Interesting Things About Where I Live

A while back I was stopped in my hall by a guy who identified himself as from the State Department. He flashed his ID and went on to ask me questions about my neighbor. I didn't have much to offer him and when he was finished he asked for my full name. I told him I didn't want to tell him my name--how did I know he was really from the State Department? He reminded me that he showed me his ID, and I responded that I didn't know if it was legitimate or not. How could I know if someone forged a State Dept. ID? He said that his wife wasn't that impressed with it either and we both went on our ways.

Not too many places where that typically happens...

But the added thing was that I had absolutely no information about my neighbor. She could have been a he for all I knew. I didn't know when she moved in. I had never seen her...not even once. And that is another common thing about where I live.

Fainting Goats

This is for my friend, Curt Harlow

PS...my favorite little goat is the one with 6 seconds left

$15,000 Foot

Saw on the news the other day...

Women are opting for a "foot lift"--a procedure like a face lift but, yes, it's for the foot. They want prettier feet for their open-toed shoes.

I can't believe it.

Dogs & Cats

Got this from my cousin. She got it from...not sure, but it's pretty funny.

Excerpts from a Dog's Diary

8:00 am - Dog food! My favorite thing!

9:30 am - A car ride! My favorite thing!

9:40 am - A walk in the park! My favorite thing!

10:30 am - Got rubbed and petted! My favorite thing!

12:00 pm - Lunch! My favorite thing!

1:00 pm - Played in the yard! My favorite thing!

3:00 pm - Wagged my tail! My favorite thing!

5:00 pm - Milk bones! My favorite thing!

7:00 pm - Got to play ball! My favorite thing!

8:00 pm - Wow! Watched TV with the people! My favorite thing!

11:00 pm - Sleeping on the bed! My favorite thing!


Excerpts from a Cat's Diary

Day 983 of my captivity.

My captors continue to taunt me with bizarre little dangling objects. They
dine lavishly on fresh meat, while the other inmates and I are fed hash or
some sort of dry nuggets. Although I make my contempt for the rations
perfectly clear, I nevertheless must eat something in order to keep up my
strength. The only thing that keeps me going is my dream of escape. In an
attempt to disgust them, I once again vomit on the carpet.

Today I decapitated a mouse and dropped its headless body at their feet. I
had hoped this would strike fear into their hearts, since it clearly
demonstrates what I am capable of. However, they merely made condescending
comments about what a "good little hunter" I am. Blast them!

There was some sort of assembly of their accomplices tonight. I was placed
in solitary confinement for the duration of the event. However, I could hear
the noises and smell the food. I overheard that my confinement was due to
the power of "allergies." I must learn what this means, and how to use it to
my advantage.

Today I was almost successful in an attempt to assassinate one of my
tormentors by weaving around his feet as he was walking. I must try this
again tomorrow -- but at the top of the stairs.

I am convinced that the other prisoners here are flunkies and snitches. The
dog receives special privileges. He is regularly released - and seems to be
more than willing to return. He is obviously retarded. The bird has got to
be an informant. I observe him communicate with the guards regularly. I am
certain that he reports my every move. My captors have arranged protective
custody for him in an elevated cell, so he is safe. For now...

And You Thought YOU Had a Bad Day!

Okay, you can see that there's a car in the water--a guy is actually standing on the underbelly of the car as it lies upside-down in the water. Good thing the wrecker is here!

I think we've got it...

Yeah, we've got it...

Uh Oh!

How am I going to explain this?

Good thing we got us a bigger wrecker!

Whew! We think this will work.

So your day was not so bad after all!
(click on the pic for a better view)

What do you think? A match made in heaven?

I love Esteban

Pastor Larry meets Esteban

On This Day in History

The United States passed a bill that excluded idiots, felons, polygamists, the insane, anarchists, epileptics, and women of bad repute from being admitted to the United States.

Not sure what to say about that...

Does anyone have a comment for this one?

Finally...someone said it

I found this commentary in USA Today, well, today. So glad someone with a much larger circulation than I'll ever have is saying this...

One question: Why aren't you asking me any?

Posted 2/27/2007 10:08 PM ET

Every now and then, a reader will ask me to write on a certain subject. Actually, it's not every now and then. It's almost daily.

Why don't you write about penguins, someone asked the other day.

As cute as they are, and as "in" as they are, I don't really have much to say about penguins. Never even met one, in fact.

Nor do I have anything to say about National Pancake Day, which incidentally was just last week. Maybe you missed it. I did.

Someone offered that up as a topic, too. I had to confess I was a french toast kind of guy.

But a reader in Oklahoma City piqued my interest last week when he wrote about a "serious problem" spreading across the land. He thought that if it were highlighted here, it might be stopped. I doubt it, but let's give it a try.

The problem? He dubbed it "me-ism."

What he and his wife have found is that they can spend great amounts of time with recent acquaintances, and those people never ask a personal question of them. Not one.

Even on trips abroad, they've discovered that fellow travelers spend copious amounts of time telling all about themselves but never ask anything in return. A one-way rue in Paris.

Why, he asked?

Good question. And I thought it was just me.

For more than 30 years, it has been my day job to ask questions, so it's natural for me to corner strangers at social gatherings and inquire about everything from their shoes to their children. Women, especially, can talk about both topics for hours. (Without fail, I'm more interested in the shoes than the children.)

But I'm always perplexed that more often than not, no one seems to ask anything about me. As much as I hate the "And what do you do?" lead-in, I'd be grateful for even that on occasion.

Until recently, I thought it was just a Washington thing. In a city filled with egos bigger than Texas, you get used to having people look over your shoulder for someone more powerful, more useful, more connected. As for inquiring about me? I'm not that foolish anymore.

But now it's even happening in Oklahoma City? Not good.

I have turned the one-sided chat into a game. Now when I meet a stranger at a party, I ask a thousand questions, then wait in silence to see if any questions bounce back. Sometimes I've stood there for five minutes, which, believe me, is a long time for me to be silent.

Usually these people just smile and look a bit perplexed, perhaps wondering why I'm no longer interested in their fascinating life.

For years, I've had a button on the bulletin board over my desk. It's bright yellow and has a simple message: Ask a Bunch of Questions.

I don't know where it came from. I've always assumed it was some editor's failed attempt to stir the troops.

Now I think we should make a million copies and hand them out at parties. Maybe they'd bring about dialogue in Oklahoma City, at least.

Washington, I'm not so sure.

Want some Pi?

Remember studying "pi" in school? It is defined as the ratio of a circle's circumference to its diameter (uh, yeah...) and has the numerical value of 3.14159 26535 89793 23846 26433 83279 50288 41971 69399 37510 (that's to 50 places). Now here's the fun part...

On this day in 1995 Hiroyuki Goto of Japan recited pi to 42, 195 places.

Okay, that's having serious time on your hands.