Running for the Roses

Running for the Roses

By Me


Jericho City, Israel (25 May) – Elijah Shunam ran away from the field to win the 17th Annual Jericho Turkey Trot 10 km Run, hosted by the City of Jericho Chamber of Commerce.

Saturday morning found 357 runners lined up for the start of the 6.2 mile footrace around the fabled walls of Jericho.

Shunam, a native of Bidon, Moab finished a surprising third overall on this same course last November. This year, however, he was going for first.

“My plan was simple, see,” said Shunam. “My goal was to run with the lead pack until the final 2km then sprint away from the field.”

Shunam let the field dictate the pace over the 10 km course. During the early going Nimrod Infodel and former University of Rohan standout Théoden Chevelle were at the front of the pack which cruised through the first 5km in a fast 14:37.

“I felt pretty good the first part of the race,” said a visibly worn Infodel. “I think the lentils and boiled yak meat for breakfast caught up with me.”

The next 2km were passed in a relatively pedestrian 5:09. Then the action heated up.
Dain and Nain Thunderfist, twin brothers, broke away from the field and lead the runners for the next 1km. It was not immediately evident that the Thunderfists were even part of the race as each one carried a rather large battle axe that kept their race numbers hidden.

Unfortunately, a company of small dark-skinned creatures chanting “Heigh Ho! Heigh Ho! Off to Saruman we go!” accidentally crossed the racecourse at the 8km point leading to some apparent confusion.

Race officials intervened, however, the brothers Dain and Nain were forced to drop out. Shortly thereafter, Elijah Shunam began to increase his pace.

“Something just came over me,” said Elijah. “I think it was my second wind.”

By the 9km mark Shunam held such a commanding lead, the others were left running for second place.

With just under 900 meters remaining Marcus Aurelius Theophrastus Octavian and Achilles Hunter battled fiercely for runner-up honors, with the former prevailing by mere tenths of a second.

“Honestly, I felt pretty good out there,” said Octavian.

Said Achilles after his third place showing: “I think I could have dropped a few seconds off my time today. I keep have a recurring problem with my heel. My physiologist friend, Dr. Freud, seems to think it’s all in my mind though. Oh well, that’s life I suppose.”

Man Things

What is it about metal that draws men like a moth to flame? I know we came from the dust of the earth so maybe something down there attracts us...like magnetism. It's the siren call of the iron oxides. Do women know this? When I look at a rock, I don't see just a rock. I see something to be heated to extract the metallic elements. I see molten steel. I picture myself in leather boots with toe protectors, leather gloves, a dark grey Darth Vader-like mask, and a black apron skimming the dross off a tub of molten aluminum heated to 2,000 F, in a large factory with concrete floors while an older fellow with white hair and mustache called Jim watches me from a distance. Oh yeah, and he's wearing plaid. In my quest to become a man of steel, I purchased two more weights some time ago at this new sports store. I sauntered in wearing jeans, leather jacket, unshaved, and paid cash. Introduced them to Lady Guinevere (my car), grunted like King Kong and scratched myself...(no, actually I didn't do that). Manly things you know. Unfortunately, they're not the right size for my benchpress bar which means another trip back to the Man Shack to buy more iron to satisfy my male ego-driven desires.

My soon-to-be-new roomate

My sister. . .not the dog. . .is coming to stay with me. What do I think of this??? Not sure. About dogs: Dogs and other furry creatures are generally not welcome in any dwelling place of Yours Truly. Much as I appreciate all God's creatures great and small and furry, there is a time and place for everybody. My opinion is that since they have so much fur, they should stay outside. Of course, one may well ask about the non-furry beasts of the world. . . like birds. Birds are cool if they sing or talk and promise to stay in their cage. Something like an emu. . .well. . .I can just picture and emu sharing my place with me. Not a good idea, especially when breakfast rolls around and Jason's frying omelelets. I heard on NPR about a family that has a pet horse that stays IN THE HOUSE. Again. . .it's the furry animal thing. . .just don't see it happening here.

Much Ado about Nothing

Now that Samuel Alito Jr. has officially been confirmed as the 110th Supreme Court justice, it is time to rethink whether the hearings serve any useful purpose. The Judiciary Committee hearing process should be abandoned. Hearings have only been held since 1925, just after the notorious Teapot Dome scandal. Since then, most nominees have sailed through their hearings and were confirmed. That is until 1987, when President Ronald Reagan nominated Robert Bork, which subsequently turned into one of the most partisan confirmation hearings ever.

There are two good reasons to discontinue the process.

There is no law or constitutional obligation requiring the nominee to testify. Only two events need to occur in order for a Supreme Court nominee to be put in office. The first is being nominated by the President. The second is garnering a majority vote in the Senate. Nothing else is needed.

The hearing process has evolved into a reality show for Senators to show off. As entertaining as Senators Ted Kennedy and Joseph Biden were, many people would argue that their time would have been better spent asking short concise questions. Rather, they seemed to view it as a campaign opportunity.

Although I’ve listed three reasons why the hearings should be abandoned, there are reasons for continuing the process.

Perhaps the best argument one can make for the continuation of the hearings is that it gives Senators an opportunity to see how a prospective judge will rule in a case. However, this goes against the American Bar Associations Code of Judicial Conduct which bars nominees from pre-judging cases . . . even if they are simply scenarios. Alito has been blamed for being evasive during the hearings. However, for him to answer would have been inappropriate.

I recommend that the nominee go before the full Senate for two days of questioning. With a third day set aside for debate among the Senate followed by an up-or-down vote. All 100 Senators would ask just one question with the nominee having a set time to answer. I think this would save all parties lots of time and greatly simplify the process.

Thoughts anyone???

Mr. Toad et al.

I have been reading The Wind in the Willows for the upteenth time. I think it's the perfect book.

And the description of Toad going to the dungeon is beyond funny.

Circadian Cycles

Biologists and other strange people tell us that we operate on circadian cycles. There are times of the day that we do certain things best. Like thinking. Your brain is most active around sunset. You're also at your physically strongest...most track and field records have been broken at this time. This also corresponds to the highest core body temperature.

At 300-400 AM, your core body temperature is at a low point and is no surprise that this is when most people are sound asleep. So, I'm thinking since I work midnight shift, my c-cycles must be really messed up. This afternoon, when I was sleeping, I dreampt that I was picking baseball-sized strawberries. They were everywhere...piled in boxes on front porches, by the side of the road, just lying around the malls on the floor. I haven't eaten a strawberry in a year, so you can imagine my disappointment when, while at the store today, the strawberries I saw were...um...strawberry-sized.

I've noticed something peculiar about my brain. I'm 31ish, and it takes me a tiny bit longer to grasp how some things work...but that once I know how they work, I don't forget how. It's as if my memory is increasing. My language skills seem to be improving as well. And it still erks me to no end when I see a mis-spelled word. I cringe and stare it like it's some kind of overripe squash.

When I was a little boy, large yellow squash used to bother me. Why??? Don't know. Something about it's extreme knottiness...like it had warts. Troll food. Trolls eat overlarge yellow squash. Can't you just see them? Three old knotty warty trolls under a bridge at night gnawing on Farmer John's stolen squash. Juice running down their faces...grubby hands...bad teeth...trolls scratching themselves...greasy old trolls with paunches...Disgusting.

IRAN JAR SHOPS

I love anagrams. I found this neat anagram generator on the net. Taking my name and rearranging the letters you get Iran jar shops.

The Human Goldfish

Magician David Blaine just spent a week in a goldfish bowl. Why do people do this? And 7 minutes holding your breath? The longest I went once was about a minute and a half. They say that skydivers don't need to hold breath at all during freefall. Apparently when your careening towards the ground at 120 mph, the air goes right through your skin into your bloodstream.

I'm thinking if Mr. Blaine were to do this stunt over again he could mount sensors on his body that blow pure oxygen into his body, as in freefall.

El Ocho de Mayo

Hmm...let me see...I have been away for awhile.

Small headache at work today. Fortunately, we've a soda machine here (or pop machines as they're called in some parts of the country). A coke costs exactly 60 cents. I have the exact change...pennies not included. I feed the coke machine my hard earned money only to have it spt out a dime.

3 times. I discovered a had a mutilated dime. I think these machines work by how much the coin weighs. This dime had the edges sawed off. Not only that, it looked as if somebody with waaaaayyyy too much time on their hands actually sliced the dime in two halves...not sideways like your average currency defacer, but actually cut it in 2 along the skinny side.

The coin never worked, sooo after a mad search through my car and one chemistry lab, I found no other dimes. Went to Wendy's (OK so I was desperate) and got change.

And finally, got the coke. I should also mention that this particular machine takes one dollar bills. It does NOT, however, give you anything back in exchange...except a headache.

What else has been happening here at the lab??? The other night a 3-year-old boy carting an orange plastic gun wandered in at 10 PM. Never saw the little guy before in my life. Thinking that I was te only one in the building this came as a bit of a shock, since little boys don't generally wander into chemistry labs at night. I found out he belonged to one of the janitors in another part of the building.

The same little man was seen riding a mop bucket like a cowboy some time later.

Broken Nuts

On the way to work last night I stopped off at one of those warehouse stores that specialize in selling overstocked goods at normal prices. You know these places...everything is just piled randomly on the shelves with no apparent order. And...I purchased cashews. On the label it read 'some cashews may have been broken during shipping and handling.' Curious man that I am, I decided to investigate this nutty phenomenon. And...it's true, some were actually broken.

I am soooooo glad they put this warning on the label. I might have been confused about the picture of all those non-broken nuts on the front of the can.

3:51 AM

Yep, that's the actual time. EST. And Mr. Jason is wide awake.

Thinking of something poignant to say right now...hmmm, let's see. I went to church tonight, which I always do on Wednesdays. Two weeks ago our church had services every night until nearly midnight. Needless to say I missed a lot of work. Tonight when I got my paycheck stub, I discovered my boss reimbursed me for the time I missed.

Think of that...I got paid to go to church.

BTW, our web site is www.dominionchristiancenter.com.

Petrol

$3.00 per gallon. That's about how much 89 octane costs in Tidewater, Virginia now. If it hadn't been in the news, I might not have noticed. I don't worry about things like this. It simply does not bother me. It's not like it's the end of the world. I consider Life a game of sorts. Perhaps this is why I consider the thought of people hauling ten-gallon jugs to Exxon at two in the morning amusing.

Contrary to what most in the media say, I think President Bush is doing a good job. He's not perfect, but I shudder to think what would have happened had that guy from Taxachuttes been elected. If people don't like this country...then they should move out. Why not? Canada or Mexico will take you in. Just make sure you take your fur coat if going North or a crate of Dasani and pepto-bismol if going South.

This is the final week of the semester. You have nooooooo idea how glad I am.

The Wedding

Theodore and Carolyn are officially husband and wife now and presumably are on their way to Jamaica. Knowing my cousin, he may end up in Europe...Anyways. It was good to see alot of the family from Maine to Florida to Oklahoma and all points in-between.

I sat beside one 4 year old relative who besides being bored, was very hungry. After discovering his napkin wasn't edible he proceeded to chew the petals on the rose that was pinned to his jacket. Fortunately, he got some food which he ate with his fingers. Non-finger food that is.

The garter toss was...ummmm....let's just say some guys can't catch well. Ted eventually stood about 3 feet from a guy and practically handed it to him. There was lots of applause. I think when I get married, I'm keeping the garter. I'll put it in my pocket and tell the other guys if they want womans underware go to the mall and get it yourself.

Ted and Carolyn started seeing one another seriously around the first of 2005. He finally proposed marriage the first weekend in October of last year. It must be nice being married now.

I'd prefer a small wedding, but I'm not choosy. Perhaps there will be 1,000 people...who knows. I've not met her yet. Not to my immediate knowledge anyways. Will I know her when we first meet? I cannot answer that question. Once I thought yes, now...let's say I've been musing a lot lately. It's that time of the year again. Springtime. Weddings. New Life.

Ahhhhh......

I feel like Jason has just got run over by a truck and shot with a vial of bubonic plague. Everything hurts. Jason hates pain.

I'm...right now...a little high on pseudoepinephrin with HCl (that's Hydrocloric acid) and lots of vitamin C (that's Ascorbic acid). That's a lot of acid my friend. There's also caffeine and iboprofen coursing through my veins. I'm dehydrated and dizzy.

Jason got no sleep last night. He might be hallucinating. Logical Jason says, "don't be silly, I've always had pink elephants as pets in my 750 sq ft apartment."

At EXACTLY 9:11 AM...this is bizaar...All the phlegm in my nasal cavities converged to a certain spot to which I could no longer breathe. I coughed a huge cough, gasped, and raised myself from my bed of sloth...remember the ants Oh' though sluggard...Yep. I almost died from snot asphyxiation. I thought this is absolutely ridiculous. We all die someday, but I prefer to be doing some gallant deed like crashing the spacecraft into Mars or rescuing Alicia Silverstone from a gang of knife-wielding hoodlums while vacationing in Monaco.

LOCAL MAN DIES FROM A SNOT TO THE HEAD...as a headline is not how I want to discover heaven.

Druggily Yours,

The Reshpeckabiggle

Albino hamburgers

Yes, gentle readers, albino hamburgers do exist.

They're not made from ham and they're not made from albinos. They're made from ground turkey. It's simple see. You take ground turkey and fry them in olive oil and lo and behold. . . you have a white hamburger.

I made one today.

Tastes like chicken.

The OTHER white meat.

Work

I worked something like 100 hours last week. Today, I slept and dreamed strange dreams. I had a migraine and called off work.

And in exactly 20'' I plan to eat lasagna and garlic bread and return to slumber. Personally, I think God is forcing me to do this. Taking a Sabbath...resting. You can only run your body like a mad man for so long before it collapses. Last night I was running on fumes and mountain dew. Even caffeine is ineffective after a certain point.

Busy like a ant

Family: Formicidae
Common name: ant

I am beyond busy.

The Confessions of St. Jason

This is an e-mail I sent to one of my best friends last year. She enjoyed it so I thought I'd post it here. The only change is...I deleted her name so nobody but me knows her secret identity.


I have a confession to make. A secret I’ve told no one else. An addiction..It’s a trivial thing, really, but it’s something I’ve got to get off my chest. Brace yourself, find a chair, make yourself comfortable, eat some cantaloupe, this could be long. Rotisserie chicken. I’m mad about it. Absolutely mad. It’s 4 A.M. I’m finishing up at the lab. I’m alone. I’m hungry. I’m single. This is normal, you ask? I pull into the local Farm Fresh grocery store at 530 A.M. Saunter casually to the entrance, and bump my head into the magical glass doors I expect to open. Closed. I weep silently. They don’t open till 600 A.M. There’s people inside. I can see them. People in white lab coats and gloves, just like me. Except these people are cooking rotisserie chickens, not petrochemicals. I press my nose to the glass like a small lost puppy looking for table scraps. I change my countenance to resemble Oliver Twist. Nothing. The women in white stare at me...and mock. A little old grandma picks up a large fork and stabs a roasting chicken. Holds it aloft and waves. No mercy. A dark shadow crosses my path. Security guard.
"You not loitering here, are you son?"
"No Sir, I’m waiting," I reply. "I just want a chicken, rotisserie chicken that is."
"He looks confused, squints his eyes, and says "It’s 530 in the morning, No one wants rotisserie chicken this time of the day. Be gone!"
I take the man’s advice, since he appears wise...and carries a gun. SuperWalmart. 545 A.M. Open 24 hours. I love this country. I walk through the magic doors. This time they open and my nostrils immediately pick up the scent of hot, spicy, dead foul. I perk up my nose like a bloodhound and walk past an old man born during WWI, that asks me if I want a cart. I make no response. He tells me I’m rude. I tell him I’m just a New Yorker. He understands...calm. I pick up the scent of rotisserie chicken again. I’m in a trance. The siren call of the spice beckons. I heed. I heed to aisle 3, past the endless boxes of cereal, past the 13 rows of ketchup, past the display of cantaloupes from Costa Rica. I pause. "Hmm, not yet. Later." I continue on to the deli section and stop. When what to my wondering eyes should appear, but a row of rotisserie chickens, that fills my heart with cheer. My hands tremble, I salivate like Pavlov’s dog. I fight giggling out loud lest the stock boys think I’ve escaped from the institute again. Sale. Transaction. Debit Card. 605 A.M. Back at the apartment. Shutters are closed, door is locked. The deed is done. The hot spicy aroma stokes my olfactory furnaces to the breaking point. With a fork in my right, and BBQ sauce in my left, I indulge for the next thirty minutes. I turn into a human tyrannosaur, a carnivorous sapien, and then...calm.

It's melting. . .

At exactly midnight last night, I accidently caught a screwdriver on fire. "How did you manage this?" I asked myself. Ummm....it's a long story. When one works the night shift in a chemistry lab things happen you know. The hard part is explaining to your boss that you melted an honest to goodness screwdriver since this not exactly an everyday occurence.

"I'm not exactly sure, Mr. G. I walked back to the sulfur analyzer machine and noticed a little black plume of smoke wafting from the table. Upon further examination, I noticed a flaming mass of burning plastic. After repeated attempts to put it out, I finally used some metal tongs to toss it into a sink, where I then baptised the flaming tool."

My boss has a lot of stress in his life. This is despite the fact he's in his mid-50s and still lives at home with his mother.

I still have no idea who the canine was who called me yesterday. Any time a beast of the Earth rings you up requesting dialogue it...you would think...would be fairly important. Perhaps not.

Maybe a cat will call today.

Updatin' the Wiggleblog

Half an hour ago a dog called me on the phone. It must have been a dog since it was barking.

After a few seconds a voice goes "Jason?...Jason?"

Does this mean dogs can utter speech like us humans? If true, this opens a world of possibilities for communication theorists everywhere. Not to mention the huge unopen market for: ipods for dogs...and what would we call ipods for dogs???

dogpods, terrierpods, icollies, ishepherds, seeing-eye idogs...this could get confusing.

And what does one call ipods for marshwiggles?

wigglepods?

lilypods?

and should a dufflepud...or a monopod...use a lilypod what would one call it?

dufflepod, mon-i-pod...(sounds like a rap group)