What does the world cost? Oh well, then we'll just take a small coke.


Tuesday, January 09, 2007

Nation Mottos

Our writing contest invited readers to send in their own funny class notes for consideration and publication. In response, we got everything from the image enhancement to dry comedy. Dry comedy won. Below is the winning post from Randy Hawthorne:

France’s motto: At least we have good food

Germany’s motto: Hitler? I really don’t know what you are talking about

Canada’s motto: A home for those too liberal to live in the United States

California’s motto: We aren’t Canada, but at least we try

USA’s motto: Home of the Free, land of the Brave

Mexico’s motto: I think I see a hole in the fence

United Kingdom’s motto: There was a day when the sun never set on the British Empire

China’s motto: More is less

Japan’s motto: One step ahead the rest of the gaming world

North Korea’s motto: Let’s go nuclear!

Taiwan’s motto: We aren’t China

Iran’s motto: The US can burn

Israel’s motto: Please…don’t…hurt…me…

Alaska’s motto: Burn the caribou

Russia’s motto: We are still a threat!

Mexico’s motto: Mr. Bush, tear down that wall!

Italy’s motto: We can sure beat the US!...well…when it comes to soccer at least.

Cherokee Nation’s motto: Check out the welfare wagon!


Randy Hawthorn

Monday, January 08, 2007

Confessions of a Coke Addict

600 ounces of coke on the wall, 600 ounces of coke ...

I recently went to a forensic tournament at which I was not competing and decided to try pursuing nutrition the way I had always wanted - the way my various competitive and snotty partners had prevented me from treating myself in the past. This philosophy of nutrition can be summed up in a single word: Coke. What follows is the day-by-day log of the resulting experiment.

DAY ONE: LIFE IS GOOD

Fruit, 1 bowl
Mini Croissant, 2
Sugar-free Kiwi-Strawberry juice, 2 glasses
Coca-Cola Classic, 12 cans

Coke wakes me up and keeps me there. I feel energy all over. My steps are springy. I have a smile on my face and a twinkle in my eye. My hair flounces around jauntily. I am alert and competent. My tongue shows slight signs of swelling. I have no appetite. I must break often to use the restroom. I express myself well and grasp complex challenges easily. I must have another coke at least every one and a half hours or my brain will settle into a dull buzz. I lie awake in bed until three, pondering deep philisophical and moral questions.


DAY TWO: RED BULL FOR BREAKFAST

Fruit, 2 forkfuls
Mini Croissant, 1
Banana, 1
Sugar-free Kiwi-Strawberry juice, 1 glass
Red Bull, 1 Can
Coca-Cola Classic, 15 cans

A friend gave me a can of Red Bull late the first day. I drink it early on the second and wash it down with two cokes. I feel a warm, dry presence around myself, as if I have been rolled in salt. My tongue is badly swollen. I can no longer use my peripheral vision. It is difficult to begin moving after remaining still for several minutes. It is also difficult to remain still for several minutes. I go for three hours without coke; a racking headache ensues followed by nausea and gas. I knock back 2 more cans and the sensations pass. My bladder has gone on strike. Heartburn comes to stay. Various concerned mothers seek to physically tear the coke out of my hands. They fail miserably. Several out-of-state visitors are damaged.


DAY THREE: THE PAIN, THE PAIN!

Coca-Cola Classic, 21 cans

Waking up is a violent and painful act. Aligning my steps in a straight line proves challenging. My eyes are red, my lips are brown, and my tongue is white. Cramps are common. Someone has driven an iron rod between my temples. I can feel the blood pumping through my stomach. I get into a fight with a drunk bearded guy and lose. My love life makes significant advances, none of them in the right direction. I stutter badly. My active vocabulary is reduced to several hundred words, most of them several syllables long and difficult to pronounce. I am incurably happy. I can think in a clear and lucid fashion and solve some of the most difficult problems about the nature of mankind and the universe. Unfortunately, my short-term memory is reduced to forty seconds. I forget my brilliant thoughts before I can write them down. My intestines have been tied into a tight knot. My ears are ringing. A law enforcement official doesn't believe I'm holding the coke for a friend. I am forced to outrun him. I drink toasts to anything and everything. I must have a sip once every ten minutes at the least or the numbness will begin to fade. My hand is completely still when at rest, but jerks about wildly when I try to write something. I catch myself singing songs I have never heard before. I bump into things often. A two-year old gets a sugar high by walking past me in the street.


DAY FOUR: COLD TURKEY

Sugar-free Kiwi-Strawberry juice, 2 glasses
Grande Mocha-Lite Frapaccino, 1
Sugar-free gum, 1 stick (not swallowed)

My ride leaves the hotel at ten. My eyes have been open for more than twenty-four hours straight. My tongue has the consistency of sandpaper and sticks to the roof of my mouth like velcro. I have a debilitating headache. My basic motor skills are gone and my balance is shot. I get a well-deserved slap in the face from a hotel maid. My feet are heavy. I trip often. Sunlight blinds me. People have to shout to be heard over the ringing in my ears. My muscles clench and unclench regardless of what my brain tells it. My brain is of limited use right now, anyway. My bladder uncramps very abruptly just north of Los Angeles and we do an abrupt emergency pull over onto the shoulder. I hold one coke left from the tournament in my left hand. It has no charm over me. Just at sundown, my lids close and I cannot open them again. I remain wide awake. I embaress myself and those around me at a fancy restaurant while stabbing things with silverware completely blind. I stab my right thumb as well and can feel nothing even after others tell me. Upon arriving home, I am guided to bed and lie there, singing lustily. My room mate disables me and I sleep for thirteen hours straight.


CONCLUSIONS

In some strange way, I am proud of my discipline and physiological capacity. I can knock back Coke at a rate which would shame anyone, even Jessica, who once beat me in a Coke drinking contest (I was humiliated). Nonetheless, I will switch to decaf, paint my walls pink, and join a yoga class.


FINAL NOTE

Adrienne, if you're reading this, I'm really sorry about what I said. It was immature and senseless. I was a jerk. I was drunk. I didn't know what I was saying. You're a beautiful person and you deserve better than that shotgun-toting redneck. I'm really really sorry, and I beg your forgiveness, and I ask you to give me just one more chance.

Sunday, January 07, 2007

“What goes in, must come out.”

This note was posted from a laptop in a moving car by searching for wireless networks to hack along the freeway. The publish button was pushed during a blink of a connection. Enjoy.

There was some significant news from South Africa earlier this week, that you may have missed while watching replays of the Fiesta Bowl and studying statistics for your NFL playoff office pool (not that any of us partake of the illegal office pool joys; you know who you are). Anyway, here's the story, just in case:

An overweight woman who got stuck in a South African cave trapped 22 fellow tourists for more than 10 hours and had to be prised free with liquid paraffin.

The woman became trapped in the Tunnel of Love obstacle in the Cango Caves in Western Cape on New Year's Day.

The caves' manager said the woman had been warned she might not be suitable but she insisted on trying...

The rescue operation involved several ambulance teams and a helicopter...

The ordeal began when the woman became stuck just after noon on New Year's Day.

Mr Gerstner said the woman was “told at the ticket office that she was too big to take part in the specific section.”

He said she was again warned by the guide but that it was “very difficult to discriminate.”

Mr Gerstner said: “The obstacle has a narrow base. She lost her footing and went down in a splits position. There was no way she could get her body weight up.”

But he said she was young and remained mentally strong throughout and the other tourists took the ordeal “exceptionally well.”

The tourists, including two asthmatic children, were given blankets, water and chocolate bars as the rescue proceeded.

One rescuer was able to climb over the woman to deliver insulin to the diabetic.

No drilling equipment was needed and the woman was eventually freed with a pulley and paraffin used to grease the surface at about 2320...

Mr Gerstner said: “We believe what goes in, must come out again. People get stuck all the time - that's one of the unfortunate things that happen, it's part of the adventure.”

The article doesn't say how heavy she was.

We could be very mean right now and say some insensitive things about this woman and the way she put her adipose before the other tourists, but in light of the valiant courage she demonstrated in that cave (Who would want to do the splits for 10 straight hours? How many really heavy women would want to do the splits for 10 straight hours?) such humor seems out of place.

We would, however, like to ask a few general questions about the situation. If you, the faithful FCN few, can enlighten us in the comment section, we'd be obliged:

Can you picture a cave exit so small or a woman so large that no one can get through? Was the stoppage due to the physical impossibility of passage or the impropriety of an attempt? Why, with 10 people inside the cave, was a rescue crew required? How did the rescue crew get in? How is someone “prised free?” Will this woman ever go spelunking again? If so, who will she go with?

If you read this story and became worried about a similar situation ever happening to you, take heed; if you follow the following basic steps, you too can avoid corpulent blocks on your next outing or be so prepared as to be immune to their impact. Listen up boys and girls; this may come in handy the next time you have a fat woman corking the exit.

Whenever entering a high risk area (caves, hallways, closets, bathrooms, cars, etc) keep the following handy:

  1. WD-40, to ease the fatso out.

  2. A crowbar, to force the fatso out.

  3. Trimspa pills, to allow the fatso to become all she ever envied and make her thin enough to get out.

  4. A good book, to read while others get the fatso out.

Epilogue (a.k.a. the ending the article didn't mention): The fat tourist was an American. When she got back to the states, she called her lawyer and sued over the “physical and emotional trauma of the incident.” She named one defendant: the diabetic.

Friday, January 05, 2007

We passed...

Made with the loving assistance of several FCN readers.

On the long road trip my family and I took the other day (between northern and southern Cali), we had the opportunity to pass all sorts of fun things. We passed...

...A farmer, his chickens, his tractor and his illegal immigrant.

...Harry Reid, coming back from safari.

...Ewan Mcgregor. Yuck.

...A genocide in progress. At least we think it was a genocide; it may have just been Lindsay Lohan driving to work.

...A nuclear reactor. At least we think it was a nuclear reactor; it may have just been DNC headquarters.

...Thousands of “endangered” species, all alive and well, thank you.

...A tractor-disc rig doing doughnuts in an open field. Either the farmer was celebrating his subsidy check or he was trying to bug his neighbor.

...A lot of real American industry and a little American frivolity.

...A couch, some lawn furniture and a bundle of coiled springs and moist faded fabric that vaguely resembled a mattress.

...Adam Sandler as he was getting a traffic citation.

...A pink Ford F-150 that was towing a manly trailer rig.

...The day two days before the day after the day three days after the day before Tuesday (which is, of course, Wednesday).

...The same redneck five times.

...Sam?

Wednesday, January 03, 2007

The road was so long...

Made with the loving assistance of several FCN readers.

The other day my family and I went on a day long road trip to southern California. If any of you have ever been to the southern part of the state, you know that interstate five is a long highway. That road is long. It was so long that...

...Donald Trump carpooled with Rosie O'Donnell.

...The hybrid used an entire tank of gas.

...Willie Nelson wanted to know if we were there yet.

...My back fused at a 90 degree angle.

...I gained three pounds.

...John Edwards got tired of smiling.

...We went through two spare tires and a hitchhiker.

...Chevron-Texaco gave us an award for Outstanding Company Service.

...Exxon-Mobile gave us a coupon for a dollar off our next purchase of $1,000 or more.

...Prince Abdul threw a party as oil prices rose 30 cents.

...President Bush invaded Iran.

...The remainder of the Strategic Petroleum Reserve was donated to Pam.

...The armadillos joined the anti-global warming campaign.

...The state prison litter removal workers were employed for an extra two weeks picking up our trash.

...They resigned.

...Everyone in the car was common-law married.