A night out at the movie - if you can find it

So yesterday we went to our local gazillion-plex to see George Clooney's latest film, "Up In the Air." Very good film but definitely don't go see it if you're depressed or easily depressed, however, the movie itself is not the focus of this piece.

Given that it was Christmas Day with frazzled parents looking for something - anything - to do with their kids, you can imagine the crowd running to line up behind and between the ropes that will lead them to the promised land and mindless diversion for a couple of hours.

Search as we may we couldn't find the number for the line up for our theatre. The focus was to seek out number 10 but all that was visible were people lining up for theatres 8 and 9. After walking around in circles for a while along with other theatre 10 theatre goers, we spotted a guy wearing a Santa hat holding an electronic device wearing a name tag with the name of the theatre. Asking his assistance as to where the line up was for theatre 10, he pointed to the mass of humanity behind the ropes for theatres 8 and 9 and answered, "there!"

"Wrong!" I responded, "there is no chorded area for number 10.It doesn't exist!"

"Look - I should know," he answered defiantly, "I'm the manager of the theatre."

At this point our numbers had grown to a relatively large-ish crowd of people seeking out the elusive number 10 and there was a definite sense of hostility and possible rebellion in the air.

"You have your number 8. You have your number 9 but there is no line up for number 10," my husband added. "Go see for yourself!"

The manager took off followed by our number 10 group at his heels, stopping in front of number 8 and number 9.

"Oh - there is no number 10," he mumbled."I don't understand" after which he spoke to somebody on his walkie-talkie. "The ushers were supposed to set it up..."

Walking quickly he returned to the front of number 10 theatre with our group of number 10 close behind.

"Line up here," he told us even though we reminded him that it was not a corded area. We stayed there for five minutes after which the theatre manager returned, minus the Santa hat and beads of sweat on his forehead. This did not bode well.

"You're gonna have to move," he instructed, pointing a finger to the number 8 and 9 lines, The group did a collective look over and after seeing the extent and length of the line we told him, "no way! We can't just push in there. They won't let us in!"

"Then you won't be able to enter the theatre!" he threatened. "You're blocking the exit of the people exiting theatre 10."

"But why should we line up for theatres 8 and 9 when we're number 10?" I snapped back, determined to hold my ground in front of theatre 10. "We'll move to the side but don't make us move again."

"The usher just put up a rope for theatre 10," he said confidently, pointing to the empty space with the number "10" in front.

Once again our group number 10 went back to join the people in lineups 8 and 9, who at that point had been released from standing in and being contained behind a rope prison for who knows how long. They poured out while ushers removed the printed numbers 8 and 9 along with the ropes. Within 5 minutes the theatre manager returned to remove our rope and allowed us into the theater.

"Tell us again why we couldn't line up in front of the theatre?" I asked as we passed by him on our way to our seats.

Anyway, the movie was very good, the popcorn fresh and hot for a change, even though the line to get in wasn't. Just goes to show that life these days is filled with numbers and you gotta have the right number to get ahead - even in a movie theatre.

No more official UFO sightings for Brits

Interesting that this story ended in the Ananova.com Quirky news file, given the gravity or repercussions of this report. So y'see - the British Ministry of Defense who deals with UFO reports (among other things one presumes), is closing up shop after 60 years of investigations, 12,000 reports including 135 last year alone.

As is the case in many governments around the globe, the heart of the matter is money so the decision to close the department will result in a savings of £50,000 per year.

That's it? I mean, one wonders if this an entire departmental staff salary or one person's salary `a la British eqivalent of a Fox Muldaur. The official wording is that the department after deciding there was no benefit investigating sightings which were "an inappropriate use of defence resources".

A lot of Brits are not pleased with the decision including one Nick Pope, who ran the Ministry of Defence UFO project from 1991 to 1994, said it was "outrageous".

"We're leaving ourselves wide open to terrorist attacks," he told The Sun.

Well Nick, I don't know if I would go that far. Is Nick referring to an alien attack from another planet or dimension? Does he know something that we should know? Is there a space ship in a hangar somewhere hidden away from the public? Is there a British equivalent of Area 51? These are things enquiring minds wanna know!

After an application under the Freedom of Information Act, the Ministry of Defence admitted that responding to every UFO sightings "diverts MoD (Ministry of Defence) resources from tasks that are relevant to Defence". Presumably, it also costs to send out investigators to write up flying saucer reports that are most likely stored away for posterity or something.

It said that in more than 50 years "no UFO report has revealed any evidence of a potential threat to the United Kingdom".

Uh-huh...and what about all those corn field patterns? Huh?

After investigating, around five per cent of reports remain unexplained. There you go. Five percent is five percent!

Expert wanted to study lap dancers - any takers?

Looking for a challenge that offers a reward, which money alone can't compensate? The Leeds University may be the right place to end your job search since it is seeking out - wait for it - a researcher to study lap dancing.

No printing error and to add icing on the cake the position pays in the area £31,000-a-year.

Persons interested in applying should be aware that this interesting position posted by the School of Sociology and Social Policy (go figure!) is for:

"Research Officer - The rise and regulation of lap dancing and the place of sexual labour and consumption in the night time economy".

Academics do tend to use such fancy words for basically a person to watch lap dancing and take notes.

The Government-funded position(!) will see the successful applicant interview 300 lap dancers in in two northern English towns.

The study, which comes with a salary of £31,513 to be exact, is aimed at finding out who becomes lap dancers and what their working conditions are like, as well as how the number of bars have multiplied.

The ad stipulates the successful applicant will need to have "prior experience of conducting research in the female sex industry".

But Susie Squire, political director at the TaxPayers' Alliance, complained: "This is the ultimate non-job and will both anger and bemuse taxpayers.

"It may be a dream job for some men, but it's just another nightmare of public sector waste for the ordinary people who pay for it."

Uh-huh...

I'm a Twit - you're a twit -we're all a-Twitter!

Some thoughts about Twitter. My motivation for signing up was because – well – it seemed like the logical thing to do since the hot and not-so-hot celebrities are there. The idea in as far as I can tell, is to follow people in the hope that they will follow back.

Why?

So that you can accumulate “followers” and increase your numbers – in the numerical sense of course. Why increase your followers? Not quite sure but presumably this has boasting rights i.e. “I have 20,000 followers and I’m popular as you can tell!” Judging by some of the requests to follow me, a lot of the Twitter-ites – I like to call them Twits – use the service as a means to promote their latest book releases, business, services. In fact I have to confess that I have rejected the friendship of people willing to perform live on web cam, sell me a service that is overtly financially favourable to them solely.

A really annoying factor on a personal level is the limitation of bytes allowable to make a statement. The real concept behind Twitter is to communicate a logical thought by texting from wherever the Twit is located i.e. bus, bathroom, movie theatre, dentist’s office, giving birth, etc. etc. using abbreviations. Something to the effect:

“Drnkg cafe @ frnds hse” or “Shpg @ Wlmrt” or “’m givg birth – fckg (universally known and recognized bad word) pain!” – the challenge is to communicate without getting the dreaded Twitter red minus sign indicating exceeding the byte allotment, which means a complete revision of the sentence/thought to avoid its re-appearance. Being a Twit ain’t easy!

Actually, in its favour, Twitter has brought me close to some celebrities in the cyber sense. Now me and Yoko Ono are friends, she told me so in a personal tweet, in addition to David Peck who stars on the TV show, “V” and my biggest celebrity friend, Gov. Arnold Schwarzneggar, who updates me regularly about California even though I live in Canada, and I'm receiving spiritual advice from Deepak Chopra. Also following me because I follow them is Fawlty Towers DVD, OK Magazine, the Rock of Ages musical (because I’m dying to see it!)...and so many other interesting whoevers and whatevers! Where else could we have a brush with almost-fame but by being Twits? Not to be overlooked are the people who want to make me rich if I invest more than Twitter updates with them.

Let’s follow each other. I mean, don’cha wannna make more friends? I can be found as scriberess. You twit me and I’ll twit you back. Maybe.

And now a Christmas gift for that person who has everything

For people searching for that special holiday gift that says you think about her/him need look no further. Diamonds are a natural resource that is always a nice - and expensive - gift. There are other less costly and natural down-to-earth jewelry pieces that are now available for purchase from a zoo no less.

Seems that a group of creative "gemologists" at the Miller Park Zoo in Bloomington, Illinois, have come up with a unique gift currently on sale at a fraction of the price of diamonds, in the form of dried reindeer droppings. You read it right: reindeer droppings.

The jewelry joins the very popular reindeer dropping Christmas ornaments that were a huge hit with the public last year. These limited-edition Magical Reindeer Gem necklaces are currently available for $15 each at the gift shop, 1020 S. Morris Ave., or for $20 by mail.

Last year, volunteers dehydrated and sterilized piles of the dime-sized dung, then spray-painted them with glitter and strung them on wire with beads to create “Magical Reindeer Gems."

Hmmmm... No mention of odor...

According to the news release, 2,000 ornaments and 100 necklaces are available so act soon. More information regarding the zoo and the origin of the poop necklaces or reindeer gem ornaments as they call them:
http://www.cityblm.org/parks/Miller-Park-Zoo/whats-new.htm

The zoo’s $1.3 million budget was cut by about $200,000 this year as part of the city’s efforts to balance its $77 million general operating budget

Santa Claus group demanding priority for flu shots

Gimme a break in the true sense of the word!

What is happening to Santa and his Christmas spirit? Seems that a group of Santas is demanding because they seem to believe it's due to them, priority in as far as receiving flu shots.

The group - the Amalgamated Order of Real Bearded Santas even held a seminar on the virus at a recent conference in Philadelphia.

What next? How to appear non-threatening to children and wear a face mask 101?

AORBS - that's them - is now lobbying for its members to be put on the much sought after swine flu vaccination priority list.

Group President, one Nicholas Trolli, said the campaign was "not so much to protect the Santa, but to help protect the public".

"I have heard across the country numerous Santas who have actually had the swine flu, but I have not heard reports back of any of our Santas being able to get the swine flu shot as of yet," he said.

The group also urged its members to use a hand sanitizer and take vitamins to boost their immune systems - and urged parents will keep sick kids away.

"If you contact AORBS, we will do our best to get a Santa to come to your home so you won't be exposing other children," Mr Trolli said.

The rival Santa America group is also calling for Santa Claus be made a priority group for the swine flu vaccine - much like health care workers.

Next thing you know, a group representing reindeer will demand that they be put on the priority list because they're close to Santa. No mention as to whether the Mrs. Claus's are demanding equal representation...elves... It just never ends.

Ho-no! Santa and elves are not amused!

A long time Christmas favorite could be on its way out - key word 'could' - if the U.S. Postal Service holds fast to its initial decision to prevent Santa from answering his mail. Not just any mail but personal letters mailed to him at his home in North Pole, Alaska, specificing desired gifts or favors that only Santa can bestow.

The heart of the matter goes back a year when a postal worker in Maryland recognized an Operation Santa volunteer as a registered sex offender and intervened to ensure that no childern ever received any mail. Henceforth, the Postal Service made the decision to tighten the rules, which included the letter to and from Santa program.

Expectedly, people living in the town of North Pole (most likely including some of Santa's helpers)are incensed with the unpopular changes, since the letter program is

People in North Pole are incensed with the change being that it's a revered holiday tradition where light posts are curved and striped like candy canes and streets have names such as Kris Kringle Drive and Santa Claus Lane. Volunteers in the letter program even sign the response letters as Santa’s elves and helpers.

Aw.... That's like...so merry and Christmas-like!

Anyway, the Mayor of North Pole, one Doug Isaacson understands the cautionary move but is incensed that his program should be eliminiated due to a sex offender's action on the East Coast.

Losing the Santa-letter title is a blow to the community of 2,100 people, who pride themselves on their Christmas ties. Huge tourist attractions here include an everything-Christmas store, Santa Claus House, and the post office, where visitors can get a hand-stamped postmark on their postcards and packages if they ask for it.

Santa Claus House, built like a Swiss chalet and chock full of all items Christmas, sells more than 100,000 letters from Santa and one of the lures is the postmark.

Being that this is the season for good turnarounds, there's word that volunteers living in the town have met with U.S. Postal Service officials in an attempt to work out a means in which kiddie's letters to Santa can still be sent to the town.

Children can only hope. And so can the parents.

Here's the home page for North Pole, Alaska:
http://northpolealaska.com/index.php?option=com_frontpage&Itemid=1

NEWS UPDATE: SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 21. GOOD NEWS!

Most likely due to strong public outcry, the powers-that-be have decided to re-instate Santa and his letters.

"This decision today by the Postal Service brings the Christmas spirit back to Alaska," Republican Sen. Lisa Murkowski said.

Indeed.

Hunk'a Elvis hair sells for $15,000 - with or without dandruff

I dunno. The world is getting stranger and stranger when an alleged clump of Elvis Presley's hair goes for $15,000 in Chicago. "Alleged" because there is no real means in which to authenticate as to whether it really was "the King's" hair unless they do a DNA test but I guess the purchaser was willing to accept the seller's word.

The hair - no mention of its condition or whether or not it was stored in moth balls - was supposed to have been trimmed from Elvis's head when he joined the U.S. Army in 1958. That would make it (the hair) 51 years old! Like...why would anyone want to keep hair that is more than a half-century old? More to the point, pay real hard cash for it? What does the new owner do with the hair, anyway? Put it in a display case and invite people over to see it? A photo of Elvis is definitely preferable or a belt, or even a tube of makeup that he used for his shows, but a hunk of hair? Pass!

There were other Elvis-related items on the auction block that went for hefty bids including:
An Elvis shirt that sold for $52,000 (no mention of sweat rings, which in theory could have made it more lucrative i.e. Elvis's real sweat!).
A set of concert-used hankerchiefs for $732 (no mention again if they were used during a concert or whenor if he had a cold)
Photos of the wedding reception of Priscilla and Elvis brought in a lowly $6,000.

All the items belonged to one Gary Pepper, who ran his fan club at one point and was a personal friend of the late singer.

Meanwhile, here's some photos and information on all the items that were up for sale, in case someone wants a group of Elvis's army dog tags or - wait for it - two white roses and other items from Elvis's funeral. I mean - talk about macabre! Next thing you know they'll be selling a snip of the material that lined Elvis's coffin.

Meanwhile, wanna make a bid?

http://www.liveauctioneers.com/catalog/19734/page3

Bra cups runneth over as a gas mask

For most females (and males as the case may be) a bra is something one wears to enhance/shape/retain/contain one's breasts. There could be other lesser known uses, for example, a sling-shot or a small container in which to carry seashells collected on a beach. Interesting but lesser-known stuff. However, the winner of the 2009 Ig Nobel Prize, one Dr. Elena Bodnar, took home the public health prize for creating a dual bra that could be converted (if necessary obviously) into two gas masks.


Note the "Ig" in front of Nobel Prize signifying that this is not "the" Nobel Prize, which usually spring to mind. In fact, "The Ig Nobel Prizes' - there are numerous categories - honor achievements that first make people laugh, and then make them think. The prizes are intended to celebrate the unusual, honor the imaginative and spur people's interest in science, medicine, and technology."


Obviously pleased to be a recipient and winner, Dr. Bodnar did a demo and then gave the Nobel laureates each their very own gas bra/gas mask.

So this leads one - me - to wonder about the comfort aspect of this bra-come-gas mask. Is it padded to prevent chaffing from the gas...whatevers? More importantly, how many colors does it come in? Are there different cup sizes or is it a one-size-fits-all?

The mind boggles at its potential usage in the military. A soldier (female and/or male) who wears said double-duty bra, could when there is the scent of gas and lurking danger, disrobe, unhook said bra and place it on their face(s). This act in itself could cause a shock wave among the enemy. I mean, it's rare for your average person to walk around with a bra over one's face, period. Then again, the time delay in actually getting access to the bra might be a problem.

The ceremony was organized by the magazine, "The Annals of Improbable Research", which is a good name given the nature of the awards. For the full list of names, try this site:

http://improbable.com/ig/winners/

And for a diagram of the winning bra...that is to say, gas mask...whatever, try here:

http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/science/nature/8285380.stm

Brits suffer cookie injuries

Why anyone would want a survey focusing on cookie accidents is puzzling but then this story comes from England, where scientists produce some very "interesting" studies.

According to a new survey written up in the Daily Telegraph, more than half of all Britons have been injured by biscuits. You read it right: good, old cookies. We're not talking anything physical like angry tea drinkers tossing biscuits at each other. Britons are a civilized lot and would never deem to such actions. It appears that an estimated 25 million adults have been injured while dunking their biscuits or breaking a tooth. Go figure that dunking a biscuit could be dangerous but I digress. What's more, 500 people have actually gone to the hospital as a result of their injury.

"Well doctor – I was dunking my chocolate biscuit in my tea, not realizing that the water was scalding hot and burned my lip," a tea drinker might offer in the way of an explanation. Or "well doctor - I was digesting the remnants of my vanilla cream, my favorite biscuit and suddenly some crumbs got caught in my throat. I choked so much that my dog, Cedric, became alarmed and barked, which alerted my wife, Priscilla, who gave me CPR. Unfortunately, she broke a few ribs not knowing that the problem area was my throat."

It seems that custard creams are deemed the most dangerous risk at 5.63 according to The Biscuit Injury Threat Evaluation. Does this group really exist and if so, why haven't North American companies been using their services? Jaffa cakes on the other hand, are rates the safest biscuits at 1.16. This important stuff we all should know!

Research company, Mindlab International were commissioned by Rocky, a chocolate biscuit bar, to conduct the research. So this begs the question as to why Rocky would pay a company to rate biscuits, period.

According to the results, it found almost a third of adults said they had been splashed or scalded by hot drinks while dunking or trying to fish the remnants of a collapsed digestive. Presumably, "fish the remnants" can be interpreted as inserting one's forefinger down one's throat in an attempt to dislodge a stuck piece. It also revealed 28 per cent had choked on crumbs while one in 10 had broken a tooth or filling biting a biscuit.

Now here's the big reveal: three per cent had poked themselves in the eye with a biscuit and seven per cent bitten by a pet or "other wild animal" trying to get their biscuit.

And you thought cookies were a safe food.

Britain has its own Roswell? Did they or didn't they?

By now everyone - at least those who are into UFO sightings - are aware of Roswell and the controversy it has created over the years. Was it real...weather balloons...piece of alien spacecraft. Anywaaaaay...

It appears that staid Britain could have had its own UFO occurrence known locally as the "Rendlesham Incident" that happened in 1980 when U.S. air force pilots saw strange lights in Suffolk, England.

The one-time head of the armed forces told the defence secretary a UFO claim known as Britain's Roswell could be a "banana skin", newly released files show.

Banana skin? As in peel from the fruit? Perhaps UFO'logists have been looking in the wrong place but I digress. (Note: the term "banana skin" is British slang for potential political embarrassment).

The "Rendlesham incident" involved American flyers from RAF Woodbridge who reported seeing mysterious lights. Witnesses reported seeing the UFO transmit blue pulsating lights that sent local farm animals to go wacko. In the way of an explanation that did not include a weather balloon this time, an ex-US security policeman Kevin Conde admitted that he and another airman had shone patrol car lights through the trees and made noises on the loudspeaker as a prank. There is no truth to the rumor, either, than Mariah Carey's crew was testing their equipment at the time or that KISS was preparing for another world tour.

Other more recent incidents in the latest batch of documents, which cover the years 1981 to 1996, include:

• Two men from Staffordshire who told police that, as they returned home from an evening out in 1995, an alien appeared under a hovering UFO hoping to take them away (this begs the question as to why they didn't)
• More than 30 sightings of bright lights over central England during a six-hour period in 1993, which led to the assistant chief of defence staff being briefed - and turned out to be caused by a Russian rocket re-entering the atmosphere
• Several sightings in Bonnybridge, central Scotland, which became the UK's UFO hotspot during the 1990s
• A UFO which was seen over the jazz stage at the Glastonbury Festival in June 1994. The two female witnesses reported that they turned to the people next to them to verify what they had seen but "they didn't look hard enough or take it seriously"

So what does this all mean in the scheme of things?

- UFO sightings leapt from 117 in 1995 to 609 in 1996 - the year that Will Smith's alien invader blockbuster Independence Day was released and alien conspiracy series The X Files was at the height of its popularity with UK audiences

- Dr David Clarke, a UFO expert and journalism lecturer at Sheffield Hallam University, said it was significant that one of the biggest years for reports previously had been 1978, which saw 750 - at the same time that Steven Spielberg's blockbuster Close Encounters of the Third Kind was released.

So now it's not a weather balloon but mass hysteria as a result of the release of alien-related films. At least it's original and a good explanation as any. The controversy will continue until actual, real aliens make a landing and are interviewed on CNN by Anderson Cooper.

Meanwhile, watch the short video with some videos purportedly capturing UFO'S, a discussion whether or not UFO's are real plus some possible explanations here:

http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/uk_news/8202157.stm

Look up - is it...could it be...flying cheddar?

Let's say you're walking along minding your own business enjoying everything the summer has to offer when suddenly you spot a colored object flying and/or floating in the sky. The object doesn't emit any sound so an airplane is out. Upon closer examination it appears to be yellow-ish or orange-ish, wedge shaped and the question arises as to whether aliens are becoming more creative and assuming the guise of cheese. There is a simple and much more weird explanation along with essential background information.

Y'see... the West Country Farmhouse Cheesemakers group wanted to be the first to send a piece of cheese into space. You read it right: cheese into space.

Shades of Monty Python!

So on Tuesday, July 28, they launched a 300g wedge of cheddar cheese into space, suspended under a weather balloon. This makes one (at least me) wonder if this could be the real explanation for the UFO landing in Roswell, New Mexico. It really wasn't a UFO but a wedge of cheddar cheese. It's possible!

Furthermore, not your mozzarella or French brie or good, old American cheese but a chunk of British cheddar.

The aim was to send the cheese 18.5 miles into earth's upper atmosphere where they anticipated (and hoped presumably) the cheese would explode and float back to earth via parachute.
If this had worked you can imagine the reaction of people experiencing raining cheese.

As is frequently the case, things didn't work out exactly as planned since the GPS tracking system broke down along the way and the cheesemakers have lost the cheddar chunk. As in gone. Vanished. Pfft.

They're assuming its location is somewhere along a 200-mile corridor in southern England but they're not sure. The launch was made to mark the 40th anniversary of NASA's lunar landings.

This is the same group by the way, that used a webcam to enable people to watch a slab of cheddar age in 2007. Talk about excitement!

Meanwhile if you come accross the cheese, you might want to alert the organizers:
http://www.farmhousecheesemakers.com/

Or just open a bottle of wine and enjoy.

Wanted: witch - some experience would be helpful

Looking for a job that definitely could be classified as "different?"A tourist attraction, Wookey Hole, located near Wells, Somerset, England is advertising in the local Job Centre for a witch. Duties include teaching visitors about witchcraft and magic and the successful applicant should be a good cackler and not be allergic to cats. Sounds reasonable.

The person - it's open to both females and males - who replaces the current witch who retired, will receive a salary of £50,000 pro rata based on work during school holidays and weekends. The job duties will be focused on summer holidays including Halloween and Christmas.

Legend has it that the caves were home to the Wookey Witch who was turned to stone by Father Bernard who had been appointed by the Abbott of Glastonbury to rid villagers of her curse.

Right now you're probably asking yourselves how does one go about applying for this job?

Auditions for the role are being held on July 28 in front of a panel of judges who will assess applicants costume and character as well as the ability to perform witch tests.

Witch tests? As in curses and other witch stuff?

According to the people posting the vacancy:

- Interviews for the post will involve on-site assessment incorporating a range or standard tasks.
- Ambitious witches, looking for a key career move, should turn up dressed for work and bring any essential witch accoutrements.
- A limited range of potion ingredients will be available.
- We are witchless at the moment so we need to get the role filled as soon as possible.
- We are looking for someone who is friendly, a little mischievous and with lots of character.

No information regarding whether or not wands and/or brooms will be provided.

A photo of the current witch who is going into retirement can be found here:
http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/newstopics/howaboutthat/5769160/Witch-required-for-Wookey-Hole-Caves---must-be-able-to-cackle.html

A soul of a deal

On occasion many of us have uttered the phrase, "I'd sell my soul for (insert deep, inner-most desire)..." A loan company in Latvia is offering people this exact deal whereby people sign away their soul as collateral.

Shades of Daniel Webster!

The company in question, Kontora Loan Company in Latvia, makes the deal complete with a contract with the word, "Agreement" in bold letters on the top that includes the wording, "that is, my immortal soul."

So this leads one to wonder (okay - me) if they employ a soul-collector and how she/he collects on a bad debt. Does someone employed by the company show up at the door ready to take possession of the soul? If so - where do they store them...the souls? Is there a soul repository? So many questions and so few answers!

According to a company spokesperson, the company does not employ debt collectors in order to retrieve a bad loan, neither do they use physical violence.

Latvia has been the EU nation worst hit by economic crisis.

The deal is based on trust to repay small loans amounting to $500 for 1-90 days at a high interest rate.

He said about 200 people had taken out loans over the two months the business was in operation.

And so they entered the Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest

So y'see - it was a dark and story night...

Many a story has been written over the years - even centuries, maybe with a sentence starting in those exact words. Every year the English Dept. at San Jose State University sponsors what could definitely be labeled as a "different" writing competition, The Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest. Here is a brief history and some background information:

"Since 1982 the English Department at San Jose State University has sponsored the Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest, a whimsical literary competition that challenges entrants to compose the opening sentence to the worst of all possible novels. The contest (hereafter referred to as the BLFC) was the brainchild (or Rosemary's baby) of Professor Scott Rice, whose graduate school excavations unearthed the source of the line "It was a dark and stormy night." Sentenced to write a seminar paper on a minor Victorian novelist, he chose the man with the funny hyphenated name, Edward George Bulwer-Lytton, who was best known for perpetrating "The Last Days of Pompeii", Eugene Aram, Rienzi, The Caxtons, The Coming Race, and--not least--Paul Clifford, whose famous opener has been plagiarized repeatedly by the cartoon beagle Snoopy. No less impressively, Lytton coined phrases that have become common parlance in our language: "the pen is mightier than the sword," "the great unwashed," and "the almighty dollar" (the latter from The Coming Race, now available from the Broadview Press)."

So let's just move on to the winners, shall we? Congratulations to the following for creating such - um - diverse and - um - different but definitely entertaining material:


THE WINNING ENTRY:

"Folks say that if you listen real close at the height of the full moon, when the wind is blowin' off Nantucket Sound from the nor' east and the dogs are howlin' for no earthly reason, you can hear the awful screams of the crew of the "Ellie May," a sturdy whaler Captained by John McTavish; for it was on just such a night when the rum was flowin' and, Davey Jones be damned, big John brought his men on deck for the first of several screaming contests."
David McKenzieFederal Way, WA

The winner of 2009 Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest is David McKenzie, a 55-year-old Quality Systems consultant and writer from Federal Way, Washington. A contest recidivist, he has formerly won the Western and Children's Literature categories.

Runner-Up:

"The wind dry-shaved the cracked earth like a dull razor--the double edge kind from the plastic bag that you shouldn't use more than twice, but you do; but Trevor Earp had to face it as he started the second morning of his hopeless search for Drover, the Irish Wolfhound he had found as a pup near death from a fight with a prairie dog and nursed back to health, stolen by a traveling circus so that the monkey would have something to ride."
Warren Blair Ashburn, VA

Grand Panjandrum's Special Award

"Fleur looked down her nose at Guilliame, something she was accomplished at, being six foot three in her stocking feet, and having one of those long French noses, not pert like Bridget Bardot's, but more like the one that Charles De Gaulle had when he was still alive and President of France and he wore that cap that was shaped like a little hatbox with a bill in the front to offset his nose, but it didn't work. "
Marguerite Ahl Prescott valley, AZ

Winner: Adventure

"How best to pluck the exquisite Toothpick of Ramses from between a pair of acrimonious vipers before the demonic Guards of Nicobar returned should have held Indy's full attention, but in the back of his mind he still wondered why all the others who had agreed to take part in his wife's holiday scavenger hunt had been assigned to find stuff like a Phillips screwdriver or blue masking tape."
Joe WyattAmarillo, Texas

Runner-Up

In a flurry of flame and fur, fangs and wicker, thus ended the world's first and only hot air baboon ride.
Tony AlfieriLos Angeles, CA

Dishonorable Mention

Karen Buffalo, sensing that her 1894 Brassic & Middon .45 calibre revolvers, mounted with mother-of-pearl grips and clasped by ivory buttons carved in the shape of elephants at play, were no match for 'Duke' Bunton's double-barreled shotgun, muttered under her breath "Darn that Parisian gunsmith in the Fourteenth Arrondisement!"
Mark A. Gray WOKINGHAM Berks., U.K.

Winner: Detective

She walked into my office on legs as long as one of those long-legged birds that you see in Florida - the pink ones, not the white ones - except that she was standing on both of them, not just one of them, like those birds, the pink ones, and she wasn't wearing pink, but I knew right away that she was trouble, which those birds usually aren't.
Eric RiceSun Prairie, WI

Runner-Up

The dame sauntered silently into Rocco's office, but she didn't need to speak; the blood-soaked gown hugging her ample curves said it all: "I am a shipping heiress whose second husband was just murdered by Albanian assassins trying to blackmail me for my rare opal collection," or maybe, "Do you know a good dry cleaner?"
Tony AlfieriLos Angeles, CA

Dishonorable Mentions

The appearance of a thin red beam of light under my office door and the sound of one, then two pair of feet meant my demise was near, that my journey from gum-shoe detective to international agent had gone horribly wrong, until I realized it was my secretary teasing her cat with a laser pointer.
Steve LynchSan Marcos, CA

After quickly scrutinizing the two dangerously buff men coming toward her in the dark and wondering whether she could take them both out, P.I. Velma Plusch mentally inventoried her arsenal-two pistols, two stiletto-clad feet, two leather-gloved hands, two each eyes, ears, lips, and breasts-and decided that she could.
Donna Kain, Ph.D. Greenville, NC

Detective Pierson mentally reviewed the group of suspects milling around the recent crime scene-two young siblings eating gingerbread, a young girl in a red hoodie, a beautiful girl with narcolepsy, and seven little people with the profession of miners-then gave his statement of "It's a grim tale" to the press. Shannon GrayWichita, KS

Darnell knew he was getting hung out to dry when the D.A. made him come clean by airing other people's dirty laundry; the plea deal was a new wrinkle and there were still issues to iron out, but he hoped it would all come out in the wash - otherwise he had folded like a cheap suit for nothing.
Lynn LamousinBaton Rouge, LA

I entered the bedroom again, looking for anything the killer might have missed in his obvious attempt to clean the crime scene, when it hit me, the victim hadn't been eating just any potato salad, it was German potato salad, the kind usually served warm, with bacon and although most people prefer the traditional American potato salad, it was clear that this victim didn't, oh no, he didn't prefer it at all.
Lisa Lindquist-PerezDaytona Beach, FL

No man is an island, so they say, although the small crustaceans and the bird which sat impassively on Dirk Manhope's chest as he floated lazily in the pool would probably disagree.
Glen RobinsBrighton, East Sussex, U.K.

It was a quarter 'til eight in the ninth precinct when I got the call of a possible two-eleven at a nearby Seven-Eleven that turned out to be just a four-fifteen--that is until my number two from the ninth discovered the one-eight-seven under the Tenth Street Bridge, some two-bit mob soldier with a blossom of five .357's right in the ten-ring.
Jeff RileyFort Worth, TX

Winner: Fantasy Fiction

A quest is not to be undertaken lightly--or at all!--pondered Hlothgar, Thrag of the Western Boglands, son of Glothar, nephew of Garthol, known far and wide as Skull Dunker, as he wielded his chesty stallion Hralgoth through the ever-darkening Thlargwood, beyond which, if he survived its horrors and if Hroglath the royal spittle reader spoke true, his destiny awaited--all this though his years numbered but fourteen.
Stuart GreenmanSeattle, WA

Runner-Up

Towards the dragon's lair the fellowship marched -- a noble human prince, a fair elf, a surly dwarf, and a disheveled copyright attorney who was frantically trying to find a way to differentiate this story from "Lord of the Rings."
Andrew ManoskeFoster City, CA

Winner: Historical Fiction

The Cunard "Carinthia" glided through the starry waters of the Bering Sea, 843 passengers aboard, including Harriet Dobbs, resignedly single for over a decade, while a nautical mile due west slunk the K-18 submarine, under the command of lonely Ukrainian Captain First Rank Nikolai Shevchenko: ships that passed in the night (although the second technically a boat).
Dr. Sarah CockramEdinburgh, U.K.

Runner-Up

On a fine summer morning during the days of the Puritans, the prison door in the small New England town of B----n opened to release a convicted adulteress, the Scarlet Letter A embroidered on her dress, along with the Scarlet Letters B through J, a veritable McGuffey's Reader of Scarlet Letters, one for each little tyke waiting for her at the gate.
Joseph AsplerKirkland, QC, Canada

Winner: Purple Prose

The gutters of Manhattan teemed with the brackish slurry indicative of a significant though not incapacitating snowstorm three days prior, making it seem that God had tripped over Hoboken and spilled his smog-flavored slurpie all over the damn place.
Eric StovekenAllentown, PA

Runner-Up

Warily-as if his hands were a green-bean casserole in a non-tempered glass dish that had just come out of the freezer, and the patient was an oven that had been preheating for a good 75 minutes at 450F-the surgeon slowly reached into the incision and groped for the bullet fragment in the pancreas, at last finding it nestled near one of the Islets of Langerhans like a small wrecked lifeboat foundered on a sandbar as it floated in the fog, adrift in the Sea of John's Innards.
Christin KeckAkron OH
Dishonorable Mentions

Mortimer froze in his tracks; the rhythmic clicking on the stones of the path (well . . . not really a clicking sound so much as a kind of clinking sound, more like the noise made by shaking a charm bracelet filled with Disney characters to a salsa beat) made him suddenly realize he had forgotten to buckle one of his galoshes.
Rick CheesemanWaconia, MN

Without warning, their darting tongues entwined, like a couple of nightcrawlers fresh from the baitshop--their moist, twisting bodies finally snapping apart, not unlike an old man's muddy galosh being yanked away from his patent leather shoe.
Matt DennisonErie, PA

She expected a beautiful morning after the previous night's hard rain but instead stepped out her door to a horrible vision of drowned earthworms covering the walkway -- their bodies curled and swirled like limp confetti after a party crashed by firefighters.
Rita HammettBoca Raton, Florida

The first time I saw her she took my breath away with her long blonde hair that flowed over her shoulders like cheese sauce on a bed of nachos, making my stomach grumble as she stepped into the room, her red knit dress locking in curves better than a Ferrari at a Grand Prix.
Harol Hoffman-MeisnerGreensboro, NC

He slowly ran his fingers through her long black hair, which wasn't really black because she used Preference by L'Oreal to color it (because "she was worth it"); her carrot-colored roots were starting to show, and it reminded him of the time he'd covered his car's check engine light with black electrical tape, but a faint orange glow still shone around the edges.
Lisa Mileusnich Willoughby, OH

Their relationship hit a bump in the road, not the low, graceful kind of bump, reminiscent of a child's choo choo train-themed roller coaster, rather the kind of tall, narrow speed-bump that, if a school bus ran over it, would cause even a fat kid to fly up and bang his head on the ceiling.
Michael ReadeDurham, NC

It was a dark and stormy night, well, not pitch dark so much a plumby, you know, that time of night where it turns into that kind of eggplant color, which I hate-- eggplant not the time of night--and it wasn't stormy so much as drizzly, like a cold that's not so bad but really annoying, where you sound a little plugged up and all your mucus just sort of hovers at the edge of your nostrils or drips down the back of your throat, it was like that.
Maisey YatesJacksonville, OR

Winner: Romance

Melinda woke up suddenly to the sound of her trailer being pounded with wind and hail, and she couldn't help thinking that if she had only put her prized hog up for adoption last May, none of this would be happening, no one would have gotten hurt, and she wouldn't be left with only nine toes, or be living in a mobile home park in Nebraska with a second-rate trapeze artist named Fred. Ada Marie FinkelBoston, MA

Runner-Up

The first time I saw her she took my breath away with her long blonde hair that flowed over her shoulders like cheese sauce on a bed of nachos, making my stomach grumble as she stepped into the room, her red knit dress locking in curves better than a Ferrari at a Grand Prix.
Harol Hoffman-MeisnerGreensboro, NC

Dishonorable Mention

As she slowly drove up the long, winding driveway, Lady Alicia peeked out the window of her shiny blue Mercedes and spied Rodrigo the new gardener standing on a grassy mound with his long black hair flowing in the wind, his brown eyes piercing into her very soul, and his white shirt open to the waist, revealing his beautifully rippling muscular chest, and she thought to herself, "I must tell that lazy idiot to trim the hedges by the gate."
Kathryn MinicozziBronx, NY

Winner: Science Fiction

The golden, starry wonders of the dark universe unfurled before the brave interstellar vessel "Argus" like a black flag of victory with a whole bunch of holes in it as the mysterious mission buoyantly commenced that would one day resolve critical questions about space, time, and the appropriate ratio of nuts to chips in a perfect chocolate chip cookie.
Robert Friedman Skillman, NJ

Runner-Up

George scratched his head in abject puzzlement as he tried to figure out where he'd parked the rocket this time in the 100-acre parking lot of Nallmart 75B, but then he remembered that a ship-boy had taken his DNA key-but which one, the kelly toned humanoid or the atmosphere-of-Rylak-hued android; scanning the horizon, he at last turned to Babs and asked "how green was my valet"?
Leigh A. SmithNew Douglas, IL

Winner: Spy Fiction

Oliver Smith, spy on Her Majesty's service - not that she knew about it, because that tended to spoil the whole secrecy thing and really, who'd want an un-secret spy, anyway? Not to mention that any spy worth his salt would kill anybody who knew his identity . . . so I wouldn't go around mentioning that I read this if I were you - looked both ways before crossing the street.
Rafaela CanettiRio de Janeiro, Brazil

Runner-Up

The serrated butter knife tossed capriciously onto the 38th Street sidewalk amid the detritus of Salem cigarette butts and a Mentos box was devoid of zero trans fat margarine, but glinted invitingly in the sunlight nonetheless, poised for the opportunity to be repurposed to cut up a Snuggie, and Vladimir took it.
Amy E. GrossFair Lawn, NJ

Winner: Vile Puns

Using her flint knife to gut the two amphibians, Kreega the Neanderthal woman created the first pair of open-toad sandals.
Greg HomerPlacerville, CA

Runner-Up

Medusa stared at the two creatures approaching her across the Piazza and, instantly recognizing them as Spanish Gorgons, attempted to stall them by greeting them in their native tongue, "Gorgons, Hola!"
Eric DaviesDunedin, New Zealand

Dishonorable Mention

Eyeing the towering stacks of food colouring that formed the secret to his billion-dollar batik textile empire, grumpy Old Man Griffington was forced to admit that dye mounds are a churl's best friend.
Janine BeachamBusselton, Western Australia

Winner: Western

He was the desert nightmare whose name no one dared breathe, this deadly gun-slinger Garth Tedder, whose face struck terror in the hearts of man and beast, its macabre, round, maroon cheeks almost exactly like the pickled beets that farmers' wives force-fed their horrified families. Brett HawkinsBurleson, TX

Runner-Up

There stood Tex Omaha, fillin' his canteen with his last bottle of Fiji water -- a case of which, oddly, he'd got off an Irishman travelin' west on the railroad -- 'cause it's good water, better than the dirt-brown stuff at the waterhole that tastes like a rusty nail, worth the two buffalo hides he traded for it, and it'll keep him cool, calm and well-hydrated while he's huntin' down that dirty, no-good Scots-English cattle rustler, Angus 'Shorthorn' Hereford.
George M. Calger Saint Paul, MN

Miscellaneous Dishonorable Mentions

"I want you to follow my husband," said my newest client, the enigmatic Mrs Yogi, estranged wife of the Maharishi Mahesh Yogi.
Steve HeckmanTaylors, SC

Automotive power and the color red proved fatal to Santino; Sophia found his body wrapped around the exposed custom pistons of his ruined Ferrari Testarossa, and remembered the morning she found a sowbug on her red anthurium, a racy flower with an exposed pistil.
Denise WeldingAmesbury, MA

As Laurel made her way through the plaza, she couldn't help but notice the gorgeous co-anchor for the morning news show, out yet again signing autographs, smiling broadly, and infusing everyone around her with happiness, and she wondered, just for a second mind you, how good it would feel to punch her right in her stupid little face.
Nikkia DanielMarietta, GA

"They clang to me like horse flies on cow dung," said angry, shivering onion farmer Jesper Lunk, whose clothes had been eaten off him by a plague of locusts except for his boxer shorts, which were a comfortable cool blend of rayon and nylon in a floral pattern with a three-button fly and a snug elastic waistband.
James Macdonald Vancouver, B.C.

From my car I took thorough stock of the loose group of illegals standing around outside the Home Depot--plasterers, roofers, painters, all for hire . . . girls, too--and fingered the FEMA money in my pocket ruminatively; my house was a mess, but so was my love life--what was my pleasure?
Jeff EllerNew Orleans, LA

As Oedipus watched his mother gracefully glide across the great hall, he felt a stirring in his loins which he immediately regretted but then quickly dismissed, for he knew if these wanton desires for his mother were wrong then someone would have named the condition by now, thus proving once again that where his emotions were concerned there was only one description for Oedipus . . . complex.
Ted BegleyLexington, KY

Rosalita came in looking, with a look of surprise not unlike that of Hedy Lamarr in the 1947 version of "Samson and Delilah" when she learns that Samson will marry the woman, portrayed by Angela Lansbury, but with less fervor than that of Joan Crawford's 1948 version of "Mildred Pierce" discovering her daughter, played by Ann Blythe, was to run away with her, (Mildred's) boyfriend, to discover that Ernesto had once again left up the toilet seat.
James BiggieMelrose MA

As Lieutenant Baker shrank his lips back to their normal size, he tried desperately to think of a situation in which his new-found power might be useful, as have I, your narrator.
Dan BlaufussGlenview, IL

She had whispered wantonly, "Come to bed, Yul," but was now staring in utter disgust because the green lava lamp was too revealingly bright as he fumbled to adjust his new Merken, a $300 pubic toupee that had looked like a steal on eBay, but now looked just like a wet Tribble that had inexplicably crawled up his crack from an old "Star Trek" episode.
Barry BozzoneAllentown, PA

Her kiss grasped his lips like an aroused sea barnacle; her breath smelled like wet feet mated with ham-marinated, salty, delicious; and the sea wailed around them like lovers in a trailer park.
Matthew BradySeattle WA,

Peter shaded his eyes from the brilliant April morning sunlight as it suddenly illuminated the Bunny Trail, contemplated his handiwork, (separating all of those pearly white chicks-to-be from their mothers) and prepared for the final task to complete his mission-yes, this was a good day to dye.
Trent Bristol Mandan, ND

There were earthquakes in this land, terrible tsunamis that swirled flooding torrents of water throughout, and constant near-blizzard conditions, and not for the first time, Horatio Jones wished he did not live inside a snow globe.
Rich Buley-NeumarAmityville, NY

Grimly aware of the rapidly approaching disaster, Spiderman leaped from rooftop to flagpole, from flagpole to fire escape, hurling himself recklessly from building to building, darting glances through every window in his desperate search for one vital room, while silently cursing the fact that the last thing he had done before donning a one-piece skintight costume, was to eat a large bowl of hot chili.
David J Button South Australia, Australia

They said that his writing was rich in metaphor . . . not the type of rich that one likens with the amassing of great wealth, but rather the richness that one might associate with a Pot Pourri pasta meal available at Spaghetti Factory, featuring a mix of Brown Butter and Mizithra Cheese, Meat, Clam, and Marinara sauces-yes, that's how rich his metaphors were! (for John Updike-RIP)
John DrewSanta Clarita, CA

Before she was Tabloid Sally, the impossibly foxy movie star who destroyed marriages like a busty ball-peen hammer, before she was Nobel Sally, the mercurial chemist who cured chronic halitosis, and before she was Pulitzer Sally, the honey-dipped scribe who brought Washington to its knees, she was just little Sally Barns from Crow's Neck, Neb., Bill and Margie's daughter, a doe-eyed pixie who loved fairy tales and onion rings.
Roger CollierOttawa, Ontario

I awoke in my sleeper on the way from Amsterdam to Rotterdam, my nightmare riven by a train of thought that abruptly stopped me in my tracks with cataclysmic, explosive, and yet equal and opposing force, like a train on its way from Rotterdam to Amsterdam; then I realized I was on the wrong train and headed for Rotterdam, instead of Amsterdam.
Joe DykesDenver, CO

From my car I took thorough stock of the loose group of illegals standing around outside the Home Depot--plasterers, roofers, painters, all for hire . . . girls, too--and fingered the FEMA money in my pocket ruminatively; my house was a mess, but so was my love life--what was my pleasure?
Jeff EllerNew Orleans, LA

The skydiver jumped out of the plane and felt his skin being pulled back like that of a dog sticking its head out of a car going 110 on the highway, owned by a driver rushing to be on time for work or else he would get fired by his boss with the curly mustache who owned a large speedboat.
John FahertyQueensbury, NY

Swain had always come out of bar fights unscathed, built as he was like a '70 Dodge pickup (with that "Adventurer" styling package), but after tangling with Big Luther tonight, he felt like he'd been in a wreck, not a five-car pileup, exactly, but a pretty bad fender bender, busted headlights, maybe a bumper knocked loose, and, for sure, his tailgate dragging.
John HardiFalls Church, VA

It was a dark and stormy night, dark like the inside of a spare tire in the trunk of a 1957 Chevy sitting up on blocks in a tumbledown barn somewhere in rural Ohio, and stormy like the romance of Pete Kimball and his girlfriend Betty Lou, who used to make out in the back seat of that Chevy when it was new and shiny and the Dell-Vikings were singing "Come Go With Me"; but this is not their story, it just starts out dark and stormy like that.
David G. La FranceBurbank, CA

Perry had come a long way in the nine years since being arrested by a park ranger in his '81 Firebird tenderly holding a spiral-cut, honey-glazed ham (with the bone removed).
Jesse KolmanGoodyear, AZ

Crickets chirped in the lawn, katydids made that annoying grating sound in the trees, a mosquito whined near the ceiling, squirrels snuggled down in wherever it is they sleep, somewhere -- probably Africa -- a lion roared, ants gathered together in their underground tunnels like so many, well, whatever, and -- in spite of the fact that it was night (dark and stormy) -- Jimmy cracked corn and no one cared.
Dorinda PartschChesterton, IN

If she wasn't the poster girl for the word voluptuous, with her not exactly "bedroom," but definitely "walking-down-that-hallway" eyes, her hair a palomino mane rather than platinum blond, lips reminding me of Marilyn Monroe not Angelina Jolie, and that slow hip-swaying walk that sweet-talks a man's thoughts into dim, smoky rooms where R & B is played, she should've been.
Sandra TrentzYakima, WA

Lady Rowena, fresh from her bath, knew she had time to be ready to meet the Prince at 6:00 o'clock even though the mantle clock was striking six, because the brass escapement lever mechanism that engages the teeth of the large gear which drives the smaller gears that send the hour and minute hands on their circular paths, was worn.
Frank J. WeidlerPlacentia, CA

On a lovely day during one of the finest Indian summers anyone could remember--a season the Germans call "old wives' summer," obviously never having had Native Americans to name things after, but plenty of old wives, and "Indian summer" in German would refer to the natives of India in any case, which would make even less sense than the current naming system--on such a day, however named, John Baxter fell in the creek and drowned.
Deanna StewartHeidelberg, Germany

Fenwick was concerned when his voices returned, but they hadn't been troubling him much until now--now that they were singing an old tune by the Shirelles, or the Crystals, or the Ronettes, or the Angels, or the Chiffons, or one of those damn girl groups he couldn't keep straight, the uncertainty making him very agitated again, although he had to admit the harmonizing was quite good, really.
Jim SeamonPunta Gorda, FL

As my darling Jean-Claude entered the salon, with a single rose bud bouquet, I felt a wave wash over me, like the full brunt of Napoleon's forces at 9:05 am on the second of December 1805 ripping through once fertile fields to the Prutzen Heights, and I knew that Paris in printemps would be to my liking.
Andrew PittParis, France

As always, that morning he awoke to the melodious sound of a stream of water cascading into a still pool, punctuated by several ominous silences-- and he could judge, by the length of the silences and the volume of the cascade, just how much of his three-year-old son's urine he would have to wade through to get to the sink.
David PellicaneHighland Park, NJ

Tinkerbell landed softly on the bedpost in a sparkle of Industrial Light & Magic, handed the packet of cigarettes to a rather stubbly 'Pete' Pan and, seeing his little green tights strewn carelessly on the floor and a still sleeping Wendy lying naked beside him, quickly realized they were now a very long way from Never Never Land.
Hugh TrethowanBath, U.K.

It could have been no more than midnight's icy incipit when Clifford, stumbling in hitherto sanguine emprise through the tombstone teeth of the raven lit Kirk-yard like some well-performed but lichen-hushed human bullet-catch, heard the manifest bactrian vociferation which betrayed with desperate flourish the inexplicably wretched fact that his camel was out there, out on the ice - and she was in mortal peril.
Mr. S. J. CrawfordRedlynch, QLD, Australia

A dark and stormy night it was; in torrents fell the rain --except at occasional intervals, when, by a violent gust of wind was it checked, as up the streets it swept, (for in London it is that lies our scene), along the housetops rattling, and the scanty flame of the lamps fiercely agitating, that against the darkness, struggled.
(The story of Paul Clifford, is Yoda, to a padawan telling)
Jay Clifton Berkeley, California

So think you can write a worse opening? Surf on over here for the contest rules:

http://www.bulwer-lytton.com/

Queen Elizabeth orders her swans counted

Given the state of the world today what with loss of employment globally, famine, homelessness, war, you have to wonder about the timing of this news.

Queen Elizabeth, she who rules England, has ordered a counting of the swans, known as the annual "Swan Upping." Perhaps some people might use these words as a means in which to express their thoughts about the activity. Seems that the counting of the swans is a British tradition that dates back to the 12th century involving the counting of the swans on the Thames River.

One wonders why somebody - especially a royal - would want to know the amount of swans on any river, actually.

So y'see, the process involves the official Swan Marker, one David Barber, rowing up the Thames for five days(!) accompanied the the Swan Warden, one Christopher Perrins of the University of Oxford, wearing the special and traditional swan counting scarlet uniforms while counting, weighing and measuring adult and cygnets.

One wonders once again, if duplication could enter into the picture. I mean, how can one be sure that swan "A" for example, won't swim down the river and be counted as another swan. But I digresss.

According to custom, Britain's sovereign owns all unmarked, mute swans in open water, but the queen now exercises the right only on stretches of the Thames and its nearby tributaries.

Oh the angst of having one's swans limited to a territory!

This year Queen Elizabeth herself will be joining her team of Swan Uppers for part of the cencus. She will follow them up the river and visit a local school project on the whole subject of swans, cygnets and the Thames.

Yes but will Queen Elizabeth actually count the swans or just smile and do a royal wave?

Here's an older photo of a Swan Upper in full uniform checking (or counting) a swan and a story:
http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/uk_news/england/oxfordshire/3906385.stm

Just wondering why it's necessary for a/swan uppers to wear a uniform? British tradition one surmises.

Still, would have made a great skit for Monty Python.

Pastor advises worshippers to bring guns to church

I'm probably opening up a can of worms here but this strikes me as very wrong. I'm also aware that U.S. citizens protect their right to bear arms to the nth however...

A pastor in a church in Louisville, KY. suggested to his parishiners, to carry guns to church on June 27th. Now correct me if I'm wrong but isn't church a place to touch base with one's Higher Power? So how does this pastor justify guns in a place of worship?

"Ken Pagano asked his flock to bring their unloaded handguns - in holsters - to New Bethel Church in Louisville for a celebration of the Second Amendment of the U.S. Consitution that guarantees the right to bear arms."

The pastor called the one-day event, "Open Carry Celebration."

Thing is more than 200 people showed up carrying guns, however, they could not be loaded with bullets. This lead me to ponder as to how he could ensure that the guns were empty. Did he have somebody at the door check the guns and do a body search?Anyway, the event included a handgun raffle, patriotic music and screening of gun safety videos. Some gun owners carried old-fashioned six-shooters in leather holsters. Still others packed modern police-style firearms.

Kentucky allows residents to openly carry guns in public with some restrictions.

I dunno...

Shepherd unaware of the concept perhaps?

So this Croatian shepherd who looks after sheep, decided to follow his flock. This move in itself wouldn't be newsworthy except that he followed them into a minefield. Luckily, the shepherd, one Philimon Zandamela, 34, survived to tell the tale and was led to safety by rescue workers in Sibenik.

The shepherd who hails from Mozambique has become somewhat of celebrity after surviving some unusual events that would or should have killed him.

This is a man who takes every word literally.

For example he accidentally drank sulphuric acid and stabbed himself in the stomach after a fortune teller told him it was time to die. A desire to be in porn films was cut short after his family threatened to leave unless he quit.

In discussing his survival in the mine field, Zandamela said that he was walking along and spotted a large number of strange bumps in the ground until realizing that he was in a mine field. Having a mobile phone he was able to phone the emergency services for help.

"I am very lucky to still be in one piece."

To say the least. There is no information regarding whether the sheep survived their walk or there was chops for a barbeque.

Cutting the grass, mower or less

It's Spring, when a man's or woman's thoughts usually turn to...mowing the lawn. After a long winter's nap buried snugly under a blanket of white, nature compels grass to do what grass usually does. Grow it does and then some.

Came accross an interesting piece in a news article.

Here's something for people who kvetch about how fast their lawns grow and how difficult it is to keep up with cutting them/it/the grass.

Seems that the British are now adopting - wait for it - wallabies as pets to trim their lawns. A wallabie according to Wikipedia, is "any of about thirty species of macropod (Family Macropodidae). It is an informal designation generally used for any macropod that is smaller than a kangaroo or wallaroo that has not been given some other name."

Now you know but let's get back to this new craze that could be sweeping England.

According to the article that I found, wallabies don't come cheap at a cost of £150 for males and £650 for females. Notice that the females are considerably more expensive than the male wallabies whatever that means.

Let's say...people (in this case Brits, but their popularity could spread) really take to wallabies and slowly they replace sheep. Slowly, sheep will lose their place as the official grass nibblers of the hills, replaced by the interloping Australian marsupials. A time could arrive down the line when sheep will have to fight for a piece of land, just like the days in the old west. There will be public appearances on talk shows like Oprah and Ellen with their human spokes-people showing un-sheared sheep suffering from over-wooliness syndrome. Facebook campaigns to save-the-sheep will emerge. The craze could spread accross the ocean at our doorsteps and it won't be long before wallabies will become a public fixture on weekends cutting North American lawns.

"See you got a new lawnmower," a neighbor will say to another, setting up the scene. "Nice model. I got a new one too."

At which point the neighbor-Mr. wallabie-owner will lead out his new living model mower while the other neighbor watches in stunned silence.

It's a possibility!

Somewhere down the line there will probably be a public outcry with animal rights protesters decrying the use of wallabies for human usage as barbaric and detrimental to the wallabie's health. At that point wallabies will lose their appeal and sheep will retain their former glory.

By the way anyone looking to keep a wallaby should have enough land for them to roam, at leat a half an acre with fences at least 5ft high to ensure they can't jump for freedom.

I mean, really. What next? Trained angel fish? For the record I tried training my angel fish without any success. Stubborn breed I'm told.

Hey kids - let's have some babies! Octomom The Musical?

Why am I not surprised. Following the media circus surrounding the birth of her eight offspring, somebody is attempting to cash in on the big event. Thing is - interested persons don't even have to be pregnant to qualify.

The story of "Octomom" Nadya Suleman, will soon be a musical, "Octomom: The Musical" to be presented by a small theatre in Los Angeles in June for 10 weeks.

Why am I not surprised.

The show written by one Chris Voltaire and produced by Bang and Cabaret Voltaire, advertises itself as a comedy.

Yeah - why not. If it wasn't so tragic.

Advertisements for the show include statements like, "it must be seen to be believed. A small epic for our strange times."

Ain't that the truth.

Anywaaaay... Auditions to fill the role(s) are taking place at Bang Comedy Studio with the casting session running from 3:30 - 5:30 p.m. at 457 N. Fairfax Ave. L.A.

Unable to make the auditions due to geographical limitations? No problem-o since electronic applications are being accepted at octomusicalcasting@gmail.com

BRAIN ORCHESTRA MAKES ITS DEBUT - THOUGHT-FULLY

For music afficionados it's not unusual to attend a musical performance played by a symphony orchestra. The blending of the various instruments can make for a relaxing and pleasing experience. The Multimodal Brain Orchestra made its musical world premiere on Thursday led by an "emotional conductor" in addition to a traditional one. What makes this performance unique is that music and video change in time with the performers' brain waves and heart rate. In other words - the end result is for your brain and emotions.

The project, a creation of the Synthetic, Perceptive, Emotive and Cognitive Systems (SPECS), the orchestra's premiere performance closed the Science Beyond Fiction conference in Prague.

The piece that the orchestra performed, Xmotion, was scored, giving it an underlying structure, however it's the performers controlling variations of visuals, sounds, frequencies, and volumes in the overall piece.

According to Anna Mura, a biologist and producer of the project, "everything is built to fulfil the circumplex model, which was worked out by psychologists that study emotions. How we feel and what we feel fits into a circle cut into four quadrants, labelled by 'arousal' and 'valence', that is, how much you're excited and how badly or positively you're excited."

Got that? I didn't but then I'm a gotta-hear-it regular-but-simple type-music lover. Anywaaaaay...

Four performers were fitted with caps littered with electrodes that take a real-time electroencephalograph - an image of the brain's electrical activity. Furthermore and according to Dr. Mura, there's a first, second violin and so on, except that instead of the real violins playing, it is a brain performance.

The graphs of those brain waves are projected onto one of two large screens above the orchestra. The performers launch sounds or affect their frequencies and modulations based on two well-characterised effects seen in EEGs: the steady-state visually evoked potential (SSVEP), and the so-called P300 signal.

"People believe that to understand how we feel will help us to understand what consciousness is all about. This is the technology that is going in that direction; we cannot explain consciousness with this but we are at least exploring the surface of it."

Read more about this "artistic interpretation of the biometric technology" here:
http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/science/nature/8016869.stm
and here: http://www.redorbit.com/news/technology/1676899/brain_orchestra_performs_at_conference_in_prague/index.html
Personally, I'll opt for a down-to-earth, hear-the-inststruments-in-person concert but then that's just me.

Pet Airways - paws-itively a great idea

Many pet owners when planning a trip, worry about what to do with their four-pawed friends. Pet sitting and pet boarding facilities are available but a new type of service is entering the market place. Would you believe - an airline that flies pets exclusively?

The new airline company, Pet Airways working out of Delray Beach, Florida, is aimed exclusively at pet travel. Like their human counterparts, pets get to travel in the main cabin and their owners aren't permitted to join them. What's more, the airline claims to be the first of its kind designed specifically for the safe and comfortable transportation of pets.

Seats normally for human pasengers will be removed to make room for pet carriers. The first departure for cats and dogs is scheduled for July 14 and the carrier will serve 5 U.S. cities including New York, Washington DC, Chicago, Denver and Los Angeles.

There is no mention of expansion plans to include other species/pets like gerbils, mice, birds, snakes, etc. etc.

The pawsengers, as the new airline calls them, can be booked in online and are checked in to a Pet Lounge at the airport. Does this mean that there will be catering services that offer bones or a steak before departure? Do you see another $$ lucrative$$ market here?

The pawsengers will get a "potty break" before departure and will be monitored during the flight. Presumably, this will be in the hands of the pet attendant who is on standby to cater to the travellers.

Owners or Pet Parents can follow their travel progress using an online "pet tracker".

The flights will be made in 19-seat turbo-prop planes operated by Suburban Air Freight, which have their seats removed to make space for the pet carriers.

Celine Dion to sing for hockey fans?

Quebec's (and the world depending on your view of her) very own chantoozy, Celine Dion, wants to own the Montreal Canadiens hockey club. To be more precise, Celine and her hubby, Rene Angelil.

Actually, Celine is one of a few group of interested/potential buyers but somehow her interest and possible ownership strikes me as funny. Then again, there are a lot of things strike me as funny... If she does acquire the team, does this mean hockey fans will be cursed.. that should read, treated to a selection of Dion songs during half-time?

Given her show-biz background and should she be successful, perhaps the Bell Centre, the Canadiens home arena, will be converted into a Vegas-style venue. Or they'll re-name it "The Celine Dion Hockey Arena for the Performing Arts or something like that.

The possibilities are endless...

Another addition to the family for Brad and Angelina

As part of their hourly commitment to each other, Brad Pitt and Angelina Joli have adopted celebrity, Paris Hilton.

"We've always felt that she needed guidance," Brad explained to Access Hollywood host, Nancy O'Dell. "Who better than us?"

The pair, through a mutually-acceptable representative, approached Hilton a month ago about the possibility of adoption. Although unreceptive initially, she relented last week and moved in after assurances that a house would be built specifically to accommodate her wardrobe.

"We love children and Paris is just a big, old overgrown kid," Pitt said. "Part of our house rules are that she has to text us which clubs she's at."

"Whatever he says," Angelina added, staring romantically in Brad's eyes. "I love it when he's so masterful!"

"We'll always have Paris," Brad said stroking Angelina's head.


HAPPY APRIL FOOLS DAY!

Mediums acquire grant to talk to the dead

I'm definitely in the wrong business. Yet once again a government has given a grant of questionable merit - at least IMHO.

Two people who should have psychic powers, recently received a grant to teach people how to communicate with the dead. Here I thought that this could be achieved by drinking too much coffee according to another report but I digress...

The psychics, Paul and Deborah Rees received £4,500 from the Welsh government's Want2Work job creation program. The recipients will be using the money to help people contact friends and relatives "on the other side." To be expected critics and presumably ordinary people are shocked and the Department of work and Pensions bureaucrats and Welsh Assembly has launched an investigation.

For their part the mediums claim the "mere £4,500" of public money will be put to good use at their centre the Accolade Academy of Psychic and Mediumistic Studies. Accolade? Weird choice of words and according to an Internet dictionary source, the meaning is "any award, honor, or laudatory notice." Given the negative reaction generally, perhaps they should drop the "accolade" in the name of their academy.

"Our job is to provide substantial evidence to bring ease to people's grieving - and that's what I would say to people who query the award" commented Paul Rees, a former upholsterer.

"It is an utter disgrace that taxpayers' money is being wasted and given to an organisation that believes it can teach people how to communicate with the dead" said Tory Welsh Assembly member, Jonathan Morgan.

There is no information as to if the psychic couple will be charging for their services and neither is there anything available regarding their curriculum. Perhaps Ohmmmmmm101 and related courses.

They're (could be) heeeere - according to British UFO files

Remember those crop circles that were in the news a while back, allegedly created by - insert Twilight Zone music - aliens? A British woman walking her dog in a field claims to have actually met up with a blond, Scandinavian-looking alien with a Scandinavian-like accent, who admitted to her that crop circles were created by some of his extra-terrestrial pals.

This was one of many stories part of the third UFO file documents to be released by the British Ministry of Defence covering the years from 1987 - 1993.

Back to the woman-and-her-dog encounter... Even though he - the alien - was told not to have an earthly contact, he felt that it was important to speak to one of our kind. Understandably, she ran home but upon hearing a loud buzzing noise, she turned to see a large, spherical object, glowing orange-white, rise steadily moving out of sight.

Then there are reports with a logical explanation like the report filed in 1992 of a
a bright cigar-shaped object seen flying silently over central London at night. It was later identified "almost certainly" as an illuminated airship advertising the Ford Mondeo car.

There is no information as to whether or not the woman and her pet had visited the local pub for a few pints prior to the encounter, which could be an explanation for the blond Scandinavian connection. I mean, why would the alien choose a Scandinavian accent given that he/she was in England? Maybe the alien miscalculated the coordinates of the landing and ended up in England instead of Scandinavia. Perhaps - just perhaps - there was another landing in Scandinavia with the alien having a British accent! It's a good an explanation as any. One can only speculate.

"The vast majority of reports are ordinary things seen in extraordinary situations," says UFO expert, Dr. David Clarke.

The files, which can be downloaded from the National Archives website, are being released as part of a three-year project.

There's a hand-drawn picture for those interested in a "crescent-shaped moon object, shaped like a banana. Maybe blue in colour. Arm and leg shapes hanging from lower end" taken from a 1989 report here:
http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/uk_news/7954001.stm

Too bad Muldaur and Scully aren't around to solve the mystery.

God responds to phone messages left on His voice mail

Whereupon, artist, Johan Van der Dong, has provided a hotline, whereby people can connect to/with God via phone, and G-d returns His voice mail.


Hello, Hans? This is G-d returning your phone call."

"Who?"

"G-d? The Big Guy? The All Powerful and Mighty?"

"Ohhhhhhh...yeah. Sorry. I didn't recognize your voice for a minute. You're such a jerk! I mean - c'mon!"

"Pardon? Perhaps you're thinking of someone else? My personna has always been a source of speculation and strife - the two big "S's" - among religions."

"Stop fooling around, Phil. I know it's you!"

"Listen - I have a lot of return phone calls to make. Gazillions, even...all over the planet, earth. Then I have to look in on the wars and the dying people... So what can I do for you?"

"Yeah -surrrrre. Okay. Let's see... Today is Wednesday and you're working at Mario's, right? I'll take one all-dressed pizza and one vegetarian. This time make sure it's hot or no tip for you!"

"Seriously, I'm not Philip. I'm really...G-d!"

"You always did have a big ego, Phil! Now you're calling yourself G-d? You're pushing your luck, Phil!"

"Why do I bother? So many calls to make and so little time and somebody wants a pizza delivery."

"So...like...don't you want my new address? I moved last week!"

"Trust me - I know. Now if there's nothing else..."

"Now that you mention it, there is one more thing. Can you send along an order of onion rings?"

"Hello God? Guess who?"

Given the busy schedules of people these days, finding time to connect to a "Higher Power" isn't always possible. However a dutch artist, Johan Van der Dong, appears to have taken this into account and has provided a hotline, whereby people can connect to/with God via phone.

The purpose of God's Hotline as it has become known is to focus attention on the means in which Dutch people perceive religion. To this end the artist selected a mobile phone number to underline that God was available anywhere and anytime.

Actually, it's part of Van der Dong's art installation in the town of Groningen and anyone calling will receive the message:

"This is the voice of God, I am not able to speak to you at the moment, but please leave a message."

To date 1,000 messages have been recorded and the messages are confidential and not part of the art project.

"I'm not a pastor, I'm an artist and I won't listen to the messages. It's a secret between the Lord and the people who are calling."

Hmmmm... I wonder if and what the "real" Supreme Being feels about this concept. Mind you, you hav'ta give the artist credit for ingenuity and a means to attract attention to himself and his work. More interesting is what type of message God would leave on our answering machines.

"Hello John Smith. This is God responding to your message left on my answering machine, yesterday..."

The phone number for anyone interested in leaving a message is:

The telephone number is 06-4424-4901 for callers in the Netherlands and +316-4424-4901 for those from other countries.

I'm twitter-ing and I'm not a bird!

Can't exactly recall the reason behind my decision but the other day I decided to Twitter. It's especially puzzling since I'm also a Facebook-er or should that be Facebook-ee? Seems that Twitter is the place to be now according to the people in the know i.e. friends, cyber aquaintances, media types.

Comparatively-speaking, there is no distinguishable differences in my eyes other than Twitter is relegated to a one sentence statement: "What Are You Doing?" That's it! Nothing else! On the other hand Facebook asks the same question of members but recognized "friends" can join and allowing for comments. For example:

"Eleanor is feeling blechy today."

Sympathetic accepted "friends" could, if they felt like it, jump in with co-commiserations like, "hope you feel better soon!" or "tough!" and then a dialogue could be initiated until the subject is exhausted.

According to Twitter's raison d'etre, "Twitter asks one question, "What are you doing?" Answers must be under 140 characters in length and can be sent via mobile texting, instant message, or the web."

A word limitation of 140 characters is really asking a lot of a writer since we love to embrace words besides which, how could one properly express oneself in 140 characters? Then again there's the issue of how many people really want to know what anyone is doing at any given moment?

"I'm now loading the dishwasher," I could communicate to anyone who cares. Or "sitting in the dentist's office reading five year old magazines and waiting to have my yearly examination and my teeth cleaned." Wait a minute - is that more than 140 characters? See what I mean?

Somehow I now have John Mayer on my Twitter home page. Not that I'm objecting or anything because John is very easy on the eyes and I absolutely love his song, "Waiting On the World to Change." In addition I'm also subscribed to Wil Wheaton - remember him as Ensign Crusher on Star Trek: The Next Generation, which I still love btw - and George Stephanopoulos of ABC News. Still, it is curious how these three were selected for me.

Be that as it may, I'm listed somewhere in the Twitter directory if you happen to seek me out. However, darned if I can come up with anybody who would want to know what I'm doing within 140 characters and therefore have not approached or listed any friends.

Yet.

However, I'm atwitter if anyone asks.

Out of Viagra? Try rotten eggs instead

Keeping a dozen outdated and rotten eggs on hand in the refrigerator could come in handy during those special intimate occasions. According to researchers, the odor emitted by rotten eggs could be an alternative to Viagra. Seems that hydrogen sulphide prompts arousal in men with key nerve cells that release minute amounts of gas when a male becomes sexually aroused, causing blood vessels to relax and fill with blood. This is the process that sustains an erection.

University of Naples researcher, Professor Cirino is suggesting that it could be possible to develop drugs which will either deliver hydrogen sulphide or control hydrogen sulphide production.

"Of course, the hydrogen sulphide pathway represents a new therapeutic target for erectile dysfunction. These observations may lead to the development of therapeutic approaches in the treatment of erectile dysfunction."

The results, published in the journal Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences, are particularly significant since approximately one-third of men with erectile dysfunction do not respond to Viagra. It's believed that half of all men aged between 40 and 70 suffer from the problem at some stage.

Taking this to the extreme, if science and pharmaceutical companies do discover a way to bottle hydrogen sulphide in pill form, how could one distinguish whether males are passing gas or horny? Just wondering...

I say - cricket origins might not be British

Exciting news regarding a report with new academic research claiming that cricket isn't English (gasp!) but imported from northern Belgium.

The basis for this conclusion was a poem thought to have been penned in 1533, suggesting that its humble beginnings were in Flanders. The word attributed to one John Skelton, Flemish weavers are labelled "kings of crekettes" challenging the assumption that the sport evolved from English children's games, according to Paul Campbell of the Australian National University.

King of crekettes? Perhaps - just perhaps - the term didn't refer to cricket but - wait for it - croquettes, the food! I mean, the Belgians are known for their waffles. Somehow, maybe there was a cross or mixup...

Anywaaaaay...to get back to this surprising discovery... The first references to cricket turned up in England in the 1600's when fines were given out for people who opted to play cricket and missed church. A game played by a lot of Englishmen ended up in public schools and the universities of Oxford and Cambridge in the following century. Furthermore, the first cricket club was formed in Hambledon in the 1760s and the Marylebone Cricket Club (MCC) was founded in 1787.

So now we all know the British origin of cricket. However...

German academic Heiner Gillmeister and an Australian colleague, claim the discovery proves the quintessential English pastime is anything but English.

In an apparent reference to cricket in the 16th Century work, The Image of Ipocrisie, attributed to the English poet John Skelton, refers to Flemish weavers who settled in southern and eastern England described as "kings of crekettes."

Again? Perhaps these Flemish weavers enjoyed croquettes for lunch, but does that make the game Flemish?

The assumption is that the weavers brought the game to England and played it close to where they looked after their sheep, using shepherd's crooks as bats.

Or perhaps they used over-cooked croquettes as balls or something... Go know!

Research conducted by one Mr. Campell, was based on earlier investigations by German academic, Gillmeister, a linguist from the University of Bonn, who believes that cricket couldn't have originated in England.

"There is no way to relate the term to any existing English word," he told the BBC.
"I was brought up with Flemish children and I know the language well. I immediately thought of the Flemish phrase 'met de krik ketsen' which means to 'chase a ball with a curved stick'."
In response, cricket historian David Frith said, "It is hard to deny that this is a breakthrough. This discovery points to an addition to the great history of cricket. It's exciting we haven't yet written the final word on it."

I don't know if this news falls in the "exciting" category but it's thought-provoking. Cricket...croquettes...makes one think, yes?

Whoopee! The sounds of flatulence

I've frequently questioned some members of the scientific community in as far as their knack to acquire funding for - um - unusual experiments or studies. This one stinks - really!

An acoustics professor from the University of Salford is asking the public to rate the funniness of whoopee cushion sounds in order to advance human understanding of faux flatulence - and raise money for Comic Relief.

The professor, Trevor Cox, designed a website that features twenty whoopee cushion sounds. Each visitor hears six of these sounds, and is asked to grade them accord to the extent they make them laugh.

Okaaaaaay... Personally, I don't find flatulence amusing but then perhaps I'm in the minority.
I mean - c'mon - gimme a break! Like - who cares and more to the point, how much did the good professor receive for his study.

Here is the site the professor set up to listen to the sounds first-hand and if you feel so moved, vote: http://www.salford.ac.uk/news/details/831

Why anyone would be interested in studying this subject is also a good question.

Female commuter flips out after missing plane - all on YouTube

These days a person really has to be careful what one does in public. Given the common usage of cell phones that can double as TV cameras, even an innocent action for example, like scratching an itch in a private part of the body or cleaning one's nose in public can become fodder for the world to see.


Take the case of a woman at the HongKong airport who "lost it" after missing her plane, now a big hit on YouTube with a registered 465,000 hits.

The video begins with the female passenger heading for the airport departure gate and pushing a female security guard in a frazzled attempt to make her flight. Upon the realization that she won't, the female begins banging on the desk, collapses on the floor, writhing and moaning in a high-pitched voice.


The woman was travelling on a Cathay Pacific flight to San Francisco on February 4, a Cathay spokeswoman said. In the end she took a later flight to Los Angeles.


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xbVw7entkxg

Snow joke - grandfather trucks snow to grandkids

At this point in the winter, most people living in the snow belt I'm sure, would gladly help out and make personal donations to help this man.

An Indiana man filled his pickup truck with snow and drove more than 700 miles to metro Atlanta just so his grandchildren could make a snowman.

Randi Dyer of Lawrenceville, Georgia, said her father loaded up his Chevy long-bed pickup with the white stuff and made the nine-hour trip to surprise his two granddaughters. But it wasn’t just the kids who got a kick out of seeing snow.

“I’ve been complaining all winter about not having snow,” said Dyer. She said her daughters, Bradleigh and Rileigh Graham, spent all morning building a snowman.

“My neighbors have been stopping to take pictures and wondering how we got snow in our yard,” said Dyer.

Initially, Dyer said her father, who was headed to Florida on a business trip, thought about filling up a cooler with snow.

“But Dad decided to take the truck and fill it completely with snow,” said Dyer. “Still, there’s nothing better than Indiana snow,” she said.

As a Canadian, may I state for the record that our snow is quality stuff, which unfortunately is available five months of the year. Perhaps this would be an interesting alternative or at least an addition to clearing the snow: offering residents living in the south the opportunity to come fill their trucks or whatever with snow. Free!

No mention of which state(s) he passed through but it's amazing that the snow didn't melt along the way.

Overdue library book an arresting experience

There are books that capture our imagination, which we read and re-read over and over. On occasion a library book can be stored away and forgotten about. Perhaps - pure speculation here - this was the case with Iowa resident, Shelly Koontz, who was arrested on a fifth-degree theft charge because she allegedly failed to return a collection of essays focusing on the struggles of inner-city Long Beach, California high school students. The book, "The Freedom Writers Diary" has a retail value of $13.95.

You read it right: arrested as in legal proceedings against her.

The president of the Jesup library board, Tom McGlaughlin, expressed the view that pursuing criminal charges against a user for an overdue library book is unusual, but there were also unusual circumstances that were out of the ordinary.

"There is more to this issue than is coming to light at the present time," McGlaughlin said.

Seems that library staff phoned Koontz four times requesting the book be returned plus library officials sent her three letters and a certified letter that Koontz refused to accept. Furthermore, a police office actually visited her home in the fall and told Koontz daughter that the book had to be returned or pay the price of the book.

In Iowa, a fifth-degree theft charge, a misdemeanor offense, carries a maximum penalty of 30 days in jail and up to a $500 fine. In Des Moines, which has the largest library system in the state, an overdue library book carries a fine of 25 cents per day with a maximum of $6 in fines. After 30 days, the book is considered lost and the offending patron is billed for the cost the book, said Sally Wisdom, Des Moines Public Library deputy director.

In some cases, unpaid fines and missing book losses are turned over to a collection agency that specializes in recouping library losses, but Koontz's book would not have been turned over because it cost less than $25.

The missing/mislaid book would not have required the services of a collection agency given its cost of less than twenty-five dollars, yet she was arrested ? Makes a personal wonder and scratch one's head!

The Jesup library has a fine system, but it does not have a collection agency because "it's just not needed," McGlaughlin said. Statistics on monthly overdue books at the Jesup library were unavailable, but McGlaughlin, who has been on the library board for 11 years, could recall no instance where an arrest was made for an overdue book.

Meanwhile, Koontz is free upon posting a $250 bond.

Although Koontz is at least morally responsible for forgetting to return the library book, allowing legal proceedings against her is a bit much. It will be interesting to learn about the circumstances of the case.