Bugs and Trousers

all is calm on the email front and i get a one-line email from a friend.

"Dave – I have a question to ask you. Do bugs like trousers?"

then i'm left to sit there and wonder what inspired that question.

i am the TA for the entomology course this semester, but when that information is usually shared the reaction i get is, "Oh, bugs... hmmm..." it's as if most people are reacting as if they have almost stepped all the way into an oversized mud puddle. they're hoping to back track and if they don't say another word i won't bump them off that precarious edge into the scary abyss that is the world of creepy-crawlies. with just a one-liner and no context, i chalked that email up to the sender's tendency for corny jokes.

"as for bugs and trousers... i'm waiting for the punchline.", i respond.

the next email to me was essentially, "Actually, I was kind of hoping you'd have the punch line, but I can see how you are going to make me figure it out instead of just giving me the answer."

apparently my assumption was wrong. i try and excuse my poor judgement.

i thought that the "bugs and trousers" bit was another one of your corny-joke fits. i was waiting for you to send the punch line. and then when i don't have a response to your question, you say:
...I can see how you are going to make me figure it out instead of just giving me the answer.
i don't know what you mean, but apparently, things make sense to you. i'm happy for you. i can only think of one reason why you might be asking me about bugs and trousers, and i'll be sending you more information right away.

after having a little more time to think things through, i remembered that i had sent out an email to some friends about six months prior. maybe my roommate, the person who first introduced me to this positor of questions, had told her to ask me about bugs and trousers. one quick search in gmail and the answer to the original question was on its way.

Subject: Contemplating the Myrmecological Connection to Trousers

PANTS!!!

ANTS!!!

those six months ago i had the simple urge to draw an anteater and send it to some friends. maybe my roommate had decided that i hadn't sent the picture to enough people, and had suggested to the questioning one that she ask me a question sufficient to direct the picture her way too. i was satisfied that i finally got things right.

the reply to my solution:

Subject: just because you use words no one else knows like myrnamologicallisterson doesn't mean you are cooler than me

sheesh. you ask a simple question and get some sort of sarcastic remark back! i was being absolutely sincere! however, i see now that i should have added some clarification to the question about why bugs dig trousers...

...Have you ever noticed that when people tell a bug story, somehow trousers are always involved? weird bug + trousers = really entertaining story...

...i'll take my bug questions elsewhere next time...

somehow, i had failed AGAIN! ¿how often do people use the word "trousers"? that word was in the original subject line of my email with the drawing and in her question. i thought for sure i had solved the puzzle, but instead i had let someone down a second time. i was almost starting to question my own validity as an entomology instructor. for my own personal pride i needed to find an answer to "bugs and trousers".

so, i thought for a while, and gave the question a third try at a solution.

right now i can think of two categories that may help to explain the frequency of the bug-pant nexus.

1. the legs may just be more amenable hosts

• legs are the body part that have only the feet between them and the ground. some bugs may choose the overland route and on to a foot and then the pants. plenty of people wear pants that brush the ground too.
• as people wade their way through daily life, maybe our lower extremities are permitted to brush up against more things without our notice: leaning our hips against what ever surface may support our weight; the little things that brush against our legs as we walk.
• even though most bugs have wings, gravity still applies. a bug may fall or be brushed off of a surface, and they are just landing on whatever is below. the probability of hitting pants on the way down is just a matter of topography.
• pants are often thicker, and the lower portions of our pants typically hang loose off of our limbs. maybe there is less chance for us to feel the little critters crawling across the surface of our clothes and we perform less subconscious grooming. in addition, hands can brush off arms, shoulders, torsos, heads and hips much easier than the legs on down.

2. maybe the pants surface makes bugs more visible
granted, i just mentioned that maybe we notice less when it comes to bugs on the lower half, but some of those final ideas in the first category still may apply to this one.

• a bug that we don't feel (and thereby may be subject to less subconscious grooming) may have more of a chance to get into visual range, or more of a chance to get into a perceivably threatening proximity.
• a bug on our back may come and go before we've noticed it's presence.
• when we sit, a good portion of our legs become a horizontal surface, and much easier to inspect than other body parts.

i'm not sure how you could test these hypotheses, but i think it is sufficient to say that the likelihood of bugs just being inherently attracted to some platonic ideal of pants might not be the most parsimonious deduction.

maybe i was thinking too much.

New York Doll

i just saw a really good movie.

if you were looking for that faith promoting movie, you should probably look somewhere besides that Work and the Glory stuff. i just saw the movie you really want to see.

where else can you see:
mormon bishops & punk rockers
family history missionaries & iggy pop
a lesson on hometeaching & cross dressers
not to mention a band that inspired kiss, the clash, blondie, morrissey, motley crue and poison, and a final closing hymn from the LDS hymn book from such an unlikely source?

i just saw a special screening of a documentary that played at this year's Sundance Film Festival, New York Doll, the story of Arthur "Killer" Kane, the former bass-player of the New York Dolls. Kane worked his way through rehab, found the LDS church and just wanted another chance to get his band together again.

the movie was great. i would like to see it again. New York Doll is playing this weekend at the Broadway Theatre in SLC.

the movie is so good. go see it.

---

i saw the movie at a special screening with KUER's RadioWest. KUER hosted the movie at the Tower Theater in Salt Lake. Before the exhibition of the film, RadioWest broadcast an hour-long program about the film, Kane and his band, and their history and impact on the music industry. All of us seated in the theater were the audience for the radio broadcast and the movie, and all of it was free. (Unfortunately RadioWest does not maintain an online archive so you can't go back and hear the program.)

This is a picture of the band back in the day. Arthur "Killer" Kane is the furthest on the left.

i was so happy that i got to see this film and hear the radio program live. i knew that this film was automatically in my top ten favourites. i'm posting the review that i wrote on Netflix.com below.

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After I saw New York Doll, this movie was all I could think about for the next few days. I went to the movie because of my interest in rock history and a curiosity as to how someone found a new faith, but I had no idea how much this movie would affect me. Although New York Doll was made possible because of the cultural significance of a rock band, you don't have to be a rock history geek to appreciate the heart of this movie.

Regardless of your familiarity with the musicians interviewed or your sympathy with any religious faith, New York Doll bridges the possible gaps by focusing in on the central human hope of finding redemption and purpose in life. The first views of Arthur "Killer" Kane, the central figure of the movie, presents a man who seems worn out and rather fried from a life involved in a long chain of disappointments and substance abuse. Soon enough you find out the ironic ability that Kane possesses. This broken man has a way of bringing people together and can somehow inspire hope and gratitude for such simple things. The one searching for healing becomes a healer.

Just as the musicians interviewed for this documentary, you will be won over by Kane's humble expressions of his fears, his troubles, his faith and the happiness he finds in the middle of his own poverty. If you are a fan of rock music of any sorts, SEE THIS FILM. If you are looking for a connection to the human soul, SEE THIS FILM!!!

Measuring Fitness: getting a low rating from Charles

deep down. deep down inside, i'm hoping that someone, somewhere will consider me a scientist. i've studied in the desert. i've studied by the ocean. i've seen a whale leap from the sea and i've watched as a fertilized egg divides. i hope that someone, someday will see inside of me and say, "Biologist".

the unifying theme of biology is evolution. from single celled organisms on up to the complex behaviours of social animals, all find a home on the same evolutionary tree. this interconnectedness of the biological world was elucidated by Charles Darwin in his publication of The Origin of Species (1859). The complete title of Darwin's work was On the Origin of Species by Means of Natural Selection, or the Preservation of Favoured Races in the Struggle for Life. if anyone is going to call me a biologist, i better know something about biology's central theory. i'm still studying.

there i was, in my graduate course on population ecology; a class focused on the way a population's numbers can rise and fall. the professor points to a 30 year old Ph.D. student who has five kids, and we discuss the reproductive potential of a population following that model of reproduction. then i started to feel bad.

natural selection measures the fitness of individuals. fitness is not how fast that individual can run, or how much food it can acquire (although these may be components of fitness). fitness, in the end, is how many offspring you produce that go on to produce offspring of their own. a hopelessness started to settle in.

a well-reasoning person wouldn't hire an accountant who's filing for personal bankruptcy to manage their assets. common sense would make you question the quality of an obese nutritionist. each person should know the common language of their field. if i were i biologist, i'd understand evolution and in turn i'd understand natural selection and at least something about fitness.

i am a 32 year-old with no children of my own, sitting next to a 30 year old with five. somehow, even with all of this studying, i have overlooked the idea of my personal fitness. one professor has called my attention, essentially placing my own self on the scale to weigh in on the field of biology, and has found me lacking.

Charles thinks i'm a joke.

Me and the Bears

i've been lucky in life. good things have come my way and i've always had enough, if not more.
unfortunately, the collection and possession of things can be a snare that engulfs us, blinding us as to what really matters.

in an effort to distinguish what counts in life, there may be nothing that clears the vision quite like living without. i'm not saying that you have to move to a third world country, but time overseas can have a similar effect. what i'm talking about here is time in the woods. even if it's just for a short recreational time, your vision increases. a hike up a hill can make you appreciate a cool drink of clean water, even without the aid of artificial refrigeration surprisingly enough. riding the trails on your mountain bike gives a certain sense of the enjoyment of just being able to chose for yourself where you will go. camping overnight can help to broaden your understanding, but what will happen if you extend this trip to more than a weekend escape?

i've been lucky in being able to have more than one job that has sent me to the woods for a day, a week or even the whole summer. needs are nearly reduced to shelter, food, and water. walls, roofs, doors and floors become luxuries. the body quickly gets used to sleeping on the ground as it begins to realize that more important than cushioning layers beneath is just a flat place to lay. artificial schedules, like TV programming and the rotation of movies through the Megaplex, are replaced by a simple cycle of when to work, when to eat, when to sleep, sunrise and sunset. you give up being defined by what you own, and become what you have learned and the character you display. even social customs can be viewed under new light as you learn what you can live without. (i'll shower... ¿next week?)

i hope that this description doesn't sound too much like an transcendentalist's dream. i won't claim to have ever gone so far that i was completely cut off from the world outside of the woods. i have been far enough out that i stopped getting dirty because there just wasn't any more room for dirt, and i've carried my room and board on my back for a number of miles. it's out there that i've started to think.

each time i come back from the woods, whether it was a short day trip or a week long trek, i take a look at the dirt i've collected. fine dust has settled through my clothes onto my skin. wash water quickly turns brown with spinning clothes, and it's the second shower that finally washes away the remaining hints that i may have tanned a little in the sun. my boots have often been caked with mud. other camping equipment and the vehicle used to get "out there" have similar fates. as all this dirt washes down the respective drains i start to wonder if i'm taking too much from the environment. ¿how many pounds have i brought home with me, only to be cast off like second hand material? there's nothing wrong with that dirt, and had a purpose of its own. ¿was that dirt going to be the home for something new to grow? or ¿was it just simply helping to hold up that mountain side? i wonder if i'm treating the dirt the way it deserves to be treated ¿am i taking more from the environment than i'm giving back?

i think it's time to go give something back, and i think i know what i'm going to do.



(i'm gonna go poop in the woods)



and i'm going to feel good about it every time i do it.

Chances

the pay period started out on the Sawtooth Wilderness, working around Stanley, Idaho. Stacey (my crew leader) and i had to change plans a little because of time constraints and some missing information on one of the plots. not being able to do that plot north of Stanley sent us down south to do a couple of plots around Ketchum. We were quite a ways away from our homebase in Salmon.

so, there i was. we were just getting off a plot on the Ketchum Ranger District. we hit the trailhead parking lot east of the Greenhorn Guard Station about 3:30. Stacey and i were putting our gear away, and making sure that i had everything to start up our next pay period. we were on our last day together for the current pay period and headed in different directions for our days off.

standing at the back of the work truck, unloading my work pack, i looked over at a few mountain bikers getting ready to ride the trail. i was wondering if i would like to ride the trail Stacey and i had just hiked. as i watched the bikers unload, one of them finally came in to focus. i started to take a couple steps towards the bikers...

"Dave?"

Jeremy Jarnecke, my last supervisor on the Uinta National Forest (that place that i worked for for the last 4+ years), his wife and a couple of their friends were getting ready to head out on the trial.

i finished making my way over and Jeremy and i had a short chat. we confirmed that i was on the clock and that he was on vacation. and then Jeremy said, "Wow. What are the chances that we'd both be here at the same time?"

i wasn't sure how to respond to that one.

(these kinds of things just seem to happen to me.)

I love hobos

i can't help it

(for more on hobos, please see http://www.toothpastefordinner.com/111504/takin-care-of-hobos.gif)

I Like Birds III: birds of a feather

It's easy sometimes when you just coast along
But like it or not something always seems to go wrong
Sometimes people build you up just so they can knock you down
Sometimes they will have you there 'cause they need someone around
Perhaps you'll receive invitations for tea
Perhaps you'll laugh and make them all smile
Or maybe you'll join them 'cause it had to be
Perhaps you'll forget you forgot for awhile

Birds of a feather are flocking outside

I Like Birds II: the cage

But then this bird just flew away
She was never meant to stay
Oh to keep her caged would just delay the spring

I Like Birds

I don't care for walking downtown
Crazy auto-car gonna mow me down
Look at all the people like cows in a herd
Well, i like
Birds

Dreams: Rabbit-man XII (Rivers turn to oceans)

oceans tide you home

Hailing from parts unknown...

wrestling

i like to wrestle. sometimes i wish i had done it in junior high and high school. i did go to a few practices my 7th grade year, and i probably even went to a meet or two. i don't know how i quit going, but i did. i guess it was just another sport that my parents weren't sure how to encourage or if they should. growing up i tried soccer, t-ball, basketball, and swimming. i never got any of them right. maybe staying in wrestling would have been fun. i think i could have done alright.

i think that the reason i like to wrestle is that it's such a all encompassing activity. you're using your arms, your legs, and everything in between to the maximum level all at once. at the same time wrestling is terribly exhausting and i'm always so nervous before i have to wrestle. it's a test of the basic elements that make up what you are... unable to be estimated, but confirmed measurements as you put your body up to the next challenge. to me, wrestling seems that it's an awful lot like rock climbing, except you don't have to worry as much about gravity. i'm still on the verge of a panic attack, but i'm just not going to fall.

maybe the fear before wrestling accounts account for the scarcity of wrestling. i've probably only wrestled twice in the last 10 years. the other reason i can think of for not wrestling is that i'm worried i'll pick an easy fight. ¿what good is it to beat someone that wasn't a challenge at all? i don't want to pick an unchanging match, so i'm sure get in well over my head.

i was down in New Mexico, working as a trail crew foreman at Philmont Scout Ranch. i had taken my crew over to visit another crew at the other crew's invitation. the other crew wanted to host a dinner, and we let them feed us some fried chicken. the after dinner tour of camp included the introduction of their wrestling ring. the other crew had pulled all of the rocks out of the ground in this space between a few trees. the ground had been tilled up through the search for rocks and multiple wrestling matches. i wanted to wrestle.

the two fears kicked in. the excitement that someone was going to kick my trash and the smaller concern that i won't pick a fair fight. so, i looked around the two crews and found the assistant foreman who was both taller and heavier than me, extended a hand in his direction and said, "you". the challenge was accepted and i was sure i was on my way to getting killed.

we both entered the make-shift ring and began the face off. i can feel the sense of complete panic just welling up inside of me. i've committed to the match by stepping into the circle, but i'm much too nervous for the match to start. facing each other we rotate as my mind shifts through all of the worst possibilities. i don't want to be the first to reach for my opponent, because i'm afraid that he'll take advantage of my poor attack. i don't want him to come after me, because then we'll be wrestling on his terms. you can see that my mind has already decided that i cannot win no matter what i choose. my mind continues enveloping itself in the mire of panic. i can already feel the suffocation of being pinned to the ground, unable to move in spite of all of my will to break free and the only physical contact we've made is with our hands brushing away outstretched arms as we make a few swipes to measure each other's reach.

wresting is never long when measured by a clock, but whether i'm winning or losing a time period to rival the history of the earth seems to fill my brain. i might not win this round, but while i'm out there i'd be happy to avoid being completely helpless as i'm held to the ground. i have put myself in the wrestling ring.

that was a few years back, but guys haven't changed much. everyone is still looking for some way to challenge themselves. i live in a college town just a few blocks south of campus, so it wasn't that strange to have the next door neighbor come by announcing the neighborhood wrestling night. of course i had to go. would i wrestle? maybe. i got nervous just at the thought.

i watched a few of my neighbors wrestle. one match went back and forth for so many times that it was hard to tell if there was a winner. would i have enough endurance if i had a match like that? i kept waiting to see if someone would get there that i could wrestle. i'm only 5'10" with my shoes on, but i weigh more than 210. i at least needed somebody close to my weight. i finally decided that one of my upstairs neighbors seemed the closest to my size. i was asked if i was going to wrestle and i went out to the floor.

i began a match again with the uncertain circling. i was out on the mat, but unwilling to complete my commitment. after too much time to size up the competition i heard someone say, "Aren't you going to wrestle?" Then we made real contact.

there are rewards to the panic that i can feel. the next few moments were frantic. at one point, i had rolled my opponent into the couch where the portion of the audience occupying those seats lifted their feet off the floor to keep from getting their legs pinned against the couch. i felt pretty good when my opponent's roommate said, "he's throwing you around like the rag doll that you aren't!" the panic was full on and i was scrambling.

the floor was covered with a bamboo mat, and my bare feet kept sliding across its surface as i tried to maneuver the other wrestler. all of that movement across an alternately smooth and rough surface caused me to peel the skin off of the inside edge of the pad of both big toes. i didn't know that i had self-inflicted that damage until i was moving back to my seat after the match.

i don't know if there was a pin to end the match, but we must have come to some agreement that we were done. i thanked my neighbor for the match and he said, "if it means anything i felt completely hopeless from the beginning." the open wounds on my toes were going to be a pain, but i had felt the high i had hoped for.

i don't know how long it will be before i wrestle again, maybe never. i'm moving out of the age-group where guys just do stupid stuff because they can. i hope all this doesn't sound like too much of a brag. i do realize that i might not be picking fair fights. i've never gone up against someone who's had a lot of wrestling experience and i might be misjudging my size-class to my advantage. i do know that i'll be tempted if the opportunity presents itself. i will feel the same panic, and i'll still probably wonder if i would have had fun if i had continued to practice and wrestle in school.

i just don't understand the music business

i just can't get myself to watch MTV. it just doesn't mean anything to me.

my roommate flipped to the channel and started watching "Making the Band". if you're unfamiliar with this show, it's puff daddy's version of 'American Idol'. already the title is a little confusing. i grew up with the idea that a band consists of people who play musical instruments, but i guess i was wrong. "the Band" in "Making the Band" is basically just a bunch of folks who can follow the choreographer adequately enough and do some fancy karaoke while they wait for their pretty faces in the video to sell the record; the McDonald's version of music - mass produced, low quality, but it sells because the american public is afraid of what's not familiar.

and then there's puff daddy. okay, i know that he calls himself p. diddy these days, but i can't take either name very seriously. the names would be okay if it weren't for the fact that the diddy does take himself that seriously. ¿and how come the music industry takes him so seriously? ever since diddy's CRAPPY remake of Led Zepplin's 'Kashmir' (which followed that awful heisting of 'Every Breath You Take' from The Police) i've been trying to figure out just what the difference is between the puff and Weird Al; two guys with goofy names who take other people's music and put their own words to it. Al isn't unfamiliar with writing his own songs either, so don't start telling me about puffy's "original" works. Al has never had the same kind of respect from the music industry as puff and Al has had plenty of successful records to earn at least some respect.

come on Al. maybe you should just buy a little jewelry, put your name on some gym clothes and maybe you'll weasel your way into the hearts of the mainstream music industry. i'll be waiting to hear news about your upcoming show.

Happy "If Pets Had Thumbs Day"

hey folks,

i just thought i'd wish you all a happy If Pets Had Thumbs Day.



the original art work is from www.toothpastefordinner.com, where you can find a huge archive of odd and funny doodles.

the joys of science

"An intact frog loses water nearly as rapidly as a skinless frog."
- Animal Diversity, 2nd ed., page 313
(C.P. Hickman, L.S. Roberts & A. Larson, McGraw Hill, 2000)

---

"For Science" - They Might Be Giants - Miscelleneous T

Newscaster:
There has been a spacecraft sighted
Flying high above the sky
Sirens declare there's one among us from Venus

Lt. Anne Moore:
Volunteers, we need volunteers
Soldiers to meet them
Have no fear
Have no fear
You will be killed right away

Male Lead:
I will date the girl from Venus
Flowers die and so will I
Yes, I will kiss the girl from Venus for science
I'm so brave
I'm so brave
I'll be her love slave

Lt. Anne Moore:
He's so brave
He's so brave
He'll be her love slave forever

Male Lead:
Yes, I will date the girl from Venus
Flowers die and so will I
Yes, I will kiss the girl from Venus for science

Let's get those missiles ready to destroy the universe!

A Final Word on Peanuts

This post was originally written in early 2004. This is where you can find the final conclusion as to why there is no longer a M.D.H.O.P.A.I.R. newsletter.

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peanuts

the peanut is an interesting little fruit. the peanut is fairly simple and often easy to overlook and possibly undervalue. a can of mixed nuts touts it's quality by ensuring the consumer that the percentage of peanuts is less than half of the mix, peanuts being the cheapest nut of the bunch. the peanut is a metaphor for things small or of little value. the minor cost of an item may be expressed as costing only peanuts. unwanted and trivial comments have been referred to as coming from the"peanut gallery". one galaxy visible from earth's surface has beennicknamed "snickers" because it is peanuts compared to the Milky Way. (think about it.) even disparaging remarks towards a former president use the peanut as a measure of insignificance when Jimmy Carter has been referred to as a mere "peanut farmer from Georgia" who somehow made it to the White House. but the little bean still holds a place in society in pop culture and beyond.

one of the most long lived advertising spokesmen is Planters' Mr. Peanut. the peanut is a nostalgic baseball snack still sold inthe stands. ("buy me some peanuts and cracker jack...") the peanut is nearly the final result to which the airline food service has been reduced, and let's not forget Charlie brown and the other charactersfrom the classic comic strip "Peanuts". the peanut was a portion, and sometimes the only portion, of civil war rations for the southern armies, inspiring the writing of the then popular folk tune "GooberPeas". with efforts to make the peanut a more profitable crop, a healthy alternative for the land instead of cotton, George Washington Carver found some 325 uses for the plant. not only did the peanut become a leading crop in the South but it helped to place this former slave, educator and agricultural scientist in the public eye long before the civil rights movement, as he worked withthe U.S. Department of Agriculture and southern farmers.

even the peanut sandwich spread is nearly synonymous with childhood memories in America. ¿what childhood isn't measured with a few peanutbutter sandwiches at some point in time? there are plenty of creative variants to the standard PB&J wrought during those childhood years, and nearly everyone knows what side of the issue they stand on when it comes to creamy or chunky. when someone mentions giving a little peanut butter to a household pet, it gets a chuckle out of nearly everyone because so many have been there for themselves at one time or another. we should also recognize that there are more than just anational peanut day and month, but also national peanut butter and peanut brittle days and months.

it should be apparent that the peanut does have this capacity to be both common and significant all at once. the question could be asked, ¿when is the peanut ever out of place? here is a good place to start that story.

there's that place where you wear clothes that you don't wear during the rest of the week, the background noise of daily life is subdued, and thoughts are supposed to be focused on higher topics. sometimes that place is called church. enter the peanut. i had one, right there in my pocket. not just a single seed, but a whole legume, fibrous shell and all, and i was going to put it to some use.

seeing a friend who i thought would enjoy a little gift, i held my fist straight out, knuckles pointing towards the ceiling in the understood sign of "i have a surprise for you" and waited for the reciprocal sign of the receiving hand. the signs were given, a peanut was passed, and i left to the next meeting without a verbal exchange of any sort. not then, not later that day, or week or month or ever. the peanut itself was all the message there was. not that there hasn't been a verbal recognition later on as to the exchange of ownership of a little nut, but that is all that has been said and it was probably wasn't even that day.

now, ¿what is better than one peanut? ¿could it be any more obvious? more peanuts.

soon enough peanuts were being left behind on my visits to the apartment of the poor recipient of that first peanut. there were peanuts in the candy jar, a peanut taped to the front window, and eventhe title caption for a "Peanuts" cartoon for the front door. a peanut is easy to draw on a dry erase board, a simple blob w/ an odd little hourglass shape. a small jar of peanut butter was left next tothe couch. i sang "Goober Peas" every so often when they'd let me get one of their guitars in my hands. i even dropped of a belated birthday present of government issue dry roasted peanuts, straight from an MRE (Meals Ready to Eat).

the web is a wonderful accomplice. it's just so easy to cut and paste information about peanuts, George Washington Carver and even a few recipes and send them on their way. an email from the receiver of all these peanuts that announced her new email address was a fortunate little mishap that left me with a copy the addresses in her address book. not only did it prove to be an educational opportunity on the cultural value of the peanut for many people, but it was also a lessonon the use of BCC. soon enough, all those who had a mailbox large enough to receive a small MP3 got to hear Burl Ives sing "GooberPeas". that was followed by a couple of newsletters that, at least in part, discussed the merits of the peanut.

the best part about the email snafu was that now other people were asking my friend "why peanuts?" and with a little nudge, a younger sibling would sing his rendition of goober peas. i'm not even present and peanuts find their way into the conversation. ¿isn't that great?
after all this, the reason for the first or any of the subsequent peanuts has not been given. ¿are you sure you really want to know?

it was the end of christmas break. each roommate came back to school with his load of new clothes and other christmas gifts along with a fewthings that each mother thinks her child might need at school. one ofthe roommates came with a very odd selection: a huge bag, the bulk cereal variety, of peanuts still in their shells. ¿why would anyone's mother buy them a huge bag of peanuts to take back to school? they take up a lot of space and aren't very convenient. besides the production of the larger pieces of shell when trying to reach the seeds, cracking the shells open results in a fallout of little fibers and powdery flakes.

there it was; a huge bag of peanuts bought at random by someone's mom and left on the kitchen counter. soon enough they were being eaten, even though they weren't the most convenient. one sunday morning a few found their way into my pocket for the walk to church. (outside the dust and flakes are free to fall where they may.) i estimated one peanut too many; the extra peanut.

yes, ladies and gentlemen, rounds of entertainment through the peanut that lasted nearly two years can be attributed to the simple fact that they were just there on the counter one day. you could say there was no reason at all, other than the fact that i liked peanuts enough to eat them when they were free for the taking and i knew a few random facts and how to abuse the web. harassment via peanut for no reason at all.

"I hate television. I hate it as much as I hate peanuts. But I can't stop eating peanuts."
- Orson Welles (1915-1985)

MONKEY!

it was a wednesday. the day before was february 8th, 2005; the last day of the year of the monkey. we were in the first day of the year of the rooster; the furthest point in the next twelve years from the next day in the year of the monkey. i've never been so depressed.

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interestingly enough, many primate species establish or maintain the social order among the extended family or the larger troop through social grooming. while we see on the outside one monkey de-lousing another this is not a mere instance of cleanliness, but the monkey nit-picking is confirming their social status in relation to the monkey being groomed.

what may be even more interesting is how the primate species Homo sapiens cannot seem to resist a little minor social grooming. ¿who hasn't picked a hair or two off the back of the person sitting in the row in front of them?

Dreams: Rabbit-man XI (Oh I must confess, I was drawn... I was drawn to the ocean)

I've bludgeoned your sailors, I've spat out their keepsakes

(The Second Edition of) NEWS FROM MAMA DEB'S HOUSE OF PANCAKES AND INTERNATIONAL RELIEF

Ladies and gentlemen, devoted fans of the "deb green irregular"(referring to everyone's favorite newsletter, not deb green herself.) We, the faithful members of Mama Deb's House of Pancakes and International Relief (M.D.H.O.P.A.I.R.), have finally come to the arrival of another exciting newsletter.

Hopefully you all took some time out for National Peanut Day last September. Things were pretty busy in Mama Deb's kitchen and National Peanut Day wasn't given it's due share of respect or celebration. Oh well. National Peanut Month is less than three months away and March gives us 31 days in which to celebrate all things peanut.

Speaking of peanuts, due to recently acquired knowledge, several items including peanuts have found their place on the menu at M.D.H.O.P.A.I.R. becoming rather precarious. Apparently peanuts are seeds, and seeds have this peculiar habit of coming from ovaries. With this startling news making itself known, anything ovarian in nature now faces the risk of being stricken from the menu altogether. The test menu is looking rather bleak.

At first the menu was only slightly smaller, but as further connections were made to seeds and ovaries, a continually increasing number of items on the menu have been walking the plank. The BLT has been forced to become bacon wrapped in a lettuce leaf, no mayo (mayo is made with eggs after all) nor bread (flour is made from wheat, which is a grain, which just happens to be a SEED). The listing for the vegetarian menu has been reduced to a mere section title immediately followed by the rapidly shrinking desert menu. The breakfast menu is a nearing a total loss.

We cannot offer you eggs no matter what way you like them cooked. With the recent loss of flour, all of the pancakes, waffles, crepes, etc. have also been relieved of their breakfast duty for the time being. Our most popular breakfast item, the Super-Duper Breakfast Trough, has been reduced from eggs, breakfast potatoes, pancakes, waffles, toast, orange juice, milk, peaches with cottage cheese, two strips of bacon, and two sausage links (with the ever present side of peanuts and the option to sponsor an orphan child) has been reduced to the bacon, sausage, potatoes, milk and cottage cheese. We have tried a multiple of combinations, but no matter how we arrange the bacon on or in the cottage cheese it just doesn't present itself as a visually appealing dish. Mama Deb has even threatened to strike the potatoes from the menu although we are working hard to convince her that a potato is just a root, and that there aren't any seeds in the roots.

On brighter side, the time we are saving by having fewer items to choose from on the menu has given us a chance to beef up the brochures on sponsoring orphans; more reading material as you peruse the menu for the components of a meal. With the menu turmoil raging here on the home turf, there are somethings to still look forward too. Mama Deb has chosen to take leave of the troubles here at home, in exchange for the troubles of Uganda for the Christmas holidays. She will be given a chance to get over her fear of ovaries (please no Freudian psychological analysis of that topic) in exchange for more rational fears, such as her fear of sharks(feel free to enlist Freud here all that you want). Uganda does have a large body of water after all, and you never know when the next shark population is going to make that brave move to cross the African continent and take the fresh water option of settling down for retirement in Lake Victoria. Maybe by January we will be returning to the original menu.

Mama Deb attributes the reason for this trip to Africa to her need for a change of pace, but we here at Mama Deb's House of Pancakes and International Relief have our own ideas. Rumour has it that she is going back for a few more drum lessons. We all remember Mama Deb's last trip to Africa, where she gave away all of her belongings and only came home with all the drums she could carry, and the few other scattered photos and souvenirs that she stuffed in those drums. At least this time around, deb will get to put her drum lessons to immediate use as she plays for change in various locations on the London leg of her "Away From the USA" tour.

Then again, maybe she is just looking for a change of pace. She has begun the habit of referring to herself as deBORah, and occasionally THE deBORah. At least she has outgrown the "goose" phase.

Well, that is it for this update. We of M.D.H.O.P.A.I.R. thank you for your interest and hope for your continued subscription to the M.D.H.O.P.A.I.R. newsletter.

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for more information on peanuts or the Ugandan Children's Fund, please contact deb green at debgreen20@yahoo.com

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And no for a final word, here are a few links for those of you who are interested. This American Life produces some of the best radio programs ever made, most of which are readily available online:http://www.thisamericanlife.org

Here are a few links in connection with some of the topics covered in this edition of the M.D.H.O.P.A.I.R. newsletter. Hopefully you will have some time to check them out online. They are all free for your listening pleasure.

Babysitting - Deb is going back to the orphanage, and here are some very interesting stories on babysitting. If you don't have time for the whole program, you really should forward through to the last 25 minutes and hear the true story titled "Yes there IS baby". http://www.thisamericanlife.org/ra/175.ram

Kid Logic - ¿What would an orphanage be without children? This is one of our favorite programs of all time. http://www.thisamericanlife.org/ra/188.ram

Music Lessons - when deb is not with the kids at the orphanage, she'll be honing up on those drumming skills. Here's a little homage to music lessons and some of the reasons why people take them. http://www.thisamericanlife.org/ra/104.ram

Dreams: Rabbit-man X (Down, down, down you go, No way to stop)

As you fall, hear me call
"No, no, no."

Dreams: Rabbit-man IX

a story

it was after midnight.

i had to take a test the next morning.

i thawed some groundbeef.

i made a giant burrito.

i ate the burrito.

the end

Dreams: Intermission

Click here to see the real thing.

A&W's fried cheese curds: a review

surprisingly tasty

unfortunately priced

Dreams: Rabbit-man VIII (Chicken Boo)

http://piratemonkeysinc.com/Pirate/index.htm
and in case you need some convincing, check out "Monkeys and Pirates are Funny"
http://www.ericdsnider.com/shop.php