Haiku Friday, Vol. I

I’ve easily written Girlfriend over a hundred poems, but don’t let that statement influence the type of guy you think I am. I’m no overly-sensitive wussy.

Back in the day, Girlfriend and I would communicate throughout the week electronically (via email and chat). She works in an office, and even though I work on the road, my work laptop is always nearby. This internet interaction broke up the monotony of the work day, and always provided me with laughs. Our conversations didn’t consist of anything substantial most of the time - it was more of a contest to see who could out-funny the other.

To keep things interesting, we started coming up with themes for that day’s correspondence: Joke Day was full of horribly corny jokes that were funny for that reason only; Poem Day didn’t last because it didn’t have enough structure; Random Day was OK at first but quickly devolved into total weirdness (examples: “your veins are hot” and “you have good handwriting”); Roses Are Red Day was great at first, but didn’t have staying power due to the format’s predictability (example: “Roses are red, stinky are farts, I hope you know, I’m better at darts”).

Then we came up with an idea that has provided us with the most comedic opportunity thus far: Haiku Day. Yes, an entire day of communicating only through Haiku. That is just funny, in and of itself.

For those of you who don’t know, Haiku is a kind of Japanese poetry. It consists of three lines containing five, seven, and five syllables, respectively. There is typically a pause after either the first or second line, although we didn’t always follow that rule. Here are a few of the gems I found while browsing through old emails of ours:

Yep you are so right
Good to know where lawn tennis
Originated

Don’t worry OK
I like my little dummy
Man, you cant teach that

You can lick my balls
Oh yes, you can lick my balls
I said lick my balls

No, you cant teach that
I said that you cant teach that
Now THAT’S repeating

I am not a girl
Unless you’ve heard of a girl
With goatee and d**k

We are getting good
Japanese would be jealous
With their squinty eyes

Try to impress me
I double-dog dare you to
Go on, rock my world

You liar liar
Look, your pants are on fire
Better take them off

Whatever you say
Enjoy the view of my head
As I walk away

I’m so tired today
I wish it was tomorrow
I’m gonna smack you

There will be smooching
Oh yes, there will be smooching
I mention smooching?

Don’t twitch, it is bad
People think you’re seizur-ing
They have meds for that

Wonder how long we
Can keep this shit up, all day?
So nice to have you

Isn’t that a trip?
We are meant for each other
You are an asshole

I hate you so much
You are such a f**king bitch
First line is a lie

I look retarded
Driving around, counting words
Good idea, so fun

Sound like a robot
When I read Haiku poems
In my head of course

How are carrots fun?
They are small, orange, and boring
I’m a vegetable

We had such fun with it, that I decided to try a Haiku Day here and see how it goes. So, each Friday I’ll be posting a Haiku. There is only one rule: your comments must also be in Haiku form. Other than that, anything goes. Here’s the first entry:

Haiku are easy

But sometimes they don’t make sense

Refrigerator

100 Reasons I Love To Hate The Cubs

I am a huge baseball fan. Wait, scratch that - I guess I’m only average-sized, but I love me some baseball, especially if we’re talking about my beloved St. Louis Cardinals. I’ve been “bleeding red” ever since my Uncle Matt took me to my first Cardinals game back in 1987. I don’t remember much of anything about my first game, except that it was overwhelming - the sights, the sounds, the smells, the crowd. My baseball knowledge came shortly thereafter, thanks to my uncle for answering my constant barrage of questions, and to Hall-of-Fame broadcaster Jack Buck, whose verbal imagery, knowledge, and story-telling I absorbed like a sponge. Those were the days of Ozzie Smith, Willie McGee, Vince Coleman, and Tommy Herr; the days of Whitey-ball. The Cards fell just short that year, losing in the World Series to the Minnesota Twins in seven games.

I didn’t know it at the time, but the Redbirds wouldn’t return to the World Series for seventeen years (2004, the year of the Boston Red Sox), and it would be two years beyond that before I’d be able to say “World Champion St. Louis Cardinals” (2006). Still, it has been, and continues to be, a great love affair. I’ve introduced my Cardinals to all of my friends - my best high school friend, Scott, caught a ball thrown into the stands by St. Louis outfielder Brian Jordan when I took him to his first game (I’m still a little bitter about that one - I’ve never caught a ball). I’ve planned many weekends around trips to St. Louis. I’ve taken multiple girlfriends to ballgames - some willingly, some not. I can’t say I’ve never fought with a girlfriend when the Cardinals were on TV at the same time as “Friends.” I won the arguments, and I’ve had many failed relationships. When I moved away from the Midwest, vacations were planned around trips to St. Louis and Cardinals baseball.

As a fan, I’ve been witness to such historic moments as Mark McGwire breaking Roger Maris’ long-standing single-season home run record in 1998 (only to be broken by baseball’s jerk, Barry Bonds, just three years later). I’ve witnessed great “water cooler” moments, like the 19-inning game in 1988 against the Atlanta Braves in which current Cardinals’ third base coach Jose Oquendo, then a utility infielder, was called on to pitch and threw three scoreless innings. His fourth inning resulted in two runs and a St. Louis loss, but it was cool anyway. I’ve witnessed the birth of a future Hall-of-Famer, “Prince” Albert Pujols, I’ve watched hundreds of patented Ozzie Smith flips, I’ve seen some of the greatest catches ever in centerfield by Jim Edmonds, I am anxiously awaiting the next chapter in the pitcher-turned-outfielder Rick Ankiel story, and I’m watching Cardinal baseball in my second Busch Stadium (which I have yet to visit in person).

As much as I love the Cardinals, I HATE THE CHICAGO CUBS. I love hating the Cubs. I love hating the Scrubs almost as much as I love rooting for the Redbirds. Why? Well, in case you don’t follow baseball, the Cards and Cubs are big-time rivals. It’s a passionate, heated rivalry - one that ranks up there with the highly-publicized Red Sox/Yankees rivalry. There is only one thing better than a Cubs loss, and that’s a St. Louis victory. If it’s the Cardinals that hand Chicago the loss, well… it doesn’t get any sweeter than that.

There are plenty of not-so-proud moments Americans have been forced to endure during the last 100 years: the Black Sox scandal of 1919; disco music; Billy Ray Cyrus getting to be famous; George Bush. But all pale in comparison to the Chicago Cubs franchise, who in 2008 celebrate their 100th year without a World Series Championship. An entire century. Pathetic. The last time the Cubs had a victorious post-season, the Star-Spangled Banner hadn’t become our national anthem yet. Since then, two world wars have taken place. Bell-bottoms have been in and fallen back out of style, twice. Radio and TV were invented. Most importantly, the St. Louis Cardinals won the World Series ten times while the Cubs and their fans sat at home and watched.

To commemorate Chicago’s 100 year run of futility, I’ve compiled a list of 100 reasons I love to hate the Cubs. Some are facts, some are opinions, and some are merely quotes or observations. But one thing remains true: The Cubs suck. On to the list…

1. In 1874, Chicago played its first game against a St. Louis team, the Brown Stockings, whose name will later be changed to the Cardinals. A standing-room-only crowd at Grand Avenue Park (later to be known as Sportsman’s Park, and then Busch Stadium) watched St. Louis win 4-3. That’s a winner!

2. In 1876, Chicago lost the first professional baseball championship ever to be played, as the team was defeated by St. Louis four games to one. St. Louis was crowned the Champion of the West.

3. St. Louis defeated Chicago in the World’s Championship Series in both 1885 and 1886. In 3 post-season meetings, Chicago has never beaten St. Louis.

4. In 1906, the Chicago White Sox defeated the Cubs in the World Series.

5. In 1932, after suffering through constant abuse from Cubs fans (and the Cubs dugout too) during Game 3 of the World Series, Babe Ruth had finally had enough and points to centerfield. The Cubs fans begin to boo, and continue to boo, until the Babe hit the next pitch over the fence for a home run. Take notes, Cubs - actions speak louder than words.

6. “Wrigley Field is a bad ballpark!” - “Fergie” Jenkins, Cubs Hall of Fame pitcher

7. William “Billy Goat” Sianis brought his pet goat Murphy to Wrigley Field for the Game 4 of the 1945 World Series between the Cubs and the Detroit Tigers. Sianis and the goat made it onto the field before ushers finally intervened and led them to the grandstand aisle. Sianis maintained that there was no rule preventing his goat from using a ticket. After a short argument, Sianis and the goat were allowed to stay, as long as they returned to their seats. Nevertheless, due to the Murphy’s disgusting odor, they were eventually ordered to leave by Cubs owner P.K. Wrigley. Sianis was furious over the ejection and placed a curse on the Cubs. The Cubs lost that game, and eventually the World Series. Sianis sent Mr. Wrigley a telegram that read, “Who smells now?”

8. Harry Caray was a famous Cubs broadcaster who probably didn’t even know where he was for the last ten years of his life. Whether he was singing “Take Me Out To The Ballgame” out of sync with the music, or saying that a fly ball out was “outta here!” five seconds after the fact, you almost felt sorry for him. Almost.

9. The other Caray’s - Skip and Chip may be two of the most boring, annoying, monotone broadcasters in baseball. They rode their father’s coattails into careers of their own, and we all suffered for it.

10. Didn’t anyone ever tell Cubs announcer Ron Santo that there’s no crying in baseball? Geez.

11. Oh, you Cubs fans - so oblivious to reality. You’re like an abused girlfriend - you chose to love the Cubs, and every time your hearts get broken, you collectively say “thank you, sir… may I have another?”

12. Is it just me, or is the Cubs uniform the least intimidating piece of fashion that you’ve ever seen? They had a word for guys that wore fruity looking stuff like that in high school, and the word wasn’t “manly.”

13. You ruined a lot of great players chances of ever getting a World Series ring, most notably Ernie Banks and Ryan Sandberg. Way to go.

14. In September 1950, facing the possibility of another last-place finish, Cubs owner P.K. Wrigley sent a letter of apology to “Billy Goat” Sianis, asking that the curse be reversed. Sianis refused.

15. Dusty Baker should have spent less time chewing on toothpicks and more time making sound managerial decisions, but that’s why he was a Cub and not a Cardinal. I hope you enjoyed getting schooled again (he played for current Cardinals manager Tony La Russa in Oakland).

16. “This is the kind of thing, quite honestly, right now, that makes you want to see the Chicago Cubs team lose. Among all baseball fans . . . far and away the most obnoxious fans in baseball, in this league, are those who follow this team right here. Throwing 15 or 18 balls onto the field, there’s absolutely no excuse for that, and that is so typical of Chicago Cubs fans.” - Marty Brennaman, Cincinnati Reds broadcaster

17. As a pitcher with St. Louis, Jason Marquis was average at best. He was a big baby, too, so he fits right in as a current member of the Cubbies staff. Now we don’t have to pretend to like him.

18. “Wait ’til next year!” You gotta love their sticktoitiveness.

19. Cubs fans are like really awful American Idol contestants - no self-awareness whatsoever, and unable to accept any type of criticism concerning their team, no matter where the Cubs are in the standings. Wait ’til next year, Simon!

20. Thank you Chicago, for trading Lou Brock to the Cardinals for pitcher Ernie Broglio in 1964. Brock hit .348, stole 33 bases, and helped St. Louis beat the Yankees in the World Series that year. Brock went on to lead the NL in steals eight times and bat over .300 eight times. He was inducted into the baseball Hall of Fame in 1985. Broglio went 7-19 in two years with the Cubs. Jerome Holtzman, MLB’s official historian, said, “It was one of the worst trades in the history of the Cubs.”

21. “There’s nothing wrong with this team that more pitching, more fielding and more hitting couldn’t help.” - Bill Buckner, former Cubs first baseman

22. On September 13th, 1964, Cubs fans were treated to a rare feat in which one team scored at least one run in every inning of a nine-inning game. That team was the Cardinals, as they defeated the Cubs by a score of 15-2 that day at Wrigley.

23. I love that they fly an “L” flag over Wrigley Field after every loss. That’s just awesome.

24. In 1969, Sianis agreed to lift the curse, and the Cubs spent most of the season in first place. However, during the second game of a pivotal two-game series in New York against the Mets, a black cat ran onto the playing field and stared at Ron Santo while he was in the batter’s box. The cat scurried into the stands, and the Cubs lost the game. They also lost the next day’s game, along with the division lead.

25. How can you back a bunch of bears who routinely get their collective asses kicked by a bunch of birds?

26. And they’re not even full grown bears! It’s not the scary Chicago Grizzly Bears, it’s the little, cute Chicago Cubs - the little baby bears that are so cute and you feel sorry for them because they’re all helpless babies.

27. “This team makes your ulcers have a baby.” - Mark Grace, former Cubs first baseman

28. Cubs fans idolize an announcer who couldn’t see the ball, couldn’t pronounce most of the names on the team, and slobbered all over the microphone. Holy cow.

29. World Series Championships: STL 10, CHC 2

30. They let THIS happen.

31. They sign players with profanity-laden names. Admit it, you don’t know how to pronounce Fukudome either.

32. Sammy So-sux was Mark McGwire Lite, for a season anyway. Did anybody really want to see Sosa beat out McGwire in the home run race? He wasn’t as cute as he thought he was, especially in that uniform.

33. In the unlikely event that God does care about baseball, it’s pretty obvious He doesn’t give a rat’s ass about the Cubs.

34. Sam Sianis, William Sianis’ nephew, attempted to bring another goat into Wrigley Field in 1973, but was stopped from entering. The Cubs went on to win the game; however, starting the next day, the Cubs 8 1/2 game division lead vanished when they managed to win only four of their next twenty games.

35. You would think Chicago would have accidentally won a Championship in the last 100 years, somehow. Nope.

36. “I don’t know why we bought the Cubs. We already had a perfectly good company softball team.” - Robert Verdi, former Cubs owner

37. In a game in 1976, with the Cubs leading the Philadelphia Phillies 13-2 after four innings, they proceed to give up 16 runs to the Phillies and lost the game 18-16.

38. I think that at some point in Lou Pinella’s career, the fiery veteran’s wisdom became the bitter ravings of a crazy old man. That point was when he took over as Cubs manager.

39. In 1980, the Cubs traded Bruce Sutter, the best relief pitcher in the National League, to St. Louis for Ken Reitz and Leon Durham. Sutter helped lead St. Louis to a World Championship in 1982 and a National League Pennant in 1985. Another incredibly sound baseball decision by the Cubs front office.

40. Don’t they realize that everyone outside of Chicago Chicago’s north side is laughing at them?

41. They let “the rainbow warrior” Jeff Gordon do THIS.

42. You have to pee in a trough at Wrigley. Outdated plumbing plus drunk Cubs fans who have as much aim as their pitchers do equals 100 years of urine soaked into Wrigley. The only way a corporate name change of Wrigley Field will be a positive thing will be if the name becomes “Urine B. Gone Stadium.”

43. Cubs pitcher Carlos Zambrano once left a game because of cramping in his right forearm - it was related to too much computer use. Who knew he could type left-handed?

44. For the first time since 1945, the Cubs allowed a goat into Wrigley Field on Friday the 13th of April, 1984 - the Cubs’ home opener. The Cubs won the game and went on to win their first Eastern Division title.

45. A ginormous “thank you” to you, Steve Bartman. Your natural reaction to go for a foul ball ruined the concentration of a bunch of “professionals” and kept the Cubs losing streak intact. I love you in a totally non-gay way.

46. “One thing you learned as a Cubs fan: when you bought your ticket, you could bank on seeing the bottom of the ninth.” - Joe Garagiola, longtime sportscaster

47. Wind sucks.

48. The Cubs are known as the “lovable losers,” but while only some Cubs fans are lovable, ALL Cubs fans are losers.

49. The Cubs have a rich, consistent tradition - they’ve always sucked, and they always will.

50. The band Chicago is slightly less lame than the Cubs.

51. Quitters never win, and winners never quit. But those who never win AND never quit are idiots.

52. During the post-season in 1984, the Cubs won the first two games against the San Diego Padres in the NLCS, but lost the next three and the Series, thanks in large part to an absolutely beautiful ground ball that slipped through Leon Durham’s legs.

53. Oprah.

54. I speak for all Cardinals fans when I say thank you, Steve Garvey. Thank you for your 9th-inning walk-off home run against the Cubs in Game 4 of the 1984 National League Championship Series. We haven’t forgotten you, and neither have the Cubs and their fans (we won’t let them).

55. Typical Cubs fans.

56. “If they blew up Wrigley tomorrow, it wouldn’t bother me at all. That ivy is nasty, the infield grass is waist high, and they definitely have the most vulgar fans.” - Lance Berkman, Houston Astros first baseman

57. Mark Prior, arriving on the scene as the supposed savior of the Cubs a few years ago, has turned out to be as useful as Stevie Wonder’s sunglasses.

58. While doing research for this blog, I found this - it’s a great song, written and performed by Steve Goodman. Steve was a big Cubs fan but never got to see them win a post-season game, dying of leukemia on September 20th, 1984. The Cubs made the playoffs that year and lost to the Padres. R.I.P. (You too, Steve)

59. Bubble Yum is such a superior gum.

60. Cubs of the baby bear variety are born toothless, blind, and bald. Most Cub fans never advance beyond this stage.

61. The Cubs failed to sign Cy Young Award Winner Greg Maddux in 1992. He spent the next eleven years with the Atlanta Braves, who won the division each of those years along with the World Series in 1995.

62. “F**k the Cubs.” - Ozzie Guillen, Chicago White Sox manager

63. In early 1994, the Cubs lost nine straight at home. On April 30th, Cubs Manager Tom Trebelhorn told a Chicago Tribune reporter that the goat curse was to blame for the team’s home losing streak. They proceeded to lose three more, extending their record-setting home field losing streak to twelve games.

64. Every team has a bad century…right? Wrong.

65. According to Wikepedia, the north side of Chicago has a large gay and lesbian community, and I think that’s fabulous. Chicago-style hot dog, anyone?

66. It should be hard to come up with 100 reasons for anything.

67. The following is a PSA: the people you are about to view in this 1992 WGN Cubs promo have all passed away. They wasted their entire lives waiting for the Cubs to give them one, just one, championship. Now that you’ve been warned, go get a life.

68. Sam Sianis and a goat arrived at Wrigley Field on May 4th, 1994 to end the Cubbies twelve-game home losing streak. The Cubs went on to beat the Reds 5-2.

69. Da Bears. Da Cubs. Da accent. Duh.

70. Forbes recently listed Chicago as one of the Top 10 Most Miserable Cities in the U.S., and I’m willing to bet that the Cubs have everything to do with that.

71. “If I managed the Cubs, I’d be an alcoholic.” - Whitey Herzog, former Cardinals skipper

72. Cubs fans have yet to learn that not all pain is gain.

73. In March 1997, the Cubs held a curse-removing press conference at the Billy Goat Tavern, attended by Cubs marketing chief John McDonald and former Cub Ron Santo. The Cubs then opened the season with a record-setting thirteen straight losses.

74. Happy 25th anniversary, Lee Elia tirade! (former Cubs manager in ‘83, ripping the Cubs fans and media - not for kids)

75. They say hate is a form of love, but I don’t love the Cubs. I only hate them.

76. What does a mama bear on the pill have in common with the World Series? No cubs.

77. I can’t decide which I liked better about Sammy Sosa - his sprinting around the outfield before every Cub loss, or his cheating by using a corked bat. Oh wait, neither - it was his losing to McGwire in the great home run race of 1998.

78. In 1998, The Cubs traded pitching prospect Jon Garland across town to the White Sox for Matt Karchner (who?). Garland would lead the White Sox to the 2005 World Series Championship.

79. On May 16th, 2000, Cubs fans assaulted Dodgers’ catcher Chad Kreuter, striking him in the back and stealing his baseball cap. Krueter and his teammates chased the fans into the stands and recovered the hat. Several Cubs fans ended up bruised and in jail - a typical Saturday night for Cubs fans.

80. The Cubs got rid of hitting prospect Luis Gonzalez after only one and a half seasons. He would go on to become a repeat All-Star with the Arizona Diamondbacks, leading them to a World Series Championship in 2001 (he won the Series with a single in the bottom of the 9th of Game 7 against the Yankees).

81. Another classic seventh-inning-stretch moment at Wrigley, courtesy of Mike Ditka.

82. “Booze, broads, and bullshit. If you got all that, what else do you need?” - Harry Caray

83. In October 2003, five outs from winning their first National League pennant since 1945, the Cubs blew a 3-0 lead in the eighth inning when the Florida Marlins scored eight runs. The collapse began after a Cubs fan hit a foul ball with his hand as Moises Alou was attempting to catch it. After losing the game, the Cubs lost the series the following night. To this day, Cubs fans want to blame their losing the pennant on one guy in the stands. Ridiculous.

84. 100 years of losing - that’s consistency. Everyone loves a good underdog, but people hate a Lou-zer.

85. “Chicago” is the French rendering of the name shikaakwa, which literally means ’striped skunk.’ It’s not just the team that stinks after all!

86. With the Cubs five outs away from a victory that would have sent them to the 2003 World Series, Alex Gonzalez dropped a potential inning-ending routine double play ball against the Florida Marlins. This led to eight Marlin’s runs, a Cubs loss. They would lose again the following night, and their World Series hopes were A-Gone.

87. On February 26, 2004, a live “Pre-Destruction Show” hosted by Keith Olbermann featured the destruction of the infamous “Bartman ball” to rid Cubs of whatever curse was attached to it.

88. Daring to mock the hex gods, Sport Illustrated placed a picture of Kerry Wood on the April 5th, 2004 cover and declared the Cubs will win the World Series. Later that year, the Boston Red Sox won their first World Series in 86 years, breaking the “Curse of the Bambino.”

89. In 2004, Cubs outfielder Sammy Sosa ended up on the disabled list after injuring himself by sneezing. “Pujols bless you.”

90. How many homosexuals does it take to overturn a car? I don’t know, but we’ll find out if the Cubs ever win a World Series.

91. The Cubs’ un-official mascot is a formerly-homeless man named Ronnie Wickers, who goes by the nickname Ronnie Woo Woo. On April 19th, 2005, he was hit by a car outside of Wrigley Field. I was in Florida at the time, and I have people who who can back me up on this.

92. On September 28th, 2005, Cubs pitcher Randy Myers was attacked on the mound by a 27-year old Cubs fan, who had ran onto the playing field because he was disturbed by Myers’ performance.

93. Wrigley’s “bleacher bums” are famous for throwing the opposing team’s home run balls back onto the field. However, did you know that at Wrigley, bleacher fans bring cheap baseballs from home into the park? When someone from an opposing team hits a home run, the fan who catches it throws a phony back onto the field, keeping the real ball for themselves.

94. “Chicago Cubs fans are ninety percent scar tissue.” - George F. Will, Washington Post Columnist

95. In 2007, the Cubs captured first place in the Central Division with a whopping 85 wins. Chicago fans went wild and killed a goat, hanging it from the Harry Caray statue at Wrigley Field before Game 1 against the Arizona Diamondbacks. The Cubs lost the game, and eventually the series, and a goat needlessly lost it’s life to some dumb ass drunks.

96. In 2008, Cubs fans welcome the team’s first Japanese player, Kosuke Fukudome, by making a “racist” t-shirt the best-selling souvenir at Wrigley field.

97. I now know more about Chicago and the Cubs than I ever wanted to. Thanks for that.

98. That any human being can believe that a goat has anything to do with a team sucking for 100 years is simply amazing to me. Let’s just hope that if there are any UFO abductions any time soon, they don’t take anyone from the north side of Chicago. It just wouldn’t be a fair representation of the human race.

99. It’s been an especially delicious decade to be a Cubs hater. The 2003 Cubs collapse against the Marlins; 2004, the Red Sox break their curse, winning the World Series; 2005, good baseball finally returns to Chicago as the White Sox win the World Series; 2006, all is right in the world - the St. Louis Cardinals are World Series champs; In 2007, the Red Sox prove without a doubt that their curse is a distant memory, winning their second World Series in four years; 2008, the Cubs futility reaches the century mark.

100. I hate the Cubs because I’m a fan of the St. Louis Cardinals.

Feel My World Shake

My family moved around a lot throughout my childhood - Nebraska, Kansas, Kentucky, Illinois, Indiana, Maryland, Florida - but if I’m ever asked where I grew up, my answer will always be Indiana - in particular, Evansville. I still have a good amount of family living there, and in a few short months I will be moving back there after having lived in Florida for the last ten years (no, I’m not crazy). So, when an 5.2 magnitude earthquake rattled the midwest on April 18th, 2008, I was especially interested. After all, this wasn’t the first time I had ever been concerned about seismic activity in my hometown…

In 1990, I was a senior in high school, living in Evansville with my grandparents. The calendar had just turned to December, and the local news was saturated with the name Iben Browning, a man who claimed to have predicted the 1989 earthquake in California (remembered by me as the World Series earthquake). He also professed to be a climatologist, scientist, inventor, and holder of a doctorate in physiology. He had predicted that conditions were right for a major earthquake to occur along the New Madrid fault line on December 3rd, 1990, a fault line that Evansville lies along. I remember a lot of people being really freaked out (me being one of them), many of them planning to stay home from work or school that day. There was no way I was going to go school and end up in a pile of rubble, but convincing my grandparents that I should stay home was another story. I finally get out of attending when I explained that since so many students were going to be absent, we probably wouldn’t be doing any work anyway. Luckily, my claim of the probable high absenteeism was corroborated by a local news broadcast the evening before E-day. It’s important to note that it was my grandmother that I won over, and she was the one who took care of getting my grandfather to allow me to stay home - my grandpa was much too practical to believe in such nonsense or ever take part in such hysteria. My brother David lived on the other side of town with a family friend (he was a freshman at another high school), but he wasn’t going to go to school either. So, he came over and the earthquake party was on! We brought a full-sized mattress into the living room and camped out in front of the television, anxiously watching the news and waiting for the world to shake. The plan was that once it started, we would get underneath the mattress, a place that would surely protect us from the house caving in on top of us (genius, I know). The night came and went without incident of course, as did the next day - December 3rd, Earthquake Day. My grandpa didn’t let us off the hook that easily, however. Our day off from school was filled with chores and yard work. I believe it was my grandfather’s way of telling us “I told you so” without saying anything. It was later learned that Mr. Browning was not a geologist nor a seismologist, he had no formal training in climatology, his doctorate was in zoology not physiology, he had not predicted the World Series earthquake, and his projection had been based on a widely discredited theory. Oh well, thanks for the day off, Iben!

Getting back to present day; CNN was reporting that there was virtually no damage, and no reports of any casualties. Once I had heard from my family that everyone was OK, I did some more online reading about the earthquake on the website of Evansville’s local newspaper, The Evansville Courier. At the bottom of any of their online articles, readers can leave comments for the world to see. There were over three hundred comments discussing the initial earthquake article, and I found several of them to be pretty amusing. Assuming that most people in the world don’t read articles on the Evansville Courier website, I thought I would share some of the comments that gave me a good laugh. Enjoy!

“Earth Fart!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

“10 sec.?? Not here. I thought I was experiencing the Excorist only there wasn’t a priest! And I haven’t had any pea soup.”

“Wow, glad I confirmed what that was. I just woke up at 4:30 and was getting in the shower. I thought maybe I just drank too much last night.”

“Got my son up in the basement, I can’t but this did.”

“10 seconds my foot! I’d say it lasted a good 30 seconds. It woke my husband up about 4:37 this morning and of course he likes to share things with me so he yells babe, wake up, we’re having an earthquake!!”

“An earthquake of this magnitude obviously is the result of man-made global warming.”

“Best one in my lifetime I think. Bed was shaking for all the wrong reasons.”

“We are having riots down here on Haynie’s Corner. I am out of food & water and I’m down to 30 rounds of ammo. I heard there was a few killings at Roberts Stadium. Are we gonna get FEMA cards?”

“Why aren’t the bridges being inspected? Why are tall buildings in downtown not being inspected? I heard on the news this morning that the Henderson bridges are fine. How do they know that? This is what 8 years of Bush in the White House has gotten us. Just look at the aftermath of hurricate Katrina. We need Obama in the White House and get rid of these non-caring republicans who want to tell us that everything is fine.”

“The earthquake this morning was NOT Bush’s fault; in fact, the earthquake was in no way political, so go back to sleep!”

“They say that dogs and animals feel these things worse than humans…..I sat straight up in bed….my stupid dog slept through it.”

“My name is SGT_SHLITZ. I am a survivor living in Evansville, Indiana. I am broadcasting on all AM frequencies. I will be at the Yankeetown Boat ramp everyday at mid-day, when the sun is highest in the sky. If you are out there… if anyone is out there… I can provide food, I can provide shelter, I can provide security. If there’s anybody out there… anybody… please. You are not alone.”

“That wasn’t an earthquake, that was Bill Clinton leaving Boonville…”

“That really rocked my world.”

“They last time I felt anything like that I had a vibrating strap around my booty trying to get rid of some fat.”

“I don’t need this. I’m gonna move to L.A.”

“Folks, get used to it. This is just more of God’s wrath, like the storms and flooding, for the way Evansville people are living. If we don’t turn this thing around and start loving each other, stop voting for only those candidates the Democrat party tells you to and do all we can to close down the nudey bars that are ruining our city, we can expect this to be a weekly occurrance.”

“If this was Gods wrath on Evansville why did it start in Illinois.”

“Damn Bush….this is all his “fault”.”

“It was really the shock of people seeing gas prices for the first time this morning”

“Maybe the big one will come and knock down all the eyesore houses around town.”

“These after shocks have wrecked my nerves. Hope it’s safe to be in a car, I think I am going to have to go to the liquor store soon.”

“I’m concerned that all of this may trigger a tsunami on the Ohio River…”

“I wonder if this will loosen my dirt and make it easier to work on a garden.”

“Well…..my sister called me this morning and said, WOW, even the earth shakes for you on your birthday! Happy Birthday!”

“The Earth is not your mother, she is not dying, and she is not mad at us. We didn’t cause this, Bush didn’t cause it, and Clinton/Obama wouldn’t have stopped it from occuring (even though I’m sure one of them will make this claim).”

“If anyone would like to challenge me in map folding…just say when and where…”

“Mother Earth needs to lay off the beans (or get some Beano!)…”

“04/18/2008 … never forget.”

Don’t Cry Because It’s Over; Smile Because It Happened

Hey baby,

I can’t believe how hard it has been for me to get up the nerve to write this letter; one would think we’ve been together for years. Just try to keep the big picture in mind when you read what I’m about to say. I mean, it really has only been four and a half months since I first laid eyes on you. Yes, we have spent a lot of time together - don’t think for a minute that I don’t cherish those shared moments, or that I’ll soon forget them. You were always there for me when I needed you. You were always warm, and comforting. Trust me when I tell you that it’s not you - it’s me.

If only I had more space - that’s what I need; more space. I’ve looked at every possible angle to see if there was any way I could somehow keep you in my life, but it just wouldn’t make sense. I don’t want to force something that just isn’t there. Life is funny in that way…we used to fit together like a couple of puzzle pieces, but now it’s seems that we are destined to go our separate ways.

I still remember the first time I laid eyes on you: you were sitting there, looking beautiful (as usual), the light above highlighting your smooth, mocha-colored shape. I knew I had to have you in that very instant. It wasn’t long after that, that I was carrying you into my house; remember that night? Of course you do, it was our first together - the first of many. It was magical. Remember when I fell asleep watching The Three Amigos, and I woke up in the middle of the night, drooling on you? I should have been embarrassed, but I wasn’t, because you always made me feel so comfortable. I thank you for that.

So how did we end up here? I’m not sure, but it surely saddens me. I was going to say that maybe you should consider seeing other people, but I don’t think would be fair, or completely honest of me. I don’t want to can’t see you any more. You have to move on. But don’t worry, I know you’re going to be OK. You’re beautiful in every way - I’m sure there’s somebody out there for you who can care for you in a way that I cannot.

Love Always,
Luke

I’m going to be moving in a few months, I’m buying a house and moving back to the town I call “home”. This past December, I bought a new sectional sofa; however, due to the measurements of the home I’m going to be moving into, I can’t take said sofa with me - it won’t fit in my new living room. This is a letter to my sofa.

(P)Oops, I Did It Again

I’ve done plenty of embarrassing and/or stupid things in my life, especially when I was younger.

OK, mostly when I was younger.

(Who am I kidding?)

Anyway, here is one such story; a story that, twenty-one years later, my brother David will not let me forget. He loves telling people this story. I might as well share it, because chances are good you’ll eventually hear about it from him anyway. Did I mention that he loves reminding me of this story? Everything you are about to read is, of course, true.

The year was 1987, and I was living in Baltimore, Maryland with my siblings and my dad. It had been a warm spring, and it just so happened to be the year of the locusts (everyone called them locusts, when in actuality, they were cicadas). The locusts swarmed in and covered everything from trees to telephone poles. If you were outside, you could hear the constant hum of their buzzing. Luckily, they weren’t dangerous; they didn’t bite or sting. The locusts only lived a few days, maybe a week. I remember them being nothing more than a nuisance. Their shells remained attached to everything long after they were dead. When I say that these shells were everywhere, I mean e v e r y w h e r e. The constant buzzing of the locusts had been replaced by the constant crunch-crunch-crunching of their shells under my feet, as I ran through the park that I had spent many an afternoon in, eagerly trying to catch up to the Nerf football that had been thrown ahead of me. There was nothing like a good game of crunch football.

Locust season passed; spring turned to summer. When school let out, I traveled to Evansville, Indiana to spend the time off with my grandparents and one of my uncles. When I returned to Maryland, the fall season was quickly approaching with cooling temperatures and color-changing leaves. It was a perfect time of year to be thirteen, to have a bicycle, and access to that nearby park containing trails through it’s vast surrounding woods. I wasted no time in contacting my friend Stevie who lived down the block, anxious to get outdoors.

Stevie lived on the same side of the street as me, just down the block. His parents were very nice - they had me over for dinner on more than one occasion. His family always had more than we had (they had both VHS and Beta), but they were not-at-all snobby or selfish. They had told my father how impressed they were with me a few different times, mainly because I always addressed them as “sir” and “ma’am,” which surely filled my father with pride.

Stevie was a fun friend to have. He was the guy who was willing to do anything to win your approval and be your friend, and I was the guy willing to make him do stuff just to see if he would do it. Like the time we started a club, and we held our “meetings’ in the basement of his house (which was a playroom). These meetings consisted of video games, wrestling, or most commonly, a starting place for our outdoor adventures throughout the day. When the coast was clear, I confiscated a large empty canning jar from his mother’s kitchen. We then invited the neighborhood boys to join our club, under one condition - they had to pee in the jar and keep it a secret. Stevie’s responsibility as vice president was to keep the pee jar hidden there, in his basement. For two weeks, in the bottom drawer of a dresser at our club’s headquarters sat a big, warm, mason jar containing the urine of five or six little boys. His parents weren’t as impressed with me when his mom found it one morning.

We rode down to the park, and it is exactly what one would imagine upon hearing the word “park”: trees, a playground (monkey bars, merry-go-round, swings - all of the necessities), a sidewalk path throughout, benches for grown-ups so they could watch their little ones play, and pooper-scooper stations for owners whose dogs had decided that the park looked like a giant dog toilet. It was a big park; it could easily accommodate several large groups of people at once. If you ventured towards the middle of the park, there was a downward hill leading to a rather large grass field that saw many a crunch-football game take place. Continuing past this field was the forest, which is what you call any wooded area when you’re thirteen years old. This was my favorite part of the park.

The forest contained several man-made paths for walking and biking. If you wanted to, you could wander off of the beaten path, as this area was not overly dense. I was rather skilled with my Huffy and not-at-all afraid, so of course, Stevie and I had gone exploring several times already. On one of our very first trips, we discovered a creek. On weekends we would build a fort in a secluded area, but I guess our hideaway was never very structurally sound - upon our return, we’d only find a pile of branches, sticks, and twigs, as if some other kids actually discovered our land and knocked it over. Nah… it must have been the wind.

One Saturday morning, Stevie and I decided that we were going to try to venture further into the forest than we ever had before. I loaded up on necessities from the corner store (12 oz. can of Coke and a pack of Rain-Blo bubble gum stuffed into, and sticking out of, my crumpled up tube sock), and headed into the unknown.

We rode for almost two hours, stopping whenever we saw anything interesting. We always stopped at anything that could be a used as a bike ramp. We built another fort, our biggest to date, and it felt like we were so deep into the forest that it would never be found. It had been a very good day so far. Well, up until I was consumed by the overwhelming need to relieve myself.

There are a couple things you need to understand at this point. Number one, I had to go number two. Number two, I wished I only had to go number one. If I only had to go number one, all I would have had to do is stand behind a tree and do what all men have done at some point in their lives. But this was far more complex. I could have made the return trip home to a bathroom, but I knew that such a decision would end our expedition. I wasn’t ready to go home - we were having too much fun. However, I really didn’t want Stevie (or anyone, ever) to see me crapping, and I had nothing with which to wipe.

As quickly as these thoughts came and went, the urge to “drop the kids off at the pool” had rapidly increased. I realized that there was no way I would have been able to make it back home. I wouldn’t last that long, and holding it in was becoming a bit painful. It was “go” time. I jumped off my bike, and made Stevie promise not to look while I simultaneously scanned the area for the spot that would supply the most privacy. There’s no need to go into detail about what happened next. Once relieved, I briefly considered cleaning up with my shirt or my underwear and then just leaving them out there in the forest. I decided it wasn’t worth the risk to sacrifice any article of clothing - I didn’t have a lot of clothes to begin with. If Dad were to find out what I had done, he’d surely beat the shit out of me (pun intended).

Instead, I grabbed the biggest leaf I could find, and did the best I could. Three leaves seemed to do the trick. As I gathered myself, I was suddenly filled with pride. I had conquered nature. I was a man.

I pooped in the forest.

Back at home later that night, I couldn’t help but notice how itchy my backside was becoming. I needed to shower - it’s probably not possible to properly clean yourself in the previous conditions. I went to bed after I showered, but I wasn’t going to get much sleep that night. I tossed and turned, scratched my butt, scratched my hands (why were they itching?), scratched my butt some more… I finally slept.

I woke up still itching and scared to death - I had a rash on both hands, and on two of the fingers on my left hand there were pus-filled bubbles hanging off that were each the size of a dime. To my horror, my backside was also wet for some reason, a reason that was quickly becoming quite obvious. I ran to the bathroom. Now, have you ever had to bend over slightly and look behind yourself into a mirror at yourself? I don’t ever, ever recommend it, even under normal conditions. I discourage it even more if you had just previously used poison oak leaves as toilet paper.

I showed, and told, my father what happened to me. He was trying to yell at me to stop scratching through his laughter. I’m pretty sure this was not one of those moments that my behavior filled him with pride, and I’m still not sure which was the most embarrassing: being dumb enough to wipe my behind with poison oak leaves? Or, to be bent over the edge of the bed, pants pulled down, having calamine lotion applied to the affected area by my father? You decide.

A couple of interesting notes:
•Super Target sells travel-sized Charmin
•If you want to miss a week of school, try poison oak. It worked for me.
•I didn’t use my underwear to “clean up” because I didn’t want to destroy an article of clothing. In the following week of my recovery, I ruined eight pair.
•My brother David, to this day, routinely refers to me as “poison oak boy.” A couple of years ago, for my birthday, he drew me this cartoon. It’s hanging on my fridge.

I’ll Try the Steak; Hold the Small Talk

I realize that the ability to conduct small talk is a social skill. I wonder… what do they call “the inability to enjoy” it? Inhuman? Could it be a genetic trait? (I can picture my grandpa coming up with witty retorts (read: the straightforward kind of witty (OK enough with the parentheses)) that left many a person speechless.) Whatever it is, I have it.

Now, don’t get me wrong - almost every job I’ve ever held has required my friendly interaction with complete strangers. I would say that I am “above average” in the small talk department. It’s not pointless conversation as a whole that annoys me, it’s the apparently-inbred, forced, robotic, nonsensical vocabulary of one vocation in particular: waiters/waitresses.

Before any of you slam me for making fun of pointing out a few server idiosyncrasies, know that I worked in this industry for several years. I’ve been a busboy, a waiter, a server trainer, and even a manager - it’s very possible that I taught you how to do your job. Keeping that in mind, here are a few rules to follow that will ensure the continuation of a long-standing tradition in the restaurant industry: annoying small talk[1]. I may or may not be guilty of some of the things you are about to read.

♦ Rule #1: Make sure that, when you come to my table, you tell me that you’re going to be taking care of me today (more on the word today later). I, as a stranger in your building, am probably very nervous. It’s comforting to know that if anything happens, you’re going to be there for me no matter what. What a relief! I can finally relax and eat, which is what I was hoping for.

♦ Rule #2: It’s important that you are honest with me from the moment I take a seat in your section; make sure that I understand our relationship will be over almost as quickly as it’s about to begin. Leading me on could cost you money. You can impress this upon me by simply using the word today, over and over. Examples: From Rule #1 - “I’ll be taking care of you today.” “How are you doing today?” “Can I start you off with something to drink today?” This will make it clear to me that you don’t really care if I’m going to be hungry or thirsty tomorrow. The time is now and I need to enjoy this moment while it lasts. By doing this, you are not only going to quiet my growling stomach, but you’re also teaching me one of life’s lessons. That should be worth an extra dollar at the very least.

♦ Rule #3: Also known as, “The For-Ya Rule of Five.” Confused? It’s simple. Try to end as many questions as possible with the prepositional phrase for ya[2]. Examples: “What can I get for ya?” “Can I get that out of your way for ya?” “Can I get anything else for ya?” “Can I rub your back for ya?[3]” This lets me know that you are paying extra attention to my needs, and tells anyone else within an earshot of your voice that you are not talking to them.

♦ Rule #4: Any question that you don’t end with the words for ya (which must be done at least five times, hence the name of Rule #3) or today must be completed with the word or, but make sure you don’t offer the second choice that or so obviously indicates. This will leave me momentarily confused and forever-wondering what the other choice might have been. It’s also very important that your voice trails off into oblivion. Following this rule will make you seem secretive and mysterious, and will surely make me want to leave you extra tip money in the hopes that you might open up to me. Examples: “Would you like some more to drink, or…?” “Does everything taste OK, or…?” “Do you need a box, or…?” I still wonder what the other container-choices are for taking home leftovers.

♦ Rule #5: There is one way, and one way only, to ask me if I will be ordering dessert: “Did you save room for dessert?” (It’s optional, but not necessary, to incorporate Rule #3 into this Rule.) Asking me for dessert in this way shows me what an incredible sense of humor you have. You watched me stuff myself silly in true American fashion for forty-five minutes, and only afterwards did you let me know that I could have had something else, something sweet and delicious, had I monitored my intake a bit more carefully. My answer, of course, will be “No,” causing you no extra work whatsoever. What it will do, however, is cause us to share a laugh and smile. I will feel closer to you than ever at this point - how can I not be even more generous with my gratuity?!

♦ Rule #6: If your server is extremely hot, all other rules are thrown out the window. Her small talk is never annoying, no matter how stupid or robotic or forced. It’s cute and endearing, and she probably wants you. She now has permission to speak in Pig Latin if she so chooses[4].

Footnotes

[1]Including, but not limited to: bad grammar, bad jokes, bad breath, or just plain stupidity.

[2]Using “ya” in place of “you” shows that you are very casual, laid-back, and chill. It makes me feel like we are friends.

[3]This one hasn’t actually happened yet, but one can only dream.

[4]Ouyay obablypray illstay on’tway etgay ay ackrubbay.