What Happened to Skywriters?

skywriting

My brother recently pointed out to me the lack of skywriting these days.  It always seemed like a bold way to get around a restraining order to me, but I’m sure it served some legitimate purposes in its heyday.   I imagine the focus on chem trails from conspiracy nuts hasn’t helped.  Plus, Assad is hogging all the Sarin gas, so supplies can’t be easy to come by.

 

imgross will be diligently looking into a cost-effective manner to advertise through the dying medium.

RIP Bozo

When I was a kid, I had the great fortune of being a participant in ‘The Bozo Show’.  My team lost but we still went home with a set of ‘Uno’ cards and a Tengen ‘Double Dragon’ handheld game.  Solid prizes.

The game I played involved passing a ball from your chin to your chest (no hands) to the next player.  The first team down and back one.

I remember that they went for a line up with alternating male and female contestants.  I also remember being relentlessly ridiculed by my brothers about how the gals on each side of were my ‘girlfriends’.

If they were my girlfriends, I’d like a chance to explain.  I was six, and only knew how to call 911 and my grandma.  Sorry girls.  I’m such a typical man.  I meant no disrespect.

Anyhow, still got ‘Double Dragon’ and I’m gonna grab some AA batteries and honor Bozo the only way I know how.  Rest in Seltzer bottles my sweet clown.

 

Drunk Reveller Wonders if he Partied Hard Enough

St. Patrick’s Day has come and gone for another year, and local man Sean Harrington, 28, can’t help but wonder if he did it right.  “It only falls on an actual Saturday every handful of years, so you gotta make sure you do it right,” he said.  He spent the morning eating powder eggs and cheap domestic beer, dyed green, and then made his way on an alcohol fueled, haphazard pub crawl.

“I lost most of my friends by about 1 or 2 PM,” Harrington vaguely recalled.  “My last clear memory is of doing a car bomb and then pissing in an alley.  It’s like I vaguely recall puking, I think I saw some boobs, and I definitely pissed myself when I passed out on my couch, but was it enough?”

Was it enough, indeed.  The question will plague Harrington until 2029, the next time St. Patrick’s Day will fall on a Saturday.

$12K for Feral Cats

This article in the Trib caught my eye yesterday. It’s about the residents of West Town raising $12,000 to care for a feral cat colony after their carektaker, a homeless man, froze to death.

Yeah, you read that right.  A human froze to death because he didn’t have proper shelter.  He was living in a makeshift shack in an alley.  But don’t worry, his colony of feral cats will be looked after.

$12,000 could have put the guy up in a decent apartment, or helped him get a job (teach a man to fish), but instead it will now go to ensuring that his colony of feral cats get only the finest IAMS.  Although, from the fundraiser page, it sounds like they have plenty of rats to eat.

The Loop Going Christian Really Fucks My Presets

97.9 sits almost exactly in the middle of my vehicle’s preset radio stations, that range from 87.7 to 107.5. The Loop converting to a Christian music station basically means I’d have to change a handful of presets to keep them in numerical order. Something I have neither the patience nor the will to do.

I guess I’ll have to find a station between 97.1 and 99.5 or start getting right with the Lord.

Sip, Scratch, Score!

Dunkin Donuts has to be losing their ass in free hash browns. Long gone is the time when you actually had to know something to score.

You can just bust out that turbo space phone in your pocket and BAM, you know which county the English sitcom ‘Fawlty Towers’ was set.

These days you don’t even have to have the patience and discipline to get to a computer, remember you have your winning scratch ticket in your pocket, and refrain from looking at pornography or cute kitten videos before looking up the answer.

A simpler time if you ask me.

Betting on the Wrong Horse

The scenario pops up quite frequently.  You’re going to grab some cash at the local bank and both of the lobby ATMs are occupied.  There’s no chance you’re going to go talk to a human, so going to the guy or gal behind the bulletproof glass is out of the question.  You can try to employ the “split the difference” method and stand in a position where you’re kind of in both lines, but eventually you’ll feel someone approaching from behind.  This will force your hand to make a decision.  There are several factors to consider at this point when choosing which line:

  • What phase of the transaction are each of the ATM users at?  Seeing a receipt coming out of the machine has a high correlation with the transaction being over.  However, sometimes people like to make deposits and withdrawals at the same time.  Seems like robbing Peter to pay Peter to me.
  • Does one of these people look like the kind of asshole that doesn’t have direct deposit?  Or worse, is it a kid with a stack of checks from his High School graduation party?
  • Who looks more technical, and thus less likely to struggle with the prompts from the ATM, even though they haven’t changed much since the ATM was invented?
  • Is one of them doing a “poo-poo pee-pee” dance, indicating they have to find a toilet?  Not crapping your pants in public should really be the base of the pyramid in Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs.

The situation is so fluid and dynamic that many other factors are worth considering as well, but ultimately, you know you’ll choose the wrong line.  Then, the person that creeped up behind you earlier will hold a silent celebration as they type in their PIN number, knowing they’ve beat you in the game of life.