Monday, November 30, 2009

A little about me.

First I should tell you that I am de-emphasizing some things about my past that I am embarrassed about or is subject to a non-disclosure agreement.

I was born in the Isle of Lipari where my parents were moderately successful cuttlefish merchants. (It's true, even cuttlefish ink is used in Italian cooking). I lived my first ten years in modest luxury. The only real childhood drama that I had was a nasty series of ear infections and a undeveloped sense of morality that was caused by a lack of vitamin K.

Fleeing the revolution, my parents took me to Brazil where they had just purchased a Jatoba plantation. It was there that I learned to love books, engineering, and thrift. Unfortunately the family plantation was seized by the city council to make way for a new favela that was being planned.

To the USA, I was 16 and almost fluent in two languages. We landed in Miami and made our way to Estero Bay where our last family home was purchased. I do not know all of the details but there were an awful lot of Canadians in and out of the guest bedrooms. Just under a year later, a week before my 17th birthday, a black short bus pulled up and left with my parents. I still miss poor P&M. At the time of the abduction I was in the boathouse...um...reading. Yes, Reading, That is what I was doing.

17 years old and on my own. I had little else than the clothes on my back, the change in my pockets, and $37k in the bank. I had recently seen The Goonies and therefor felt a powerful pull to the west coast. I came to Oregon to start a new life with a new name.

I arrived in Portland and found work as a lumberjack before I even left the airplane. The stewardess had passed out applications an hour before we landed.
I loved my new job, driving to majestic old-growth rain forests that had been unchanged for a thousand years. then cutting them down. Many an evening were spent drinking micro-brews and roasting owls over an open fire. That is how I met my wife, my soul mate.

In the all the years since, I've considered myself very lucky to have the warm companionship and love of my pet rabbit, Mr. Clankers.

Sunday, November 29, 2009

Now you've done it.

The setup:
You are a poor sharecropper from Mississippi with 8 children. The rent is due, the kids need dental work, your wife (or significant otter) needs more 80 proof medicine, and you are out of sour cream and weetabix.

Today you though that you'd make a nice toast and drown your sorrows in butter and strawberry jam. How could you possibly be prepared to have your yummy dreams cruelly torn from you by Jesus appearing on your delicious snack.


The reaction:
After the media, talk radio, and the very reverend C.D. Plunkitt leave you receive a phone call. It is leadshackcasino.com offering $1.37 million for your toast. You of course jump at the offer thinking that you buy a swimming pool and fill it with sour cream and weetabix.
A McMansion is promptly helicoptered in.

The aftermath:
You wake up with the Angel Gabriel standing at the foot of your bed with a pair of pliers and a blow torch. As he goes to work on you he patiently explains that Jesus was sent to your toast to deliver a message of your higher purpose uniting all peoples and religions. Over your screams he expresses sorrow that you would sell your divine foodstuff to buy the American dream as seen on TV. His words: "Son, I am disappoint."

Epilogue:
In your haste to get on MTV's "Cribs", you did not get medical insurance. Now you are in the red for $600k and have a permanent limp.

Congratulations.

Saturday, November 28, 2009

Behold Raccoons, ye mortals, and despair!



There are a few things that you should know about raccoons. They have an image of being funny and friendly in a scary sort of way. This is exactly what they want you to think.

The most important thing to keep in mind is to never !!NEVER!! enter into a contractual agreement with this animal. If you think that herpes is hard to get rid of, you should try seperating yourself from woodland litigation.



The second thing that you should know about raccoons is that they do not, in fact, lust for your soul. That is the territory of the swan. The raccoon lusts for your action figures and your cow knickknacks. These are both used in horrific rituals that you are better off not knowing about.


Last, and most importantly, If you find yourself cornered by raccoons (at a country and western bar perhaps), your best defense is to keep calm and let them kill you gently. If you panic, you'll just die tired. Who wants to enter Valhalla all worn out?