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...