Tiny Mind Gazette

Calienes assumes position previously held by monkey for undisclosed sum.

Wapatusset, MA - February 1, 2011 - Mr. York Benchley, founder/ publisher of the Tiny Mind Gazette, has hired Michael Calienes for the position of Resident Generalist, Micro-National Affairs – a position that remained vacant since Mr. Benchley’s olive baboon, Bill, passed away early last year.

Under ordinary circumstances, finding a replacement would have been easy; Bill, however, was no ordinary baboon. He was THE monkey of the Infinite Monkey Theorem fame* which states: a monkey hitting keys at random on a typewriter keyboard for an infinite amount of time will almost surely type a given text, such as the complete works of William Shakespeare.

“It was a dark day,” Benchley recalls. “When I broke the news to Bill that his latest creation, Romeo and Julio [sic], was yet another Shakespearean rip-off, only with an all-male cast, he was visibly distraught.”

Hours later, when Mr. Benchley returned from a morning of virtual acrobatic water skiing – the only activity that allows him to mentally disengage from the onslaught of today’s ongoing publishing struggles -- he found Bill crushed under his own IBM Selectric, a Padrón 1964 Anniversary Series cigar still burning in his ash tray.

 
After a painfully long grieving period, followed by an intensive three-day search, Benchley landed on Calienes because, “In all honesty, he was there.” Contract negotiations were complete after three personal Facebook messages and one tweet.

When pressed about his terms, Calienes said, “I can’t divulge the actual number, but there are a lot of zeros in it.”

Mr. Calienes joins an already-established team consisting of Doug Eymer, Sally Sisson, Morton Scrim Shaw the mysterious Dr. F, and Beau Doni. All three are reportedly human.

“We look forward to working with Calienes.” Benchley said. “We just hope he can beat Bill’s average of one article every ninety days. If he can’t, we’ll look into replacing him with an algorithm.”

*For privacy reasons, Bill always insisted that he be depicted as a chimpanzee.

300 Rotisserie Chickens Vanish, Baffling Scientists & Police (Dead Bird Scare #2)

Pesticides, Fracking… or Fowl Play??

First it was Red-winged Blackbirds in Arkansas, then came dead cows in Wisconsin. In Wapatusset, Massachusetts this past week, the talk has been all about chickens. 

 More than 300 rotisserie chickens have mysteriously vanished in the last three weeks. Managers of several superstores have reported the disappearance of roast chickens (in bullet-proof plastic boxes) at an alarming rate, especially with the recent frigid temperatures.

Wind turbines… or worse?

Local volunteers from the Wapatusset Coastal Research Institute (who normally investigate marine life but always like a challenge) have been on the case, taking samples from other rotisserie chickens and examining environmental conditions. Townspeople have come up with several interesting hypotheses of their own, naming culprits such as: hungry Greyotes, “fracking” caused by ledge blasting for residential dream homes, and high-frequency vibrations caused by Invisiblines wind turbines.

However, police finally think they have a positive lead. Surveillance camera footage from supermarkets is fuzzy but seems to show a mysterious bow-legged, kilted figure leaving the stores right after the birds have gone missing.

Kilted chicken rustler strikes again!

Wapatusset Police Chief Liam O'Liam (left) opined that it could be that ever-elusive Scottish roast-chicken rustler Ian “Farmer John” MacDonald, who was arrested for pilfering roasted poultry from Henhouse Markets in the 90’s. He was recently released from “the pen” and was just seen in Northern Virginia admiring carousels of freshly roasted birds.

MacDonald is known for wearing a kilt and carrying a Scottish dagger in his left sock.  Another clue that it may be this master of the “Go and Carve” is the trail of carcasses and plastic containers left from the shopping cart racks to the worn trails leading from the edges of the strip malls.

Blame it on the haggis

MacDonald, 1983 (pictured on left)

A former neighbor said MacDonald once told him, “If I could find a decent haggis anywhere in this bloody country, I wouldn’t have this problem.”

MacDonald's M.O. is to load up the football-sized containers of roasters—one, two or even three at a time—under his kilt, between his knees, and shuffle bow-legged out of the store. The amount taken in each visit seems to increase with the decrease in outdoor temperature. Liam O'Liam speculated that the thief may be using the pilfered poultry for a dual purpose: “warmth and nourishment.”

Citizens of Wapatusset are asked to report any sightings of a bow-legged kilted gentleman, who smells like roast chicken, to Wapatusset Crimestoppers. Leave any leads in the Comments section below.

See also: Dead Bird Scare #1: Flock of Seagulls Drop Dead on Beach.  

– reported by the mysterious Dr. F with the assistance of unpaid interns and Crimestopper vigilantes

Painfully Honest Confessions of a Fridge Hoarder

Moving the baby chicks to get to the milk: Time to clean that fridge!

 During my daily morning ritual of opening the fridge for milk for my Cheerios and coffee, a tantalizing aroma pierced my olfactory system.

They say dog paddlers need a good breakfast...breakfast is the most important meal of the day....yadda, yadda, yadda ...but, I was intrigued and had to investigate.

It reminded me of something George Carlin, the King of the Social Critics, once said:

“Leftovers make you feel good twice. First, when you put it away, you feel thrifty and intelligent: ‘I’m saving food!’ Then a month later when blue hair is growing out of the ham, and you throw it away, you feel really intelligent: ‘I’m saving my life!’”

I pushed the baby chickens out of the way to check the milk. (They were eating the corn on the cob left over from a summer barbeque). Perhaps I had misread the expiration date on the milk by calculating the lunar calendar equivalent. Nope, no curds and whey (better known as cottage cheese).

I shook the economy size box of Arm and Hammer baking soda strategically placed in the center of the fridge door. Nope, a poof of delicate powder glazed the safet goggles but it smelled as fresh as the day I put it in there two and a half months ago. I even checked the instructions which said that it “keeps food tasting as it should” and an admonishment to not use the same box for cooking after using in the fridge for the three month cleansing period, as “deodorization will affect the taste after use.”

The Crowned Prince of Social Mischief, Lazlo Toth, (alter ego of “Special Vatican Reporter” Father Guido Sarducci (a.k.a. Don Novello) would be proud that I caught this ironic bit of advice (see Lazlo Toth's letter to the Gold Seal Company concerning keeping the Mr. Bubble dry, dated 18 February 1974, in the Lazlo Letters).

Back to my investigation! Was that some kid’s science fair lava experiments or had the can of whipped cream met it's maker? Interesting, but not the culprit.

Did one of those crazy explorations into foreign cuisine meet its date of fermentation? Nope, the Korean kimchee, the Polish kapusta, and even the beans and rice from El Pollo Loco still had a good shelf life remaining.

I did a simultaneous opening of the meat drawer and the butter holding area with separate hands and nudged open the “Fresh-Lok Hydrator” drawer with my big toe. Nope, nothing that made the eyes water, too much.

The Ragu hadn't grown a Chia Pet Mohawk and even that vinegar “rubber egg” in the pickle jar still had good color.

Where was it? Where was it? I opened the horseradish just to get a little relief.

Then I spotted it hidden back by the hoses that provide a supply of questionably clean water to the ice maker....
...Half of an onion, that unsuspected cause of so many cases of national food poisoning....gelling and oozing and trying to incite the rest of the month's groceries to revolt.

Even the Vietnamese fish sauce (Nuoc Mam) smelled lemony fresh compared to that onion.

I was inspired....driven...the fridge fairies had made their point. I donned the protective gear and mounted a full-on assault on the Frigidaire. Three hours later and the coffee had long gone cold and the Cheerios were bobbing in their own little waves of grain, but the aroma was gone and I had a pretty good idea of what was left for lunch.

The moral of my adventure is: If you love your food, set it free! If it comes back to you, it's yours! If it doesn't, it was probably meant to generate someone else's landfill. –Dr. F

 

10 Ingenius Uses for Excess Snow (while waiting for snow removal genie)

Got snow drifts?
Up to your eyeballs in the white stuff?
Can’t find your car? Your shovel? Your wife?

Here are some solutions to massive snow buildup in driveways and rooftops coast to coast.

#10
Prepare a packed "snow shell" for your Camry. Soon you’ll be driving and stylin' in a white Escalade.

#9
Construct 60' high snow Buddha in the parking lot behind local Catholic church.

#8
Build life-size snow monument/shrine honoring Stay Puft Marshmallow Man.

#7
Design makeshift snow-melting machine by attaching blowtorches and professional grade hair-dryers to snowmobile handles. (Step 2. Develop explanation for severly singed monobrow.)

#6
Build automated trebuchet (pimped up catapult) and fling snow into neighbor’s yard while he/she is away from home office.

#5
Mass-manufacture snowshoes and snow tires, receive payment in advance, ship overseas, move.

#4
Build a colony of zombified snow Yetis, broadcast loud growling sounds through imbedded speakers, frighten nearsighted grumpy old neighbor (with the over-stimulated  and image-challenged rottweiler).

#3
Construct 10 ft. snow wall (complete with corner guard towers) around local drinking establishment (after 11:00 PM).

#2
Start a new diet craze with snow cones. Serve snowcones with sugar-free maple syrup for breakfast, ketchup for lunch, vodka and Crystal Lite for happy hour.

#1
Build mammoth snow fort to home-school neighborhood children on endless snow days.

The official Tiger Mother guide to snow days

Snow days can be fun! Let down your hair and try some of these creative strategies with your kids: 

Science and sledding!

Rule #1: No sledding until you’ve finished PowerPoint on Newton’s second law of physics. Quiz younger siblings on coefficients of friction and value of acceleration due to gravity (9.81m/s²). Child with lowest test score gets broken toboggan.

A “snow fort” is not good enough.

Rule #2: You may build an igloo, but only if it’s perfect. Begin by solving third-degree differential calculus equations on paper, then proceed to measure and carve ice blocks precisely to spec. Ice blocks must be inspected by mother prior to construction. The next part is easy: Simply lay blocks in spiral formation, making sure the dome curves upward at the same time. Remember that four of the six sides of the block must be curved. If dome caves in, start all over again.

Sibling bake-off!

Kick it up a notch from the usual Toll House cookies. Challenge your kids to a bake-off, with you as the judge. The more difficult the recipe, the better. Souffles, Baked Alaska and baklava (no pre-made puff pastry allowed) are all good choices. You can get a lot of mileage out of this activity: The quest for the perfect pie crust could go on for years.

Hooked on classics?

Just for one day, loosen up from the usual Schoenberg and Paganini practice regimes and let them perform some low-brow, mainstream classics with a winter theme. Think ballet and Boston Pops. Children may play piano pieces from the Nutcracker or Vivaldi’s "Winter Sonata" on violin, but only in basement with curtains drawn.

Mommy’s little helpers

To kill more time, make children walk two miles down highway to local Starbucks to get you a venti Americano. If the coffee is cold upon their return, send them back again.

Brownie points

At end of day, child with highest score on winter activities gets three mini marshmallows on top of hot chocolate. Loser gets glass of tap water and spends night in igloo. 

Sally Sisson is a writer, editor and TMG correspondent specializing in parenting, small-town politics, fashion faux pas, and petty crime. Any resemblance to the author of The Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother is pure coincidence. 

Snow Removal Woes: One trunkload at a time

Another Irrelevant Observation from Mr. Hypothetical!

Right before the big game in Foxborough, Massachusetts, there is a sudden storm which dumps 16” inches of snow over the 500 acres of Gillette Stadium. The town’s snow removal budget has been drained and no town vehicles will be available to assist in the removal of the 16,000,000 cubic feet of snow.

Sam Adams (no relation to malt/barley beverage spokesperson, Son of Liberty, or former Buffalo Bill), seizes municipal power and requires every passenger vehicle owner to participate in the removal of the entire snowfall.

With a population of 5,550, Foxborough makes up .0018% of the U.S. population of 307,006,550, whom, by the way, own 135,399,945 vehicles classified as passenger vehicles. A quick calculation establishes that there are 2448 passenger vehicles in the quaint New England town.

The most popular car in the U.S. is currently the Honda Accord sedan with trunk space of 14.7 cubic feet.

If everyone in Foxboro were to load the trunk of their Accord with snow, drive over the Rhode Island border to dump it, each Honda Accord would need to make 445 trips!

Dog Paddler's Diary: Kamehameha! Someone Spam-Musubied My In-Box!

From the editor: Dr. F. takes us to the sunny shores of Oahu. The good doctor (not a real medical doctor) spent a five-year stint in the Aloha State in the early 90s and regularly returns to stock up on favorite foodstuffs and supplies.

I had just finished the last precious morsels of my usual breakfast of Cheerios bathed in a large bowl of coffee, with two spoons of sugar and milk (no dairy creamer for me!).

I sparked up the old faithful Dimension 2100 Internet wave machine (known in advanced circles as an old computer) and gazed hopefully into the screen of my Synchmaster 753DF.

I activated the precision programming of my trusty search engine (or, as I like to call it, Dog Paddling Central) and heard the deadening boom of "You've Got Mail!" My heart pounded with anticipation at seeing the little blue envelope icon with a small green oval that read "750".

Hmmm…750…quite a big wave of Internet water for this dog-paddling novice! Was I ready? What mysterious adventures lay ahead?

Another sonic boom of "You've got mail!", and the seven email seas opened before me.

The titles for as far as the eye could see all read "110% Lowest Price Guarantee! Order Coconut Bras today!"

Holy Hilo Hattie's! I'd been "Spam Musubied!"

Ah! Spam musubi, the ultimate in Hawaiian snacks made from grilled SPAM, on rice, lovingly embraced in a "delicate" seaweed wrapper (lots of pictures on the Internet; It's like sushi gone wrong, but mighty tasty); but then, I digress.

Ah! SPAM musubi! (not to be confused with Dr. M. Kaschube, author of Pinwheel Stability Pattern Selection and the Geometry of Visual Space)… a cheaper sound reference would be the comparison to some other member of the Kaschube family, but then they would be bombarded with Facebook friend requests.

Ahem....back to the dog paddling...

The Username was correct: MMWW4ME (Mickey Mouse Water Wings for Me).

This mysterious Internet creature only identified her/himself as Luau Mama.

Had I given someone the wrong impression? Did I mistype at some time during my Internet swimming lessons up at the Valley Hunt Club Pool and Internet Cafe?

Surely I wasn't in the market for a coconut bra, as Aloha Fridays are a celebration of the amazing print patterns of the Aloha State and rarely leave room for this craftsman's delight.

What a dilemma! Opening 750 tiny waves of information, all from the same wellspring, delivered precisely every 40 seconds over the last 8-plus hours, would sure create an Internet wave of Banzai Pipeline proportions.

I speed paddled with my trusty cursor and the words blurred by as I scrolled down. I feared a killer Internet riptide which would suck me out to the Internet seas for good. I wasn't sure rip current safety tips I learned on Hawaii 50 (the original version) would apply. With which shoreline was I swimming parallel? Were the margins safe?

Thinking fast, with no Internet lifeguard in sight, I boogie-boarded the shift key across all the shimmering discount titles and pressed the curser, with an immediate "hang ten" on the "Enter" key.

And....Voila! The impending Internet tidal wave disappeared into the ether-world like an unsuspecting tourist in that most deceptive of all Hanauma Bay tourist "attractions," the Toilet Bowl (a natural pool formed by centuries of waves beating against the lava rock at Hanauma Bay on the beautiful island of Oahu; not that getting "flushed" against shards of razor-sharp lava is my idea of a "do before you die experience").

The resultant calm on the Syncmaster 753DF resembled Quaker Lake at sunset on a hot August afternoon.

Another dog paddling drowning avoided, but it left me with a lingering, longing, desire to Google Big Kahuna's on Oahu and inquire if they delivered their pulled pork sandwiches to "the Mainland."

Mahalo! Aloha! ....and jellyfish-free dog paddling to you!– Dr. F

Breaking News: Mafia bust south of Boston?

Police BLOG: Special Report

Just one day after the “biggest mafia bust in FBI history,” police in Wapatusset, a small suburb south of Boston, rounded up eleven alleged mobsters after an exhaustive six-month covert sting op dubbed “Project Sub Shop.” 

O'Liam (hacked file photo)
According to Wapatusset chief of police Liam O’Liam, officers had been casing local Keno machines, pizza joints, donut drive-thrus and sub shops, conducting sophisticated surveillance with equipment obtained during their recent equipment upgrade (enabled by special town override).

Because the suspects were so overweight, O’Liam said it was not hard to nab them. Because most were in their 80s and 90s, they could not remember the crimes they committed. Lined up with wrists in handcuffs and bellies bulging over their polyester slacks, the men caused quite a spectacle in the parking lot of “House of Calzone” on Route 3B. 

"Fatso," "Meathead," "Tony Cannoli," "Veal Parm," "Stumpy," "Dumpy," "Dino the Donut," "Stuffed Shell," "Pasta Fazool," "Hot Gabigole," and "Fried Dough" are all in custody at the Wapatusset Police Department until further notice. 

Already facing accusations of ethnic stereotyping, the police department could not be reached for further comment at this time. Reports of a similar investigation involving pubs in the neighboring "Irish Riviera" community have not been confirmed. 

Stay tuned to details as they unfold.

10 Lifesaving Breakthroughs: Strategic Attic Storage of Holiday Heirlooms

1. ) Gather decorations picked up around the house since the last few holidays— like the fake owl you left in the window that was scaring the bejeepers out of the Avon Lady, the fake turkey you forgot in the front bushes (which now has a bullet hole in it from hunting season), and the third wise man who came up missing on January 5th.

2.) Grab Maglite®, ladder, hard hat with favorite NFL logo, and breathing mask to block inhalation of insulation dust (the Pink Panther didn't wear one in the commercials, but then again, he was a cartoon character).

3.) Position stepladder under ceiling attic portal, ascend, and pop the hatch and place hatch cover out of way to avoid boogie boarding down the center of the attic later.

4.) Go back down and review Wizard of Oz for flying-monkey swinging procedures to ensure easy movement through rafters.

5.) Check www.Home-Garage-Help.com for weight disbursement tips; e.g., do not store storing Santa's 4-litre sleigh engine upstairs.

6.) Get New Year’s disco ball and balance on head like an Eritrean villager, ascend ladder, place in accordance with crayoned load plan. Continue in same fashion with boxes of leftover Christmas ornaments found under couch, plastic urn of googly-eye Halloween lights, and blow-up MLK lawn statue.

7.) Bring down life-size log cabin appliqué for front of house, styrofoam Lincoln and Washington dolls, and dangly cupid tree ornaments.

8.) Close hatch to ensure birds that flew in through open louvers don't buzz-bomb you in the spring (wearing those little straw sombreros you had packed away for Cinco de Mayo).

9.) Put away ladder to avoid dancing with it at two in the morning en route to the bathroom.

10.) Sweep up plaster and tape deflated Mylar holiday-appropriate balloons over cracks, foot holes, and any boxes protruding through ceiling.

Dog Paddler's Diary: Post-Christmas Poinsettia Apathy Sweeps the Nation

 
Note: While the majority of citizens of Wapatusset and other fine communities across the country strictly observe self-imposed deadlines (not to mention fear of public shame) for the dismantling and removal of holiday decorations), there are always some that need a gentle reminder. For those with moldy Indian corn in their backporch planters and New Year’s poppers on the mantelpiece, this rant’s for you. – ed.

An American eyesore…

What seemed like a novel holiday gift for mom, grandma or Aunt Fanny has now become a social eyesore! Over the years, supermarket chains have made it the “must have floral extravaganza” to complete the Christmas season. They've oversaturated the nation with no regard for the horticultural nightmare left in the post-holiday tundra.

Are they even aware of the sickening wave of Post-Christmas Poinsettia Apathy (PCPA) that is sweeping the nation from Wapatusset (Massachusetts) to Skunk's Creek (Idaho)?

The leaves have fallen off over the last few weeks, leaving less than spectacular displays of wispy yellow branches, resembling little foil-wrapped buckets of discarded chickens’ feet.

One withering specimen might not be a bad flourish for the top rail of the back porch, but for those grannies with a plethora of well-wishers, the display of hundreds of leafless chickens’ feet might be a little overwhelming.

As Harvey Spindler, director of the Cotton Creek Home Owner's Association, remarked: “Chains competing to make available the largest poinsettias in the universe give no afterthought to the problems for the trashman and his dilemma as to whether to charge for lawn debris pickup or trash.”

…or a Vietnamese obsession?

My neighbor, Dr. Vo Thi Dung (pronounced Zung; better known as “Suzy”), the former Dean of Irregular Botany at the University of Westminster, is also concerned about this growing crisis. She said, “In Vietnam, on the island of Phu Quoc, poinsettias grow over ten feet tall and thrive in the warm climate throughout the year. They line the country roads much like the walls of ivy lining the roads of Wapatusset. Phu Quoc may be better known as the home of the best and most pungent fish sauce in Vietnam, but there isn't anything stinky about the lovely adornment of poinsettias.”

Recycle, renew, replant!

Friends, we have a civic duty! Follow the Vietnamese way! Pick up that poor plant off the front lawn! Give it a little water and haul it downstairs to a nice dark closet and let it recuperate from providing your Christmas joy. Let it stay on its little environmental sabbatical until the spring (see Gardening Know How for more tips)!

Embrace the Vietnamese love of poinsettias, so that we may enjoy the plant year-round (and grow ten foot walls of poinsettias throughout the nation)!

...and while you're at it, pick up that glimmering gold foil poinsettia wrapper that’s flapping against the hedges.

Dr. F