy, what do I say?
I ate too much on Thanksgiving Day!

Thanksgiving and a Productivity Pledge

2004-11-23T20:02:00.000-06:00

Good evening and season's greetings. Let me take this opportunity to wish you all a happy Thanksgiving. Please let us not forget all that we have to be thankful for this holiday season which is a lot no matter who you are for at least your crazy mother didn't hack off your arms while you were just trying to be a good baby.

First, I must tell you about the intellectual stimulation I received courtesy of someone who - for Anonymity's sake - I'll cryptically refer to as Auditor L. Here is the transcript of our conversation (complete with facial expressions, pauses, and noises that I just couldn't help letting out of my self):

Auditor L: (out of nowhere) "Are you 31?"
Larry Feathers: "Why, yes, I am 31."
Auditor L: (seriously) "Are you going to be 32?"
Larry Feathers: (long pause)
Larry Feathers: (groan)
Larry Feathers: (grimace)
Larry Feathers: (sigh)
Larry Feathers: "Do I believe what you just asked me?"
Auditor L: (silence)
Larry Feathers: "Because certainly you don't expect an answer to a question like that."
Auditor L: "No, I guess not."
Larry Feathers: "What could possibly happen next?"

And this is the sort of thing I am faced with every day! Furthermore (and perhaps more sadly), I look forward to these episodes. Don't ask me why, but I think it's the same thing that causes me to repeatedly watch the Brady Bunches (is that right?) where Greg decides that he wants to "live by exact words" or the one where Marcia keeps telling Charlie that she has to break her date with him because "something suddenly came up" or the one where Peter keeps proclaiming "pork chops and applesauce" in that ridiculous voice trying my best to get an exact count of how many times those phrases are repeated. Indeed, I live for figurative kicks to the crotch.

But is it too much to ask to want a little bit more out of life? I'm starting to feel as if I'm blowing it. Time is really starting to fly, and I'm pretty well convinced that I have one foot planted firmly in the grave as it is. Yet I spend much of my time talking to co-workers about what age I'll be when I get done being this one.

Was I put here to be a GS-12 (not that anything's wrong with that)? Mustn't there be a grander plan? I can't even get a report out! It's time to start producing. Here is my pledge: From this point forward I will become a more productive person. There will be more audit reports, more blog entries, more reading, more walking my dog, more going out into public, less cheese, more not laying on the couch all weekend, less freaking out every time the phone rings because I don't really feel like talking, more miscellaneous, less potatoes, more stampin' it up, less getting mad about things I can't affect, more squat thrusts, less this and that, more not forgetting to change my underpants (only joking - just seeing if you're still reading this), more being glad, etc.

This has been about Thanksgiving and how I intend to start being more productive. Now let's talk about it World!

Blog Casserole

2004-11-07T01:30:00.000-06:00

Hi everybody. It seems like it’s about time that I get crackin’ with the blogs again. For reasons that I can’t quite articulate, I’ve been on an extended hiatus from people except the ones with whom I work and to whom I’m related. It has to do with a combination of things that probably wouldn’t make sense to people who aren’t me. I regret having not returned phone calls, text messages, and e-mail from certain people. It’s nothing personal. We’ve come to a point where I’ve been such a miserable friend for so long that it doesn’t seem fair for me to call up any of you as if I’ve been acting like a swell guy all along. The bottom line is that if any of us are going to ever talk again it’s going to require that A) you re-initiate the friendship, and B) you don’t start asking me a bunch of questions about what my problem is.

Recent poop evidence indicates that I have a mouse (or mice) at my house. So I went over to Kroger Grocery Store and bought some poisonous mouse and rat food. I stuck it in various strategic locations around the house and today I saw my first mouse (I think this is actually the first mouse I’ve ever seen in person). He was grey, seemingly young, and practically dead. I took him outside and put him in the plants. Now that I met a mouse I’m trying to figure out why I wanted to kill him. Why don’t very many people like mice? They seem really nice. I’m feeling pretty bad about poisoning the one I saw today.

There is a new Peter Murphy CD called “Unshattered” and, I must say, on first listen it is the best thing he’s done since at least “Deep”. Other good new music includes Elvis Costello’s “The Delivery Man” and Robyn Hitchcock’s “Spooked”. I’m sad to say that you should stay away from the new Black Francis CD. It contains a bunch of new versions of old Pixies songs and it’s just not very good at all.

Say, Matt and I have begun wearing ties on a fairly regular basis. When I was living with my parents until I was 30, I had my Dad tie my ties for me. When I moved out, I would often call my Dad (fake) crying that if he didn’t get over here to tie a tie for me that I’d just have to sell my house and move back home! At first that scared him into getting over here and making me some ties. Finally he told me that 1) he refused to get over here to tie my ties anymore, and B) that I MAY NOT move back into his house on account of I am too old. This time not even reminding him that “I didn’t ask to be born!” worked. Then a day came where my manager, Cheryl, said that I must wear a tie to work for something or other. In desperation I looked up diagrams about tying ties on the Internet. I found a nice diagram that taught me the way to tie, and now – I must say – I can make a splendid half Windsor. Last week I wore a tie on Wednesday through Friday even though Cheryl didn’t require it. Some of the different people kept telling me how nice I looked and they were right! Other characters determined that these ties are some part of a grand conspiracy. What's behind all this tie wearing? That's for me to know and you to find out.

What else…

1. Erik and Emily’s baby came out and she’s called Ellie. You ought to see her! She’s a nice baby.

2. I’m starting to study for the CPA exam. Seriously this time. If you are in the market for some good exam prep material, check out http://www.cpaexcel.com/. It’s fun!

3. Auditor Lisa didn’t realize that all of the baked dough on a pizza constitutes the crust. She thought that only the very edge of the crust counts as the crust. I asked her, "Say, what would you call the part of the crust that isn't the edge?" "Umm, the bottom," said she in her best valley girl voice and in a way indicating that I am the one who is the idiot. I’m just not sure how she stays alive sometimes.

4. Grey Shirts fall season ended. We went 1 and 6. Our one win came courtesy of a forfeit.

5. My right arm doesn’t work very well anymore because I dove into James Orr as we were both sprinting for the same fly ball. There seems to be quite a bit of damage, but I don’t trust doctors so I’ll just have to live with it. And people who come near will just have to live with my whining.

6. Burton’s is a good sausage. So is David’s Meat Market sausage.

7. I get to go to Austin on Monday through Wednesday. I can hardly wait! My last trip there got cancelled and I haven’t got to look at the nice people in the AFO for a long time.

8. This is some of my favorite weather. Albert R. likes it too. He especially likes all of the pecans in the back yard. There are thousands of them. We keep the door open througout much of the day. Sometimes mosquitos come inside.

9. I just found out that the senior auditor I’ve been working with is taking employment elsewhere. I’m happy for her and sad for me. Auditors who didn’t have an opportunity to work for Amy can not become the best auditor they can be. Best wishes and so long Amy.

I guess that’s about it for now. Sorry for not having written apolitically in a while. I’m also sorry for having been out of touch with so many of you. Sometimes I am a jackass.

Prediction

2004-11-01T19:56:00.000-06:00

In general, it seems that people get more motivated about going out to support something they like than they are to go out against something they hate.

All of these polls show this election to be virtually deadlocked. It's going to come down to which party does a better job of getting people out to vote.

This election has little to do with anybody's like or dislike for John Kerry and most everything to do with people's like or dislike for George Bush. Assuming that voter fraud (Mary Poppins, Dick Tracy, coke addicts registering fraudulent voters) doesn't tip the balance of the election in favor of Kerry, I predict Bush will win this thing handily (>300 electoral votes). People who like George Bush are more apt to vote than are people who dislike him.

Miracle Workers

2004-10-12T20:28:00.000-05:00

This from Senator Edwards on the campaign trail:

"We will stop juvenile diabetes, Parkinson's, Alzheimer's and other debilitating diseases... When John Kerry is president, people like Christopher Reeve are going get up out of that wheelchair and walk again."

If these two are elected I don't think anything bad will ever happen again! Is John Kerry campaigning to be President or Jesus? This takes "Read my lips, no new taxes" to a whole new level, and I pledge to keep you posted on how well they uphold their campaign promises should John Kerry be elected.

Maybe Benny Hinn will be awarded a position in Kerry's cabinet.

Unbefreakinglievable.

Kerry's Grand Coalition

2004-10-12T20:04:00.000-05:00

After the election I promise this website will get back to nonsense, but now is the time for more serious matters.

Here is a trivia question. Which is the only country to be a U.S. ally in every war over the past 100 years? The answer is Australia.

During this so-called war against terrorism (which includes the war in Iraq), Australian President Howard's administration has been a major contributor to the American led coalition. President Howard was re-elected this weekend defeating his anti-war opponent. One of the anti-war candidate's primary campaigners was Diana Kerry. That is, John Kerry's sister. Here are a couple of quotes from Diana Kerry taken from "The Australian" during September of this year:

"Australia has kept faith with the US and we are endangering the Australians now by this wanton disregard for international law and multilateral channels," she said, referring to the invasion of Iraq.

"My belief is US citizens living overseas are very concerned about the current direction of the US, particularly in regard to international affairs," she claimed. "They are on the front lines of the decline of US respect and reputation; they hear it and feel it on a daily basis."

(http://www.theaustralian.news.com.au/common/story_page/0,5744,10797507%5E2703,00.html)

So there is John Kerry's sister running around undermining the candidacy of one of our staunchest allies and trying to get him replaced by someone unwilling to participate in an international coalition.

Do you really believe John Kerry is serious when he says that he will be better at coalition building? He calls the current coalition a coalition of the coerced and the bribed, sics his sister on the leader of one of the countries brave enough to participate, won't even acknowledge Poland's contribution to the cause, etc, etc, etc.

Today someone told me perhaps the most incredible thing I've ever heard. They said that no new knowledge they gain between now and the election could cause them to vote against John Kerry. Then they said that most Americans hold similar attitudes about the candidates they support. Think of the ramifications of that perspective! Scary.

We have lots of rights that many people have croaked to protect. They shouldn't be exercised wrecklessly.

P.S. I bought a new George Foreman Lean Mean Fat Reducing Grilling Machine Grill/Skillet! It is great on bacon and pancakes. You can get one for $59.99 at Linens n Things.

Oil

2004-10-11T10:25:00.000-05:00

One thing that bothers me a lot about both candidates for President is that neither seems committed to developing alternative energy sources as a top priority. Having said that, people who think the war in Iraq is about oil are mistaken. We could have taken the oil fields in 1991 had we so chosen.

Yesterday in a speech to a bunch of people in McAllen, Texas, the mean Teresa Heinz Kerry said, "John will never send a boy or girl in a uniform anywhere in the world because of our need and greed for oil." John Kerry has been running around screaming that one of the President's mistakes was his failure to build a coalition. By this he means that the President wasn't able to get France and Germany involved in the conflict. Kerry went on to say that the current coalition is a coalition of the "coerced and the bribed."

Here is the important thing to know. The reason France and Germany aren't involved in the war is that France and Germany negotiated to send food and reduced sanctions to Saddam Hussein in return for oil (see the Duelfer Report). In her quote Heinz Kerry indicates that her husband will follow the lead of France and Germany. That is, he will succumb to middle east tyrants as long as they give us a good deal on oil! If Kerry wins this election, we will join France and Germany - as part of the true coalition of the coerced and the bribed.

Christopher Reeve

2004-10-11T07:27:00.000-05:00

Hi everybody! Soon I promise to start writing frequently again. That's something that we can all look forward to.

Today I wonder how quickly John Kerry and his goons will be out accusing the Bush administration of killing Christopher Reeve. It will happen, and probably before lunchtime. You can bet on it as that is their style.

Thanks Christopher Reeve for used to looking just like Superman.

I vow to write again soon. Meanwhile, let me hear from you.

The Power of Larry Feathers

2004-09-06T21:09:00.000-05:00

Feelin' pretty!

Here is my latest picture.

First off, allow me to take time out to congratulate Francine on winning the Larry Feathers New Verse To The Larry Feathers Theme Song Contest! Not only will F be the proud recipient of a free t-shirt featuring my head, but she will also get to help me design it. After Francine gets her free t-shirt, you will buy copies of them from me for about $10 each! Thanks also to the 125 other of you who submitted song entries but ended up being losers.

Second of all, the Grey Shirts completed their first season of 2004 with a win. This improved our record to 2 wins and 5 losses. We start a new season this coming Friday. We will win the championship of E Division!

Thirdly, yesterday I played golf, but was bit by a duck. I shot a 104, but would've shot about an 83 if it wasn't for that duck.

Finally, let me congratulate all of you who like Pudding Pops. We did it! Pudding Pops are back up for sale. There is a website you can go to that I can't remember right now that allows you to type in your ZIP code. Then it gives you a list of all grocery stores within ten miles that sell Pudding Pops. I did it!

Bird of the Day: The Funny Old Buzzard

2004-09-02T06:35:00.000-05:00

The Honorable Zell Miller - A Hero to All!

I think it's funny when people act really mad. If you think it's funny too, then I hope you got to see Democratic Senator Zell Miller's speech at the Republican National Convention. I recorded it!

When he dies from getting angry I'm going to ask if I can have his dogs.

Voodoo Barbeque

2004-08-29T20:08:00.000-05:00

Wreckage from the Voodoo Barbeque

If you are in New Orleans and want to eat some good barbeque you should go over to the Voodoo Barbeque. Just south of I-10 on St. Charles Street, the Voodoo Barbeque offers different kinds of meat and sides. Not only that, but they have two varieties of barbeque sauce that are fantastic! One is called Mango (it is thin, spicy, and a little bit vinegarry) and the other is called Mojo (a bit thicker, less spicy, and not very vinegarry).

Vickie and I went to the Voodoo Barbeque twice! On our first visit an unfriendly version of Macy Gray was our waitress. I had sausage and Vickie had something else. On our second visit a friendly version of former Miami Heat power forward Brian Grant was our waiter. I had more sausage and Vickie had ribs. Then Vickie had more ribs and a t-shirt. Brian Grant sold me two liters of barbeque sauce. I had to smuggle it onto the plane in my luggage. I wrapped it all up in my underpants and stuck it in my checked bag. When I got home there was a letter in my suitcase explaining that my bag had been searched, and there was a sticker on the outside with the word "SAUCE" written on it. I gave some of the sauce to my sister (but I forgot to tell her that it used to be touching my underpants!).

If you like macaroni and cheese you really must go to the Voodoo Barbeque. If for some reason you like corn pudding, my sister thinks you will like the Voodoo Barbeque (www.housepants.blogspot.com).

Smell Recorder

2004-08-29T19:31:00.000-05:00

Say, earlier I was thinking about subjects when I came up with the question "why haven't they invented a smell recorder"? Wouldn't it be nice to be able to play back all of your favorite smells? It would also be fun to pause a smell. I wonder what a smell would smell like in reverse or in slow motion. Not to be gross, but if you take the smell "toot" you would expect it to smell the same way backwards and forwards. Either way you'd probably want to fast forward or fast rewind a toot.

I bet if I was a dog I'd really like to have a smell recorder. Dogs use smells like we use speech. Dogs use fire hydrants the same way people use answering machines. That is, they put their smell on the hydrant so that the other dogs know that they have been near. If I'd have had a smell recorder I would've recorded one of Robert's trips to the hydrant so that Albert could always remember about Robert.

Ignatius

2004-08-29T17:15:00.000-05:00

Ignatius J. Reilly

Here is the statue of the aforementioned Ignatius J. Reilly. Two things about Ignatius are that he sold pants at Levy Pants and hot dogs out of a cart in the FQ. Not to mention the fact that he was EXTREMELY gassy.

A Confederacy of Dunces was written by a guy called John Kennedy Toole. Toole was a gay wreck of a man who killed his self prior to finding someone willing to publish his book. So, as a sort of tribute, his mom took his manuscript and went searching to and fro for someone to publish her son's book. Finally, she found a publisher and now we have the funniest character in fiction history - Ignatius J. Reilly.

Toole wrote one other book as a youth, The Neon Bible, and it's good as well but for different reasons (i.e., it's not funny). This, too, was published post-mortem.

My friend Julee told me that Drew Barrymore recently purchased the film rights to A Confederacy of Dunces. Allegedly, Will Farrell has been cast as Ignatius. I like Will Farrell, but he seems slightly too unfat to be Ignatius. They'll probably stick him in a fat suit.

Housepants

2004-08-29T10:36:00.000-05:00

Hello and I am pleased to tell you that my sister has begun a blog at www.housepants.blogspot.com. Please go look at it. She is a better writer than me, but probably not as interesting. It will be fun to see what she puts!

Last week I was in and around New Orleans (the Crescent City) and Baton Rouge. I will likely write more about that place later, but I'll give a very brief summary now. It has great food, nice people, and a good jazz radio station. It is filthy, smells horrible, and has bad roads.

Here is a microcosm of the French Quarter. We were driving down Bourbon Street when I noticed a lousy man jumping up and down in front of a building holding up a sign that read "BOTTOMLESS". Disgusting!

Overall, I'd give the French Quarter about an F+. You can get good food there, but you can get food just as good outside of the Quarter (I can call it that for I rode through it.)

On the border of the FQ is Canal Street. There you will find the department store formerly known as D.H. Holmes. You may recognize the name from my favorite book, A Confederacy of Dunces starring Ignatius J. Reilly. On the sidewalk in front of D.H. Holmes is a statue of Ignatius which I hugged and took pictures of. That was my favorite part! And let me say that if you like stuff that is funny and you haven't read it yet, please, read A Confederacy of Dunces. I promise that you will like it or my fake name isn't Mister Larry Feathers.

At New Orleans is a massive lake called Lake Pontchatrain (sp?). It has a bridge that is 23.9 miles long, but that doesn't have a top on it (a'la the Golden Gate Bridge, e.g.). It got me thinking about why certain bridges have covers and others don't. Certainly the covers can't be just for decoration. I called my brother-in-law who knows about all, and especially about things. I asked him why some bridges need covers. He explained a lot of stuff about wave action and seismology. I told him that it's too bad for all that stuff on account of I thought I'd discovered a new way to make bridges (without covers!). He told me that before I start discovering new bridges I need to be a civil engineer.

I'll write more crap about Louisiana later. Wait until you find out about how they give you a bowl of new potatoes instead of a loaf of bread as an appetizer at certain restaurants. Ooooweee!

Brains

2004-08-21T08:05:00.000-05:00

I came to an understanding of things the other day that on one hand makes me feel glad and on the other hand scares the heck out of me.

The thing Jesus gives us while we are alive is free will. That being said, it occurs to me that our free will is constrained by the way blood flows to our brain (something we can't exert control over despite our free will). So what we really have, I think, is the free will to operate within narrow ranges of options - ranges determined by our circulatory systems.

I was looking at these pictures of people's brains. They illustrated the areas of the brain where blood mainly flows for "regular" people, autistic people, gambling addicts, and some other kind of people that I can't remember right now. Anyway, different people have different regions of the brain that are most active, and that's what governs their decision making and behavior.

So here are my conclusions. First, for me to get mad when people act badly is folly! What I'm really mad about is the way blood flows to their brains. What use is it to get mad about that? This is the conclusion that makes me glad. I should be able to forgive anybody for anything, because the bottom line is that they couldn't help being mean to me! The other good part is that if I forget to forgive somebody, it's okay, on account of that's the way the blood comes to my brain. Don't hold it against me.

My second conclusion is kind of scary. I have come up with a way to rationalize anything bad that people do. I think the thing to get out of this conclusion is that the only suitable punishment to an offense is one that goes directly to the cause of the transgression - blood flow. The mind can be trained to think differently (i.e., blood can be trained to flow in a different way). That should be the focus of our system of criminal justice - to retrain the way blood flows.

So let me ask you how we can continue to use the death penalty? The fact is that we give the death penalty to people guilty of the same stuff as the rest of us. That is, we are guilty of not being able to control the way our brains work (at least without therapy and/or drugs). If one person deserves the death penalty it seems like we all do.

Maybe there are things people can do to optimize blood flow to the brain. Reading books, writing poems, singing, writing songs, skipping, cheese, doing miscellaneous? I guess thoughtful people should try to figure out what makes our blood flow best and then do it.

This has been about a very important discovery I made that affects all. Talk to me!

2004-08-21T08:03:00.000-05:00

Sore Art

Here's a Good One

2004-08-17T15:29:00.000-05:00

Auditor Lisa just called to book a room at the Holiday Inn Express in Denison, Texas. At the end of the call, she asked Reservations if Denison has any "eating restaurants".

A Stunning Victory for the Grey Shirts

2004-08-15T21:16:00.000-05:00

Friday night the Grey Shirts improved their record to 1 win and 5 losses. We beat a team who was previously undefeated (I think). Anyway, they were pretty good. I'm not quite sure how we pulled off the win, but it had a lot to do with:

Mr. Kip's incredible defensive effort
Pitcher Kit's offensive explosion (plus he finally kept his gaping hole shut and showed good sportsmanship)
Pipe's clutch game winning double in the bottom of the final inning
Brad Fortney's swingin' bunt hit (rumor has it that B.F. plays without his underpants on)
Skip's good base running and hustle

We had fun. I re-tore up my knee, sprained my left ankle, bruised my hip, and got a hernia all on the same play. I was called out.

The Hiccups

2004-08-15T20:46:00.000-05:00

My grandpa is one of my favorite people of all time. The only thing that makes my dog Robert being dead from the world tolerable to me is that I'm sure my grandpa (who is also dead) is playing with him until I get to come up there.

My grandpa had a glass eye courtesy of a rock hidden in a snowball that unfortunately hit him on the eye during his youth. So he always slept with his glass eye open. Then, when he was old, he suddenly got the hiccups. He had the hiccups for a day, then a week, and finally, after a month, they went away. They said it was some kind of palsy. This kind of palsy, I guess, does stuff to the nerves in your face. Anyway, it caused him to sleep with the other eye open!

Even though both of his eyes were open when he slept, you could always tell when he was sleeping for his mouth would come open (my Dad's mouth comes open when he sleeps too, but his eyes stay shut).

One day we were all over at the Mark Elrod Tower (a highrise for olds) looking at my grandparents and my grandpa was sitting in his usual spot at the near end of the couch with his mouth agape and his left hand wrapped around a can of Diet Sprite. Suddenly he awoke, leaned forward, put his hands on his knees, looked at us, then looked at my grandma, and announced, "Well, I guess either they need to leave or we do." We all started laughing, got our stuff, and left.

My grandpa had the Alzheimer's disease. People claim that stem cell research could lead to a cure. There are currently a couple dozen lines of privately funded stem cells available for research. That is a sufficient quantity to perform high quality studies. The President supports stem cell research using the cells that already exist. He is not in favor of federally funded stem cell research. Neither am I.

A Charity About Mister Rogers

2004-08-15T20:27:00.000-05:00

A Charity About Mister Rogers

"In every neighborhood, all across our country, there are good people insisting on a good start for the young, and doing something about it." ---Mister Fred Rogers

The other day I was talking to Francine about audit when suddenly one of us mentioned Mister Rogers. We started talking about how important Mister Rogers has been in our lives, and wouldn't it be swell if most kids of today grew up to be just like us (i.e., nice, fancy, GS-12s, etc.).

That's when we came up with an idea with which we hope you will help. There is a book that Mrs. Fred Rogers put out shortly after Mister Rogers died called The World According to Mister Rogers. It contains a bunch of things Mister Rogers wrote throughout his life. It has observations, advice, and miscellany. It is all about being decent.

So our idea is to get a whole truckload of The World According to Mister Rogers and deliver them to new parents in maternity wards. This way, every baby's first book will be the Mister Rogers book and that would be a good thing. What we need is a truck, and some of A) your money, and/or B) your time, and/or B) your copies of the book.

So come on and participate in our charity! We hope you will help. Also, let us know if you have any ideas about how we can get the publisher of the book to cut us a good deal on a truckload of copies.

Here is another excerpt:
"I hope you're proud of yourself for the times you've said 'yes,' when all it meant was extra work for you and was seemingly helpful only to somebody else."

P.S. You can never go down the drain.

Pudding Pops Petition

2004-08-15T20:13:00.000-05:00

I was shocked to find out that, sometime when I wasn't paying careful attention, Jello Pudding Pops were discontinued. Why on Earth?

Anybody who ate some Pudding Pops knows that these were no ordinary ice cream treats. Pudding Pops put the D in delicious and now is the time for them to come back! I'm going to write a letter to Jello and Bill Cosby to say that we are ready.

One person probably won't be enough to get Pudding Pops going again, but, together, we can get the job done. Please comment if you want to see Pudding Pops back in your grocer's freezer and I'll add everyone's comments to the letter. Thanks for your help!

Also, if you like to irritate the heck out of people, whenever someone asks a question about movies make your answer, "I'm pretty sure it was "Ghost Dad"." People will hate you!

First Entry

2004-08-12T08:49:00.000-05:00

Finally, I received an entry to the Larry Feathers theme song verse contest about music. Here it is:

"Three cheers for Larry Feathers
Grey Shirts on a losing streak
Larry loves puppets
but hates boned meat
Larry, friend to you and I
He's a heck of a guy!"

All of that stuff is true!

Don't forget that there is a beautiful t-shirt of my head that will be awarded for the best entry.

"I'm One of the Nicest People There Is."

2004-08-06T06:33:00.000-05:00

Midway through a week of having my back and side fat continuously poked, being called names, being told to shut up, being falsely accused of stealing stuff, and being told to go away and go home, I asked the above Lisa why she is always so mean to me and others. She replied, "I am one of the nicest people there is." She was serious and Alan bursted out laughing.

So I decided to take a candid camera picture of her. I thought that a random snapshot would capture the Essence of Lisa. Did it ever! Look at how nice she is. Move over Glamour Shots, here comes L. Feathers!

P.S. Don't forget that you can look at a bigger version of the picture by clicking on it.

Simon & Garfunkel Old Friends Tour (a review by special contributor Frannie Funkmeister)

2004-07-29T14:16:00.000-05:00

Hello! My name is Francine and Larry Feathers is a good pal of mine. Larry has agreed to let me share my experience of the Simon & Garfunkel concert that took place at the Frank Irwin Center in Austin, TX. Thank you Larry for allowing my thoughts to appear on your blog! Thank you also to Larry’s loyal readers for taking a break from reading Larry’s adventures and to share in my adventure! Hope you enjoy it!

I attended the concert with my mom. Now let me set the record straight. I’m 25 years old and it was I that dragged my mom to the concert, not the other way around. I guess I’m just one of these strange people that doesn’t fit my own time period. When I was growing up their concert in Central Park was a thing of the past and Paul Simon was asking everyone to call him “Al” and he would call us “Betty.” I’ve always listened to music and watched television shows that were before my generation. And I’ve done so by choice not because I was forced to listen to “oldies” or watch “classic” television but just because I like to. I can name more of the bands on the “oldies” radio station than my mom. I just like that music and that time period and I have a great reverence for it. Anyways back to the concert.

When I heard that Simon and Garfunkel were coming to Austin I knew that I had to go. I’m trying to make a conscious effort to catch bands whose popularity was before my own existence but who have continued to tour. I’ve so far seen Ringo and his All-Star band (which included members from the Who, BTO, and the Rascals), Johnny Rivers and now Simon and Garfunkel. I still have yet to see the Rolling Stones but that’s because they still haven’t retired. I expect the Stones to do at least a couple of more tours and maybe I’ll catch them then. For right now I don’t feel urgency.

I decided to take my mom because she is a great mom. She takes care of our little girl during the day while my husband and I are at work. I thought that having a night out would be a great way of giving her some extra thanks for all that she does for our family. My mom wanted to go because she said that she didn’t get to experience and appreciate the music back then because she was to busy concentrating on college.

The type of concertgoers for this event is pretty much what you would have expected, a mix between baby boomers still living the hippie life and very well to do baby boomers that could afford to pay the ridiculous ticket prices. (Highest price tickets were $185 a seat and the cheapest tickets were $50) And by well to do baby boomer you know what I mean. The men are dressed in their khaki pants and either polo or button down shirts with expensive watches. Their wives are wearing matching capri outfits with their clutch purses and bauble bracelets.

Mom and I arrived and were in our seats by 7:30 and the concert was supposed to start at 8 pm. The two of us are pretty reserved so we were happy to see that our seats were in a weird niche in the mezzanine section in which the only seats in our row were our two seats. There would be no annoying people behind us to accidently drop food on us and no annoying people to either side of us to fight over arm rests with. The only other concertgoers that we would have to deal with would be one row of people in front of us. And by 7:40 it looked good there was no one in front of us yet, only a couple drinking some cocktails to the right of the two seats directly in front of us. Being that my mom and are both small in stature we were hoping that these people wouldn’t show up. But I knew that these bozos would show up probably sometime after the third song, loud and obnoxious with their mixed drinks. Showing no respect for the performer or the rest of the audience. I’ve had to seat behind these kinds of people before at the theatre, sports games, etc.

At 8:02, the lights in the Irwin center started to dim. The crowd starts clapping and…nothing happens! The concert does not begin. False alarm! At around 8:15 the crowd starts chanting for the concert to begin. Still nothing. But at this time the people in the row in front of us show up. A bald portly man, who I will refer to as Mr. Moneybags announces with his beer in hand, that he has tickets for these first eight seats. He keeps repeating so that everyone can hear. He’s pointing at the first eight seats. I thought to myself, “Come on man we are all in the same section as you. We all know how much you paid for these seats because we paid the same. You are not impressing anyone!”

You may be thinking now, “But wait a minute wasn’t there a couple enjoying cocktails in the row in front of you?” Yes, there was. I guess those weren’t their seats after all. I can only guess they went back to their own seats. Maybe like my mom and I, that couple had also wished that those seats would remain empty for the entire concert. Oh well!

Finally at 8:20 the lights went out and the show started. A video played on the screens with the sounds of Simon & Garfunkel playing as a soundtrack. Our seats were directly across from the video screen so we had a great view. The video showed significant events throughout the history of our country mixed in with pictures of Paul and Artie at their various stages in life during those time periods. The video ended, the stage lights went on and there were Paul and Art! Our seats also allowed us to look down on Paul’s now balding head. We also had a nice view of Art’s signature and ever present fro. I apologized to my Mom for how bald Paul was because I knew that she had once thought that he was really cute. (And he was!) Mom also thought that Paul should have worn a nicer shirt. I agree it looked like his shirt was faded from being washed too many times.

Sitting in front of us, one of Mr. Moneybag’s friends was a lady I’d like to refer to as Drunk Lady. For some reason Drunk Lady thought that we would like to look at her misshapen feet all night. She took off her shoes and put them up on the rail. Every time I wanted to look at the rest of the band playing or the video screen I had to see those feet! But that wasn’t everything. Drunk Lady apparently thought that every song revolved around her.

Mid-show Simon & Garfunkel were joined by their idols the Everly Brothers. (The Everly Brothers sounded fantastic! They were absolutely adorable!) When the Everly Brothers sang the romantic “Let it Be Me”, Drunk Lady turned to her husband and started rubbing his baldhead. She also started serenading him. Thank goodness I couldn’t hear her but I could see mouthing the words “let it be me.” But yes there is more!

During “Mrs. Robinson,” Drunk Lady again started getting “frisky” with the baldhead. She got up and did the quintessential drunk dance. She threw her arms in the arm and swayed back and forth. You know what I’m talking about. Apparently she was trying to seduce her husband a la “Mrs. Robinson.” She continued her antics when during the 1st encore, Simon and Garfunkel played “Cecilia.” But probably the moment that bothered me the most was at the end of the second encore while “The 59th Street Bridge Song (Feeling Groovy)” was still on she decided that she had had enough and began planning for the mass exodus from the auditorium. She pulled out a brush and started brushing her hair. She wasn’t even looking at the stage anymore! Both my Mom and I thought, “Geez lady, when is the next time you are going to get to see these two genius performers together again!” I mean I soaked up every minute of the concert hoping that it would never end and this lady has become bored with it!

Well in the end the concert was a great experience. There were moments when you thought that the two of them would just fight and break up again, right in front of everyone. All of which is part of the reason why you would go see these two great guys, for the tension. Simon and Garfunkel were as great as to be expected. Paul and Artie did two encores. We had hoped for more but I’m sure they needed to mellow out. If you know what I mean and I think you do.

My Mom and I had a great time together. And I even got some cool souvenirs. I got a program and a t-shirt. But we waited in line forever. They had one huge line that was for people paying by credit card (which included me). We were the last people in line. My mom asked me, “Are you sure this is the line for credit cards?” I said, “Yes, there’s the sign.” The lady in line in front of us turned and asked, “This line is for credit cards?” She then proceeded to get out of the line. My mom and I looked at each other with the acknowledgement of what the other person was thinking. As we moved up in taking the lady’s place, my mom once again asked (but a lit louder) “Are you sure this is the line for credit cards?” This time our plan didn’t work so we just waited until we finally got to the souvenir table.

Well hopefully you have enjoyed my adventure. I know it was a long but hopefully it read easy and quickly. Thanks again.
Oh and go see Simon and Garfunkel if they come to your town! Rock on!!!

The Reverend Al Sharpton Just Shouted for 20 Minutes Straight!

2004-07-28T20:38:00.000-05:00

I just watched the Reverend Al Sharpton give one of the most ridiculous speeches in American history (if you don't include the one given by Steve Brozak just prior). If I may paraphrase something the Reverend Al Sharpton yelled: "If George Bush had been president in 1954 (when Brown v. Board was decided), Clarence Thomas probably would never have been allowed in law school." Since when is George Bush a segregationist? I'll make you a deal. If any speaker during the Republican National Convention makes a statement that inflammatory (as judged by me), I will give you each $100! Statements like the Reverend Al Sharpton's can't possibly help his party's case, can they? It's not the Democratic agenda I find so objectionable as the lowlife tactics employed by its leadership. If John Edwards is decent (and I think he might be), he'll come out and apologize to America for giving the Reverend Al Sharpton an opportunity to speak.

Is Joe Lieberman the same guy who played Senator Palpatine in Star Wars Episodes I and II?

2004-07-25T22:31:00.000-05:00

Here is the latest picture about what's going on with my hair. I think it's starting to look pretty good.

2004-07-25T22:21:00.000-05:00

Game 3 Injury Report: CUTS ON LEG

Big Mama’s Chicken & Waffles

2004-07-25T22:06:00.000-05:00

Last night I was driving around and noticed a new place at the corner of Audelia and Forest in Dallas. It is “Big Mama’s Chicken & Waffles”. BMC&W is shaped like Burger Street (which is shaped like Rally’s (someday, if you feel like throwing up, ask Vickie W. about Rally’s special sauce)) and at 10:30 PM there was a line wrapped clear around the building! They must make some good chickens and waffles. Oooweee!

Say, it’s been a really long time since I’ve written anything on here. There are a few reasons. First, I have been really busy. Second, I’m in a bad mood. Third, my sister told me that people probably don’t get it (the way I write). She told me I should go read Gordon Keith’s blog (to look at it you must go to www.theticket.com and click on the Gordon Keith link). She said it is very interesting. Please tell me what this (www.larryfeathers.blogspot.com) is if not interesting? I’m not the kind of guy who won’t take criticisms and suggestions to heart. Tell me, readers, what can I do to make this any more fun? Good lord - I have music, information about food, consumer reports, and miscellaneous. What else do you want? Poems? I am taking requests. Talk to me.

I am sponsoring a contest. The winner gets a t-shirt of my head. Here’s what you have to do. Write a new verse for the Larry Feathers Theme Song. The panel will determine the best verse and award the prize. You may post your entries as comments. The contest ends August 31. I hope somebody participates.

Thanks, Kevin, for the new renditions of the theme. I hope readers will enjoy the new Birds ‘n Guns version.

Here is a Grey Shirts update. We lost our first game by forfeit (none of us showed up). We lost our second game 9-8. I had a triple and I’m pretty sure the left side of my heart exploded as I rounded second base.   I also made a really stupid error that probably cost us the game. We lost our third game Friday night 13-11. I was good on defense and baserunning, but couldn’t hit my way out of a wet paper bag. I sustained injuries – cuts on leg. I’ll post a picture later. That puts us at 0 wins and 3 losses. Things aren’t looking too good for the Grey Shirts.

Man oh man I wish I could write about a person I met in Florida last week at training, but I can’t very blatantly for he might read this. Let me just say one thing. And this is against my better judgment (however, it might make my blog more interesting like Gordon’s). I’ll try to keep it cryptic enough so that I don’t get beat up. It isn’t becoming to speak like a gangsta when you are in your mid-twenties and are as extremely white as you are. It is ugly to curse and get drunk in a hot tub with little children. What gets me is that I caught you saying some things that were actually thoughtful when you thought nobody was listening. Your momentary lapse into decency takes away any excuse you might otherwise have had for your shoddy behavior.

On the contrary, Aaron from Baton Rouge is a really swell guy. Also, thanks Deanna for eating French toast with me and then taking me to the airport. You have an awesome minivan!

Get ready for these features coming soon:
1. Daily listings of what I eat
2. Music and movie recommendations
3. Interesting opinions
4. Other
Be sure to comment with any recommendations.

I will write more soon, but now I’m feeling tired. This is going to be a fun week in Austin. I get to stay in the Driskill, bowl, play baseball with kids, go to a stampin’ party, maybe go to a Round Rock Express game or two, and more!

Be sure to watch the DNC this week. It should be very enlightening. Teresa Heinz Kerry seems mean.

Albert has the hiccups. Some day I’ll tell you about when my grandpa had the hiccups for over a month and then slept with his eyes open for the rest of his life.

Bye bye.

2004-07-18T18:54:00.000-05:00

In case somebody is in a band that wants to add the Theme Song to your repertoire, here is the sheet music. There are three sheets. Don't forget to play it with gusto!

2004-07-18T18:50:00.000-05:00

Here is sheet two of three. Let's rock!

2004-07-18T18:45:00.000-05:00

Three of three. Swing!

Cutting the Demagogue Down to Size

2004-07-18T11:19:00.000-05:00

It makes me mad that some people, no matter how incredible, are afforded a better forum to advance their agenda than me. It makes me more mad when these people are irresponsible with the facts. It makes me most mad when the public buys any line of crap that comes down the pipe hook, line, and sinker. Sometimes our emotions overwhelm our ability to think rationally, I guess.

This for the sake of fairness:

'Fahrenheit 9/11' and the cold, hard facts
With varying degrees of truth, some conclusions in Moore's movie are up for dispute
09:51 PM CDT on Saturday, July 17, 2004
Knight Ridder Tribune

WASHINGTON – Michael Moore's film Fahrenheit 9/11 has been called many things: incendiary, thought-provoking, satirical, propaganda.
But is it true? A close viewing of the film and a review of the record provide a more nuanced picture.

Frozen in time: On Sept. 11, 2001, President Bush was visiting an elementary school in Florida. Two hijacked planes have crashed into the World Trade Center towers, and Mr. Bush is sitting in front of second-graders reading My Pet Goat. In the movie, the president appears frozen after his chief of staff, Andrew Card, whispers the news in his ear. The movie slows the frames, which exaggerates each movement. Mr. Bush remains in the classroom for seven minutes.

An interim report by the commission investigating the government's response to 9-11 reached no conclusions about the president's actions. The report said that the president "felt he should project strength and calm until he could better understand what was happening." The 9-11 panel found that while Mr. Bush read the children's book, the government's response was in disarray: air traffic controllers wondered if the military had been asked to intercept hijacked planes and who had the authority to shoot down planes.

Saudi flights: Mr. Moore says the administration allowed 142 Saudi Arabian citizens, including about two dozen relatives of Osama bin Laden, to leave the United States after Sept. 11 without proper questioning by law enforcement agencies. In the film, Craig Unger, author of the book House of Bush, House of Saud, says that none of the Saudis underwent serious scrutiny. The 9-11 commission's interim report said law enforcement officials interviewed 30 of the 142 Saudis, including 22 of the 26 people on the flight that took most of the bin Laden relatives out of the country. The report said none was of interest to the investigation. Most bin Laden family members reportedly severed ties to the al-Qaeda leader years ago.

Saudi connections: The movie implies that James Bath, a friend from the president's days in the Texas Air National Guard, might have funneled bin Laden family money to an unsuccessful Bush oil-drilling firm called Arbusto Energy. The accusation is a stretch, said Bill Allison, managing editor for the Center for Public Integrity, an independent watchdog group based in Washington. "We looked into bin Laden money going into Arbusto, and we never found anything to back that up," he said. The center found that Mr. Bath managed the assets in Houston of Salem bin Laden, Osama's oldest brother. Mr. Bath also invested $50,000 in Arbusto in 1977 and 1978. There's no evidence that the money came from the Saudis, Mr. Allison said.

The war on terrorism: Mr. Moore says that the administration used the threat of terrorism to make Americans willing to give up some civil liberties but that Attorney General John Ashcroft "turned a blind eye and deaf ear" to fighting terrorism before 9-11. While the administration disagrees with that assessment, former FBI director Louis Freeh told the 9-11 commission that fighting terrorism "was not a national priority." The commission is expected to issue harsh criticisms of Mr. Ashcroft's anti-terrorism efforts before the attacks.

Bush and veterans: Mr. Moore charges that the Bush administration has cut veterans benefits. In 2003, the administration proposed to increase health-care spending for the Veterans Affairs Department over the previous year. Veterans' groups argued that it wasn't enough, particularly at a time when soldiers were in combat. Congress wanted to add more money to the budget, but the administration opposed a higher increase. The administration did cut services to higher-income veterans whose disabilities weren't connected to military service.

Vacation time: Citing The Washington Post, Mr. Moore says Mr. Bush spent 42 percent of his first eight months as president on vacation. The Post calculated the numbers in early August 2001 as Mr. Bush began a month-long "working vacation" at his Texas ranch, administration officials said at the time. The president's supporters say Mr. Moore failed to note that Mr. Bush met with advisers and other officials and was briefed on issues.

Afghan oil connection: Mr. Moore suggests that one of the first official acts of Afghan President Hamid Karzai, who took office after the United States toppled the Taliban, was to help seal a deal for the California-based oil conglomerate Unocal to build a pipeline from the Caspian Sea through Afghanistan to the Indian Ocean. The Taliban balked at the deal when it was originally proposed in 1997, and Unocal abandoned its consortium in 1998. The movie says Mr. Karzai was a Unocal consultant, but Unocal says he wasn't.

2004-07-14T21:50:00.000-05:00

Now seems like a pretty good time to put another picture of my self in a suit on here. Nobody has ever been as nice as I am in this picture.

The Larry Feathers Theme

2004-07-14T20:25:00.000-05:00

Now, thanks to Kevin and my sister, you will have even more fun when you come to this website! That's on account of the new theme music. Here are the words that you should like to sing out loud whenever you come here. It should be easy to follow along...

La-rry Fea-thers
La-rry Fea-thers
La-rry Fea-thers
La-rry Fea-thers

Hooray for Larry Feathers!
He's a man who likes his cheese
He always has adventures
So join him if you please
For Larry Feathers, sausage is a treat
And so are other kinds of meat

Make way for Larry Feathers!
He's a friend to cats and dogs
And if you want to know some stuff
Come on and read his blogs
Just wait and see what Larry has to say
And you can have a Larry Feathers day!

(Fade out)
La-rry Fea-thers
La-rry Fea-thers
La-rry Fea-thers
La-rry Fea-thers

2004-07-12T17:54:00.000-05:00

Here is a place that offers stuff for just about everybody. Plus you can look at a picture of the lady who's gonna sell it to you (Oma).

Say, if you can't see what all Oma has for sale, you can click on the picture to make it bigger.

2004-07-12T17:53:00.000-05:00

Here is another super shopping center. (photo courtesy of Jeremy via Nikki - thanks!)

The Story Behind the Meatloaf

2004-07-10T09:22:00.000-05:00

Here is a meatloaf closeup. The moisture to the right of the loaf is grease.

People who care are probably wondering what's the big deal with meatloaf. Well, it all started last fall when my friend Erik and I went to the big music festival at Zilker Park in Austin. One day as we took a break from rocking we decided to go downtown for some ice cream. Because we had been to the 1886 Cafe and Bakery at the Driskill the previous fall we knew that it couldn't be beat when it comes to ice cream refreshments. So we went back for more! Our waitress was Diana (pictured below). She was nice to us, and told us that if we were hungry that we should want to try the meatloaf. I think it was Erik (but it could've been me) that asked her what kind of a 20-something year old recommends meatloaf to people whose hair isn't silvery blue. So we all started laughing about meatloaf and old people.

To summarize the rest, we ended up not ordering meatloaf (I had never had it until I tried the meatloaf pictured here), I made an "I Luv Meatloaf" t-shirt for Diana complete with a picture of some really horrible looking meatloaf, and Diana is in the process of transferring the shirt's decal to a smaller shirt that will fit her self (she is going to have to buy a sewing kit for this).

So last Wednesday I went down to the 1886 Cafe and Bakery when suddenly appeared Diana, Vanessa (other waitress), Chef, person who stocks the pastry display case, and restaurant manager. They presented me with the small portion of meatloaf pictured here, and convinced me to try it. Do you see the green leaf coming out of the mashed potatoes? I asked if it was there to distract me from how gross the meatloaf was (this may have hurt the chef's feelings!) If I'm honest, I have to admit that it wasn't that bad. My gag reflex only initiated one time, but I'm convinced that that was more psychological than a reflection on the taste of the meatloaf. I can see why people would want to eat meatloaf, and I probably owe my Mom an apology for never trying hers. Diana told me, "Now you can do anything!". I hope she's right about that!

As my first act of trying do anything, I've begun negotiations with Diana and her boyfriend, a chef, to be my consultants as I launch my restaurant idea that is bound to be a smash hit - Pi. More on that later.

Anyway (and finally), the fact that all of those people were nice enough to me to make me try meatloaf was the reason I wrote to the Driskill GM (below). I hope that all of them get raises because they make not getting to be at home better.

P.S. In front of the Driskill are usually horse drawn carriages. Vanessa gave me some carrots from the kitchen so that I could feed horses Ebeneezer and Bobbie Jo. I'd never fed a horse. It was fun and now I want to get one (Doug) for Albert to play with.

Diana, Vanessa, and Chef of the 1886 C&B

2004-07-09T21:58:00.000-05:00

Here are some of the people you will meet if you go to the 1886 Cafe and Bakery at the Driskill Hotel. They are posing with a small helping of meatloaf. (You can click on the picture to make it bigger)

The Driskill Hotel Loves Its Customers

2004-07-08T16:38:00.000-05:00

Here is a copy of some correspondence I had with the general manager of the Driskill in Austin. I'll fill in details and add some pictures later on...

-----Original Message-----
From: Larry.Feathers@oig.hhs.gov]
Sent: Wednesday, July 07, 2004 11:27 PM
To: JEFFREY TRIGGER
Cc: SCOTT WALKER
Subject: Thanks

Dear Mr. Trigger,

Please accept my compliments to you and your staff on your excellent hotel and restaurants. The Driskill remains the standard bearer in a world where exemplary customer service seems in diminishing supply.

In particular, I would like to single out Diana of your 1886 Café and Bakery. I met Diana last September (I ordered a fantastic sundae with strawberry ice cream), and have enjoyed having her as a server several times since. Always happy to go over and above her call of duty, this evening Diana took it upon herself to encourage me to try the “Mama’s Meatloaf”. Without her support, I would likely have gone to my grave without having known the joy and satisfaction that only loafed meat can bring. Having Diana as a server is a true pleasure (her enthusiastic description of desserts tempts me to order one of each!). I will encourage all of the people I like to come over to the 1886 Café and Bakery whenever they visit your fair city.

Thanks for everything. I look forward to my next trip to Austin and stay at The Driskill.

Sincerely,

Larry Feathers
Auditor
U.S. Department of Health and Human Services
Office of Inspector General
(817) 555-5555 ext. 555

P.S. Your lemon sorbet is delicious, and the lobby restroom is first rate. Of all restrooms, yours is the only one I can picture myself actually wanting to rest in. Usually I like to take care of business and get the heck out of there. Also, whoever came up with the dried orange slices is a genius!

Here is the response...

Dear Mr. Feathers,

Your letter made my day! I have relayed your kind words to our team as I know they will enjoy them as well. Diana is indeed a super-star.

We look forward to welcoming you back again, and in the meantime, please do not hesitate to let me know if we can be of service to you.

Jeff Trigger

Stay tuned for pictures of the meatloaf.

2004-07-05T21:50:00.000-05:00

Here is a sign of things to come. These are the injuries from today's softball practice. Notice the blisters on the index finger, on the tip of the middle finger, below the middle finger, and on the right side of the palm. I'll try to show you more pictures like this as I continue to hurt myself.

Softball, Eggs, and Sloth Graphpaper

2004-07-05T21:36:00.001-05:00

Let's start with some softball news. The team formerly known as Team Fashion and currently know as the Grey Shirts kicks off a new season on July 16 at 6:30 PM. Soon I will be offering Grey Shirts souvenirs and memorabilia (including some game worn items and scabs) for sale. In the name of softball, I hope that you will buy some of our crap. The team has people on it including me, Brandon, Brent, Brian, Brad, maybe Bill, Jason, possibly Erik, James, perhaps Mike, and other people who I can't remember. In stature, we are a huge softball team. If you like analogies, you can think of us as the Kiss of softball. If you don't like analogies or don't know about rock or Kiss, just know that we are all really large. On average we must be about 6'1" 215 pounds. That's a big average compared to the population taken as a whole. I am number 4.

In a set of recreational leagues where there are five possible divisions and Division A is the best, the Grey Shirts will participate in Division D. And the reason we are in Division D is because they cancelled Division E (we and one other team were the only ones who signed up to compete in E). So get set for Division D softball (and injury) updates.

Speaking of the letter D, I'm reminded of when I lived in Clark Hall at the University of North Texas. Clark Hall had a cafeteria. One morning as I was sitting there, up drove a delivery truck of eggs. The side of the truck said "GRADE D - EDIBLE". Comforting.

I remember the first day that I lived in Clark Hall. My roommate Sloth Graphpaper and I decided that we'd kick off our college lives with some physical fitness so we went over to the Men's Gym. I guess my body was confused about why it was exercising, because after about five minutes of squat thrusts and pickin' cherries my whole self went into convulsions and then complete muscle failure. My first week of college, I had to take an hour to complete what should have been a 15 minute walk to class. I could barely move!

Every day after class Sloth would take a nap. Until Sloth became my roommate I never knew anybody who napped in jeans but with no shirt. Plus he let off a curious smell as he napped – kind of like sour rags. But, interestingly, he smelled normal when he slept at nighttime! I know because I like to sniff people when they are asleep. Just kidding.

I like Sloth Graphpaper. Today he has a wife and at least one baby, and I’m positive they’re nice. A few years back Sloth’s stepfather won the lottery. Curiously, Sloth changed his last name to that of his stepfather’s shortly thereafter. Now he is Sloth Legatowicz. Did you know that Sloth’s stepfather went to high school where they filmed the Breakfast Club? I wish they’d film a movie at North Garland.

Well I need to pack up my belongings on account of I’m going to Austin in the morning. This week I get to stay at the Driskill Hotel. If you please, go to www.driskillhotel.com. It has a nice picture and a beautiful soundtrack. Does anyone know how I can add background music to this Larry Feathers web page? If I can figure out how to make it happen, does anyone want to recommend an L. Feathers theme song? Talk to me!

Have a good evening!

Takin' Care of Business

2004-07-05T20:26:00.000-05:00

Here Auditor Lisa enjoys a little breakfast cereal between her morning smoke break and lunch hour. (photo courtesy of Alan) Thanks Alan!

2004-07-04T12:09:00.000-05:00

The courtyard of the fantastic Menger Hotel.

2004-07-04T12:04:00.000-05:00

Vickie's dog Teddy. He's nice!

2004-07-04T12:03:00.000-05:00

Zesto - home to the best chocolate malts and second home to Bob Tylicki.

The Fourth of July

2004-07-04T11:45:00.000-05:00

I think the 4th of July is my favorite holiday. To me it’s the same thing as Christmas without Jesus, nog, and spirit draining trips to the mall (people at the mall hate each other – especially around Christmas). Well, I guess the 4th of July has Jesus for he is omnipresent, but I think you know what I mean – the focus of the 4th of July is more on George Washington and people like that. The 4th of July is Christmas without the hassles of Christmas. For once, everybody seems happy on the 4th of July.

Speaking of George Washington, I want to tell you a story that I heard this morning on the English fox hound edition of Animal Planet’s “Breed All About It”. During the Revolutionary War, the generals usually traveled on horseback accompanied by fox hounds. George Washington especially cared for fox hounds. One day as he was going around looking for the British, he found the lost fox hound of British General Sir William Howe. Because he understood that some people (even enemies!) get sad when they can’t find their dog and that some dogs get sad when they can’t find their owner (even if the owner is an enemy), George Washington called a temporary truce and personally returned General Howe’s dog. That’s why George Washington is the Father of Our Country.

Last night I watched part of the movie version of “To Kill a Mockingbird”. Now allow me to take a second to update my Top 5 List of Fake Dad’s to Imitate if I’m Ever a Real Dad:
1. Ward Cleaver
2. Atticus Finch
3. Steve Douglas
4. Tom Bradford
5. Mike Brady
The addition of Atticus Finch knocked The Reverend Snow off of my Top 5.

And, if I ever have a daughter and a son they will be called Scout and Robert, respectively.

My friend Brandon once knew a horse named “Mark”.

The problem with this 4th of July is that my Dad and I aren’t in Indiana. It is really the best place to be for this holiday. There are usually lots of cheeseburgers and people we don’t get to see too often. My Mom, sister, and Kevin are up there, and they’ve already been to the Zesto and to Kingfish. Now I’m going to pack up Albert to go over and look at my Dad. We will eat meat, watch the Rangers, and sit there. There is usually lots of sitting there when I go to look at my Dad, because he likes taking naps, going to the bathroom, and not making any noise. May there always be a 4th of July!

P.S. Don’t read Running With Scissors by Augusten Burroughs. It is horrible.

P.P.S. In an ad in Friday’s edition of the Dallas Morning News, David McDavid Honda commands you to “Declare Your Independence with Zero Down!” I command you not to buy a Honda from David McDavid because declaring your independence in his fashion is nonsensical.

2004-07-04T00:01:00.000-05:00

Here is Albert smiling.

2004-07-03T23:59:00.001-05:00

Photo of My Hairdo Pre-Homeopathic Hair Rejuvenation Strategy

2004-07-03T23:59:00.000-05:00

Projected Post Rejuvenation Hairstyle

Two Years Left

2004-07-03T22:34:00.000-05:00

Well I have some very sad news. This evening I went over to Style America to get my hair fixed again. Frustrated by my stupid looking head of hair, I announced to my female Asian beautician Bobby* that I'm about to the point where I want to shave off what's left. She advised against getting a burr contending that there is still enough there to work with. She continued, saying that "you probably have about two years left." (If you are unfamiliar with my head history, may I recommend that you read the entries called "Atlanta" and "Getting My Hair Fixed".)

Rest assured that I won't give up without a fight! In fact, I've been doing a little bit of research and I've developed a homeopathic hair retention strategy. By combining doses of kali carbonicum and natrum mur, I believe I can retain my remaining hair while regrowing hairs of old and reducing scalp grease. I'm not only going to defy Bobby's bald prediction, I'm going to develop the fanciest set of hair you've ever seen! So move over Mike Brady, Richard Simmons, Neil Diamond, Bake McBride, Kenny Rogers, Mister Rogers, Dick Versace, Fabio, Michael Bolton, Yanni, Artis Gilmore, Patrick Swayze, et al., this sonnuva biznitch is gonna put your collective hairdo to shame.

* I mention my female Asian beautician Bobby not because there's anything wrong with being female, Asian, a beautician, or Bobby, but because it's funny to be female, Asian, a beautician, and Bobby.

El Pollo Loco

2004-06-30T21:57:00.000-05:00

In case you are a racist, “el pollo loco” means “the crazy chicken”. El Pollo Loco is a restaurant in San Antonio, and I think that’s funny. According to Francine, “the prices at El Pollo Loco are loco”. She told me that if you buy eight hunks of chicken, they will give you a whole additional chicken at no additional cost! When it comes to chicken bargains I think you’d have a hard time beating that. So let me recommend El Pollo Loco if you’re in the mood for a free bonus chicken.

In Garland, there is a place called “Pollo’s Mexican Grill and Chicken For All”. That translates to “Chicken’s Mexican Grill and Chicken For All”. There is also a place called “Tattoos and Beanie Babies”. In Memphis there is a restaurant called “Breakfast, Lunch, and Hamburger” and it’s located next to a grocery store called “Cost Plus” (why would anyone want to pay the “plus”?).

In Indiana there is a Chinese carry-out place owned by some genuine Chinese people called – and I’m not making this up – “You-A-Carry-Out-A”. If you don’t get “You-A-Carry-Out-A” say it in the way that some people mimic Chinese voices.

I like things that look funny or that have funny names. When I was small, my friend David and I lived in a neighborhood full of ridiculous basketball goals. We’d spend our summers creeping around in alleys taking pictures of horrible baskets and running away. There was one that was nothing more than a rim on a pole (no backboard). Another had an eight inch two by four that served as the backboard. And at the Bisby Park were a couple of goals with aluminum backboards and double rims. Horrible!

Besides taking pictures of bad baskets, we would take pictures of poorly decorated houses at Christmas time. I wonder if any of you would be interested in buying a coffee table book that I have in mind. It would be called something like “Awful Christmas Decorations”. It would feature beautiful pictures of poorly decorated homes complete with captions describing where the families went wrong. As a sort of trial, perhaps next Christmas I’ll put some examples of what I’m talking about here at http://larryfeathers.blogspot.com.

In other merchandising news, I’m thinking of manufacturing some Larry Feathers t-shirts and pants for sale at reasonable prices to people who like reading about these adventures. If you’re interested, will you please let me know? Thanks.

Well, I’m done smoking. I think instead of smoking, my new vice is going to be chicken. In fact, consider this my pledge to replace beef and cigars with chicken and turkey, respectively. There are many obvious advantages to this plan, and I am asking for your support!

Now then, let me take this opportunity to congratulate some different people whose prospective marriages get my useless seal of approval. Congratulations to Stephanie and Ian who are going to get married together! These are two nice people who like taking me out for cheeseburgers when I’m in Houston. Also, congratulations to Nikki and Jeremy. Nikki is first rate, and, while I don’t know him, Jeremy must be pretty good too if Nikki agreed to become married to him. So come on and wish these people the best as they enter marriage! And, if I’m fortunate enough to be invited to your weddings, let me apologize in advance for not participating in the dancing. My legs hurt from injuries.

Smoke

2004-06-29T21:17:00.000-05:00

Let me begin by giving a shout out to Frannie for recommending the hotel in which I’m currently staying. It’s in San Antonio and it’s called the Menger Hotel. Opened in 1859 approximately a stone’s throw away from the Alamo (depending on arm strength and throwing mechanics), the Menger has served as host to the famous and infamous. Indeed, frequent guests here included Teddy Roosevelt (he stayed here when he was recruiting the famed Rough Riders of history!), Presidents Taft, McKinley, Grant, Harrison, Eisenhower, and Nixon, Maude Adams, Oscar Wilde, Gen. John Pershing, Buffalo Bill Cody, Roy Rogers and Dale Evans, and others. Most exciting, I think, is that Geronimo was once imprisoned in the basement of this place (but don’t bother asking to look at Geronimo’s cell – it’s off limits to the public). And today the Menger is most pleased to have as its most recent guest register signee a certain Mister Larry Feathers!

My favorite thing about this hotel is that it is purportedly haunted by the ghosts of Teddy Roosevelt (his apparition has been observed in the bar from where I’m writing this entry), a maid (who wears an apron and a bandana and works on the third floor), a woman (who wears a long blue dress and roams the second floor), and Captain Richard King (of the famous King Ranch – he haunts a third floor suite where he died called, not coincidentally, the King Suite). I’ve been trying with all my might to summon these ghosts to join me for some fun (partially because I like ghosts, partially because none of the San Antonio living will have anything to do with me). So far I’ve had two encounters and I’ll describe them now.

But before I describe my brushes with the supernatural, let me say that the horrible country music blaring in this bar has annihilated the vibe I was shooting for.

Anyway, when I got to my room, the first thing I did was open the closet and bathroom doors ever so slightly so as not to trap any potential spirits within. Next I started taking it easy for a few minutes waiting for something ghastly to occur. As is common, I was soon distracted by an overwhelming desire for sausage. So I went to the County Line on the River Walk (a place I would like to recommend, if I may). When I got back to the hotel, I went up to the second floor to look for ghosts. I couldn’t find any. So I went back downstairs to ask the hotel people where I should go if I wanted to be around some ghosts. They told me that the lobby is a pretty good place. I tried the lobby, but nothing happened. According to documentation, a former maintenance man used to have run-ins with the ghost of Captain King. From the point he first saw King’s ghost, every time the maintenance man took the elevator it would stop on the third floor even if the maintenance man hadn’t pressed the “3” button selection press! Here’s where things get interesting! After my failure in the lobby, I had pretty much determined that this ghost thing was a hoax. So I got back on the elevator to head back to my fourth floor room. I pressed “4” and the elevator stopped at 3. I got off the elevator and started looking around. As I stood there I noticed that the old floor was creaking like crazy, but there was nobody around. I thought that was pretty good, but I didn’t see any ghouls and got back on the elevator. Upon entering my room I observed that the closet and bathroom doors were flung wide open and the windows (which aren’t supposed to open) were open. I think that’s great! Since it was a nice night out, I went to bed with the windows ajar. When I awoke the windows were shut. It just goes to show the power of thinking positively about ghosts.

So here I am in this bar where Teddy Roosevelt once drank trying to mentally drown out Shania Twain. This is a real drag, and I’m going to go out into the lobby to look for the lady in the blue dress.

Let me explain why it’s been a while since I last updated my adventures. I am in an emotional rut. All of this traveling combined with being in an auditing slump combined with other things that are none of your business has made me blue. I need to be at home for a week I think. This weekend will be good on account of it is a three-day weekend complete with one of my favorite holidays – the 4th of July. But then it’s back to the road (Austin). I am convinced about how blue I feel because I love Austin and all of the people I get to see in Austin, but right now I have no desire to be there at all. I feel like I’ve been neglecting Albert and my house is a wreck. You should see it. And while you see it, you should clean it! I have no idea what I’m supposed to do about pants next week. My pants collection is due for a dry cleaning, but there is no time. I’m sick of not eating at home, and I hate cooking. I’m tired of not sleeping on my bed, and it gives me sores. And what I really need is some good old-fashioned high quality water pressure! My scalp is telling me that I need not travel for a while. It’s just not possible to get a hotel shower with sufficient rinsing power. I work every day with half a helping of shampoo left in my head. My scalp is turning into a regular disaster area, and I’m starting to doubt my Biolage. There must be a shampoo out there for me somewhere. There must be!

Which reminds me…

Last week I was in Kentucky and Indiana. Since most of my extended family lives in southern Indiana, I decided to stick around Friday night and return to Garland on Saturday. Friday afternoon there wasn’t much to do between work and going out to eat with my grandma, second cousin, and aunt (together we were practically 300 years old) so I went over to K-Mart to see if the Suave my Aunt Kathy informed me about was really only 97 cents. Can you believe that a big container of Suave can actually be had for 85 cents? I didn’t think you’d believe it, so I decided to take a picture of it. As I got in picture taking position, a K-Mart employee came to the Suave aisle to do some stocking. For fear of being yelled out for taking shampoo pictures, I ran away to a different part of K-Mart where they sell CDs. I bought the new Beastie Boys CD, and it’s pretty good. After I got the CD I went back over to the shampoos. Once again, I poised myself for picture taking (in a second I’m going to describe the way my Mom takes pictures). As I got ready to photograph the Suave, I noticed a K-Mart surveillance monitor that showed me standing there getting ready to take the picture. Confused that they would be this concerned about Suave security, I ran away again, paid for my CD, and headed over to the Mark Elrod Tower (where my grandma lives with a lot of other old people) for fun.

Let me tell you about the way my Mom takes pictures. It would probably help if you stand up and imitate the steps I’m going to describe. First, with your right leg straight and stiff, stick your left leg out to the side as far as you can without losing your balance. Next, stick your right and left elbows out so that your forearms make a parallel line with the floor. Now, stick your neck out to the right as far as you can. If you aren’t feeling pain at this point, I can’t imagine that you’re in position to take a picture like my Mom. Now stand there for 45 seconds to one minute trying to figure out how to snap the picture while whoever you are taking a picture of gets really mad and loses the willingness to smile for the camera. If you have a Charlie horse in your left leg, your right knee locks, you get a crick in your neck, and your family is upset with you for taking forever then you have taken a picture like my Mom.

I have lots to tell you about Indiana and Kentucky, but I’m going to save most of it for another time. The main thing I learned in Indiana is that I really enjoy the way my Aunt Kathy and her two sons handle themselves. They are all really cool, and they all smoke. To try to get out of the rut I’m in, I decided about an hour ago that I’m going to start smoking. There is a cigar shop in the Menger. I went over there and explained to the proprietor that I am a new smokist and would be interested in his smoking recommendations. He sold me four high quality cigars (I think they are from Mexico), a box of matches, and a cigar cutter. So the decision is made! I will smoke! As I wrote in the Menger Bar, I smoked myself into oblivion, and I will continue to smoke until somebody asks me not to. In addition to a half of a cigar (I stopped because I thought my lungs were going to collapse), I drank a pina colada (virgin). Friends, I am officially out of control.

I really want to tell you about some more stuff, but I am exhausted and I really need to go wash the nicotine and tar off of my body. My aim is to write again tomorrow. Until then, let me highly recommend that you buy the new CD by The Cure. It is called The Cure, and so far I think it’s the best thing they put out since The Head on the Door. Good night.

Virtues

2004-06-21T22:09:00.000-05:00

In case I haven't mentioned it, I really like Benjamin Franklin. When he was a youth, he liked to swim and play with kites. So one day he got into the Boston Harbor and was propelled across by the wind and his kite. I think that sounds like fun except that I'm scared of water courtesy of Walt McElroy who tried to drown me in Shane Steinke's pool when I was in Cub Scouts.

Ben Franklin strove to do good. To this end he developed a personal code of virtues. B.F. would focus on one virtue for a week's time, then move on to the next until he came as close as he could to perfecting all of the virtues. I think B.F.'s virtues are pretty good, and I hope you do too. Here they are!

1. Temperence – Eat not to dullness; drink not to elevation.
2. Silence – Speak not but what may benefit others or yourself; avoid trifling conversation.
3. Order – Let all your things have their places; let each part of your business have its time.
4. Resolution – Resolve to perform what you ought; perform without fail what you resolve.
5. Frugality – Make no expense but to do good to others or yourself; that is, waste nothing.
6. Industry – Lose no time; be always employed in something useful; cut off all unnecessary actions.
7. Sincerity – Use no hurtful deceit; think innocently and justly; and, if you speak, speak accordingly.
8. Justice – Wrong none by doing injuries or omitting the benefits that are your duty.
9. Moderation – Avoid extremes; forbear resenting injuries, so much as you think they deserve.
10. Cleanliness – Tolerate no uncleanliness in body, clothes, or habitation.
11. Tranquility – Be not disturbed at trifles or at accidents common or unavoidable.
12. Chastity
13. Humility – Imitate Jesus and Socrates.

If you want to practice these virtues, I've prepared a spreadsheet where you can track your progress. It's fun. Let me know if you want me to e-mail it to you.

2004-06-18T18:32:00.000-05:00

If you like beauty, then this picture is for you! I took it and it shows the American falls in the foreground and the Canadian horseshoe falls in the background. Just to think, I walked where Superman once flew or something.

2004-06-18T18:31:00.000-05:00

How about this for a restaurant? It's right in Niagara Falls. I have the sneaking suspicion that soon they'll put up a sign letting the masses know that they are willing to inject butter directly into your veins.

2004-06-18T18:26:00.000-05:00

Hey! The Niagara Falls and the Sun teamed up to cause this rainbow. I took a picture of it.

2004-06-18T18:24:00.000-05:00

Larry and Dennis

2004-06-18T18:22:00.000-05:00

Strawberry Shortcake

Chicago to Dallas (you should probably read "Buffalo to Chicago" first)

2004-06-18T10:10:00.000-05:00

Here’s the stuff I bought at the Prime Outlets:
(1)pant
(2)shirts
(1)fishing vest
(1)book (Americana by Don Delillo)
Everything was on sale plus I got an additional 10% off for being a Prime VIP. I bought Americana at Books Etc from a man called Gargamel who was quite a character. He told me the following Greater Buffalo fun facts:

•The Niagara Falls area is controlled by the Italian Mafia.
•The average visitor to the U.S. side of the N.F. spends $20. That compared to $220 on the Canadian side.
•Prime Outlets is 90 days late paying its note and the bank is considering foreclosure.
•The lady who works in the Harley Davidson store next to Books Etc spends cash like it’s burning a hole in her pocket.
•The people in local government in and around Buffalo are getting their palms greased by somebody or other.
•A company agreed to build an underground aquarium in Niagara Falls, NY until something happened causing them to pull out leaving nothing but a 30 foot deep booby trap for somebody to fall into.
•N.F. is the former home of the Triscuit. According to Gargamel, the new home of the Triscuit is Erie, Pennsylvania.

Also, at Marshall’s they display their brief underpants on hangers. I always get a kick out that when it happens.

At the end of shopping, I met Stacie, Rodney, and two other people called Melanie and Deanna at the Niagara Falls Prime Outlet Red Lobster for dinner! I had broiled flounder substitute fried for boiled and our server was Kimberley. She was excellent at her job and shook my hand when we were through eating. I thought that was nice.

Speaking of shaking hands, here is a lesson from Sister Mercedes Book of Courtesy: A man should never extend his hand to shake with a woman. It is the woman’s responsibility to extend her hand if she feels like it. Otherwise, I guess you’re supposed to just stand before each other doing nothing. It can be uncomfortable if the woman doesn’t extend her hand, but it’s all about courtesy and we should all try as best we can to use good manners at each other.

I was assigned the task of driving back to Buffalo from N.F., and I think people would tell you that I did a really excellent job of it. Melanie might have driven if not for the lofty number of Long Island Iced Teas she consumed combined with her propensity to get really sweaty whenever she drives across bridges (of which there were two). (I’m only telling you what she told me, and I’m sparing you many of the unfortunate details.)

I’d say it was a pretty fun trip over to Niagara Falls, and I’d like to recommend going over there with Stacie, Rodney, Melanie, and Deanna if you ever get a chance. They were nice to invite me.

I’m still working on the guide to becoming less bloated. It’s taking longer than expected because I decided to write it up as an auditor might write a risk assessment. I’ve had many visitors to this site who have encouraged me to tell about the tools of the auditor’s trade, and risk assessments are definitely a tool. So, in my constant effort to better serve the public, I’m going to combine risk assessment and fatness into one offering.

P.S. If you want as desperately as I to escape the omnipresence of Starbucks coffee, don’t think you can pull it off on a United flight at 35,000 feet. They serve that stuff up here too! Is Starbucks brand coffee really that far superior to less ballyhooed varieties? I think not, and I am at my wit’s end with its popularity, and, frankly, with the people who drink it. However, if you go over to the Starbucks this weekend, may I recommend the new Strawberry Crème Frappucino? It is fun to have!

Buffalo to Chicago

2004-06-18T08:30:00.000-05:00

Good morning from an airplane intended for Chicago. Have you ever noticed that when it comes to numbering rows on an airplane that one or two numbers are skipped between first class and economy? Is this supposed to be a symbol indicating that the first class people are a superior breed of animal? People are mean.

The peasants had to wait in a never-ending queue to obtain our boarding passes this morning. Adjacent laid a usually empty line available only to first class passengers. Suddenly, some human turd who I will call Phil came whistling up and announced to the peons, “I declare! It’s the first class boarding pass line. Looks like I’ve found where I’m supposed to be.” At that point he advanced toward the next available attendant (the one who was supposed to be for me). I started staring meanly at him. He was wearing a bad golf shirt, dress pants, dress shoes, and tube socks. I told Phil that my suspicion is that he is the only person in America who would be wearing his tube socks and dress pants in first class today. He scowled at me, took his boarding pass, and went away. Later when I was looking for food, I saw him sitting down whistling as loud as he could. I hollered, “Hello there Tube Socks!” He gave me the middle finger and I ordered some sausage. It was good.

Speaking of socks, you should see the pair I got at Niagara Falls! They are white with “Niagara Falls” embroidered in black plus they have a bunch of squirrels on them. They are fine socks, but I don’t know what sort of pants look nice with them. Come on and tell me if you have any ideas!

Speaking of squirrels, Niagara Falls had black ones. Since Garland doesn’t have black squirrels, I’ve never seen one before. So I took a picture. If you’d like to see a black squirrel, tell me and I’ll show you what one looks like. Or you could just imagine a regular squirrel only black and then you won’t have to bother me about everything. It’s up to you. In Buffalo I met a man from Kansas City called Rodney. He said that Kansas City has white squirrels. Has anybody ever seen any of those? Talk to me!

Speaking of Rodney, here is one of the nicest people you’ll ever meet. He’s just a really swell guy who likes to act kind toward others. Rodney grows steers. He offered to make some steaks out of one of them for me if I’m ever in Kansas City. I guess that’s nice – for me, at least. Rodney has about 20 head of steer. I asked him if he is friends with most of them. He replied that he thinks they’re his friends, but that he’s only named one of them. Unfortunately I didn’t get the named steer’s name. For the sake of discussion, let’s call him Willis. I asked Rodney if it makes him cry when he has the steers butchered. He said “no” which is confusing given how nice of a man Rodney can be. I guess that’s just the way it is in the cow business.

We visited the visitor’s center at Niagara Falls, U.S. As we approached the visitor’s center we came upon a man who looked like a pirate and his parrot whose name is – you’re not going to believe me – Larry. I didn’t catch the pirate’s name so for fun let’s call him Dennis. I have a picture of Larry and the so-called Dennis that I’ll post with my picture of strawberry shortcake (the dessert not the girl) when I get back in Garland. I asked the pirate if I could take his and Larry’s picture and he agreed. The next thing I knew, Dennis took has parrot and plopped him right down on top of my stats mentor Stacie! I thought Stacie might get scared, but she didn’t for she cares about animals and likes Larry. I have a picture of that too, but I’m going to have to get her permission before I put it up on the Internet. I don’t want Stacie to stop teaching me all about statistics.

At the visitor’s center worked a lady from Japan called Bernadette. Sometimes I make up fake names for people, but not this time! However, I doubt that a Japanese person is really called Bernadette so I suspect that she made up the name for herself when she started working over at the visitor’s center. So what we have here is a new kind of person. That is, a person with a real fake name. Now I’ve seen everything!

Anyway, Bernadette is the one in charge of giving directions to people. Stacie (who really likes shopping) asked Bernadette for directions to some outlet stores that, as it turns out, are one exit north of the Niagara Falls exit on 190. I think Bernadette mistook one of us for Ferdinand Magellan because the route she gave us caused us to circumnavigate what seemed like the whole of New York State. In a rage that can only be explained by the delay in getting to the Prime outlets, one person in our group who I shan’t name threatened to return to the visitor’s center for the purpose of picking a fist fight with Bernadette! When we finally arrived at the outlet, people became less mad and we were set to get our shop on!

To be continued after I switch planes…

Scatter-shooting

2004-06-15T19:06:00.000-05:00

Since the last episode, I’ve arrived in Buffalo, New York. Here are some things in no particular order:

·Hey Four Eyes, if you are taking the Super Shuttle (1-800-BLUE-VAN), it is not courteous to make all of the other people wait 25 minutes later than the time that YOU arranged to be picked up causing me to miss my flight to Chicago, get a new flight through Washington D.C., incur an additional twenty something dollars in travel agency fees, and force me to end up having to sit on the plane next to the monster described next…

·Say, you with the sores all over your feet, the only reason I know about the sores on your feet is because you took off your shoes and stuck your feet right up there on the seat IN FRONT OF ME! In and of themselves, I don’t have a problem with feet sores, but they need not be placed in my direct line of sight, nude, and on purpose. My feet were fine right in the floor where they belonged. Plus, what were all those noises you kept making? They seemed to be originating from all different parts of your self that are not your head. You should be quarantined.

·Why do lots of people scream when they sneeze? I’ve tried it (in private), and it does not contribute to a more productive sneeze. (Also, placing your horizontal index finger below your nose and above your upper lip to stifle a sneeze a la cartoons really works!)

·It’s a drag to be in a good new place like Washington D.C. when you are marooned in the airport on a layover. It’s like being tied up in a chair with a bag over your head surrounded by a lot of good-smelling meats or cheese.

·If you’re ever in Buffalo and need a taxi, may I recommend Jim Krzywicki? He is nice and big and old, and drives car #72. Once, when he was small (in the ‘50s), he was helping his dad in his TV repair business when, suddenly, he delivered a TV to the home of hall of fame pitcher Warren Spahn’s aunt! He got an autographed 8X10 of Warren Spahn out of the deal. But, later, his mom threw it in the waste paper basket. I told Jim that I’d like to become his pen pal, and he said yes! At the end of my ride, he got out of the car to shake my hand. I thought that was nice.

·If you like strawberry shortcake you should go over to the Century Grill on Pearl Street in downtown Buffalo. I declare: IT AND TWINKIES ARE TWO OF THE BEST DESSERTS OF ALL! When I get back I’ll post a picture of it for you to look at. Plus I ate some fish (I have a less impressive picture of the fish. Let me know if you’d like me to e-mail it to you).

·I like being in cities where Jeopardy comes on during prime time.

·The idea of Texas being the “Friendship” state is a hoax. On average, the people in New York are much nicer.

·If you want to get a really good idea of how wrong slavery was and how powerful the human spirit can be, read Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass, an American Slave by Frederick Douglass. Frederick Douglass is a hero to all, and his book is only about 100 pages (no pictures).

·Learning about statistics is really fun if you give it a chance. Have you ever considered computing confidence intervals using the median of a sample instead of the mean? It can be done and I intend to learn how!

·Senator John Edwards was in the same hotel as me today (Hyatt Regency Buffalo) campaigning to be Frankenstein’s VP. I didn’t see him, but, if I had, I would’ve inquired as to his hair stylist. I think Senator John Edwards has fancy hair. Is it queer to campaign to be the vice president?

·I like people who are PhDs, and who would rather you call them “Janet” than Doctor. I think that shows a sense of humility that isn’t often found in PhDs, Cynthia.

·Buffalo seems pretty good. I can see Lake Erie out the window and there are lots of trees and different birds than the ones we have in Garland.

Until next time, when I write about a strategy for becoming less fat, so long everybody!

Some Stuff my Dad's Done That I Think is Kind of Funny

2004-06-12T23:00:00.000-05:00

1. Once he said that if he was a hot dog vendor, he would carry around his hot dog basket mumbling, "Nobody wants any of these hot dogs, do they?"

2. Once he was in the bathroom even longer than usual, only to emerge after a few hours with a pencil drawing of former Channel 5 meteorologist Scott Chesner. It looked just like him (Did you know that Scott Chesner is only about 5 feet tall in real life?)!

3. Once he feel asleep on the treadmill and he got sent flying into the plastic wood panelling we used to have for walls on Esquire.

Right now my Dad's fishing in Canada. Maybe he's having fun. I think there's a dog over there that he likes talking to.

Going Around in Garland with my Mom

2004-06-12T22:28:00.000-05:00

Let me say right up front that I had a really fun time with my Mom today. So, if you're reading this Mom, don't think I'm making too much fun of you. It's just that you did a number of things that I think are funny so I'm going to put them on the Internet. In a world where some people don't have a Mom, maybe those some people would like to get to want to need to have to read about our day of fun.

1. On our way to lunch, my Mom drove. I think it's the first time I've been in a car that she's driving since I was a teen (now I'm 31 and don't trust teens). Here's the thing - my Mom feels some sort of an obligation to steer just because there's a steering wheel in the car. We can be heading down a straightaway, yet she continues to steer just a little bit. Now pretend that you are going around a bit of a curve in the road. Instead of smoothly turning through the curve, my Mom makes a series of abrupt angular steers. Where it would take me one gentle turn of the wheel to negotiate the curve, my Mom makes 15 or 20 small turns of the wheel. The incessant steering made me nervous and tired, but it was fun to keep moving uselessly all around the road like that! Weeeee! P.S. The over-steering gets even worse when she's gabbing on her cell phone.

2. When we finally got to the restaurant, here's my Mom's account of how the meal went:
A. The rolls weren't fresh.
B. The back of the booth angled slightly inward.
C. The service was bad.
D. The music was worse.
E. It wasn't the best lasagna she's ever had.
F. She could have used another diet coke (they were $1.75 each).
We decided that the problem is that she's getting pretty old and old people like to not like things. But I'm not complaining on account of I had fun!

3. When we got back, I learned that:
A. I need to pick some weeds.
B. I should sweep off my porch at least once a week.
C. my Mom was looking for the therMOMeter to take my temperature on account of my bathroom was clean (she announced that she was trying to find the thermometer at least three times!).
D. I need to squirt the hose at my garage door.
E. I need to hose off my house.
F. the oscillating fan on my porch is going to get stolen.

But, seriously, I had fun with my Mom. She's pretty good most of the time. I spent over $50 on her at Mother's Day!

2004-06-12T11:53:00.000-05:00

I took this picture at the Fort Worth Cats game last Saturday. These two bulbous adults had a couple of "whoopie" cushions that they would toot at the players from the other team. Somehow I think they wouldn't have much trouble manufacturing homemade whoopie cushion noises if anything ever happened to their real whoopie cushions.

2004-06-12T11:42:00.000-05:00

Hi! This is Erik and Emily's dog. He's called Charlie and I like him.

Prince

2004-06-12T11:14:00.000-05:00

Last night I went to see Prince at the American Airlines Center. In many ways, it was one of the best things I've ever seen. Prince is spectacular. His band was fantastic. Plus, Prince gave out free copies of his new CD "Musicology" to all of the different people who came.

And when I say different people, I mean different people. We had black people, Mexican people, other types of Hispanic people, white people, I bet there were people called "Doug" or "Carmine", old people, young people, I suspect Asian people, and me. Prince and I bring all of the different kinds of people together as one! That's one of the things that makes us special.

The unfortunate parts are these:
1. There was a lady in front of me who chose to stand up and dance to and fro throughout the whole second half of the concert. She was the only one standing in our entire section! Furthermore, either she had an inflatable pants seat or was wearing pampers. Had I kicked her off the balcony down to the floor (and I should have!) she would've bounced right back up to her chair thanks to her butt.

2. Cameras were not allowed in the arena. That's too bad because I wore a purple suit which Prince liked and so he called me up on to the stage for some dancing during his last few numbers before the encore. You should've seen me going this way and that! I was mesmerizing.

So if you ever get a chance you really should try to see Prince live. It's fun.

Duty

2004-06-11T23:30:00.000-05:00

Whatever you may think of him ideologically, Ronald Reagan had an unparalleled sense of duty. In years most people reserve for doing nothing, squandering their life's savings, and/or dying, Reagan was called to public service and performed it with humility, dignity, and respect.

I'm glad for the national day of mourning. It reminded me about the proper way for us to conduct our business. We should lose our sense of entitlement and replace it with a sense of responsibility and accountability. Our duty is to give - the consequence of which is receiving. Let's keep this relationship in order.

Thanks Ronald Reagan for being a good man who liked jelly beans.

Getting my hair fixed

2004-06-07T17:39:00.000-05:00

Hi everybody!

Thanks, well-wishers, for your concerns about my health. I'm feeling much better now than I did last night!

Those of you who viewed me last week might notice by looking at the picture of me starting to feel sick that I had my hair styled over the weekend. Looks pretty good if I do say so myself! Let me take this opportunity to recommend Theresa Nguyen of Style America - Garland.

In other hair-related news, in my constant search for the ultimate hairdo, I've once again changed shampoos. Currently I'm testing the way my (sensitive) scalp reacts to Biolage shampoo (it revitalizes) and conditioner (it reconstructs). So far the Biolage / scalp reaction has been positive (i.e., no major episodes of flaking or infection).

Keep coming back for updates about my head. And, if you aren't aware of my hair history, you can read a summary in the post called "Atlanta". You'll find that in the April 2004 archive.

Tomorrow I'm going to eat some cupcakes courtesy of Gaye's daughter. Thanks Kathy! When it comes to being nice, you really take the (cup)cake!

Keep in mind that this website is for you, Americans! If there is anything you'd like to know about stuff, just post a comment and I'll tell you.

Well it's time for me to go pick up some pants at the dry cleaners. Don't let me forget to tell you about the time when they sent me home with a female dress. Regardless, let me take a second to put in a good word for the Dry Clean Super Center at the corner of Buckingham and Shiloh. If clean pants is what you must have, then try out the Dry Clean Super Center.

2004-06-07T17:38:00.000-05:00

Today I was too sick to go to work. Last night I started feeling poorly. Look at me...

AFO

2004-06-04T21:26:00.000-05:00

First off, thanks Austin Field Office for making an interloper feel so welcome the past couple of weeks. You are my friends, and I can't wait to come back.

Now here are some things in no particular order...

1. I went back down to the Embassy Suites front desk to tell the workers that in a world where people like to take advantage of each other, that I really appreciated getting the free tube of Colgate instead of having to pay $1.50 for a same-sized tube of Crest. They said that I was welcome and proceeded to give me these additional complementary items: comb, facial soap, deodorant, razor, shaving cream, toothbrush, pickled loaf, and another tube of Colgate! Can you believe it?

2. If you decide to go to the Kerby Lane Cafe because you're hungry for some pancakes, don't switch to basil pecan chicken fettucini pesto pasta at the last second. They make really excellent pancakes, but the basil pecan chicken fettucini pesto pasta is mediocre. If you don't like pancakes but you do like looking at some (or a lot of)hippies, you should still go to the Kerby Lane Cafe.

3. If your audit manager tells you that she never bowls and that she is not a good bowler and you believe her then you are a sucker! Sylvie is the Earl Anthony of the OIG.

4. Mercy is a marvelous baby with fantastic parents who I admire very much.

5. Annie is a singular imaginary wife.

6a. Priority one next time I'm in the Greater Austin area is playing baseball with Dillon and Hunter.

6b. I declare this to be the year of the Mudcat.

7. Gretchen is right. A drive down I-35 is incomplete without jerky, corn nuts, and a diversion to the Dairy Queen in Italy. I took a picture of the Italy Dairy Queen and ate a medium dipped cone in honor of knowing you again.

8. John R is most capable of making me laugh. I think he's underrated (at least in Austin. In Dallas, he's a legend.) Thanks for the root beer.

9. Lynda, I hope you can eat your pie sooner than later. Thanks for talking to me about leather pants all the time.

10. Sonia, you are good at picking birthday lunch restaurants. As soon as I can find it I'll post the picture of Lisa sleeping at training.

11. Amy, thanks of thinking of me when there are breakfast tacos at stake. Ken's Tacos is the best and everybody who cares about tacos and more should eat there!

12. Vickie is getting worse at being mean.

13. Claire is horrible at being mean.

14. New John is horrible at being noisy.

15. Mike is good at liking sausage.

16. Lacey knows all about different types of hash browns, and is funny when it comes to insults. Next time we're both in Austin, you should stop by the office. We'll have a Candyland tournament, take a walk, nap, eat some pudding, work on scrapbooks, nap, do some needlepoint, get paid, and then it should be just about time to call it a day.

Thanks again for a fun time.

(Sorry that so much of this stuff was inside. Next time the blog will have more universal appeal.)