Buggin' out...

As we all know, nature can be both beautiful and horrifying, serene and chaotic, insouciant but not pretentious…no wait, that last one actually describes a bottle of wine someone gave me yesterday. Where was I going with this again? Oh yes, now I remember…nature is also full of surprises.

Once again I find myself amazed by some aspect of nature heretofore unknown to me. This time the spotlight falls on the seemingly common place cockroach. Like most people I’ve heard about how they would inherit the earth if humanity should destroy itself with nuclear weapons and that they can eat anything from glue to hair.

What I was unaware of though, is the fact that cockroaches can live for anywhere from a week to a month…without their heads! Granted, the headless cockroaches don’t do much and I’m guessing that the severed heads do even less, but come on…a month without a head? Can you imagine if humans shared this little trait? For starters, the French Revolution would have taken much longer to get through.

Anyway, from the bowels of my over-active imagination, I present to you the tale of one unfortunate cockroach that met such a fate…

Setting: Two cockroaches walking on a kitchen table encounter a third.

First cockroach: Hey this guy looks kind of familiar, but I’m drawing a blank on the name.

Second cockroach: Maybe that’s because he’s got no head.

First cockroach: That’s it! I knew something wasn’t quite right.

Third cockroach: You guys are both idiots.

First cockroach: Who said that?

Third cockroach: Down here.

First cockroach: Hey, it’s Tony! What happened to you dude?

Third cockroach: I was trying to eat the glue on the flap of that envelope over there, when I slipped and fell neck first on to the edge of the flap…lopped my head clean off.

Second cockroach: Oh, a paper cut…they’re the worst kind.

First cockroach: I’ve heard that! So…how long have you been here?

Third cockroach: Just a few hours.

Second cockroach: Hmm…so this body still has plenty of time. Hey, since you won’t be using it, do you mind if I give it to my cousin Bruce.

Third cockroach: Your gay cousin Bruce? You know I don’t swing that way.

Second cockroach: (pointing to the headless body) You don’t…but he might.

Third cockroach: No he doesn’t…I mean I don’t. Damn it, it’s still my body!

Second cockroach: Well, I don’t see your name on it.

First cockroach: (snickering) Or you head attached to it.

Third cockroach: Oh, you guys are a riot.

Second cockroach: Cheer up dude, it could be worse. It’s not like you spent all your money on hats.

First cockroach: Hey, I bet I can kick his head into that bowl of peanuts at the other end of the table.

Second cockroach: No way…prove it!

Third cockroach: What?!

(First cockroach steps back and kicks with all its might)

Third cockroach: ( his voice growing fainter as his head sails through the air) You guys suck!

Second cockroach: Unbelievable, it just made it in!

First cockroach: I told you. Hey, are you really gonna take this body to your cousin?

Second cockroach: Nah, he and his boyfriend moved to Vermont months ago. Let’s just eat it.

First cockroach: Dibs on the legs!

Second cockroach: Relax, there are six of them.

First cockroach: Oh yeah, right.


No cockroaches were actually harmed in the making of this story.


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Give till it hurts...

When I read that Karl Kemp, an antiques dealer from New York, had filed a million-dollar lawsuit against several homeless people and claim that “it was for their own good” I said to myself “Hey TDB, why aren’t you involved in some great humanitarian cause like suing the homeless”? To which I replied “Shut up and mind your own damn business!” I would have continued the verbal abuse a little longer, but I was already getting funny looks from the other people in the elevator.

Upon further reflection however, I realized that the voice in my head had been right. I needed to find a way to give something back to the community, but with my days already filled with cataloging my extensive snow globe collection, dragging someone into court was out of the question. So I put together this list of sorely overlooked charity organizations and their mottoes…

Al Queda’s Kids: “No child left unarmed”

The March of Diamonds: “Helping the rich get richer for over a century”

Dollars for Derelicts: “Because booze don’t pay for itself”

The Michael Richards Segregationist Society: “Give use money or we’ll stick a fork up your ass”

Huggy Bear’s Home for Retired Pimps: “Where our money at bitch?”

People for the Ethical Treatment of Bacteria: “Penicillin is murder”

Habitat for Humanatees: “Providing homes for the unholy spawn of manatees and lonely sailors…or would you rather have these crimes against nature living with you?”

The Bill Clinton Home for Wayward Girls: “Clinton not allowed on premises”

Save the Whalers: “Harpooners do it better”

The Annex Canada Now Foundation: “Think of all the extra parking space”


Nobel committee… the ball is now in your court.

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I will survive...not!

I am a lifelong urbanite whose nearest claim to a “wilderness adventure” involves running away from a couple of overly aggressive and possibly rabid squirrels.

Perhaps, that is why I find myself fascinated by a television show called “Man vs Wild”. The premise of the show is that each week the star of the show, a man who goes by the almost comically macho name of Bear Grylls, is unceremoniously dropped from a plane or helicopter into some remote and hostile natural environment. Then with the aid of usually nothing more than a knife and flint, he must survive how ever many days it takes him to find his way back to civilization.

As I’ve watched him endure the various hardships involved in surviving in the wilderness, I've often wondered just how much I could take…what would the breaking point at which I would just give up and die. Well, thanks to Mr. Grylls I now know…and it involves elephant dung.

In one particular episode Mr. Grylls finds himself in Kenya without a sign of water anywhere, while the merciless sun beats down on him. Not to worry he says, because he knows an old trick he learned in the military that just might save your life in this kind of situation. He then proceeds to lift a large chunk of fresh elephant dung and drinks the liquid that flows as he squeezes it.

Now, I have seen many other shows about people surviving while lost in the wilderness, but I had never seen anyone use that little maneuver before. Up until that point I thought I might have reached my limit for survival when I watched Mr. Grylls eat an uncooked egg straight from the nest or when he helped himself to a little meat from the leg of a fresh zebra carcass…but I wasn’t absolutely sure. Hey, maybe raw zebra meat doesn’t taste that bad.

However, I’m sure that none of us are in any doubt about the taste of the fluids from elephant crap and the expression on Mr. Grylls face spoke volumes indeed. So now I know that if Bear Grylls and I were ever lost together in Kenya without any water, while he’s off having a swig of freshly squeezed Dumbo juice, I’ll be busy digging a hole in the ground for him to bury me in after I’ve died of dehydration.

I only hope that he’ll bury me whole and not decide to dine on one of my legs…but I wouldn’t put it past him.

Ponderous ponderings...

During the first month of every New Year it has long been my custom to fill up my favorite hookah with all the needles that fell off the Christmas tree, sit back, contentedly puff away and just ruminate on things in general. Here then, are some of the things that wafted through my mind on a cloud of pine scented smoke:


There are a lot of cleaning products that talk about killing bacteria, but not one of them tells you what to do with all those tiny corpses.

Pat Robertson recently predicted something terrible would take place in the U.S. late in 2007. Although he didn’t specify exactly what, my personal theory is that some evil power has started to clone Geraldo Rivera.

A 67 year-old woman gave birth to twins recently…I guess the upside to that is all those wrinkles should hide any stretch marks. On the downside, if she develops an incontinence problem the diaper bills will be enormous.

As computers play an ever-larger role in our lives, will emoticons ever find their way on to people’s tombstones? You know, something like: John Doe, Born 1924 :)- Died 1996:(

Lately, a lot of my junk e-mail has to do with the importance of keeping a clean colon. I don’t know…it sounds like a load of crap to me.

How about that case where a doctor is being sued by one of his patients over a botched penis extension operation. It seems that not only does “it” not function now, it’s actually smaller than it was before the operation. I wonder if anyone has bought the movie rights to this story…I can see it either as a drama with Sean Penn or a comedy starring Jim Carrey, either way it’s got box office gold written all over it.

Every year the post office gets thousands of letters from children to Santa. I think it’s about time that the post office started sending back form letters in Santa’s name. They could read something like this:

Dear Child,
Thank you for your interest in Christmas. Unfortunately, we are not looking to add to our naughty or nice list at this time. Please feel free to apply again next year.
Sincerely,
Santa Claus
North Pole Enterprises

Trans fats are actually being outlawed in some places…maybe I’m paranoid but can butter be far behind. All I’m sayin’ is that they can take my butter when they pry it from my cold, dead and clogged arteries.

Here’s a little tip if you ever find yourself having to write one of those family newsletters: Get your medical terms straight! It turns out that some one who has that condition that keeps their blood from clotting is in fact a hemophiliac, not a necrophiliac. That reminds me, I have to go write a letter of apology to my grandfather. Have a great 2007!