While squirrel hunting in high school, I inadvertently got a chipmunk*. My family doesn’t hunt for sport**, so since I killed it, I had to bring it back and figure out a use for the carcass. Chipmunks aren’t very tasty, so I put it in a Ziploc bag and tossed it in the freezer, where it was promptly forgotten.

When Mom found it a few days later, it was made very clear that (A) I’m a dumb ass; (B) calling it a “critter-sicle” does not make it acceptable; and (C) I had better dispose of it toot-sweet.

Most normally adjusted folks would toss the body in the garbage or a ditch, but you wouldn’t be reading this if that held true in my case. Instead, the plastic-encased rodent was put into a brown paper bag, which was then given to my biology teacher the next day. Told her if she needed and extra rodent for dissection, well, here you go. She laughed, took it into her office, and we went about our merry ways.

A few hours later there was a ruckus. I would describe the ruckus as “screaming.” A lot of students poked their heads out of classroom doors, some teachers were scurrying about, but it diffused quickly and mysteriously.

Soon after there was a call for me to report to the office. This, in itself, wasn’t shocking, but I had not done anything (recently) that would warrant a trip. Upon arrival, standing by the Principal was one PISSED OFF English teacher and the before-mentioned biology teacher, who was trying very hard not to laugh. Apparently, these two shared an office and the English teacher, who brought her lunch, had mistaken the bag of rodent for her noontime meal. She was in the teachers lounge when she reached into the bag, pulled out the deceased, and let out a scream while throwing it across the room, which caused, unsurprisingly, more screaming. Hence the ruckus.

Breaking into laughter at that point probably wasn’t the best move, but come on. Flying cirtter-cicle accompanied by screams of teachers? What 16-year-old doesn’t laugh at that? The thought of it STILL makes me chuckle.

So there I was, containing my laughter as the biology teacher told everyone that yes, I did bring the dead chipmunk to school, but then explained the reasoning and copped that she had put it in the office.  It took protests from both of us to convince everyone I had not done it as a prank.

I was dismissed with a summary “do not bring any animals, dead or alive, on school grounds,” which seems pretty obvious in retrospect.

Also in the Asher Mishaps With Critters Series are stories about a woodchuck, feral chickens, being accused of stealing a dog, and a kidney stone belonging to a miniature schnauzer, but we’ll save those for another time.

* I say inadvertently because, at the time, I thought it was a squirrel. Little head peeked out from around a tree a middling distance away and I took the shot. Turns out it was a chipmunk. Damn good shot, though.

**Not entirely true. Yes, the primary function is for food, but folks have been known to let the smaller bucks go by in hopes of a larger one. But as far as squirrel hunting goes, I killed it, gotta use it somehow.

There is nothing more powerful than a book. The ability to move you from one state of reality and into another without pharmaceutical help is a wondrous thing. And there are so many out there, waiting to be discovered. Fiction, nonfiction, poetry, collected works…even if it’s out of your wheelhouse, it should at least be on the boat.

I understand not everybody reads, and mores the shame, so maybe for this first go-round share it only with folks who would at least appreciate the idea. Giving a non-reader a book can be awkward; sometimes they take it as a judgment. It’s not, it shouldn’t be, and with all traditions you should do your damnedest to make it fun, not a chore. And maybe someday (with enough time, patience and the proper PR machine) folks will WANT to read.

Regardless, this Saturday, stop by your local independent bookseller (new or used) and give someone a book. (And a flower, if you want to be orthodox about the whole process. Reformed can get away with a card with a flower on it. Lapsed just give the book.) Maybe something you know the recipient has been talking about or an author you enjoy. Maybe something neither of you have read. Maybe a graphic novel. It can be whatever. If they don’t like it, fine. It’s not a big deal.

The idea isn’t to force people to read.

The idea is to share books.

The idea is to celebrate.

Earlier today Maureen Johnson was advocating people being/becoming Ambassadors of Reading, which is, quite frankly, brilliant. And, if you feel like adding an extra feel-good holiday to your schedule, this is the perfect opportunity.

I handed out a bunch of books last year. Some didn’t care, but the reactions were overwhelmingly positive. My mom, never one for the printed word, has since begun devouring Christopher Moore and Neil Gaiman books. My nieces started reading different genres (specifically, crime drama and satire), opening up whole new realms of wonder. One person used the book as a coaster, where it sat on a coffee table for months before  it was picked up, read, and loved. Friends who looked down on comics/graphic novels have gotten into Brian K Vaughn’s Y: The Last Man  and Sandman by Neil Gaiman. This year I may introduce them to Fables.

I also left some paperbacks in random places around town (parks, tables of cafes, etc) with a note saying “Free. Hope you enjoy it as much as I did.” I like to think someone did.

Yeah, it’s cheesy, but it makes me smile.

“Dead tree tomes are passe. It’s all about digital.” Okay, fine. Then send someone an eBook. There are many places where you can download a pdf of an authors work, and Amazon has even come up with a way you can gift a Kindle book. It took me under 10 seconds to find that link; I’m sure a quick search of the Googles will let you find tons of eBooks at affordable prices just raring to be sent out amongst the tubes.

I could sit here and type a heavy-handed statement about the decline of education and the correlation of people not reading, but that’s not the point. The point is, if you love to read, no matter the genre, share it with someone. If you feel awkward, tell folks it’s the Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup of gifts. “I like this, and I like you, so it would be cool if two things I like liked each other.”

If nothing else you’re giving somebody a present, which everybody loves, and therefore you made someone’s day a wee bit better.

Happy St. George’s Day. Let me know how it works out for you.

EDIT: Since this was written, I have discovered that April 23 is also the International Day of The Book. This is also awesome, but now I have to rewrite all this stuff. Or add an edit at the bottom, which I have done, like so.

I HATE PENNIES!!!! (Also Nickels.) by the VlogBrothers.

Death to Pennies by CGPGrey.

Canada Gets Rid of the Penny (Huzzah!) by CGPGrey.

This May Be A Clue

It may not be, as most people think, a penny. A penny is a monetary unit equaling 1/100th of a dollar, which means in the economic world about as much as a pair of jumper cables means to a platypus. Pennies are a useless abomination of financial theory and were done away with some years ago due to their complete and utter ineffectiveness in modern civilization. The object may be, in fact, a clue.

This happened because the world powers became quite tired of listening to the people complain of the sheer absurdity of the penny. When threatened with being taken out of power and forced to work in retail, they realized the penny was, in essence, worthless. It was therefore abolished, and the heads of state strove to give the citizens of the world something they really wanted. After the subsequent inventions of electric socks and the gin and tonic, certain leaders decided that it was time to take their now somewhat happy people out of the confused condition that makes reality TV, QR codes and anything to do with Twilight so popular. To do this, they would have to bring the public up to speed with life forms more intellectually advanced, like the pygmy marmoset, duck billed platypus, or (in some cases) rocks. And so the idea of giving humanity a clue was born.

A daunting task, but one that was accomplished with the cunning and true genius afforded to those who like cheese.

The trick wasn’t so much making the clue, but distribution. After all, handing out a clue or two to every person in the general populace is a monumental task. So a committee was formed to find the easiest and most cost effective way to deliver clues to the masses. Weeks of deliberation and planning went for naught, as one single decision could not be reached. The top two ideas had to be discarded due to the possibility of catastrophic physical injury and the extinction of the puffin, respectively. Finally, after a particularly grueling and laborious meeting involving the “accidental” death of the committee chairperson, it was suggested that all the old penny presses be put back to use for the production of clues. In the interest of cost effectiveness, original penny designs would be left on the clues for a “retro” feel.

There was much rejoicing. The plan was initiated immediately. Unfortunately, the people were so damn clueless that when the clue was introduced everyone just assumed pennies were back. Thus people failed to see the true clue potential and treated them as actual pennies, meaning they were discarded in “Take One Give One” dishes or just randomly tossed aside. The end result was that no one ever held on to a clue long enough for it to take effect. To make matters worse, since the populace was under the impression the penny had returned, all old pennies that had accumulated in mugs, jugs or whatnot over the years were inadvertently brought back into circulation. This made finding a clue even harder. Attempts to market real clues with sex failed because no one ever had a clue in that department anyway.

So the next time you don’t know what’s going on, try digging through that old mug on your desk or in the ashtray of your car. Grab some copper colored goodness. Rub it against your forehead or body part of choice. Maybe you’ll get some insight.

You don’t have to be clueless. You just have to find one.

Terrible Secret of Space

Llama Song

End of Ze Earth

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Dance Monkeys Dance

Yeah, like winning the lottery, that one.

Now, I wasn’t raised in the South and have no discernible accent that would imply regionalism. It’s not a big deal, but for some ungodly reason I turned, smiled nciely and said, “I’m not from the South, but I guess you can get good upbringing anywhere.”

As the words were coming out of my mouth, I knew it was a mistake. The man stiffened, gave me a weird look and asked if I was “one of them damn Yankees coming down here to steal the jobs**.”

Good Southern upbringing, indeed.

* It seems that service industry people get treated like crap 90% of the time regardless of how polite or professional they are. This isn’t just servers and bartenders, pretty much all service industry folks. So next time you’re at the supermarket, smile when you say “hello” to the cashier and when done, say “thank you” to the cashier and the bagger. Takes two seconds.

** One, Florida’s unemployment rate is just under 10%. Two, I’ve lived here over 13 years. Three, really?

If you do not know, while at South by Southwest (SXSW) in Austin, Texas, marketing agency Bartle Bogle Hegarty found some down and out folks, gave them next to nothing ($20 a day plus tips), and sent them out as walking billboards where they gave away wireless access for donations. From the New York Times:

BBH Labs, the innovation unit of the international marketing agency BBH, outfitted 13 volunteers from a homeless shelter with the devices, business cards and T-shirts bearing their names: “I’m Clarence, a 4G Hotspot.”

A lot of people are up in arms about this, and they have a point. But if they had done it to a person in college, who was earning credit while working for the company, would there be an outrage?

I think not. I think people would find it clever and amusing.

Here is where they went wrong: they only paid them $20. Interns are used to be doing “inhumane” (no, this was not inhumane), “degrading” (ok, fair) and “exploitive” (bulls-eye) tasks. But instead of going the free route, they gave pittance to people who could really use the money.

Instead, why didn’t they pay them $150? Or $200? This, to me, seems like a fair wage to walk around and provide a service. Helps cover beverages and dealing with all the various personalities all vying for a signal. $200 for a days work isn’t that bad and could actually help out.

No, it’s not a solution to the homeless problem. At all. But it seems to me BBH Labs had a pretty decent idea with poor execution. No one would have blinked if interns were used. And if you gave the “homeless hotspots” a decent amount of money, most people complaining would ask how they could get that deal.

This is the part where I make jokes about companies turning those on the street into cyborgs, who join with the AI Overlords in dominion of Earth and the ramifications thereof, but I’m at work so you can fill that part in yourselves.

2nd RULE: You DO NOT bog about WEB CLUB, even if it is through a sock puppet account with masked IP address.

3rd RULE: If you get a DNS or proxy error, server crash the coding is done.

4th RULE: Only one developer to a site.

5th RULE: One site at a time.

6th RULE: No shirts, no shoes.

7th RULE: Coding will go on as long as it has to.

8th RULE: If this is your first night at WEB CLUB, you HAVE to code.

@betthearm so I have this rash, and I don't know where it came from. What should I do?

November 16, 2011 9:49 pm via webReplyRetweetFavorite

@MattyShoes

Matt

Well, if I was a medical professional, the first thing I’d ask is “where on your body the rash is located?” After all, depending on the physical locale and pathology of the rash would help determine the cause, type and cure.

I, however, am not a medical professional and assume all rashes are the result of severe stress coupled with infestation by Tyrannosaurus Dust Mites*. The mites are common throughout not only North America, but six of the seven continents. They only place they cannot survive is South America**.

Exposure to the Tyrannosaurus Dust Mites can come through a variety of means, the most common for males being masturbation. During climax, the contraction of muscles from the sexual organs help move the mites into the body. Once inside, it’s like grandcentral station – they can go anywhere.

The most common form fo exposure for the females is going to the bathroom in groups. How does that work? SCIENCE!

The rash develops as  stress levels increase. This provides erratic electrical impulses which affect the Tyrannosaurus Dust Mites in a way similar to how THC affects the human mind.

Basically, you become munchies.

The most effective way to rid yourself of the mites is the Asteroid Method. Simply take an orange and place it in the freezer over night. Once frozen, throw the solid citrus projectile at the effected area. The combination of cataclysmic impact and Vitamin C renders most Tyrannosaurus Dust Mites inert. The surviving mites then retire to Boca.

Watching Armageddon during the procedure isn’t mandatory, but it can’t hurt.

Hope that helps. If symptoms persist, consult that guy in Ybor who licks feet. I’d like to hear his take on the whole thing.

* Small, fearsome creatures roughly twice the size of your average dust particle. Once they bore into the skin, the Tyrannosaurus Dust Mite asexually reproduces and forms an inbred colony akin to a trailer park of deposed English Royalty in the Ozarks. This colony will continue to spread, eating your flesh from the inside out. However, in a truly ironic twist of evolution, the saliva of the Tyrannosaurus Dust Mite actually regenerates human flesh, ensuring a healthy food supply until the mites fuck themselves into oblivion. The rash is actually regrowing of skin.

** South America has been off-limits to the human population since 1837, when a zombie outbreak was coupled with the production of heroin. So yeah, flesh-eating creatures exist there, but they lack motivation and  move slooooow, maaaaaan.