The Lockout

It began as a typical evening at the Taylor home. I had showered, slipped into my smoking jacket, and was spending some quality time on the couch with my Kindle when Ashley came into the living room and inquired as to whether or not I had fed our dog Sandy. I admitted that I had not, and realizing that it was almost 10:00 I quickly gathered up some dog food and made my way onto the back deck.

While I was scooping food into the Sandy’s bowl, Ashley decided to come out onto the deck and pet our beloved canine. As she exited the house, she pulled the back door closed to prevent moths from flying into the living room but did not realize that the door’s knob lock was engaged. We spent several minutes on the deck and finally decided that it was time to make our way back into the living room when we discovered that we were locked out of the house.

We quickly assessed the situation and it was grim: I was wearing pajama pants, a t-shirt, and a pair of old sneakers. Ashley was wearing shorts, a t-shirt, and no shoes. Neither of us had our cell-phones, keys, or even wallets on us. To make matters worse, I was not even sure we could get out of the back yard. I had secured the gate of our six-foot privacy fence from the outside with a large piece on concrete to prevent Sandy from escaping (as she could manipulate the lock) and even if we got out I had no way to call for help.

I left Ashley on the deck and proceeded to try and force the gate open. My first few attempts were unsuccessful and just about the time I had resigned myself to climbing over, I felt the concrete move enough for me to get my hand out. Finally out of the back yard, I ran around the perimeter of my home checking to see if I could jimmy any of the windows open. I must say, as a block captain of my neighborhood watch I was slightly disappointed that a disheveled man desperately trying to force open windows in the dark did not attract more attention.

At any rate, I reported back to Ashley that our only option was to wake up a neighbor and ask to use their phone. We have an elderly woman living next door who goes to bed before Wheel of Fortune is off the air, and although I knew beating on her door would scare the bejesus out of her it really seemed to be our only option. Ashley, however, noticed that a neighbor down the street still had several guests at what appeared to be a party. I lobbied for scaring the elderly neighbor, but she insisted that we try the shindig down the road. It became a test of wills, a matter of principle and I would not be defeated.

Thirty seconds later we found ourselves explaining to lady of the house (and several party guests) that we had locked ourselves into our own backyard and needed to borrow her cell phone. She graciously agreed and within minutes I found myself attempting to explain what my key looked like to my mother who was unable to hear me due to loud volume at which the Purple Rain soundtrack was being played in the background.

After I returned the bedazzled cell phone to our hostess, she invited us to wait with them in her kitchen and listen to a “story” that one of her slightly inebriated guests wished to share. In the kitchen we found an older gentleman I will refer to as “Silverfox”, a jovial middle-aged man I will call “Hambone,” and his wife “Lil C.”

Hambone had just begun to explain that his parents had been flamboyant “swingers” and progressive nudists whose penchant for sexual deviance had been legendary. He recalled (in youth-scarring detail) that his father would often mow their front yard dressed in nothing but a pink man-thong and some tastefully applied nipple jewelry. His parents were also unusually concerned with his romantic relationships and would often inquire as to whether he was properly providing his dates with “the pleasure.” 

Against this backdrop, Hambone revealed that his family decided to have a garage sale one year in order to liquidate some items they no longer used. The sheer volume of pornography and adult accessories apparently attracted shoppers from a one-hundred mile radius. Some of the more easily identifiable items included some sort of motorized spanking machine and a ceiling apparatus, but the point of the story (other than to stunt any unrealized emotional development among the listeners) concerned a homosexual Latino couple. According to Hambone, the couple arrived in a sub-compact Ford and proceeded to purchase all of his mother’s “leatherwear” for their own recreational use.

This narrative was punctuated several times by a hearty “No s**t ya’ll!” from Hambone and the occasional “F***ing real deal!” from Lil C. About halfway through Hambone’s tale, I noticed that Silverfox had become uncomfortably focused on my wife’s unsupported chest and touched her arm at several intervals throughout the story. Wishing to feel productive and avoid an uncomfortable conversation with Silverfox, I requested a butter-knife so as to jimmy the lock while waiting for my parents.

Hambone boisterously insisted that he would be more than happy to follow us to our home and get the door open. Before we knew it Ashley, myself, and a man whose childhood could reduce Larry Flynt to tears found ourselves walking up the sidewalk toward our home. True to his word, Hambone was able to gain entry to my house much quicker than I was comfortable with.

Safely inside our home, I felt the overwhelming urge to shower for a second time that night and vowed that when given the choice between scaring the elderly and scarring myself, I will always chose to scare the elderly.  

Do You Know Bobby?

While on vacation in Chicago this summer, my wife and I decided to spend some time in Millennium Park. We were especially interested in seeing Anish Kapoor's famous “Cloud Gate” sculpture (colloquially referred to as “The Bean”) since it had become synonymous with the city.

After taking several photos from our vantage point, we decided to rest at one of the outdoor tables that flanked the sculpture. While we silently contemplated Chicago’s beautiful skyline, a young gentleman that I will refer to as Doug helped himself to the empty chair at our table and immediately inquired as to our general well-being.

 Doug looked to be in his early twenties and I was unable to determine whether his disheveled appearance was the result of actual disinterest in superficiality or a genuine desire to appear to have an actual disinterest in superficiality. Either way, he did not seem to pose any immediate danger to myself or my wife so at his insistence the three of us began one of the strangest conversations I have ever had:

Doug: “Where are you guys from?”

Us: “Tennessee”

Doug: “Oh really!? Do you guys know Bobby?”

Us: “Bobby?”

Doug: “Yeah; Bobby.”

At this point in the conversation, I was faced with three possibilities:

1.       This young man was under the impression that my wife and I would be able to identify a specific fellow resident named Bobby in a state with roughly six million inhabitants.

2.       The phrase “Do you know Bobby” was code for a transaction or act that would later be used against me if I were to run for public office.

3.       Doug was unaware that there were other people at the table and he was actually holding a conversation with himself.

While I was still mulling over these possibilities, my wife had apparently decided on possibility number one and decided it was best to let this play out:

Ashley: “No…. It doesn’t ring a bell.”

Doug: slightly crestfallen “Well…. I am from Colorado.”

Us:  “Wow. Colorado….”

Awkward silence

Doug: “You guys here for the show?”

(Had the young man been wearing a trench-coat, I would have immediately made a hasty exit.)

 Us: “Not that we are aware of.”

Doug: “I really thought that you guys would want to have fun. Are you sure you are not going to the show?”

Us: “Pretty sure.”

Doug: “You just seemed like the kind of people who would enjoy a good time.”

Us: “We are big fans of fun, but we are OK.”

Doug: as he stands to leave “You guys really did seem like you would want to have a good time…”

After Doug’s exit, we remained perplexed until I noticed that Widespread Panic was playing that night at a venue up the street. I was aware that a large percentage of their fan-base enjoyed “chemical enhancement” and I deduced that Doug was simply trying to sell us drugs without sounding like he was trying to sell us drugs. Utilizing this theory, I was able to explain the majority of the conversation but still could not make sense of the “Bobby” comment.

Since returning home, I have scoured the Internet searching for some cryptic meaning for the phrase “Do you know Bobby?” but so far been unsuccessful. If any of you know the meaning of the phrase, please let me know…..

Useless Car Features

Volvo’s Personal Car Communicator

This is the blanket name given to the keyless entry remote that was first introduced by the automaker in 2007. Its capabilities include the usual (lock, unlock, trunk release) but they added something uniquely Volvo: a heartbeat sensor. I know what you are thinking; “Wouldn’t I be the first to realize that my own heart has ceased to function?”  However, it is not your heartbeat that Volvo is concerned with. The feature is sold as a safety mechanism to prevent someone from hiding in your backseat and jacking your business with a sock-full of pennies. It works something like this:

You have just finished dinner at the Waffle House and you are approaching your vehicle. A series of beeps emitted from your remote informs you that a heartbeat has been detected inside the car. Unless you forgot to drop little Timmy off at daycare, this is an indication that you are about to get affiliated the hard way. You nonchalantly walk back into the Waffle House, call the police, and have another BLT while waiting for the long arm of the law to embrace your uninvited passenger.

There are several flaws with this:

1. It reveals that Volvo has absolutely no faith in its own intrusion prevention system since this feature presupposes that the other feature they sold you has already failed miserably.

2. Does nothing to mitigate the infamous “dead hooker in the trunk” prank.

3. You must decode the series of beeps that the remote emits to realize that you are in danger which means the owner will likely need the owner’s manual to determine what their remote is telling them. Said manual is invariable stored in the glove-box, which puts you in a perfect position to get jacked by the aforementioned intruder while you are searching for the index.

The chilled glove compartment

This is a feature available from both Honda and Saab (albeit in diminishing numbers) that allows you to use your glove box as a bonus “mini-fridge.” You can place everything from canned Dr. Pepper to a vial of smallpox next to your owner’s manual and watch the magic happen. However, the name is somewhat misleading since the feature simply means that the manufacturer has placed a vent in the back of your glove box that distributes the air from your vehicle’s climate control system.

Where do I begin?

1. The system only works if you have the AC on and in the winter the system will blow hot air into the glovebox which means that the bag of Sargento cheese cubes you tossed in there last President’s Day will cost you a few bottles of Febreze come June.

2.  I can only imagine the horrendous accidents caused by the driver attempting to lean over the passenger seat and retrieve a Fresca from the glove box while driving down I-40. You may be forced to pick up a drifter just to have someone safely man your car’s “snack bar.”

3.  If this trend continues, other manufactures may be forced to up the ante. Keep your eyes peeled for Ford’s “Waffle-Iron Armrest” or Toyota’s “Dashboard Hotplate.” Before you know it the cigarette lighter will be dispensing relish and every time you engage the wipers someone is getting a vegetarian omelet.

Nissan’s Vitamin Spritzing Technology

According to a recent popular science article, future Nissan vehicles will be equipped with air conditioners that “spritz” the driver and passengers with small doses of Vitamin C. The carmaker insists this feature will lead to stronger natural immunity, better skin, and presumably an end to outbreaks of scurvy amongst Nissan owners. It appears that the vitamins will be injecting into the climate control system using some sort of replaceable cartridge. There is no word yet on the how much the feature will cost.

The breakdown:

1. If a malfunction occurred in the “vitamin infusion” process, it is possible that the driver would receive a substantial blast of liquid vitamin C to the face causing instant nasal and ocular irritation. To be fair, I am sure your passengers can take some comfort in the fact that their skin will look fabulous in the upcoming autopsy photos…

2. There is no feature that says “I want to die through anthrax inhalation” like a vitamin infuser. I cannot fathom a more ready-made vehicle for biological terrorism.

3. When vitamin C supplements are taken in high concentrations (especially when the person is not used to the supplement) it tends to cause a gastrointestinal condition known as “the squirts.” Not exactly something I would want to pay extra for.

Bad Ideas

Bad Idea 1 – Use donations to finance a billboard in Iowa that compares Adolf Hitler, Vladimir Lenin, and Barack Obama. 

The North Iowa Tea Party funded the ad to warn people of the dangers of larger government. This think tank (which has since been evicted from the bowling alley where it meets) may have some solid ideas concerning taxation and government restraint, but it has become apparent that marketing is not one of their skill-sets. By comparing a democratically-elected American president to the architect of Germany’s Third Reich, and subsequent extermination of the Jewish people, they managed to insult pretty much anyone with the privilege of calling themselves an American citizen.

Since this country sacrificed almost a half-million soldiers fighting Hitler, it is little surprise that the backlash was rather severe. Bob Johnson, leader of the 200 member North Iowa Chapter that put up the billboard, agreed that the ad was “offensive” and has authorized its removal.

National Tea Party Leader Shelby Blakely disowned the tactic saying, "When you compare Obama to Hitler - that to me does a disservice to the Jews who both survived and died in the Holocaust and to the Germans who lived under Nazi regime rule."

While I am sure that the North Iowa Tea Party has some praiseworthy pursuits, they have forgotten the golden rule of modern marketing: never, under any circumstance, should you be associated with any Nazi imagery in print media (take note Michelle "Bombshell" McGee). A handy rule of thumb is that if you find yourself in a meeting where a contributor begins a sentence with “What if we purchase a billboard and get a picture of Hitler….” you should immediately excuse yourself and go home.

Bad Idea 2 – Asking Jesse Jackson to comment on, well, anything at all.

In 1984, during his bid for the presidency, Jackson famously referred to New York City as “Hymietown" due to its large Jewish population. When confronted about the remarks, reverend Jackson claimed that the Jews were out to get him and that the remarks were the fabrication of a far reaching conspiracy. He later admitted to the remarks and publicly apologized.

In 2007, while in South Carolina, Jackson accused then presidential hopeful Barack Obama of “acting like he's white” in regards to the Jena 6 case. When questioned about the comment, the good reverend did not specifically remember using those words.

In 2008, while participating in a segment on Fox News, Jackson did not realize that his microphone was still on and expressed outrage over Obamas recent criticism of African American fathers by saying,  "See, Barack's been talking down to black people ... I want to cut his nuts off."  Unable to blame the Jewish population or his poor memory, Jackson apologized and reiterated his support for Obama (and his testicles).

Earlier this year, when LeBron James announced that he would sign a $100 million contract with the Miami Heat, the Cleveland Cavalier’s owner blasted James’ decision to leave his team by publishing an open letter to fans that later got him fined. Unable to let the incident pass with comment, Rev. Jackson told the media that the Cavaliers’ owner was treating LeBron like a “runaway slave” because the NBA star would not play on his “plantation.”

Bad Idea 3 – Russian Donkey Parasailing

Apparently the Krasnodar region of southern Russia was having trouble bringing in tourists (imagine that) so they decided to stage a publicity stunt to promote parasailing. They acquired a live donkey, forced it into a harness, and sent it on a thirty minute journey above the Sea of Azov to entice beachgoers to do the same.

Unfortunately, the donkey disliked parasailing and began to bray loudly which caused the children on the beach to begin weeping for the animal. Sensing that the stunt did not have the positive impact they had foreseen, the perpetrators decided that it was time to bring operation “airborne jackass” to a close and reassure the children that the animal was fine. The landing, however, was much rougher than anticipated and the donkey was dragged face first through the water for twenty feet or so before skidding to a violent stop on the beach half-dead. This did nothing to alleviate the donkey’s fear of water sports or the children’s crying.

A concerned citizen then called the local authorities and it has been reported that the masterminds could face jail time for animal cruelty. There has been no reported increase in parasailing rentals in southern Russia.