Iranians May Have Withheld Information about Nuclear Activities

I like to keep up on world events so, when I picked up the paper the other day, I was amazed to read this headline, “Iranians May Have Withheld Information about Nuclear Activities.”  You can imagine the shock I felt!  How can those darn Iranians be so rude?  Especially after the Taliban was so forthcoming about flying planes into the twin towers?  What I want to know is this, when did America become so naive as to think everybody in the world is going to tell us everything we want to know in advance? 

I realize America seems to think we have cornered the market on good sportsmanship and fair play.  We never cheat…except for occasional sports doping, water boarding and regime toppling.  Otherwise we are model global citizens.  Seriously, why do we think leaders of adversary nations would even consider being forthright with us?  What would history be like if we did that?

“Hello, Adolph?  Dwight Eisenhower here.  Yeah, it’s been awhile.  Say I just wanted to give you a quick update on a little something we’ve been putting together over here, Operation Overlord…O-ver-lord.  Let’s just call it D-Day.  Look, we’ve noticed you have been massing a large force at Pas de Calais on the French Coast.  You’re way off.  No, not even close.  We will be landing a massive invasion force in Normandy…Nor-man-dy.  Yes, I know we’ve been bombing Pas de Calais pretty hard, we were just messing with you.  Now write this down.  June 6 we will begin an all-out assault on Normandy.  No, I’m serious.  And those first 1,000 paratroopers you will see landing behind your lines, ignore them.  They’re rubber dummies.  No, seriously, they’re dummies.  And get this, they are rigged with firecrackers so your troops will think they are being shot at.  Yeah, that’s a good one all right.  Anyway, be ready because we are sending about 5,000 ships over the morning of June 6.  No, not 500, 5,000.  And we are going to land about 340,000 troops that morning.  So, did you get all of that?  Because we would really hate to make you mad by arriving unannounced.”

That is absurd you say.  Well, it could have happened, especially after the courtesy call we received in December of 1941.  “Is this Mr. Roosevelt?  General Yamamoto here.  Look, I just wanted to let you know we have a large group of folks headed your way.”

Grow up, America.  We are in a WAR on terrorism.  This is not a game and we can’t expect the other guys to play fair.  Do the homework, interrogate the suspects, look closely at the satellite imagery.  But don’t sit by the phone and wait for Mahmoud Ahmadinejad to call the White House.  “George, Mahmoud here.  Hey, about those nukes…”

Animal Emotions

I don’t know what the world in general thinks about how animals think.  I do know they are a lot smarter than we give them credit for, and some are smarter than many of the people I know.  Many people think dogs are smarter than cats because they come when they are called.  I happen to think cats are the smart ones because they can do exactly what they want, knowing full well they are going to get fed anyway.

I have a cat, Lindy, who will come when she is called and she will even play fetch, up to a point.  You have to use the right object for the game which, in her case, is a plastic wrapped “star” peppermint.  Hold it by one end of the wrapper and give it a shake and she comes running.  The fun starts when you throw it because she will vault over things that a dog merely goes around.  Then she comes trotting back and proudly drops the peppermint right at your feet.

I wish she could teach that to my dog, Lucy.  Oh, my dog LOVES to fetch, in fact I think she lives to fetch.  She is a lab/coon hound mix which makes her, well, a mutt.  Her toy of choice is a tennis ball, which I buy by the dozen because she has not yet learned the difference between a tennis ball and food.  Apparently she must think it is possibly the toughest piece of meat she has ever encountered.  Her favorite thing is to catch a thrown ball on the first bounce.  But, as she brings it back, she will come close enough to make you think she is bringing it back, only to veer off and trot around thinking, “Okay, now it’s YOUR turn to fetch.”  So I ignore her which will eventually draw her into grabbing distance.  Ignore her a little more and she will actually touch it to my hand.  But if I try to grab it she is off again.  “Drop it!” I yell.  “Ha, ha,” she thinks.  It seems like possessiveness is an emotional quality of my dog.  I have also seen her exhibit joy and shame.  Do animals possess even higher emotions like self-sacrifice?

I think they do.  And I witnessed a most vivid example of just that many years ago when my wife and I were first married and living in a single-wide in Tallahassee, FL.  I was a hippie living like a redneck in this trailer on the outskirts of town where we had enough land to let the animals run loose in the neighborhood.  I had a huge lab at the time, an 85-pounder named d’Artagnan, that ruled over the other dogs of the neighborhood.  We also had a big orange male tabby cat named Thumper.  Just as d’Artagnan ruled outside, Thumper ruled inside.  So he was one indignant tomcat when my wife brought home a little female we named Kitty.  My wife bringing new pets into the house is a trend that would persist over the next 33 years of marriage.  I have learned to just let it be, as long as she cleans the litter box.  Anyway, Thumper was really put out at having this newcomer in his lair, and he would have absolutely nothing to do with her.

Until one day when Kitty got outside.  Not because a door was left open, she just walked out the kitchen window with no screen onto the porch railing and out into the yard (did I mention we were living like rednecks).  In a matter of seconds the frail little kitten was surrounded by d’Artagnan and his entourage barking up a storm while Thumper sat on the porch rail and watched (he, too, knew how to get out through the window).  But as the situation escalated, Thumper jumped from the rail to the ground between Kitty and the dogs, promptly darting out into the yard with the doggie entourage giving chase.  It was during this time that Kitty made her way back inside to safety.  After a lively game of “chase the cat,” Thumper finally made his way back in through the window and laid down.  Not long after that we found Kitty curled up with him, nursing on his stomach, and they were the best of friends thereafter.

I have seen some pretty intelligent behavior on the part of animals before and since.  But I may never see another example like this one, of an animal putting itself in harm’s way for the benefit of another.  I only hope that, faced with a similar situation, I would act with as much valor.

Haunted Houses

I go to a fair amount of movies, and I watch a lot of them on TV. Over the years I have seen my share of scary movies about haunted houses and such. I almost never watch slasher movies because I don’t find myself particularly entertained by seeing someone brutally murdered; that’s just me. My wife, on the other hand, can watch the most gruesome depiction of bloodletting and just laugh out loud, which can be really irritating in a crowded movie theater. “That’s a really good effect,” she says while I hide my head underneath my jacket.

I am not especially fond of being scared. And I think most people, at their core, are the same way. Why is it, when you watch “America’s Funniest Home Videos” and you see someone get scared, they always jump up and down like they’re going to wet themselves yelling, “Don’t ever do that again!” But the same people will go to a theater and experience the most horrible thing imaginable: $13.50 for a bucket of popcorn and two Cokes. Then they go into the movie and get scared all over again.

People in haunted houses perplex me. Whether they buy a haunted house, stay overnight in one on a dare, or find themselves trapped in one having to endure endless Amway presentations, they all have one thing in common. They stay there! Now I have not had much experience with hauntings, but I think I know how I would react…I would get out! I may be wrong, but cats barking like dogs, portraits bleeding from the eyes, and objects flying off the table and hitting me in the head are not features I look for in a home. But the idiots in the movie call Professor Bloomingdale from the university and have him come out and assess the situation. Only when the good professor emerges from a closet with a butcher knife stuck in his gizzard will the poor wife grab her husband and say, “I’m a little concerned about our house, Bob.”

It usually ends up that the house was built on the site of an ancient Indian burial ground. Doesn’t the zoning commission look into these things?
    “Mr. Jones, I see you want to build a 450 home development on the site of an old Cherokee burial ground.”
    “That’s true, but we dug up as many of the remains as we could find and tossed them into the dumpster behind the Wal-Mart.”
    “Approved. Next order of business.”

Of course, in their haste to begin Phase 1 they missed the remains of the Cherokee medicine man, Sticks Gizzard With Knife, and he is now on a rampage. After a couple of months of doing battle with the spirit of Sticks Gizzard and losing the dog, three university personnel and a mother-in-law (there is always an upside), the spirit finally joins his tribe in the dumpster, which was consecrated with an official state historical landmark sign, and the house burns down. Now is the logical time for the family to move to a new neighborhood or Alaska. But no, they rebuild on the site and, in the process, discover the remains of an Indian princess with a knife where her gizzard used to be. Get out!

Midnight Bus to Iguacu

Author’s note: This was originally written on the very bus which is the subject.  I was with a group of Baptist volunteer missionaries in Southern Brazil.  Our host missionary booked us on a bus leaving Caxias do Sul at 7:00 pm which would arrive in Iguacu at 11:00 am the next morning.  My friend and translator, Jose’ Isidoro, upon seeing we were about to board a bus, said to me, “Why is John sending us to Iguacu on this bus?  I have friends who made this trip and were robbed.”  Apparently many southern Brazilians travel to Paraguay with large amount of cash to buy electronics, which are about half price there.  Banditos, knowing this, will cut down trees which fall across the roadway stopping traffic, then they emerge from the forest with sub-machine guns and rob the passengers.  This is just what I wanted to hear as the driver yelled, “All aboard.”  I rode and bounced and cramped from 7 pm to 3 am, when bored to death and unable to sleep, I wrote the following.  Enjoy!

Midnight Bus to Iguacu

A bullet hole was in the windshield of the mighty bus
Then came the tale of armed banditos frightening all of us
I said, “You’re joking!” but my friend insisted it was true
And thus began our fateful trip to Foz do Iguacu.

Rolling through the darkness, there’s nothing else to do
But grab a pen and maybe then record a thought or two
Cramping thighs and bloodshot eyes are what’s in store for you
Riding on the midnight bus to Foz do Igucu.

What’s that I see, why, could it be a playground or a park?
It’s hard to tell at 3 AM when all you see is dark.
I feel a little better as I see the moonlight glow
Until I hear the driver say there’s eight more hours to go.

“Maravilha” said the driver as we stopped once more
Getting up to stretch my legs I headed for the door
I went into a little bathroom thinking it was free
Until a man behind a desk said, “Thirty cents to pee.”

On and on into the dark the mighty carriage rolls
Delivering its cargo of exhausted Christian souls
Before too long will be the dawn and then those skies of blue
But still there is no thrill, just six more hours to Iguacu.

Sixteen hours of tribulation, backache and despair
Could that be the falls I see? Thank God we’re finally there!
Stepping off that bus I am so glad this trip is through;
And next time I will fly to see the Foz do Iguacu.

Phone Solicitors

I try to keep up the appearance of a mild-mannered, easy-going guy.  You might think that someone like me, whose toughest daily assignment is to write and occasionally perform comedy, would be a real happy-go-lucky kind of person.  I mean, how upset can I get when I sleep late, work from my home in my boxers and have my entire pantry at my disposal all day long?  But there are evils lurking within the apparent paradise of my home-based business that threaten my sense of well-being.  I am talking about phone solicitors.

I get calls all day long!  I try to weed them out from actual business calls or the occasional social call which is usually for my wife.  For someone that meets thousands of people and makes them laugh, I have surprisingly few friends.  This is not to say I don’t know a lot of people, I do.  I just don’t know them well.  I meet people one time at a party or business event and their face is indelibly etched into my memory for life.  But the name attached to that face is often gone by the time I release the handshake.  I just meet too many people to remember names, so I have pretty much given up trying.  But, since I am probably the only magician they will ever personally meet, they all remember me although they seem to have the same problem with name retention that I do.  “Hey, aren’t you the magician?”  Or, “Hey, aren’t you the raccoon guy?”  Or, “Hey, don’t you owe me money?”  When my daughter was younger and would still go places with me, I would be stopped several times a day by someone who remembered me from somewhere.  “Hey, funny guy.  You remember me?”  I looked closely and said, “The face is familiar, but…”  “Shoot, I’m Booger.  You got me up and threw the handkerchief over my head at Cooter Brown’s party in Pearl River back in ‘87.”  And the sad thing is, I DO remember him.  Of course, he is the only Booger I have ever personally met.

Oh yeah, phone solicitors.  So I get these calls that, for the first ten seconds, are just dead air while I am saying, “Hello…hello…buenos dias.”  Finally a voice comes on to say, “Please stay on the line for an important message.”  Excuse me but, if the message is all that important, why doesn’t a real person initiate a conversation from the beginning?  And what is the deal with AT&T?  I am not kidding when I say I get a call from AT&T every five days wanting to upgrade my DSL.  To start with, I pay WAY too much for DSL already.  In order to get a Yellow Page listing, I have to have a business line which costs about three times what it costs for a home line.  Then I have to pay for the Yellow Page ad on top of that.  Then, if I want DSL, it costs three times what it costs a private citizen because I am a business and am already paying three times too much for phone service.  Now excuse me but, if I were to count up the time I spend on-line and compare it to Mary Housewife who is downloading recipes, uploading pictures of the kids and playing blackjack at night, I should be the one getting the discount. 

“This is Jason from AT&T, please stay on the line for an important message about your DSL package.”  This time I DO stay on the line because I have just written a blog about the subject and I am losing my mild-mannered-ness.  (Real voice)  “This is Jason from AT&T.  I am happy to inform you that, if you sign up today to upgrade to our 6 mg service, you will receive free DSL.”  “Free?”  I ask.  “Yes,” Jason responds.  “For three months you will not be charged for our superior DSL service.”  “Three months, hmmmm.  How much is it after three months?”  I ask.  “After the third month you will receive our 6 mg service for the low price of $89.95 per month.”  “But Jason, if I’m paying $89.95/month, then IT’S NOT FREE, YOU MORON!” 

Even more aggravating is when I initiate the call and get a voice-mail type response system.  This actually happened about three months ago when I called Time-Life to order a wonderful looking DVD package on the Viet Nam War.  All I wanted to do is order the DVD, give them my credit card number and return to the show I was watching at the time their ad came on.  But this is what I got:

• AUTO SYSTEM: Thank you for calling Time-Life to order our DVD entitled “Viet Nam: An American History.”  Please enter you credit card information now.
• ME: enter number
• AUTO SYSTEM: Because you have ordered “Viet Nam: An American History”, you also qualify to receive our DVD, “World War II: An American Legacy.”  Please press 1 to order, or press 2 to decline.
• ME:  press 2
• AUTO SYSTEM: Are you sure?  This offer will not be repeated.  Please press 1 to order, or press 2 to decline.
• ME: press 2
• AUTO SYSTEM: Okay.  You have declined our DVD, “World War II: An American Legacy.”  Maybe you would prefer our DVD, “The Civil War: America Divided.”  Press 1 to order, or press 2 to decline.
• ME: press 2
• AUTO SYSTEM: Are you sure?  This offer will not be repeated.  Press 1 to order, or press 2 to decline.
• ME: press 2
• AUTO SYSTEM: Okay.  You have declined our DVD, “The Civil War: America Divided.”  Maybe you would prefer our series of hard-bound books entitled, “An American Photo History.”  Press 1 to order, or press 2 to decline.
• ME: press 2
• AUTO SYSTEM: Are you sure?  This offer will not be repeated.  Please press 1 to order, or press 2 to decine.
• ME: press 2
• AUTO SYSTEM: Okay.  You have declined our series of hard-bound books entitled, “An American Photo History.”  Maybe you would prefer…”

I am not kidding, this went on for close to 10 minutes and, because I was on the line with an automated system, it was virtually impossible to get off the line since they never offered a “Press 3 to complete my order and leave me alone.”  Anyway, I hope you found today’s essay entertaining.  To read more of my essays, press 1 now, or just stay on the line and Jason will tell you how you can receive free DSL.