How to Sneeze

Sneezing is the most expressive of the body’s involuntary functions.  Make sure yours are extra special.

Upon realizing that sternutation is imminent, today’s fashionable sneezer will pause in conversation and raise their eyebrows.  This serves as a warning to bartenders and other nobility that a Great Event is about to unfold, and observers should vacate the immediate blast area. 

During this pre-sneeze period, as your inhalation progresses, dramatically over-express yourself, like an opera singer.  Be expansive in your chest.  Wave your arms about and draw attention to your twitching features.  Yell or scream, again like an opera singer.  If a sneeze (or opera) is not immediately forthcoming, take something slender such as a chopstick or Calista Flockhart and thrust it repeatedly up your nostril to initiate the proceedings.

At the height of your inhalation, squint your eyes and cease all motion. This is the pause before the Great Storm.  It is the final notice that something wondrous is about to be born, or that you are choking on an oyster.  Be absolutely still, nose elevated slightly, arms aflutter, teary eyes about to close in the final moments before the triumphant finale.

The sound of a proper sneeze is important.  Most amateur sneezers still use the outdated Cleveland Technique of letting fly with a constrained and demure “Ssshhhhew!” sound.  This method is rarely used in competition nowadays, although it is still popular with denture wearers after several embarrassing amputations due to adhesive failure. 

What you want is the loudest possible expulsion from your chest, such that a single sneeze is all that is required.  If the sneeze is accompanied by the sound of herniated discs popping like balloons at a kid’s birthday party, so much the better.

Attempting to suppress all sound by holding the nose and forcing the blast up into the cranium can pose a danger to the sneezer and those around them – particularly in theaters.  Earwax bullets shot into patrons on either side of the participant have caused needless injury, and were the impetus for the Stockholm Sneezing Protocols of 1929.  These protocols now eliminate the need to wear combat helmets at most recitals, and rifling of the inner ear canal works wonders to improve accuracy.

As with other seizures, for a high score, one must enunciate using proper verbiage.  Asian-sounding surnames are prized, with the Japanese “HyyyASHiii!” being most common in tournaments.

Of Middle Eastern origin is the popular and sophisticated “Haa-BLAH-haaa!” For truly memorable scores, professionals add a slight upward intonation at the conclusion, as though asking the romantic question, “Haa-BLAH-haaa?”

In closing, let me offer a cautionary note about arm movements, which was related to me by several members of the royal family.

Because one hand is often occupied with flowers, glasses of bourbon, or 5/8ths wrenches (while sneezing), the other fist will involuntarily thrust upward from the waist in a rapid motion which may injure passersby.  Swift uppercuts administered by sneezing enthusiasts have rendered more than a few bystanders unconscious so do be careful, or sneeze only while boxing.

America can hold its head high when it comes to sneezing.  Whether amateur or professional, the people of the United States lead the world. 

Bless you!

Love that Internet...

 

“It’s cold outside, I have nothing on my schedule this morning, I have high speed internet, a gallon of hand lotion, half a box of Kleenex, I’m all alone, and I’m horny.”

“Hit it!”

Pipeline Progress

“We are on location at the opening ceremonies of the Northern Pipeline, here in Kitimat, BC.  We have put microphones onto various officials to record their comments for posterity.  Let’s listen in before the ceremony begins…

“It was an accident!  They were pounding in the ‘Warning! Pipeline Located Here’ signs when they heard a ‘Ping!’ sound and…”

“Don’t tell me – they ruptured the pipeline?”

“We’ll have it under control in no time, boss.  It sure makes a pretty geyser though – look at these pictures I took on my phone…against the pristine mountain backdrop! I think it’s beautiful”

“Never mind that.  How is everything on the first tanker?”

“It’s just coming into the harbour now, sir.”

“What is the name of it again?”

“It’s the Exxon Edmund Fitzgerald.”

“Ah.  Where is it registered?”

“Bolivia, sir.”

“Bolivia?  Bolivia is a landlocked hell hole filled with nothing but illiterate, migrant workers producing a highly addictive substance that is driving us all to economic ruin!”

“Oops – correction.  It’s registered in Ft. McMurray.”

“Same thing…”

Meanwhile on board ship, we see the Captain in front of his crew, pointing with two fingers…

“We have emergency exits located at the front of the ship – what we call the pointy end in the shipping business – also the middle and back of the vessel.  In the unlikely event of a rare, non-scheduled shore landing you can use your mattress as padding for when you leap onto the rocks. 

“During our transit we ask you to keep your cell phones on at all times, since our own GPS navigation system doesn’t seem to be working at the moment.”

“While under way you can help yourself to beverages and snacks at any time.  We have an excellent selection of single malt scotches, vodka, bourbon, beer, cider and rum, of course, since we do have our sea-going traditions to uphold!  We do ask the harbor pilots to not over-serve themselves, and the tugboat captains to not start drinking until we have left the immediate harbour area.   

“I’ll remind you crew members of our excellent safety record on board this vessel – we have not had a spill of any beverage in over three years, so let’s all do our best to keep a clean record, people.  I said lets do our best.  People?  Hello?  Do you speak English?  English!  DO YOU SPEAK ENGLISH?  NO HABLA? Hello?”

Back on shore…

“We are most fortunate to have with us today our docking safety consultant, Mr. Andrew ‘Sleepy’ Bigbumper.  Mr. Bigbumper is the former docking supervisor with BC Ferries and as the ship approaches our terminal…uh, Mr. Bigbumper perhaps you could explain why the ship is coming at the pier at such a high rate of speed?”

“Why thank you Mr. Chairman, and yes, to answer your question, in order to maneuver properly, a ship must carry some speed while ramming the dock and this is quite normal for us in the ferry business.  The key is to judge how much speed you should use and I think our captain is doing just fine, although he does appear to have dropped his spectacles and this bright sun is in his eyes…”

“Well, everything appears to be going smoothly here in Kitimat, so it’s back to you in the studio…”

Interview with our New Mayor

In an exclusive interview with this reporter and several dozen other members of the media, the new mayor of our city recently held a press conference to discuss the affairs of the day.

I asked the first penetrating question. 

“Mr. Mayor, what is the capital of Djibouti please?  I’m doing a crossword.”

“Djibouti City you idiot.  Next question?”

An actual reporter stuck up his hand. "Mr Mayor, you've said publicly that you are not in favour of all the red tape at City Hall.  What do you intend to do about it?"

"Well, I think there are too many committees at city hall, which is slowing down development.  My first job as Mayor will be to form a committee to deal with these committees.  I’ll call it the Committee Committee."

"Will this be a standing committee?"

"Yes, it will be the Standing Committee Committee."

"Will the members of this committee stand during proceedings?"

"No, it will be a sitting Standing Committee Committee."

"So you have high hopes for this committee then?"

"I believe it will be an outstanding sitting Standing Committee Committee."

"You sound committed."

"Well, you can't have an uncommitted outstanding sitting Standing Committee Committee now can you?"

“What other plans do you have Mr. Mayor?”

"Well I’m on a mission to commission a commission for the Mission to find a way to transition away from the Planning Commission.  I’ll call it my Mission Planning Commission Abolition Commission Commission mission.”

“What else is on your agenda, Mr. Mayor?”

“I think we should nuke Rutland from orbit, just to be safe.  I’m sorry – did you hear that?  Pardon me!  I’m still working on my inner Mayor voice.  What I meant to say is, I plan on working closely with the citizens of Rutland to move forward with their, uh, initiatives. We’ll put the information out using Fritter.”

“Twitter?”

“Whatever.  Tomato, tomahto, twitter, twa…next question please?”

“What about your promise of cutting taxes?”

“Cut taxes?  I never said anything about cutting taxes!  I said I’d like to cut TAXI’S.  I believe we have too many of them on the road and we should reduce that right away.  I’m using science to determine the optimal number of taxis out there, a process I’ll be calling the Max-Taxi Cab Flab Lab.  Don’t blab about it.”

“Have you ever thought about being a rapper, sir?”

“I’d love to be a gum wrapper. Doublemint is my favourite.”

“Thank you for your time sir.  And let me compliment you on your tutu.”

“You haven’t figured out a way to end your column have you?”

“No sir, I have not.”

“Take out that tutu remark and I’ll let you hold the gold shovel at the next sod-turning.”

“Can I wear a hard hat?”

“Sure.”

“Deal.” 

Winter Memory

With cold weather now upon us, I am often reminded of foolish things I used to do when I was younger.  Things like getting my tongue stuck to an ice cold woman.  I don't know why I did it - she was just there and I felt the urge. 

I learned my lesson, though, and now prior to licking I warm them up with a blow torch. 

Vacuum Control

The targets didn’t stand a chance.

I had carefully planned my route, staying stealthy, low down, hidden.  I reconnoitered the target area, dialed in the killing zone, became one with my prey. 

I was stalking.

My mission? To eliminate the hordes of fruit flies that had invaded our kitchen. 

I was heavily armed.  My weapon of choice?  A pistol-gripped, one inch caliber, built-in vacuum cleaner with a three inch barrel and thirty foot hose with decorative, floral cloth covering. 

It is a high-tech, powerful, insect killing machine. 

I am…The Fly Sniper.

On some missions I utilize a silencer – a plastic tube attachment normally used for high-angle work like valences. 

For some, these add-ons help to lessen the mental blow that dealing death brings into a sniper’s psyche. 

Not me.  I don’t need a shrink to help me understand what I’m doing.  No need to ‘get in touch with my feelings’ here.  I admit I’m a killer, and I’m OK with that. 

Today, the enemy seemed to be congregating on the wall above the garbage can – no doubt licking their disgusting little fly lips, moaning and loosening their belts after a satisfying meal of banana peel and discarded bits of salad. 

They erupt into flight at my approach, but my weapon is upon them!  Ha Ha!  Come within an inch of the business end of this Roving Vortex of Destruction and in you go!  No chance of escape!

I narrowly avoided a tragedy as the nozzle came a little close to my wife’s chest area.  By accident. 

Over the fruit bowl I slowly circle my Wand of Death.  In go the juice-sucking vermin as they rise to do battle.  An over-ripe small plum also rises into my weapon with a strangely satisfying “Glurp!” sound.

Fighter Command radar sees flies everywhere as I circle the kitchen.  Big game flies, fruit flies, those little jiggers you can barely see, all hurtle into the Hose of Doom.

Seeing the demonic look in my eyes, the children wisely scurry out of range.  My wife is not so lucky and bears a perfectly round, purple mark on her hip as a result. 

Mission complete, I disassemble my weaponry and return to my observation post in front of the television.

You know, there are some who decry the use of domestic cleaning equipment for killing.  They say vacuums were meant for cleaning and not hunting.  They call me a mass murderer.

To them I say – vacuums don’t kill insects.  All the filth in the canister they bash into at six hundred miles an hour kills insects. 

I realize vacuums can be turned on their owners, and I also know most suction hicky’s are self-inflicted.  Those are risks I’m willing to take in the name of personal protection and dust-free carpets, drapes, and many horizontal surfaces which can be dusted with that brush attachment thing. 

All the talk of vacuum control in this country is a waste of time.  There are too many unregistered built-ins, not to mention portables and Dustbusters, for any kind of control plan to make a difference.  If cleaners want a vacuum, they’ll be able to get one somewhere. 

And if the Government wants to register my vacuum, they’ll have to pry the plastic hand-grip with convenient on/off thumb switch from my cold, dead, purple-spotted hands. 

Occumuse

If the Occupy Wall Street people occupied the radius of a circle the movement would be called Occupi

If they occupied a dessert confection it would be Occupie

If they changed diapers it would be Occupee and Occupoo

If they were a gentle Scottish insult it would be “Och!  You pie!”

If they descend on the Vatican it will be the Occupope

If they could fit in a tube it would become the Occupipe

If Gynecologists get involved it will be the Occupap

When they get vagrancy tickets they will have to Occupay

Occupé is also the name of their new perfume – its aroma is in tents

Too Much

I was in Starbucks and had to use the bathroom but when I tried to open the door I saw this sign and I thought "Man, these protesters are really getting carried away."

 

Bovine Wine - Winner - America's Funniest Humor Contest

A local rancher has discovered that feeding wine to cows produces meat that is tastier than your usual sirloin.  It must also produce tipsy livestock who lose all inhibitions and wind up yakking with their sisters all night about how traumatic the delivery of their calf was ten years ago.

I have a beef with this.  One of my meatier concerns is etiquette at wine tastings.  Cows are new to wine - they don't know about spittoons or what the crackers are for or how to hold the glass or anything.  They just drink till they're loaded and then slobber and whiz all over the place.  Kind of like New Yorkers, really. 

I'm kidding, of course.  I mean Australians.

In my opinion, bingeing bovines need much more tasting.  Testing, I mean.

For instance, if this feeding trend leads to wider aisles in china shops and wine stores then I’m all for it.  Well done!

Burning questions remain, however, particularly for restaurant patrons.  Are you prepared to accept the pairing opinion of a Simmental Sommelier at your local eatery?  Do you really think a cow will recommend the mouth-watering steak when it happens to be his cousin?  “This wine is a terrific accompaniment to…fish,” he’ll say.  Every time. 

That is what is at steak.  Stake – excuse me.

This being the Pacific Northwest, wine-fed beef will inevitably lead to dope-raised chickens. 

Mellow yet plucky hens, fed a daily supplement of grow-op ‘grain’, will soon be the rage among chefs.  There they'll be (the chickens), loafing about their free ranges, stoned out of their beaks, staring at the clouds, thinking deep chicken thoughts like "What are the enormous white things that emerge from my cooter every day?"

Restaurants will serve ‘Baked, baked chicken, with special brownie stuffing.’  They’ll just lay on your plate, grinning in their own chickeny way.  Wow, man.

I’m telling you, this wine-feeding scourge must be stomped out.  Put the entire idea out to pasture where it belongs, I say.  Wine is for humans, not animals.  I think authorities should give this rancher a good grilling. 

We need to put a cork in this scheme in order to preserve our region as a grade ‘A’ tourist destination and make our visitors enjoy our brand of welcome, not herd them like cattle through the chutes of monetary gain, into the silos of history, never to return to our granary of democracy.     

“Waiter!  I’ll have the half-baked metaphors done medium-well, and a glass of your finest Moolot, please.”

Chief Executive

Press Release

The President of Occupy Wall Street Company, David Crawford, has announced thousands of layoffs, effective immediately.

"In order to meet our profit targets we must institute severe cost cutting measures," announced the CEO, whose current salary is $750,000 plus stock options.  "Having all these people just sitting around holding signs is not the way to operate a successful company in todays day and age" announced the exalted leader.

Speaking from inside his limousine, the CEO then went on to thank many of Occupy's corporate sponsors, including Coca Cola and Bank of America, for their patience and understanding during this crisis.  "They've been with us all the way," said Crawford.  "If it weren't for their support I think we'd all be out of jobs."

Mr. Crawford went on to state that while he fully supports the ideals of his employee discontent, people must move on with their lives and pick themselves up off the pavement of disappointment, move into the light of prosperity, and ask themselves if they really, really understand the implications of not asking if the customer is having fries with that order, he said.

"Do they want to hold up poorly spelled signs of discontent their entire lives, or do they want to move on and enjoy the many benefits of wallowing in debt and working at low-paying jobs the rest of their miserable lives?  Is living in filth and squalor worth it?" he asked, rhetorically.  "I don't think so - particularly if we are going to hit next quarter's revenue forecasts."

For media interviews, please contact one of Mr Crawford's executive assistants.  Space is limited due to board meetings, planning sessions, and a pedicure.