March 08, 2004
It was the meanest practical joke I was ever involved in. Not the funniest and certainly not the most fun, but unsurpassed for pure mean... I'm going to change enough details here to make the victim anonymous, because you could Google his name and find out all kinds of things about him. I know it because I did just that.
He was a nice enough guy, if a little naive. He and his wife were newlyweds, devoted to each other, and devout. His name was Jerry P (changed), and his family was famous in certain circles. Jerry was a proud family name, so much so that his twin brother shared the same first name. Jerry's brother Jerry went into the Marine Corps at about the same time our Jerry joined the Air Force.
And that's everything you need to know as setup to this practical joke.
It wasn't my idea, and I don't know who first thought of it. The only reason I was involved at all was because the luck of the duty roster put me on a post with a phone that night. But I went along wholeheartedly, because the plan was brilliant.
It was well after dark on swing shift, during that evening lull after dinner, and a few hours away from the midnight shift relief. The phone at my post rang, and when I answered a friend told me about this joke being set up on Jerry. I was to monitor my radio and be ready to pick up the phone and listen quietly.
This was the security phone system, not connected to the civilian world, but we could do things like set up party lines and such.
In a while Jerry P was paged on the radio and given a telephone number to call. He had to phone Central Security first (they were in on the joke), and asked them to transfer the call outside our network.
While the phone was ringing, cops all over the base were quietly picking up their phones to listen in.
A doctor answered the phone. The 'doctor' was actually another cop that Jerry P didn't know. The doctor verified personal information (social security number, etc) with Jerry P to convince him that the call was legit. Then came the joke.
"Airman Jerry, you have a brother in the Marine Corps, correct?"
"Yes sir."
"And he has the same first and last name as you, correct?"
"Yes sir."
"Well, we have an unfortunate mixup here then. As part of standard procedure, everybody going through basic training is tested for various things, including venereal disease. Your brother tested positive and has been undergoing treatment for syphilis for the past month, but we've discovered a mistake in our records, and, well, this is difficult to say..."
(confused) "What do you mean?"
"Unfortunately Airman Jerry P, your brother doesn't have syphilis, you do."
I will never know how we all managed to keep quiet. I was bent over, holding the phone and my stomach, desperately trying not to laugh out loud.
It took a moment for Jerry P to respond, and at first he was sure it was a mistake. It had to be. The doctor kept insisting that Jerry P stay calm and report the next day to the base hospital. Jerry P kept getting more and more agitated, and that's when he dropped the bomb.
"BUT I'VE NEVER SLEPT WITH ANYONE BUT MY WIFE!!!!"
He was in tears, and suddenly it wasn't funny anymore. Jerry thought he had VD, and since he'd been a virgin when he got married, the only way he could have gotten it was from his wife. His newlywed wife.
And he was on duty, and had a gun.
I heard a quiet call on the radio, sending someone over to Jerry's post ASAP. Hopefully to disarm him before he did something stupid. Then someone on the party line snickered loud enough to be heard, and we were busted.
Oh man, he was righteously pissed. Couldn't blame the guy one bit either, talk about a roller coaster of emotions we'd put him through. He didn't shoot himself, but he was close to shooting the supervisor who went over to take his rifle away until he calmed down. Calming down took several hours, and it was a week or more before he would talk to anyone. Eventually we could kid him again, though not about that. The joke was never ever mentioned. I don't know about the other people eavesdropping that night, but I always felt major guilt over that practical joke.
I still think it was brilliant though.
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06:59 PM | category: Boring Stories
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Rene Descartes is finishing dinner in a small cafe when the waiter asks "would you like desert?"He answers " I think not," and disappears.
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08:41 AM | category: Links
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Parenting tip: bigger hammer.
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07:40 AM | category: Square Pegs
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Polygram Records, Warner Bros., and Zesta Crackers to become:
3M to merge with Goodyear to become:
Zippo Manufacturing, Audi Motors, Dofasco, and Dakota Mining to become:
Fairchild Electronics and Honeywell Computers to become:
Grey Poupon and Docker Pants to become:
Knott's Berry Farm and the National Organization of Women to become:
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06:40 AM | category: Square Pegs
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on TCM - Turner Classic Movies, beginning at 8pm Eastern Standard, are three Sherlock Holmes movies in a row.
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05:04 AM | category: Square Pegs
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March 07, 2004
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05:29 PM | category: Square Pegs
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The Llama Butchers, just because of the name. I have a note here on my list of movies to see someday about "Barn of the Blood Llama". Coincidence? I dunno, but I'm not taking any chances. And it's not just because of the name.
Blogeline is back after a long hiatus.
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10:46 AM | category: Links
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Behind door number so-so, we have Snowbeast. This made-for-TV bigfoot thriller stars a whole heap of washed-up TV stars like Clint Walker, Bo Swenson, Yvette Mimieux and others you'll probably recognize. Amazingly enough, this bland thriller was written by the same guy who wrote the screenplay to Hitchcock's Psycho, proving that Bob Marley was right when he sang "a hungry man is an angry man". This guy must've been desperate for grocery money (I know that doesn't quite fit the point I'm trying to make, but I wanted to throw in a Marley quote to impress you).
The plot is full of holes, and the actual violence seen is minimal - it was for TV after all. Not very good, but not unwatchable either.
Much better, in a crapesque sort of way is Night Train to Terror - a trio of tales embedded in a senseless concept meant to tie the stories together. God and Satan are riding a train together, discussing souls. Also on the train, for no apparent reason, are quite a few teenagers, partying like only teenagers in 60's beach movies can. There's a catchy song they play at various times, and you'll likely wind up with an ear-worm from it. The stories here are actually not too bad. The special effects range from tacky to good, including some pretty cool stop-action claymation work. There are gruesome moments and blood and gore, and several gratuitious breast shots (and one bush sighting as well, for those who're keeping track).
The ending credits note that God is playing himself.
Remember the Lurch-like actor Richard Moll? Apparently he had a (so-called) career playing freaks in cheesy horror movies before he hit the big time, playing the freak bailiff on the television sitcom Night Court. I used to think his role in House was what his acting career had sunk to, but apparently it was a simple return to his roots. He plays a couple different roles in this one. Recommended.
Finally, we have The Severed Arm. This flick should be studied in every cinema course as how to completely screw up a great concept. Here's the story line: "Trapped in a cave, five men cut the arm off of another companion in order to ward off starvation. After they are saved, their victim seeks revenge on them one by one."
Isn't that cool? Unfortunately, everything else about the movie is absolute dreck. I should've known that suck was inevitable when, in the first two minutes of the movie, we have an extreme windblown comb-over moment. I mean, the actor gained eight inches in height as his hair stood straight up in the breeze. Believe me, it was all downhill from there. I suggest remembering this title for the express purpose of avoiding it.
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01:15 AM | category: Cult Flicks
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March 06, 2004
These are rightly described as treasures, and they aren't hidden behind massive vault doors. It's emphasized often in each museum that the contents belong to the entire American people. You get the sense that you're not being allowed to see the items so much as that the caretakers are making sure that everyone gets the best view possible.
To say I don't like the city of Washington DC is an understatement. I believe that if they were to give Uncle Sam an enema, the nozzle would be inserted in DC. But I also think that everyone should spend a couple of weeks visiting Washington, because there is just so much history to see. I hate DC, but I also sincerely recommend it as a vacation destination for all.
We started our trip by driving to the nearest Metro station and parking there. The DC Metro system is excellent, it's much easier than trying to find a parking spot in DC, plus the metro fare is less than parking in the city. Plus, the metro took us to within a block of the National Museum of American History, our choice for the day.
We had a 5 minute wait to get in, standing in line as everyone went through security checks. When it was my turn, I handed over my car keys and pocket watch, walked through the metal detector, and buzzed it. Stepping back through, I realized that I was still holding my umbrella. I handed it to the guard and set off the detector again. Hmmmm... doing a quick pat of my pockets, I realized that I was carrying (as always) my Swiss Army knife. Wondering what kind of reaction I'd get, I pulled it out and put it on the table, then walked through the detector again. No problem this time, and the guard handed me my things without a second glance at the knife.
So let's get to the treasures, eh? We started on the third floor and worked our way down. First up were the music exhibits, including two really nice features on Ella Fitzgerald and Duke Ellington.
A display case full of Star Trek stuff caught my eye, and when I wandered over to look I saw the really cool stuff. There were three more displays in a nook: one had the original ruby slippers from Wizard of Oz, another had one of Dizzy Gillespie's trumpets. The third case held (get this), Muhammed Ali's boxing gloves, Sonja Heine's ice skates, a baseball autographed by Babe Ruth, a Michael Jordan Bulls jersey, a sweater from the 1980 Miracle on Ice US Olympic hockey team, and tennis racquets from Arthur Ashe and Chris Evert.
I'm going to quickly mention a few other nifty items, and then get to the real 'wow' stuff. There was a very impressive exhibit about the First Ladies. Money, clocks, transportation (many restored vehicles, I'd love to see what's stored in their warehouses). Archie Bunker's chair. The key to the padlock of rod 21, which is the one removed to start the chain reaction on the worlds first nuclear pile.
It takes more than "stuff" to make a museum come to life, and the Smithsonians are world-class. They use innovative displays and lots of hands-on, you don't just look at the exhibits. They use sound and touch as well, and it's consistantly impressive.
Ok, the 'wow' things:
The top hat worn by Abraham Lincoln on the night he was assasinated.
Everyone has seen that picture of the workers unfurling the American flag from the roof of the Pentagon when they began making repairs. That flag is now hanging in the second floor rotunda, and you don't appreciate just how huge it really is until you stand in front of it and look up and up and up.
The space suit worn by Alan Shepard on board Freedom 7, making him the first American to go into space.
The Star Spangled Banner. Not the song, but the original flag that flew over Fort McHenry that inspired our National Anthem. It's being restored, and just the glass walled room showing the restoration equipment is pretty amazing. Without a doubt, this was the highlight for me.
We just skimmed the museum today. Realistically, there is just so much to see and absorb that each building of the Smithsonian is a two-day visit. You really should make the trek at least once, you won't regret it.
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09:38 PM | category: Family matters
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I can't believe I'm saying this, but I'm kinda sick of the Air & Space Museum and Natural History Museum. All out-of-town guests want to go see these two, and I was right across the street from Air & Space when I was working at the Department of Education. So I'm very familiar with it. Too familiar. On the other hand, it's been awhile since I've been to the American History building, so I'm looking forward to it.
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If it's Blog*spotted, scroll down to "In the Moog".
Welcome him to the blogroll as well (down at the bottom clump with the rest I haven't gotten around to alphabetizing yet). He lists me as "Just Plain Good", and that without monetary renumeration! He kept a straight face while typing that too (I hope). Anyway, go read his blog. It's gooder than 'just plain'.
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March 05, 2004
Fluffy White Bunnies
Yellow Brick Roadkill
Fridge Raiders
Bobbin' Monicas
Fighting Pacifists
Tijuana Tabledancers
Red Headed Step Children
Northeast Southwesterners
Altoona Fish
Battling Budgies
Boston Stranglers
Brooklyn Draft Dodgers
Santa Monica Lewinskis
Scoregasm
Sears Craftsmen
Anhauser Buschwhackers
Pabst Smears
Iowa Cowtippers
Cleveland Earthtones
and of course my favorite: Rockets
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01:48 PM | category: Square Pegs
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As of right now, Kerry has been campaigning for President longer than he spent in Vietnam.
Important Note: I saw this on someone's site a day or two ago and can't find it again. Please let me know where so I can give credit.
More Important Note: It was over on the most excellent Hold The Mayo! Thanks Stephen.
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12:25 PM | category: Politics
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I wasn't wearing a parka that day, which means that it was sometime in August in Grand Forks, North Dakota. I was also working Six-Charlie. Some cops loved working Six-Charlie, some hated it. I was an in-betweener, as it was a nice change occasionally, but it could also be a royal pain.
In those days Grand Forks had five B-52's on alert at all times. Fully fueled and loaded with nukes, crews close at hand on standby, they could take off with five minutes notice (click the pic for a real appreciation of the size of the B-52). As you can imagine, there were cops all over the place in that area, guarding and protecting things.
"The Pad" was where the spare aircraft were kept. Most of the time, the pad was patrolled by one cop in a pickup truck (Six-Charlie), while the majority of security was provided by the maintenance crews and flight personnel that swarmed the area. A lot of times, it was a sleepy backwater.
I was just cruising slowly around the area when I got the call on the radio. An unidentified aircraft was on approach, and not answering radio calls. I turned on the lights and stomped the accelerator and raced to the end of the runway.
We had standard procedures for this. It wasn't common, but occasionally some poor flight student doing a solo would mistake our runway for the one at Grand Forks International, ten miles east of us. The runways were oriented the same way, and an inexperienced or nervous pilot might not notice details like the airbase, especially from the direction this one was coming. That's if they could see the base at all, for the day was far from clear. The clouds were low and thick, it was rainforest muggy, and it felt like a good thunderstorm could happen at any moment.
I positioned myself at the edge of the end of the runway and watched the clouds. As soon as the tower gave the word I'd drive alongside the runway, and when the plane landed I'd lead it to a holding area where the pilot would be detained. Most of the time, we felt sorry for them, because they'd be all kinds of embarrassed for their mistake.
The tower called go, and I started rolling down the edge of the runway, picking up speed. I was expecting a little Piper Cub or something similar. Instead, this huge and wicked looking jet materialized out of the bottom of the cloud deck, startling the bejeebers out of me. I frantically looked for markings, trying to figure out what it was as it roared by.
As the jet passed me and touched down, I called the tower and let them know that it was a Canadian RF-101 Voodoo. I could tell it was the reconnasance version from the long boxy nose that housed the cameras. In those days I was an aircraft geek, since I worked around them every day.
As the Voodoo slowed down to below 90mph, I managed to pull up alongside and signalled to the crew (twin seater) to follow me. They acknowleged and I concentrated on not wrecking the rattletrap I was driving as we continued to slow down.
They followed my truck to the holding point, and as they shut down the aircraft I got out and, weapon at the ready, waited for them to climb out. The pilot started talking to me from the cockpit but I couldn't understand a word because it was in french. I gestured that they should come down, and finally they climbed out of the aircraft. More hand signals, and they put their hands up in the air. Every time they tried to drop their arms I raised my rifle and their arms went back up. They both wore smiles and chattered at me in french, I assumed they were cursing me out.
Within a minute or two backup arrived. Fifteen more cops, armed to the teeth, and one of them spoke french. My part done, I went back to my interupted patrolling.
That's basically it. I found out later that their base had been closed by bad weather, and they didn't have enough fuel to go anywhere else, so they flew to Grand Forks unannounced. I always thought english was the international flight language, so at least one of those two should have been able to speak at least a little. I also never heard why they wouldn't communicate with the tower on the emergency frequencies, instead of coming in dumb and silent.
Thinking back on it, they could've been surrendering Montreal to me.
Also, it's mildly interesting (to me, anyway) that the Voodoo was retired from active USAF duty in 1971. This story took place in probably 1979 or 1980.
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07:02 AM | category: Boring Stories
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Some days it was just too darn hot to do anything. Even marbles sucked, because the best dirt beds for that were in full sun, and nobody felt like frying their brains.
That’s when the board games would come out. Alongside the playgrougd were several fixed benches, shaded by the buildings and close to the cool bricks of the school wall. Looking like birds lined up on a telephone wire, we were grouped up in various ways as we played the games. Parcheesi (ick), Sorry and Chinese Checkers, Mandala (we called it something else though), and my personal favorite – Box Hockey.
Box Hockey was the low-tech version of Air Hockey. In fact, to that point we had never heard of Air Hockey. Play is similar, and so is the speed of it, if only because the ‘rink’ is smaller.
The puck was a regular olÂ’ checker, and the paddles were wedge-shaped pieces of hardboard. Each end had three goals, larger ones on each side worth one point, and a smaller one smack in the middle worth three points. Games went to 11 or 15 or 21, and there was usually someone hovering nearby with dibs on the next game.
When my kids were that age, I built our own Box Hockey game. It proved to be a hit, and I built several more over the years to give away as gifts. On the underside we put a checkerboard and backgammon board, and just flipped the hockey rink to play those. We'd usually include a set of checkers, some dice, and if the child was old enough a set of chess pieces.
So thatÂ’s what weÂ’re going to do this go-round of "Build It", weÂ’re going to build a Box Hockey set. It makes a great birthday gift, or save it as a surprise for those heat-wave days coming up. It's also a great family project, simple enough to have the little ones pitch in. It makes it more special when they help.
If youÂ’ve never done any woodworking, no worries. The skills are basic, the materials are readily available and inexpensive. Power tools will speed things along, but arenÂ’t at all necessary.
Update: While out running errands tonight, I made a quick stop at the hardware store to price the lumber needed. I'm estimating right up front that you can do this project for around $30.00. Not bad for a from-the-heart gift.
Next time (probably this weekend), a detailed parts and measurement list, and pictures!
(Update: click here for the next part of the series)
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05:00 AM | category: Build It
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March 04, 2004
Here's one place I go when looking for info about the lesser-known lights of the silver screen. Some of it's not work safe.
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11:49 AM | category: Cult Flicks
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This time around, meet Wedge Oldham, who doesn't just build and fly big scale versions of famous rockets, he builds 'em bigger than original!
I look positively Orion.
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11:33 AM | category: Rocketry
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March 03, 2004
You may remember, back when the Axis of Evil Naughty (Classic) was nothing but a disorganized mob - not that that's a bad thing - and Jennifer decided to bribe folks with topless pictures of herself. You may also recall that yours truly was the first to vote for Jennifer, and I got the 'special' picture. 
The rest of you got the innocent version. Nya nya slow-pokes.
Get your butts in gear and send some questions to Spork and Stephen. Google if you must, but don't let these two share a meal without your input! If it helps, pretend you're controlling their thoughts long-distance.
And don't forget the picture of Jennifer!*
*This offer applies to all but Jennifer. Dearest Jen, I'll post it on the newsgroup ALT.BINARIES.AMATUER.TOPLESS if you don't send at least one question to each. Don't test me, I'll do it.
Update: Susie is a classy lady.
Update: Victor is one hep rat too.
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02:23 PM | category: Munuvian Daily Tattler
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New Nietzschean Diet Lets You Eat Whatever You Fear Most
Oh wait, that would be spiders. Never mind.
Courtesy of The Onion.
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01:44 PM | category: Links
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