GET BUSY
Time to produce.
(Thanks to Amanda Wolfe)
« September 2005 | Main | November 2005 »
Time to produce.
(Thanks to Amanda Wolfe)
But it would seem that the fact that there's only ONE of them, and that it's life-threateningly pointy, would be higher on the list.
(Thanks to Sahouly Ramada)
If you don't give them a tax break, you turn into a toad.
(Thanks to Robert Shearer)
The World Famous In Some Ways Herald Hunt will go on as scheduled this Sunday in beautiful, largely electrified downtown Coral Gables. The Hunt is always a fun family event, right up until the family goes insane, often within the first 45 minutes. Here's another fine website about the Hunt created by the tropichunt.com guy, a member of the worldwide cult of Hunt followers.
So come on out Sunday. I'll be there, though I haven't taken a real shower in days, so you'll want to stand upwind.
But be careful tonight. You never know what could be lurking out there.
Last night we went to a Halloween party thrown by my wife's cousins. They're Cubans who've been in the United States a little over a year, and like most Cuban immigrants I know, they're working at 17 jobs and adapting fast to life in the United States, or at least life in Miami, which of course is not quite the same thing. They love Halloween. They cannot believe what a great idea it is to put on costumes and consume vast quantities of carbohydrates.
They have no electricity, which does not paticularly bother them, as they often had none in Cuba. They borrowed a generator, which they used to power the stereo, because at a Latin party, music takes precedence over refrigeration. They also used it to power an illuminated skeleton that they got at a party store, which they had halfway buried in the yard, in a hole that was left when a large tree got blown over by Wilma.
There were maybe 50 people there, and I was the only one who did not speak Spanish. Not that it mattered: The main activity was dancing under the sky to a wide range of music, from salsa to the Fine Young Cannibals. At one point they were playing disco, and we danced to what has to be one of the dumbest songs ever written, even by disco standards: "Ring My Bell." When we got to the chorus, you could hear many different voices, with many different degrees of accent, singing:
Ring my bell...
Ring my bell!
It was a great night. I can't say we totally forgot about Wilma, But we definitely said the hell with her.
And now for the news: Here is a hardcore factual report on the situation.
The snakes are getting brazen.
We leave you with this final Headline of the Week So Far.
(Thanks to DavCat)
How 'bout some nice mozzarella and tomatoes with goat-poop oil?
(Thanks to L. Muller)
Proof that lobsters are not the cockroaches of the sea: They're the cricket-rabbits of the sea.
(Thanks to Stupendous Man)
Last night at 4:30 a.m., our electricity came back. We rejoiced and did the Electricity Dance, then went around the house closing all the windows and turning off all the lights that we had turned on over the past few days, because when you have no electricity you are constantly walking into dark rooms and flipping the light switch and then remembering that you have no electricity. Then we went back to bed, and... the electricity went off. So we said some bad words in the dark, and 15 minutes later... the electricity came back on.
Today, for the second time this year, at a time when we have no electricity and no idea when we will get electricity, the mail carrier brought... our electric bill!
Just because this blog has no electricity or gasoline or hope for the future or Cheez-Its, that does not mean we are just sitting around wallowing in self-pity. We realize that important non-Wilma news is breaking, and we are working hard to bring you the top stories of the day, as well as our insightful analysis. Our analysis in this case is: Yikes.
This will not help.
Please send us some cyanide. We'd go get it ourselves, but we have no gasoline.
What we do, here in South Florida, is look for gasoline. If we see a line of cars anywhere, we get in the line, in case it's for gasoline. If it turns out to be a drive-thru line for Burger King, we ask if they have any gasoline. We park at gas stations that aren't open, and have not been open for days, in case they will suddenly open, and we will have gasoline. We will burn 15 gallons of gasoline trying to find an open gas station, where, if we are very lucky, we will be allowed to purchase seven gallons of gasoline. We are like crack addicts, except our situation is worse, because there is plenty of crack available, thanks to FEMA.
You're probably geek enough to admit it. Please feel free to humiliate yourself in the comments section.
(Thanks to Paul Masters)
This story is not funny, but we like the snowman.
(Thanks to Ben Faulk)
And definitely do not watch the video.¹
("Thanks" to rita and Tom)
¹We are, of course, wondering how to adapt S. Florida cars to this system, since it's easier to find cows than gas, in most of our cities.
I apologize for not blogging, but I spent most of yesterday getting back home. We flew to Orlando and drove south on the Florida Turnpike, passing a gazillion cars going the other way, fleeing the no-electricity zone. We weaved through fallen trees to get to our house, which was damaged a bit, but nothing serious. We lost some trees, but they'll eventually come back home, once they get hungry. We have no power, of course, but we do have water AND air. I'm blogging via a dialup connection that operates at the speed of FEMA, so I probably won't be putting much up here for a while, though I'll try.
Walter is fine.
We must give thanks that they don't live in Hurricane Wilma's Tree-Free Zone, so they are able to concentrate on bringing us truly important news stories.
(Thanks to Collins69S)
Totally skill-free!
(Thanks to Russell Mc)
We suspect Walter.
We were busy yesterday.
They busted Elmo.
(Thanks to Jeff Arch)
South Florida is a mess, according to everybody I've talked to down there -- no power, trees down everywhere, a fair amount of building damage, and a lot of water in the streets. The Herald, which has many veteran hurricane reporters, has a detailed roundup here (you may have to register). I just talked to judi, and she's fine, and says hi to you regular blog readers. My family and I are still in DC, where we attended a highly entertaining event honoring a funny man last night (you might have to register for this one, also). We're hoping to get home tomorrow. I'm not totally sure why we're hoping to get home, but we are.
I'm in Washington, D.C., this weekend with my family. We were planning to fly home tomorrow morning, but our flight is canceled. So unless the forecast is even more inaccurate than usual, we're going to miss Wilma. Good luck to everybody down in Florida. We wish we could be there. But at least we know our house is well-protected.
Run for your lives. Or at least mosey for your lives.
Key Name: Verity Beckles
Mr. Floatie is forced out. Of the mayoral race, we mean.
The actual truth is worse.
(Thanks to millions of people, but especially Rita)
Mr. Smith brings home a fun new pet.
If students aren't allowed to do this, what's the point of being a student?
An almost-foolproof escape plan is thwarted by plumbing.
The toilet-snake epidemic is worsening.
(Thanks to Jillywilly)
This blog has spent at least three years just looking for the remote control.
(Thanks to Mollenkamp)
But they play dirty.
(Thanks to Ted Hawkeye-Gabr)
Didn't Michael Jackson already do this trick?
(Thanks to Michael Wyszomierski)
Three words: Swedish zombie worms
(Thanks to everybody on the Internet)
Key quote: "Sometimes we forget to study the obvious."¹
(Thanks to Russell Mc)
¹We see no evidence of that.
Sure! We will definitely consider that!