Lucky Numbers

Unless you were smart enough or lucky enough to play 05-07-40-45-54 in tonight's big lottery you might as well use your ticket to blow your nose. (For you out-of-state readers, this is North Carolina's first Power Ball). You see, I have a system and it's a sure bet.

Here is how you pick winning numbers: The first digit is determined by the number of broken crack pipes you walk over on your way into the convenience store. Next is the number of homeless people in front of you in the ticket line. After that, it's the number of fluid ounces in the bottle of King Cobra Malt Liquor favored by most of the store's patrons. Next is the caliber of the weapon hidden under the check-out counter. And finally, the IQ of the clerk selling you the ticket.

Ahhh...the glamour of it all!

Frightening Resemblance

Do we really want this man to be in charge of the CIA. Gen. Michael Hayden

Obviously, my concern is that he looks too much like this guy.

As an interesting twist of irony, Werner Klemperer was born to a Jewish family on March 22, 1920, in Cologne, Germany. The family fled the Nazis and came to the United States during the 1930s.

It's All In The Name

Seen this guy's yard signs around town. Can't say as I know much about him.

From his tag line, I'd say he's trying to woo voters with the fiscal responsibility angle. Right from the start, though, it appears that he has a public image problem. Who wants to elect a Sheriff that's shooting BLANKS?

I'm sure it's too late now, but if he loses and still has sheriffin' aspirations, then he should consider a name change before the next election. Here's my short list of suggestions. Each of these would inspire more confidence in the voters and more fear in the bad guys:

Sheriff Rimfire
Sheriff Buckshot
Sheriff Caliber
Sheriff Tommygun
Sheriff Cheney

I provide these options only as a public service. Should Mr. Blanks adopt one of these monikers there will be no consulting fee. Any readers who would like to contribute to this list, please feel free to leave your suggestions in the comments section.

Sinister Bathroom Conspiracy

Don't be surprised if you see your naughty bits pop up on one of those internet porn sites sometime in the near future. If you dance in a strip club that notion may not be too alarming, but if you are just minding your own business while relieving yourself in a public restroom, this may be something to contemplate.

Of course, as usual, modernization is to blame. Too germ-phobic to touch anything in a public restroom, we have invented these devices that flush our toilets hands-free. Reading the manufacturer's literature, it's not clear whether sanitation or laziness is the real issue they are trying to solve.

In any event, these clever infrared devices sense when a customer arrives and leaves then flushes the waste away without so much as a second thought. This technology has even been integrated into sink faucets and paper towel dispensers.

Quite by accident, I have discovered that in addition to the infrared sensor, some of these devices now house mini video cams. It seems that unscrupulous web pornographers have a new source of smut and, potentially, we all have a starring role.

Until the FCC gets involved, I have taken to relieving myself without removing or unfastening any article of clothing. Sure, it takes a little more effort, but I have always been a modest fellow.

Another way to avoid potential embarassment is to carry a roll of black electrician's tape. Cover the sinister eye before you do your business then take it off as you leave.

Life was so much simpler when all you had to worry about was spiders in the outhouse.

Strong Metallic Taste

Judging by that telltale sign, the Wife must have upped my dose of arsenic again. Without fail, I notice this drastic change in her behavior whenever I bring up the subject of spending any amount of money on my boat. She would almost prefer flushing our cash straight down the Eljer.

We've been through all this before. Usually, a back rub plus a turn at the dinner dishes and my tastebuds return to normal.

Even if you take finances out of the equation, my wife is not very fond of the boat. No amount of logic can convince her that one of the kids isn't doomed to unwittingly part with their Coast-Guard Approved Life Jacket, forget that they know how to swim and sink like a stone in 75 feet of murky water.

My children, on the other hand, love boating almost as much as I do. The Cool Breeze seats up to ten, so we usually take the extended family: grandmother, aunts, uncle and a stray cousin or two. My brother-in-law has a jet-ski and we all have fun going out on the lake on the weekends. A picnic lunch, a little sunshine, some swimming in the lake, a few turns on the tube or kneeboard and you have a recipe for some good, clean, family fun. As the perfect end to a perfect day; take a dinner trip to the nearby Hillbilly Hideaway and tackle the lake hungries with a hearty, rib-stickin' country cookin' meal.

Elements of this theme appeal to my wife, but she remains a reluctant boater. She is fond of the sun, but not the water. She has grudgingly ridden in the tube, but the kneeboard and waterskis are not up for discussion. She is the lone holdout in total family acceptance of this particular leisure activity.

Before you waste your time getting all impressed about the glamorous life of a speedboat captain, this vessel is over fifteen years old and, for a boat, that's pushing it. It's a 20' bowrider with an inboard/outboard V8. The vinyl cushions are showing their age and I have had to repair some soft spots in the floor. There was the replacement starter, new carpet, a cover, a bimini top, plus the water toys. All in all the amount I have spent goes well beyond my winning eBay bid. These items were purchased over the course of a couple years and often includes the use of gift certificates received for birthdays and Christmas. I have had two good seasons with this boat, but I now believe that it may have been wiser to buy something with a little less fatigue.

Right now the Cool Breeze is little more than a party barge without a party. It will float and you can play the stereo, but it isn't going anywhere under it's own power.

Last week I had the misfortune to discover water in one of the cylinders. Not to get too technical, but the process that takes place in the cylinders, which is crucial to propulsion, is known as combustion. This is usually accomplished with the compression of a carefully metered fuel-air mixture and a precisely timed electrical discharge arcing between two tiny pieces of metal at the end of a spark plug. Introduce water into the process and it isn't quite as efficient. Water stubbornly refuses to ignite and now nobody is happy, least of all me.

My suspicion is a blown head gasket, but I am far from expert. Once you get beyond changing the oil and replacing spark plugs, I am over my head and sinking fast.

My fear is that the cost of rebuilding the motor will exceed my initial nautical investment. I paid very little for this vessel because I wasn't sure if the family would like boating. There was also the obstacle of not having much money in the first place.

So maybe it wasn't the best purchase I ever made. I will readily admit to being an eBay idiot. In addition to the questionable judgment of buying a boat, nearly sight unseen from a stranger three states away, I have purchased jewelry for my wife, a car for my daughter and various other items that normal people inspect in person before tendering their cash.

I do not know the fate of the Cool Breeze, but I am exploring several options. The most promising idea is configuring a new powerplant with a giant rubber band. I'll let you know how it turns out.

President Bush Unveils Bird Flu Strategy

DUCK!!!!!

I don't know how I manage to find so much trouble. People are starting to doubt my reputation as a stand-up guy, a good citizen. It's not so easy for me to get an advance from my bookie anymore.

As fate would have it, I was driving to the drugstore this afternoon and I spotted mischief about 200 feet away. There, in the middle of the parking lot, was a dirty-faced, orphan tennis ball; sitting perfectly still. Waiting for me!

How it got there, I do not know. Some redneck stepped out of his pick-up on the way to pick up his Viagra prescription and his hunting dog's slobber-covered chew toy came rolling out the door.

There was no oncoming traffic and, to a guy who used to jump his father's riding lawnmower over a nearby creek, the situation was more temptation than I could handle.

My '96 Land Cruiser has wide tires, but that is not the idea, is it? Any Jethro could drive over top of a tennis ball, and in the process, probably crush the thing. You might get a little "pop," but so what? No, what we wanted here was a more controlled reaction. I was looking for a line, about a half-inch wide, that would take me just off center enough to send that puppy shooting out like a cannonball.

Begginers luck, I nailed it in just the right spot. What I had not considered was the trajectory that my makeshift projectile would take.



To the manager of the Eckerd's Drug store: I would like to offer my sincere apology. Who would have guessed that a tennis ball could travel so fast? Or, that it would shatter the plate-glass window on your office at the very moment you were propositioning that underage cashier. A little aloe lotion on that coffee burn should help; aisle 7.

I certainly realize the preposterous nature of this post, but for that, I am grateful. The way I see it, no insurance adjuster in the land is going to believe that I planned this caper. No, it was a pure accident, an act of God. The rest is all a sad fabrication created to impress whoever is unlucky enough to read this far.