Let's go a honky tonkin'

Just going through my messages from the shitheads (believe it or not, it's down to fourteen unread messages) and came across a band with a classic name:

Less Honky, More Tonky

They're playing with Todd, Steve Earle and others at some Southern shit kickin' festival.

I've always said, "Less talk, more rock. Less jibber, more jabber. Less riff, more raff. And, for the love of Buddha, less honky, more tonky."

domestic spying

This following observation is not meant to rationalize the Bush Administration's domestic spying policy, I just thought it funny. So here goes...
Do you suppose there are some Russian expatriates, veterans of the cold war, who scoff at the notion of American indignity towards being eavesdropped upon by our government? As if to say, "You think that's bad? That's nothin'! In Russia, we have KGB spy crash on couch for nine years." Sort of the "I had to walk to school in the snow, up hill, both ways" one-upmanship.

Sing, sing a song...

From today's class...

Katherine: "Mr. Lewis, I can't remember, I know a boy
deer is a buck, but what's a girl deer?"

Mr. Lewis: "A doe."

Katherine: "Adoe?"

Mr. Lewis (completely deadpan): "No, just doe. Doe,
a deer, a female deer." I was surprised how few of
them had heard the song.

Later in the period...
We're taking the vocab quiz.

I've noticed some of the kids sing under their breath
while trying to focus, a trait we share in common so I
let it slide.

Half way through the allotted time I distinctly hear,
"Wake me up before you go-go..."

"Wait, wait...who's singing that?"

Benson sheepishly raises his hand.

"Where did you hear that?"

"V-h1"

"You get five extra credit points."

Finally, I'm driving home behind your standard issue
silver mini-van, personalized license plate reads:
4R3GRLZ.
Which is sweet enough, but the license plate frame
reads: "Our girls drive us crazy, we drive them
everywhere else."

UUUggghhhhhhh...

Now all of this isn't so bothersome until I see the
mini-van turn into the San Marino High School parking
lot, meaning one of the girls is a teenager.

Now my feeling is, if you truly love your daughter,
you take the cornball license plate frame off the car
when she hits puberty. You don't throw it away. You
keep it and threaten its return when she gets surly.
But, be kind, remove the cheesy license plate frame
once being cool becomes important.

I dunno, that's just me.

You make the sun shine brighter than Doris Day,

Christopher "jitterbug into my brain" Lewis

Ha Ha Halloween

Merry Halloween!

Little Johnny was on a park bench stuffing all of his Halloween candy in his mouth. An old lady came over and said, "Son, don't you know that eating all of that
candy will rot your teeth, give you acne, and make you sick?"

"My grandfather lived to be 105 years old!" replied Johnny.

"Did he eat five candy bars at a sitting?" the old lady retorted.

"No, said Johnny, but he minded his own freakin' business."

Hot Sauce

Julia,
As I graded essays in my favorite eating establishment, Taco Bell, I became aware of yet another in the long line of inappropriate anthropomorphic food. I've attached a picture.

What I find particularly disturbing about these packets is that a couple of their messages imply a certain amount of fear and despair. Which leads me to feel that it's no longer food as entertainment, but food masquerading as cannibalism, mean-spirited cannibalism at that.

Bon apetit,
The Frugal Gourmet

Deflated Bucky Balls

Sad news...
Nobel Laureate Richard Smalley passed away today. He was just 62 years old.

"Rick was incredibly creative and had the ability to make his creative vision a reality," said Robert Curl, professor emeritus of chemistry at Rice University and
one of the men with which Smalley shared the Prize. "His mind was like a searchlight bringing whatever it looked at into clarity."

My lament is that I only now hear of him after he's fallen off the raft. I need to make a point of appreciating these folk while they're still with us.

Smalley and friends discovered, get this: Bucky Balls.

Bucky Balls, besides being a fun phrase to say--over and over again--, are "the roundest and most symmetrical large molecule known to man." (http://www.nanotech-now.com)

But it doesn't stop there, Bucky Balls are officially known as, I kid you not: Buckministerfullerine, named so because they are reminiscent, in shape, of the
geo-desic domes made famous by the American architect.

Apparently, Buckministerfullerine (I don't know which I enjoy saying more) is a carbon molecule instrumental in improving the world of nanotechnology. Thus
re-affirming that the kid at the end of Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure was right, "the world is getting bigger AND smaller... SAN DIMAS HIGH SCHOOL FOOTBALL
RULES!"

Final note, I'm still in the process of clarifying this information, but a couple of web-sites report that Buckministerfullerine was named "Molecule of the Year". What year? I don't know, but that's one awards ceremony I want to attend, or at least work the red carpet. Can you imagine?

"Dr. Smalley, Dr. Smalley, who are you wearing?"
"Are the rumors true? Is Jane Pauley carrying your love-child?"
"Will she change her name to Jane Pauley-Smalley?"

...perhaps in a parallel universe.

Yours in nanotechnology,
C. Buckminster Lewis

Scooter and L. Harvey Oswald

Hello all,
As I sat down to type these words I learned, via the information super-highway (thank you Al Gore), that I. Lewis "Scooter" Libby, Jr. has been indicted. My feeling is that I. Lewis will soon change his nickname to "fall guy"-- I. Lewis "fall guy" Libby. Keep in mind, I've done absolutely no research to back this claim, but here's the logic that leads me to believe Scooter is a stooge: no one in such a high profile position, with a name as asinine as I. Lewis "Scooter" Libby, Jr., commits such a crime. It's the same reason I will never rob a bank and use my mom's car in the getaway. Her license plate is personalized-- "PW". Tough for the eye-witnesses to forget that.

Not a day goes by since Plame-gate began that I wonder one of the following:

1. What does the "I" stand for? Ignatius? Ivanhoe? Ille (as in Ille Nastase)? Igby (Igby Libby)?
2. Should there be an amendment to the Constitution making it illegal for grown men to go by the sobriquet, "Scooter"?
3. If he's a "junior" nicknamed "Scooter" is his dad's handle "Chopper"?
4. What's wrong with going by Lewis? Or I. Lewis--conjure up images of I. Claudius, you know, old school.
5. Whatever happened to Orange Julius?

My point being, Scooter's the guy the bank robbers send out the front door while they sneak out the back--not that I've put much thought into robbing banks.

But that's not why you called...

I intended to share with y'all an interesting bit of historical journalism. I was watching a show about Lee Harvey Oswald's murder, when I witnessed the following interaction between a spokesman for the Dallas Police Department (D.P.D) and the crack collection of reporters assigned to cover the absurd events:

Spokesman: "Oswald expired at 1:07 p.m."
Reporter: "He's dead?"

I've racked my brain and can't come up with a single alternative interpretation of the statement "Oswald expired at 1:07 p.m." Any thoughts?

Yours eternally,
C. Foxwell "Skippy" Lewis