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.”

Columns I Am Currently Working On Which Track My Continuing Mental Decline

• A few weeks ago I got my lawn aerated, a process by which a machine pulls plugs of dirt and grass out and leaves them scattered hither and yon (and there's nothing worse than scattered hithers and yons).  These plugs closely resemble the droppings of well-fed geese and cause consternation and a certain peculiar walking style when crossing the yard.  They also turn into .50 caliber goose doot ammunition when mowing the lawn for the first time this season, as I recently discovered.  I am currently trying to elucidate what happens when the neighbourhood and passersby are winged by this lawnmower enfilading fire.

• I am fleshing out a column about the list of tasks we are trying to get our children to perform on a regular basis.  I know - it's a ridiculous premise destined for immediate and painful failure, but it is an amusing mental exercise to think that our offspring might someday do the dishes, turn off a light or two, or scoop the cat litter.  Actually, this initiative may prove too idiotic even for a humour column.

• An investigative report is underway into the phenomenon of men (well, me) washing dishes by the scientific process of spraying hot water over the pots and watching erosion take its course.  This is a wonderful technique not only for its fascinating visual appeal to a zoning-out man, but is also effective at allowing the washer to watch the hockey game on TV while diligently performing his assigned kitchen duties.  We will investigate this trend and see how it compares to actually performing the task and not just running the water while the worker sneaks snacks from the fridge since his family has their back turned and are not paying attention.

• A debate continues to rage in our home over the propriety of leaving discarded food in waste baskets that are not usually used as kitchen waste receptacles.  To wit, the leaving of banana peels (sans actual banana) in the waste basket in the washroom.  My wife and I recently had a frank exchange of viewpoints on this very matter, which sounded something like this: "Don't leave banana peels in the garbace can in there!" "Why not?" "Because they make the whole room smell.like bananas" "Well Honey - consider the alternative..."

These and other exciting bits of comedy will soon be winging their way to your living rooms!  Stay tuned!.

Insurgency Redux

From an interview with a High Ranking Official of the United States Government.

Me: "Sir, we would like you to clarify your position with regard to events in the Middle East if you would be so kind."

Official: "Certainly - it is really quite straight forward."

Me: "Excellent. Now first of all, can you clarify who you are backing in the current Libya situation?"

Official: "Of course - we are backing the insurgents who are fighting for the freedom and democracy that they so richly deserve."

Me: "I see. So backing the insurgents is a good thing?"

Official: "Absolutely. These people are freedom fighters whom we respect a great deal. We will be supplying them with arms and technology to further their cause since it aligns so well with our own ideals of freedom and democracy."

Me: "So what about the insurgents in Iraq?"

Official: "Oh, they're bad. We don't like them."

Me: "But aren't they freedom fighters as well?"

Official: "Well, that's what they call themselves. But we know they are really insurgents fighting what they think is an, er, evil invader but really isn't."

Me: "I see. So insurgents are bad. What about the insurgents in Afghanistan?"

Official: "Are we talking about the first ones or the second ones?"

Me: "I guess the second ones."

Official: "Oh, they're bad. We don't like them at all. The first ones were good - they were fighting an evil invader. But these guys are evil invaders, so we kill them."

Me: "So let me get this straight. The first Afghan insurgents were good because they were fighting an evil invader, but now the second ones are bad because they are fighting an evil invader. The Iraq insurgents are bad because they are fighting what they think is an evil invader but isn't, and the Libyan insurgents are good because, what, no evil has invaded yet?"

Official: "Clear as day, isn't it?"

Me: "Well thank you very much for clarifying things."

Official: "My pleasure. Any time. I was born in Hawaii you know..."

Name Needed

I need to come up with a name for a certain posture.

The posture is adopted by helpful fathers crouched over in front of their children and their children's chums, doing up ice skates at the local outdoor rink.

The physical nature of this crouching behaviour is as follows: Back at 45 degree angle to vertical, knees slightly bent, skate between legs, frozen and bleeding fingers in use tying up laces at the outdoor ice rink.  Wind howling, nose dripping, fingers beginning to cramp as the 4th pair is secured to the up-stretched appendage.

Part of this peculiar stance comes from clutching the child's skate between the legs, its razor sharp blade uncomfortably close to one's scrotum and other accessories.

The other peculiarity is a result of the fathers pranged up and sore back, the shooting pains appearing as electrical sparks erupting from beneath the back of the fathers winter coat. 

The pain is somewhat diminished by seeing his charges hurtling downwind on the ice, red cheeks grinning, old ladies being bowled out of the way like ten-pins. 

My pain was also diminished by thinking of somehow securing the hot chocolate dispensing license for the new outdoor facility.  I'd make a fortune.