Pancake City

Have you read the damage predictions from the National Weather Service for Hurricane Katrina? It reads like a prophecy out of the Bible.

AIRBORNE DEBRIS WILL BE WIDESPREAD…AND MAY INCLUDE HEAVY ITEMS SUCHAS HOUSEHOLD APPLIANCES AND EVEN LIGHT VEHICLES. SPORT UTILITYVEHICLES AND LIGHT TRUCKS WILL BE MOVED. THE BLOWN DEBRIS WILL CREATEADDITIONAL DESTRUCTION. PERSONS…PETS…AND LIVESTOCK EXPOSED TO THEWINDS WILL FACE CERTAIN DEATH IF STRUCK.

POWER OUTAGES WILL LAST FOR WEEKS…AS MOST POWER POLES WILL BE DOWNAND TRANSFORMERS DESTROYED. WATER SHORTAGES WILL MAKE HUMAN SUFFERINGINCREDIBLE BY MODERN STANDARDS.

THE VAST MAJORITY OF NATIVE TREES WILL BE SNAPPED OR UPROOTED. ONLYTHE HEARTIEST WILL REMAIN STANDING…BUT BE TOTALLY DEFOLIATED. FEWCROPS WILL REMAIN. LIVESTOCK LEFT EXPOSED TO THE WINDS WILL BEKILLED.

It’s hard for me to grasp that, a day from now, New Orleans may no longer exist. The loss of a city is something that happens in other countries, other times. It is a story line for a science fiction movie, not reality. And perhaps that’s part of the reason the city’s storm levees were never heightened, in spite of experts’ predictions that this event would one day occur. What other things are we not preparing for, in both our own lives and as a civilization, because the events seem too horrible to happen?

While I was walking a dog, a stranger walked towards me and bellowed, “Hey, buddy! How’s it going?”

I whispered to Samson, the dog, “Start growling“ as I sized him up. His shirt was tucked into his pants, so I put him on for only 5% homeless. Low probability also for asking for directions: 15%. When most people ask for directions, they put the greeting and request in the same sentence. If they’re lost, they’re also late and don’t have time for chit-chat.

Although he may have been a crazy person as he looked like he was wearing mascara, my gut told me he was selling something. But what? Religion? Magazines? Political cause? The overly-friendly greeting was plausible for all three possibilities, but I needed more information to determine whether he was scary happy (religion), desperate happy (magazines), or fake happy (political cause).

He said something, but I didn’t hear him because I was trying to figure out what type of weirdo he was. Samson, who I trained to have a healthy suspicion of people not carrying treats, began barking. He halted his approach and laughed.

“I like dogs, but he doesn’t look too friendly today.“

“That’s right,“ I said, as I stared him down. I thought about asking if he had a napkin to wipe the upcoming foam from Samson’s mouth, but felt I didn’t need to go there yet.

“We finally got a break from this heat, huh?“ he said.

I reviewed my response for possible openings to other avenues of conversation before uttering it: “Yup.“ I felt a twang of guilt for being unfriendly, but if potential crazy man thought I was going to show any weakness, he could remove the “potential” from his name.

We had a minute of uncomfortable chit-chat when I had was passes for an epiphany nowadays: “Hey, this guy is the bare-bones friendly!“ I let my guard down and thought of ways to engage him in conversation. “Do you live around here? Do you have any pets? Do you…“

“Well, see ya later buddy!“

What? Talk about being hasty. He only gave me a minute to figure out it was safe to interact with. Perhaps that’s an eternity in a place like Alabama, but in the crime-ridden streets of Northern Virginia, that’s barely enough time to take your hand off your pistol.

If you’re waiting for a pithy conclusion that sums up a revelation about life or myself that this experience taught me, you’ll have to go somewhere else. And that somewhere else is right after this sentence. What I learned from my interaction from fake crazy man is…

I’m not serious, of course. I haven’t learned anything from life yet, and I’m not going to ruin the streak now.

I got 10 responses so far, all of them of the type “I’m not a psychiatrist/obsessive-compulsive, but I am a clean person who is very interested in renting the place.” Evidentally, the rent was too low for outrage.

The only mildly humorous response was this one:

“I don’t quite suffer from obsessive complusive order but that is a plus for you. As a land lord if anything goes wrong obsessive complusives will call you all the time, trust me I lived with one.”

Update 2:
I took the ad down. I was feeling guilty from the deluge of serious responses. I need more experience writing fake housing ads–I must have underpriced the rent by several hundred dollars. I have an idea for another fake ad, which I’ll post in a few days, that will much more obviously be a joke.

(original link here; loosely inspired by my Mom’s experiences with renting.)

I have a one-story brick rambler with a large yard in Rockville, MD that is renting for $1,250, a great price for the area. The problem is, the past three tenants have been extremely messy and have not taken good care of the house, causing me thousands of dollars in repairs.

Are there any psychiatrists out there that have an obsessive-compulsive patient that is looking to rent in Rockville? The house has two baths, four bedrooms, W/D, AC, cable-ready, and is a five-minute walk to the Rockville Metro station. Your client can live in comfort and privacy and satisfy his need to clean at the same time. I am happy to provide cleaning supplies, as well as replace any doorknobs or hinges worn from excessive use.

I will give any licensed professional who makes a successful recommendation a $250 finder fee. I request that you only recommend clients who won’t fully recover for at least 12 months. If you think your client will recover sooner, 9 months for example, maybe we can talk about ways to get the same results without pushing too hard on the gas pedal.

If you could mention this offer at your next visit with your client, I will greatly appreciate it. In a time where celebrities are attacking psychiatry (e.g. Tom Cruise), I think it’s important for psychiatrists to show that they are willing to go the extra mile for others.

–Sandy

A few days ago, Iran announced that it will never again suspend its uranium conversion projects at its nuclear power plants. Uranium conversion is the step before enrichment, the process that produces material that can be used for both reactor fuel or an atomic bomb.

President Bush responded that, if diplomacy fails, “all options are on the table.” He then said: “The use of force is the last option for any president. You know, we’ve used force in the recent past to secure our country.“

Screw realism, neo-conservatism, isolationism, idealism, or any other of the various foreign policy philosophies that have fallen in and out of favor over the course of America’s history. Apparently, our entire foreign policy is based on the notion that we are a bunch of crazy mother-fuckers. Or as the textbooks call it, crazy mother-fuckerism.

Iraq’s constitution is due in two days. The country’s political factions are rushing to finish it in by the deadline. I don’t know what’s going to be in the constitution, but I’m pretty sure it’s going to have two-inch margins and be double spaced.

The reviews are in!

After hovering at 3% on the Rotten Tomatoes’ “Tomato Meter”, Deuce Bigalow 2 has shot up to a whopping 11%. Go Deuce! The Duke Boys better be looking in their rear-view mirror, because Deuce Bigalow is coming up strong.

Let’s see what the reviewers say:

“It would be best appreciated by (a) children of blind, castrated, hearing-impaired Hollywood executives suffering from Tourette’s syndrome and arrested development, (b) comic actor-writers who look like Richard Simmons.”
– Jan Stuart, NEWSDAY

“Deuce Bigalow” is aggressively bad, as if it wants to cause suffering to the audience. The best thing about it is that it runs for only 75 minutes.”
– Roger Ebert, Chicago Sun-Times

“Vile and laughless.”
– Lou Lumenick, NEW YORK POST

“Deuce Bigalow should Bigadie.”
– Me!

“There is something to be said for the uncompromising idiocy of the film, but that something is unprintable.”
– Lisa Rose, NEWARK STAR-LEDGER

“Least imaginative of all — the TV-commercial director they hired to film it. Yeah, his name is Bigelow, Mike Bigelow. That must have been a real knee-slapper of a meeting.”
– Roger Moore, ORLANDO SENTINEL

“Why are you reading this review? Seriously, do you think this is the movie where Rob Schneider shows the world he’s the next Tom Hanks or Jack Nicholson?”
– Willie Waffle, WAFFLEMOVIES.COM

“Rob Schneider, stop hurting America.”
– Jon Stewart (okay, I made that one up)

The title of this news article should have been “Wimp Dies After 49 Hours of Computer Games”. Two straight days of playing computer games is nothing. Before I busted my hemorrhoid dough nut, I could play for a week straight. Napping is for load screens.

Sixty-two percent of dog owners have a “Wipe Your Paws” welcome mat. Sixty-two percent! Where’s the originality? If I owned a dog, two things would be certain.

One, I would get a toy dog, name it Precious, and carry it around on a velvet pillow just to piss people off.

Two, my welcome mat would read, “Wipe Your Damn Paws Already, You Stupid Mutt. I Wash You, Feed You, Pick Up Your Shit, and Give You a Treats Even When You Don’t Do Anything Special, Which Is Like All the Time. The Least You Could Do Is Wipe Your Stinky, Muddy Feet, For Christ’s Sake.”

It would probably be two welcome mats, depending on how small the printer could make the font. But that’s a minor detail.

You know you made a bad movie when even the photo caption writer is taking a dig at you.

Stuff on My Cat (Thanks, Amy)

Sony pays $1.5 million to settle a class-action lawsuit accusing the company of quoting a fake movie critic in its ads.

A good quote: “The lawsuit, originally filed by two California moviegoers, claimed the ads fooled the plaintiffs into seeing ‘A Knight’s Tale.’ “

JUDGE: “Prosecution, you may begin your opening statement.”
LAWYER: “Thank you, your honor. Ladies and gentelmen of the jury, my clients saw ‘A Knight’s Tale’. The prosecution rests.”

Several members of the jury gasp and faint.

JURY FOREMAN: “Get the noose!”

Will Sony continue to cite fake critics, or use the marginally-less deceptive practice of putting their own marketing copy in quotes to make it appear it came from the pen of a critic (”You gotta see this movie!”)? Only Deuce Bigalow, Male Gigolo II, will tell.

Every now and then, I marvel at what technology has brought us. Like being able to watch, live, an astronaut prepare for a spacewalk (NASA TV).

There’s often a “Frosty’s Heating and Cooling” van driving around my neighborhood. It’s the adult version of an ice-cream truck. If I owned the company, I’d change the name to “Frosty and Sunny’s Heating and Cooling” because there’s no way I’m taking heating advice from a guy named Frosty. Cooling, yes—Frosty knows his stuff about cooling. But heating? Ridiculous.

SHIVERING MOM: “Is it fixed?”
FROSTY: “All done.”
SHIVERING MOM: “But it’s still freezing in here.”
FROSTY: “Are you kidding? My carrot nose almost fell off, and I just left a clump of my ass in the kitchen. “