Tiny Mind Gazette

Squirrels Go Nuts, Homeowners Go Berzerk: Defoliation in the name of Sciurus carolinensis

Is an overzealous Animal Control campaign to blame?

They’re everywhere!  They’re everywhere!

Sciurus carolinensis (the Eastern Gray Squirrel) has taken over Oak Street.

The winter breeding season and the recent southern migration due to a rumored frenzied Animal Control campaign in the northeastern U.S. has caused an exodus of herds of gray squirrels to southern locales.

In an attempt to keep spring plantings and porch plants safe, residents have exhausted all home remedies in combatting these pesky varmints.

The word on the street

“Squirrels supposedly hate red peppers, so I mixed up hot sauce and hot water in the squirt gun and sprayed every last one of them…all I got was ‘FU’ dug into my lawn where they had planted earlier caches of my stale holiday nuts,” said Agnes O’Day.

“I tried trapping and relocating them to a park twenty miles away,” said another Oak Street resident, Dagmar Phelps. “All they did was recruit more squirrels on the way back… I even tried marking them with spray paint to track them. Now I have two dozen pink tailed squirrels residing in the sweet gum out back,” states Oak Street resident, Dagmar Phelps.

“I tried being nice to them and throwing them peanuts for a few weeks,” said one resident,” but when the food ran out, they started stealing anything wood to chew on… wooden knobs, old holiday ornaments, and even sections of the back screen door.”

Tree trimmers go berzerk

Neighbors heeded the warning words of northern animal control experts and have attempted to reduce the food source of these pesky critters. The Gonzalez and Martinez families on the corner chopped down 50- year-old oaks and reduced eight-foot hedges to toothpick size.

Swarms of tree trimmers were seen yesterday swinging with chainsaws from the branches of the 100-foot sweet gum in Mohammed’s yard in the middle of the neighborhood. All others have followed suit.

As the last tree on Oak Street fell, squirrels could be seen holding their ears and slowly sneaking off to Elm Street.

With the last “Tim-ber”, a two-foot-wide nest of twigs, leaves and scrap cardboard rolled down the lane.  One could glimpse one final message as the dwelling broke open: “Scrim Shaw for Global Animal Control.”

Reporting from the acorn-enriched and foliage-depleted wasteland –Dr. F.

TMG Travel Tips: A frequent flier’s rant on animal/passenger behavior (and other pet peeves)

Ethology 101: Flight etiquette Mother Nature forgot to imprint at birth

Avoid getting the ethologists and the animal behaviorists in one airport waiting lounge or they'll be debating whether flying manners are genetic impressions or a learned behavior.

Do economy-class travelers automatically know to find the largest allowable roll-aboard to Bogart as much overhead space, or does it take years of practice?

Does a new flyer automatically know to place their questionable carry-ons in all available seats in the waiting area or is it developed along with frequent flyer miles?

Do Canadian vacationers going south for the winter intuitively know to drop the seatback into your lap like some out of control Lazy-Boy or did they read “Annoying Flying tips for Dummies”?

Resident TMG Ethologist and Diamond Club Air Miles member Konrad Conrad weighed in on the controversy and points out the following imprinted spring break flying tips:

• Newly hatched goslings identify the first moving object they see as “mother”; you may also get called “mother------“ if you wake up from your mid-flight nap drooling on the shoulder of the biker in the aisle seat next to you.
• Positioning for seating zones is like Karl von Frisch’s “dance language of bees.” Keep an eye out for the gentleman with the fake-Gucci computer bag and the Chuck Taylors; he's making a bee line to be the first in front of you for Zone 4.
• The sound and impact of the wheels hitting the runway set in motion the “get out first” instinct. Beware the Japanese tourist boogie boarding down the aisle on his luggage immediately after landing!
• Chemoreception 101: Remember that pheromones are a mix of good smells and bad smells. Giving in to the instinct to get a window seat in mid-plane will avoid the mixed “aroma” of the rear galley, the lavatory, and Joe Johnson's feet in seat 39C.
• Just like the communication systems of the mighty eel, travelers instinctively sense when it is time start electrically mind-melding via cell even before the pilot announces it. Just make sure you don't press that wild condor call app by mistake! 

The next time you fly, just relax and let your inner seagull lead the way to a more enjoyable flight.

by the Mysterious Dr. F, world traveler, amateur scientist and cultural affairs attache

Tiny Mind Gazette at the Masters golf tournament

Prior to being detained by Augusta Regional Airport security (misunderstanding over misinterpretation of US Customs guidelines), TMG reporter, the mysterious Dr. F. was able to snap these photos demonstrating the Tiny Mind Gazette's unofficial sponsorship of the Masters golf tournament.

Halitosis-checker iPhone app to the rescue

World traveler Dr. F on bad breath and business travel

Excuse me sir, would you like to stow that case of halitosis in the upper bin?
How many bags will you need for that case of bad milk breath?
Excuse me ma'am! Is that your breath or did a water buffalo die in the seat behind me?

The wheels were up on my Trans-Pacific trek back to colder climes. A window seat and noiseless headphones...in the first stages of Non-Rapid Eye Movement One (NREM1)...starting to drift...nine-hour nap-time coming home to daddy...

And then...the little man in the brain goes on red alert. The olfactory glands start working overtime. Eyes are watering and the head is spinning to determine point of origin.

The head swivels from right to left and locks on the gent next to me. And then... on the lass with the green teeth directly behind me.

It wasn't the Toxic Twins (I travel in coach), but worse yet it was the Toxic Twosome:
Malodor Marvin and Halitosis Helen, to my right and rear.

I looked out window and vultures were sitting on the wing, badly deceived by this rancid odor.

Tech solutions for CSI and self diagnosis

High-tech app

 
If only I had the new Orabrush breath-checker iPhone app! I could pass it back to my fellow travelers and let them test if for themselves. (Note to self: Must enter 21st century and upgrade my 35 lb. Bag Phone to an iPhone soon.) Business travelers, this app is a marvelous invention!

Low-tech appliance
Unfortunately, my trusty 40-lb. high-tech Halimeter machine didn’t make it through security clearance.

All-in-one solution

 

Of course, a quick self-inspection was in order to ensure I wasn't contributing to this intermingling of nasal nastiness. Coincidentally, a Therabreath segment was flashing on the mini TV on the headrest in front of me.

I followed the instructions, then reviewed my pre-flight online breath test scores (still waiting for baggie of air I posted by mail to be evaluated). All seats were taken and I was blocked into my window seat by M.M. and his lovely wife H.H. was parting the back of my hair with eye-watering exhalation that would have knocked the proverbial buzzard off a manure wagon.

It got worse when the ill winds from the East met the bad air from the South and formed a purple cloud over my head that would rival Denver smog (and the “interesting smells of a Bangkok side-street”).

Finally...the flight attendant came up and passed me a note asking me if I'd like to trade in 10,000 frequent flyer miles for an improvised gas mask made from two Sani-Wipes and her demo oxygen mask.

“Sign me up!” I said. And within seconds I was off to slumberland...

Next time I’ll come armed with all necessary high-tech devices (and my own vintage WWI gas mask).

Need help?

If you think you might have a problem with halitosis, watch this video and check the TheraBreath blog for self-testing and tips.

Time to kill while waiting for your breath results? Watch this video of Mr. Bean checking his breath before meeting the Queen.

 

Special report from travel correspondent and low-tech gadget master, the Mysterious Dr. F:
“I may not be a real doctor, but I play one on TV.”

A Jilted Teenager's (or Bitter, Immature Adult’s) Guide to Valentine’s Day

Hate to break it to you, but the world is not all rainbows, unicorns and roses. Here are 15 signs your relationship won't make it to Valentine's Day:

1. Your face is magic-markered onto the milk carton in your girlfriend's fridge (with the words "I hate him").

2. There's a large, empty valentine-shaped candy box under the couch with your name on it.

3. Mr. Cuddles, the cat you gave her last Valentine’s Day, is mysteriously being “rescued” at the local Pet Smart, as Mr. Heez-A-Jerk.

4. You receive a “nice gift” of a single movie pass dated 14 February, on 12 February.

5. Your boyfriend has been humming that old song “50 Ways to leave your Lover” for a week.

6. Your monogrammed hand towel in the bathroom is now a “voodoo towel” stuck with safety pins (and your back has been feeling like pins and needles this week).

7. Your half of the sweetheart heart carved into the old oak in the back yard was mysteriously “hit by snow lightning.”

8. There's a volcano of fake fur and foam stuffing clogging the garbage disposal and last year's special Valentine’s Day teddy bear is missing from the couch.

9. Your special someone's “In a Relationship” status on Facebook has suddenly changed to “It’s Complicated.”

10. You got the “I've been thinking… voice-mail on your new phone—voiced by her new best friend.

11. She asks you what you are doing on Valentine's Day with your new girlfriend.

12. Your daily texts from him went from 4,000 to three spam texts for a dating service.

13. “Burglars” broke into her house and took all of your photos off of the wall and stomped on them with very petite shoes.

14. The loveseat you both picked out has now been downsized to a “chair.”

15. Your e-mail announces “You've got Hate Mail.”

Here’s a favorite Valentine’s Day song to get you in the mood for your favorite February holiday (aside from Groundhog Day, President’s Day and Single’s Awareness Day, that is):

 

– by The Mysterious Dr. F.

It's Crazy Driver Friday!

It's the end of the work week; a time for those inconsiderate strangers to use up their rollover minutes in the hammer lane, the mall parking lot, and even through three red lights just to keep you on your driving toes. A time to use those defensive driver skills you learned with Mr. Hamm in 10th grade Driver's Ed.

Thoughtless drivers don't need a season to celebrate their blessing on humanity. Here are some thoughtful gifts for the aggressive driver who has everything:

1. Turn Signal Kit: Easily installed in those BMWs, Mercedes, and twelve-ton meat trucks that obviously forgot to buy the turn signal kit with their initial vehicle purchase.

2. Mental Turn Signal Transmitter: For those amazing Kreskins of the highway who nudge over into your lane without warning and assume you saw their wheels slinking to the left. The microcomputer on this skull-tight skullcap reads the driver's intentions and signals for them.

3. Merge App for the GPS: Announces that a turn signal would be nice instead of riding the shoulder when racing along in the merge lane to pass others who thoughtfully got into the other lane two miles prior to the merge.

4. Laser-Guided Following Distance Measuring Tool: Calibrated to the proper stopping distance; activates an air-raid-quality horn inside car to remind driver that stopping on a "dime," not stopping "within a dime's distance," is the rule of thumb.

5. Motion-Activated Jesus on the Dash: Detects distraction due to driver cell phone usage or heads turned to discuss the latest sales at Dollar Tree with the passenger and announces "Eyes on the road, my child!"

6. Time Out Driving Mentor: Keeps track of non-use of turn signals, tailgating, and "California stops." After three violations, gently guides the culprit's car to the road shoulder for a ten minute "time out."

7. Red Light/Right Turn/Wait Windshield Flag: This spring-loaded beauty pops up to cover the aggressive driver's windshield when he/she attempts to turn right on red and cut off other cars traveling through green lights in cross-traffic.

And while you're at it, buy a couple of nifty sympathy gifts for yourself!

The rear mounted horn, for that aggressive driver who is following too close.

Fluorescent obscenity signs in ten different languages. Perfect for Grandma and the kids to hold up in the back seat. No need to keep them out of the fun.

Law of Gross Tonnage Magnets for the side of your car. They're stylish. They're fun! ...and they let everyone know that "He who has the biggest vehicle goes first!"

–The Mysterious Dr. F.

The World responds to New England Snow Shovel Crisis

As New Englanders dig out of the worst snow-thunderstorm in years, the small town of Wapatusset, Massachusetts is being inundated with media attention—once again.

What started as an innocent photo op has turned into a crusade of international proportions.

As the Associated Press made the world aware of the “Snowpocalypse,” hundreds of web-links picked up the weather/human interest aspect of the crisis and crowned a young Wapatusset lady as the “Snow Princess.”

A picture says a thousand words!

Captions read “Getting ready for the snowstorm in Massachusetts with her rake as New England braces for a foot of snow.”

On Wednesday, newspapers from Honolulu to Washington, London to Beijing chose the heart- wrenching vision of a tiny 13-month-old clearing the family driveway with…

…a rake…

to illustrate the magnitude of the blizzard.

On Thursday headlines across the planet read “What?? No Shovels?”

The picture has united a charity drive of global proportions.

Brooms are arriving from mainland China (with “Made in India” stickers), barn shovels from the Polish Highlands. Even the latest Ergo-S models are pouring in from Internet well-wishers. 

Wapatusset postal clerk (and lead drummer of the Musty Slippers) Justin Case reported Friday that the tiny Wapatusset Post Office parking lot has reached maximum capacity as it is filled with crates of donated shovels from all over the world.

The Nigeria Daily News posted the picture and now Interpol warns of a new Nigerian Internet scam as in-boxes across the globe are being spammed with suspicious requests for cash donations to “send a snow shovel to Uncle Osagioduwa in Wapatusset” (which, translated from Nigerian, means “God show me the way to wealth.”)

Bob Geldorf has announced Snow Aid 2011 in Carmel, California to raise funds for both shovels and snow removal. Ozzy Osborne has also announced that proceeds from his Monsters of Snow Tour (not be confused with the Yeti) will also support snow removal efforts.

The Bored Selectmen of Wapatusset are grateful for the international show of support and have begun distributing the shovels to neighboring (and less fortunate) communities throughout New England. As their fleet of Range Rover snowplows is stretched to the limit, they appreciate any type of outreach (and publicity) on their behalf.

AP Photo/Stephan Savoia

- article by the mysterious, Dr. F

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