All Entries in the "Reflections on Disorder" Category

Congress Sponsors Dodge Ball Team

(Bethesda MD) The United States Congress will dodge more than the issues this spring with the creation of the Capitol Idea, an amateur dodge ball team, which will compete against other government agencies in 2022. Citing popularity of the sport and the relative expense of fielding a team, the Senate and the House of Representatives will participate as one unit. 

A recent vote in the Senate, which unanimously approved a plan to pay the governing body minimum wage until the deficit is covered, will require that lawmakers travel to out-of-town games on the bus rather than in private jets.  

Most other competitive agencies will follow the prescribed One Man – One Eight-cylinder Pickup approach to transport, with the Central Intelligence team relying solely on mental telepathy to reach the playing fields. Homeland Security will not field a team since the entire contingent is out digging trenches around the White House.

“Dodging balls is better than dodging bullets,” said one Congressman, who has been opposed to war since ten minutes after voting for several invasions all the way back to 2003.   

“Hopefully we can get around to officially designating pesky policies after lunch,” he said.                                

– Carl LaFong

 

Tenure Records Gone

(Gunnison) Verification of faculty tenure at Western State University is pretty much anyone’s guess these days with the disclosure that the Tenure Tabernacle has been misplaced. Blamed on maintenance personnel, the loss could affect future teaching agreements, academic contracts and research grants.
“It was here just the other day,” said one rather pompous administrator who only gave her name as Doctor someone.

The arch, or tabernacle as it is called by the faithful, was moved once in July when the threat of forest fire was at its highest.

“Since we are a state institution we must adhere to state regulations when it comes to fire,” said the administration spokesman. “That means we have to keep at least two buckets of tepid water and a folding shovel below the steps at Taylor Hall.”

Tenure is the magic status that allows faculty members to do whatever they want without having to answer to the people who write the checks. Some students have attained a kind of tenure at WSC by taking six or seven years to complete a four-year curriculum.

A strip search, planned for on-campus dorms was canceled Friday after threats from the Civil Liabilities Union. Legend has it that the tenure records were engraved on two sets of stoned tablets believed to be sent down from W Mountain (www.mountain.com) after one football coach or the other led the Department of Kinesiology out of slavery at Adams State College, splitting Blue Mesa in two to make good an escape) long before you were born.

A popular film, entitled The Ten Regents loosely chronicles the event. It stars Charlatan Festoon and will be presented during NRA Week on campus in April.

A reward in the form of tuition credits is offered for the return of the sacred chest.

– Jack Spratt

BIRD DROPPINGS – LOOK OUT BELOW!

Isn’t Life Grand

With Rufus Maxwell

With all those birds up in the sky it’s really surprising how seldom a human pedestrian gets nailed on the head or the shoulders with pasty, white bird poop. The gravity-based, new math on the subject clearly dictates that a serious number of direct hits would ultimately occur non-stop, all-day, especially at (bird) feeding times. Remaining residue common to initial research clearly indicates that a raindrop effect would emerge, wherein the moist barrage would be persistent, direct and almost continual.

The simple equation would then have to be: More birds up there = more poop down here. Now, ask three of your friends, “When was the last time you were hit by bird droppings? I’ll bet none of them can remember even one such incident. How can this be?

It only stands to reason that if x amount of poop is dropped from x amount of bird asses then x amount of the said white stuff would land on the ground. Birds can let go while in the air or in a tree but are said to prefer a quiet, restful place.

Are the birds aware that there are innocent people down below? They always seem so self-absorbed, fluttering their feathers, squawking, pecking at knits and parasites. Is it difficult to aim and execute while steering? Maybe they are elitists. Maybe they just don’t give a damn. 

Are the inevitable drops some sort of a message? Are there common elements at play in these attacks? Do they exhibit anti-social tendencies? Are there indications of coordinated planning? Just how deep does this doo-doo go?

Nobody knows how many birds are flying above his head at a given locale or specific time of the day. It does not help to look up. Likewise it is impossible to count all of the birds in the trees, on the roofs of houses & barns, eclectic wires, bridges, fences, sunny lofts, shady perches, hanging feeders, neon signs and upstairs patios. Even if one succeeded in counting all of these birds he could still find a sticky sample his hat or a little white surprise on his shoulder.

 Moreover, when one considers that birds spend the whole day eating seeds, insects, buds, leaves and twigs he must face the fact that the waste matter remaining must go somewhere. It is expelled and lands where it lands. The math alone would dictate more direct hits, which could lead to tasteless jokes and betting schemes similar to turkey bingo.

“We should learn from this research,” said one professor of body chemistry at WSCU, “and never go outside.”

Other more progressive voices call for calm and say that the eco-system is working for now.

“What’s the big deal?” said the source. “On an average day we probably step in a whole lot more than a little bird crap. Most birds are small but viewing a large hawk or eagle does give one a different perspective.” 

– Fred Zeppelin

Isn’t life Grand is an op-ed where witless, stupid fears and opinions replace vindictive, witless, stupid, cartoon news broadcasts.

Heavy Hiker Survives Month in Woods

(Ouray) When Maxwell Belino went into the San Juans for a short hike in May he weighed in at just over 280 pounds. Today he’s slimmed down by almost one hundred pounds, shed during his curious excursion. Armed with only fishing gear and a cheap tent Belino somehow managed to survive for almost 30 days in the bush, successfully enduring late season snows, freezing nighttime temperatures and grumpy black bears waking from their hibernation.

According to rescue team sources the ragged Belino will recover in short order and although he has suffered from dehydration is in pretty good shape. Family members expressed relief at his deliverance.

“For a flatlander the guy showed a lot of common sense,” said one rescuer. “He learned to live off the land and never panicked even when the crows ate his tent and he ran out of salmon eggs.”

Belino lived on a diet of tree bark and salmon eggs for the first two weeks and then, craving protein he fashioned primitive weapons with which to hunt for prey. Perhaps the happiest day of that otherwise dark period came when he knocked two crows out of the sky with one rock from his sling-shot. 

“We don’t call them (salmon eggs) Rocky Mountain caviar for nothing,” said an attending physician praising the nutritional value of fish products. “Along with the eggs our patient made soup from bark, salads from leaves and munched on unsuspecting insects. Oddly enough he seems to have leaned on all the food groups. The fat free diet afforded him the opportunity to drop down to a more manageable weight class.”

According to family members Belino’s biggest problem was the lack of reading material to help him through the long nights up high. The sun was relentless during the day and the winds picked up at night making adequate shelter a main concern.

“I wandered around during the daylight hours looking for a sign, a path, some sense of my past life,” said Belino. “Often I got lost again and could not always be sure I’d find another cave or rock outcropping in which to sleep. Suddenly I realized I had been going in circles and that, most likely, after two weeks, the search had been called off. That’s when I chose life over death and began making it a priority to find comfort in the wilds.”

Then on May 12 Belino managed to signal a hang glider who called police and the now skinny hiker was plucked from the forest. At the time of the rescue, he was only 2 miles from Highway 550 in the vicinity of Corkscrew Pass.

“If I’d only kept walking I might have been able to flag down a trucker or snowplow,” he said, “but I was all turned around. I knew east from west all right but I couldn’t determine exactly where I was at a given time so I just kept walking.”

Already his Alpine Diet has received rave reviews and at least three major publishers have made lucrative offers for Belino’s story. In addition, the local media has pegged him a bonafide hero. He plans to write a combination mountaineering/cookbook as well as produce a series of maps highlighting his trek.

“It’s a sad state of affairs when stupidity of this type is so heavily rewarded,” said one officer on the scene. “If he would have stayed home watching TV like a normal person none of this would have happened.”    

– Uncle Pahgre  

How Willie Mays Learned to Handle Pitchers

Early in his career while playing for the Black Barons in Birmingham, Willie Mays hit a home run off Chet Brewer. The next time up the veteran pitcher drilled him in the arm with a fastball. No ball had ever hit him so hard. Mays crumpled to the ground and began to cry.

When he looked up Barons’ player-coach Piper Davis was glowering over him and kicked him.

“Skip, they’re throwing at me, Mays said.

“Boy, you see first base?” said Davis

“Yes, sir.”

“Point to it.”

“It’s right down there,” said Mays, motioning down the line.

“Then get up and go down there, and the first chance you get you steal second, then third.”

Davis then turned and walked back to the dugout and Mays trotted down to first.

He stole second and then third and scored on a fly ball.

Back in the dugout, Davis said, “That’s how you handle a pitcher.”

From Willie Mays, The life and Legend by James S Hirsch

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