What Takes The Prize?

Sometimes you win, and sometimes you win...crap.

My daughter Miss Katie called me at work yesterday to tell me that there was a package at home waiting for me. “It’s from the Prize Fulfillment Center!” she yelled. “What’d you win?”

Well, I had no clue. I enter lots of essay contests, so it could be anything. Miss Katie said the box was small and relatively heavy – about a foot long, about 6 inches high. Could be an iPod, could be a book, could be a bag of gold “pieces of eight” from my swashbucklin' scurvy pirate friends. (That’ll be the day.)

So I spent the afternoon wondering what wonderful things could be in this mystery package from Prize Fulfillment Center.

The problem though with mystery prizes is that the item in the box could be really cool – or it could be absolutely worthless. So you have to temper your excitement until you know for sure.

Over the years I’ve won some mighty rockin’ things – several trips, a TiVo, a pair of Timex Watches, a thousand bucks, an entire box of expensive bedding...but on occasion I’ve opened the package and found a steaming pile of swag-crap.

Examples? I got a prize release FedEx’ed to me several years ago – Congratulations! You’re a winner! Fill this out, have it notarized, and send it back, and in - weeks you’ll have your prize. I knew the top prize in the contest was $ 10,000, and second place was $5,000. So I signed the release forms, crossed my fingers, and dreamed.

Two weeks later my “prize” showed up – a large manila envelope filled with copies of the company’s advertising campaign. Estimated retail value? $0.

About a year later I was one of the winners in Crayola’s “Name The New Crayon Color” contest (I picked “Asparagus”.) The top 30 winners got trips to Disney World or something cool like that. Anyway, they sent me my prize – a metal crayon box. No crayons – no trip - just the metal box. Gee, whiz. Thanks for nothing?

But then there was the mysterious one-page letter I almost tossed out, thinking it was junk mail. It sure looked like junk mail. But inside was a letter telling me that I’d won a trip for four to New York City. (Yes, I’ve learned to open all mail, no matter how worthless it may look from the outside. Mom was apparently right about not judging books by the cover...)

So I’ve learned not to get your hopes up too high. Which brings me back to yesterday’s mystery box from the Prize Fulfillment Center.

I ripped the box open, and inside was...

...Two 20-ounce bottles of Diet Pepsi Jazz.

Now, my first thought was “Damn! No iPod!”

My second thought was “Jesus, what’d it cost them to ship us two bottles of pop via UPS from Connecticut? Wouldn’t it have been more economical to just mail us a couple of coupons?”

But my third thought? “Ugh – it’s Diet Pepsi Jazz.” If you haven’t tasted this stuff yet, consider yourself lucky. It’s Diet Pepsi spiked with two flavors – Black Cherry French Vanilla and Strawberries & Cream. We tried the Strawberry type, and it’s...how do I put this politely?...NASTY. It tastes like Hubba-Bubba bubble gum. No sir, I don’t like it. (And I’m a die-hard Diet Pepsi drinker, so you know it must be bad!)

So my wonderful mystery prize is two bottles of UPS-delivered soda pop that I’ll never drink. (I gave them to Miss Katie – her teenage palate will probably enjoy the gum-flavored colas.)

Oh, well – It didn't cost me anything to enter the contest, and I suppose I can always return the empties to the store for the 5 cent deposits. That way, the estimated prize value? One thin dime.
So here’s to better luck next time. Maybe Pepsi-Cola will mail me a Jazz Cadillac. Hey, I’d learn to drink the Jazz stuff if they tossed me the keys to a $50,000 Escalade. Wouldn’t you?

One Bark For a Left Turn; Two Barks For a Right

You know, as much as I like my old cat, there's no way he's getting behind the wheel of my car. Sorry, buddy - you can walk yourself across the street.

* * * * *
Woman Crashes When Teaching Dog to Drive

BEIJING -- A woman in Hohhot, the capital of north China's Inner Mongolia region, crashed her car while giving her dog a driving lesson, the official Xinhua News Agency said Monday.

No injuries were reported although both vehicles were slightly damaged, it said.

The woman, identified only be her surname, Li, said her dog "was fond of crouching on the steering wheel and often watched her drive," according to Xinhua.

"She thought she would let the dog 'have a try' while she operated the accelerator and brake," the report said. "They did not make it far before crashing into an oncoming car."

Xinhua did not say what kind of dog or vehicles were involved but Li paid for repairs.

* * * * *

Katrina - One Year Later

I’d better warn you – today’s comments are filled with a year’s worth of sadness and rage.

Today marks the one year anniversary of Hurricane Katrina, a catastrophe that still bothers me on so many levels. The storm was bad enough, but the government response afterwards? That really was one heck of a job you did there, Brownie. (Don’t worry, though – I hold your imbecile of a former boss accountable, too.)

If you haven’t had a chance to see it yet, be sure to check out Spike Lee’s outstanding documentary on the aftermath of the storm – it’s called “When The Levees Broke”, and it’s on HBO this month. It’ll piss you off and break your heart at the same time.

Seriously -- five days for the government to help the people in New Orleans out? What’s the deal with that? That still really bugs me. I just have a hard time believing that these were AMERICAN CITIZENS who were treated so poorly in their time of need.

It’s also remarkable that CNN and NBC were able to get full crews into the heart of the Convention Center and Superdome mess a good 3 days before the National Guard. Maybe the next time there’s a national disaster FEMA should just fund MSNBC. That way those in need would get the aid they need in a timely manner, and Stone Phillips would have something to talk about on Dateline.

The aftermath of Hurricane Katrina has been hard (on other levels) in the Gressel household too – since Miss Katie’s full name is “Katrina”, every time she now tells her name to anyone they either make a bad joke about it, or they recoil in shock. It’s like telling someone you’re getting married on September 11th or that your grandfather’s first name is Adolph, I suppose – guilty by association.

But no little girl deserves a lifetime of scorn because of a hurricane she didn’t name. So I’m asking you – be nice to all the Katrinas in the world.

Anyway, my heart goes out to those in the Gulf Coast; they’re not out of the mess yet. A lot of people are still suffering, yet seem to be mostly forgotten by the media and the White House.

And here’s to hoping that the next time something goes horribly wrong like this, our leaders will get off their heavily isolated, not-so-bright asses and help the people of our country before it’s too late.

There's No Time Like A Week From Now...

I saw this headline today and had to wonder something:

Bush to Mark First Katrina Anniversary

Will he wait 5 days to do so?

Gosh, Pluto!

Just once you think you’ve got the world figured out, some scientist geek comes along and turns it upside down.

For the past 41 years of my relatively-insignificant existence, it’s been drilled into my head that there are 9 planets: Mercury, Venus, The Big Blue Marble, Mars, Saturn, Jupiter, Uranus (snicker!), Neptune, and Pluto. 9 planets, 7 continents, 50 states. Simple enough, right?

Well, today’s news comes along and screws up everything.

* * * * *
Dinky Pluto Loses its Status as Planet

PRAGUE, Czech Republic - Pluto, beloved by some as a cosmic underdog but scorned by astronomers who considered it too dinky and distant, was unceremoniously stripped of its status as a planet Thursday. The International Astronomical Union, dramatically reversing course just a week after floating the idea of reaffirming Pluto's planethood and adding three new planets to Earth's neighborhood, downgraded the ninth rock from the sun in historic new galactic guidelines.

Pluto, a planet since 1930, got the boot because it didn't meet the new rules, which say a planet not only must orbit the sun and be large enough to assume a nearly round shape, but must "clear the neighborhood around its orbit." That disqualifies Pluto, whose oblong orbit overlaps Neptune's, downsizing the solar system to eight planets from the traditional nine.

But the scientists at the conference showed a soft side, waving plush toys of the Walt Disney character Pluto the dog — and insisting that Pluto's spirit will live on in the exciting discoveries yet to come.

"The word 'planet' and the idea of planets can be emotional because they're something we learn as children," said Richard Binzel, a professor of planetary science at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, who helped hammer out the new definition.

The decision by the IAU, the official arbiter of heavenly objects, restricts membership in the elite cosmic club to the eight classical planets: Mercury, Venus, Earth, Mars, Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus and Neptune.

Pluto and objects like it will be known as "dwarf planets," which raised some thorny questions about semantics: If a raincoat is still a coat, and a cell phone is still a phone, why isn't a dwarf planet still a planet?

* * * * *

Now, doesn’t that just throw a monkey wrench into everything you know?

Still, my biggest concern is the status of this guy:

Fortunately, my good buddy Pluto the dog is still around, as the press release proudly tells us.

Walt Disney Co. spokesman Donn Walker said "Pluto is taking this news in stride, and we have no reason to believe he might bite an astronomer."

And the people at Disney prove that they still have a good sense of humor, especially about Pluto’s demotion to dwarf planet size:

"Although we think it's Dopey that Pluto has been downgraded to a dwarf planet, which has made some people Grumpy and others just Sleepy, we are not Bashful in saying we would be Happy if Disney's Pluto would join us as an eighth dwarf. We think this is just what the Doc ordered and is nothing to Sneeze at."

Hardy har har. There’s nothing funnier than Snow White puns.

So Pluto is out, and Xena and her galactic pals may be in. As long as it doesn’t muck up my trip to Walt Disney World in December, I suppose it’ll be okay. (I don’t want to accidentally take a wrong turn on Space Mountain; that’s all I’m sayin’.)

Still, I may need to go back to second grade and get this all straightened out.

Fly NWA and Save!

http://www.thesmokinggun.com/archive/0821061nwa1.html?link

Isn’t it nice to know that there’s still employer sensitivity in this world?

The Smoking Gun somehow got hold of a booklet given out by Northwest Airlines to recently laid off employees. The title? “101 Ways to Save Money”. Thoughtful of them, isn’t it?

Here’s a couple of my favorite “tips” provided by such a caring and concerned employer to their recently departed and now out of work workers:

* Do your own nails.
* Rent out a room or garage.
* Buy spare parts for your car at the junkyard.
* Make your own baby food.
* Buy your clothes off season.
* Borrow a dress for a big night out, buy from a consignment shop.
* Cut the kid’s hair yourself.
* Search the Internet for freebies.
* Donate time instead of money to churches and charities.
* Shop at discount clothing stores.
* Use old newspapers for cat litter.

But my personal favorite?

Don't be shy about pulling something you like out of the trash.

Yes, dear former NWA employees – we’re sorry that we had to toss you to the curb. But hey – don’t worry about going hungry as long as there is a nearby Dumpster to dive into!!

You know, I flew NWA a couple of months ago, and it really has become the “discount” air carrier. Every seat is crammed as tight as possible, they don’t give out pillows or blankets any longer, and if you want a “snack” on the flight, they’re $5 for a mini-box filled with heavily salted chips. It really wasn’t what anyone could call a classy experience.

And yes, I know I was flying coach, but c’mon – cheap, cheap. Oh, and my ticket? It was $376 for the portion I used. I bought a round trip ticket for $376, even though I only needed a one-way flight, because the one-way only ticket was $576. So I saved $200 by buying a full round trip ticket and then throwing half of it away. Where’s the logic in that?

So my heart goes out to the poor souls at NWA who lost their jobs. Hopefully they’re all on their way back to the working world, and aren’t having to spend their days giving their kids buzz cuts over the kitchen sink, searching the Web for giveaways, or jumping into the big green garbage bin behind Burger King in order to find something to eat.

Sheesh.

Ch-ch-ch-changes

See what happens when you go on vacation? You miss out on EVERYTHING.

I came back to work on Monday after a relatively nice week off to find out that during my absence my employer has had yet another reorganization. (Only this time nobody was laid off.) My job is still the same, but the big change?

Skippy Whitebread is no longer my manager.

Yes, Mr. Obsessive Compulsive Disorder Extraordinaire bailed on us, and has been transferred to a non-management position with a different division. (He said it was a “mutual decision”, but as burned out on life as he’s been lately, I wouldn’t be surprised to learn that he begged for it.)

So effective noon Tuesday, after 6 years of Skippy Whitebread love, I now have a new manager. Weird, huh?

We’ve yet to meet with our new manager (Karen was the director of my original department here when I joined the company 8 years ago), but I’m not overly worried about my dealings with her. She and I have always gotten along really well, and I’ll give her bonus points for never freaking out and totally spazzing like Skippy Boy does at least once a week. So it should be okay.

I’m still not totally sure how I feel about losing Skippy, though. On one hand he was a nutty little man, prone to driving everyone crazy with his OCD ways, but on the other side, he’s a familiar face that I know how he works. Sure, he’s annoying, but he’s annoying in a way that leaves few surprises. And yes - I suspect I'll miss the guy and his incredibly boring lunches.

So it’ll be interesting to see how all of this plays out. Either way, I only have 345 days left until I graduate from college. Then it won’t matter whose in charge, now will it?

Math Nerds Rule

Tonight is my final exam in College Algebra. The one class I’ve dreaded taking for the past 18 months is finally over.

The good news is that I was wrong in doubting my abilities to figure out logarithms and parabolas. (Yes, Mrs. G. - you were right, I was wrong. I'll admit it for once.) I was convinced that there was no way I’d ever be able to figure this crap out, but it turns out I was a little better at it than I imagined. So much for not trusting in myself…

Anyway, as it stands right now, I have a high “B” in the class. If I somehow manage to score 93 out of 100 points on the final tonight, I’ll actually get an “A”. (Ha!) But the good news is I only need 23 out of 100 to keep my B. And since in college grading a “B-“ is the same as a “B+”, I’ll be thrilled to have a B for a final grade. It's much higher that I dreamed I'd get.

Returning to college up to this point has actually been pretty easy. I sailed through Economics, I breezed through History, and I did very little work for Public Speaking. The only other subject that was remotely difficult was Accounting, and that was mainly from the nasty amounts of homework.

But math was different. Math has never been my friend. As such, it’s been a long, long time since I’ve had a math class. The last time I took algebra in school, Jimmy Carter was still President and I was a 14 year old smart aleck. So I had to start over from square one for this one.

I still think people come in two groups – those who love math and can do it easily, and those who despise it. It’s sort of like Star Trek or Lord of the Rings – either you love it passionately or you hate the hell out of it. There’s no in between.

But it turns out that algebra was okay. I’ll finish tonight with a “B”, and then next week after a quick break we’ll start Statistics. Now THERE’S a class that everyone is dreading. But me? I made it through Math Hell with a fairly good grade, so maybe Stats won’t be too bad.

Then it’s back to the easy road for a while, and only 7 more classes until graduation. Huzzah!

So let this serve as a lesson to you, kids. You may be like me, and dreading having to take a class in a subject that you don’t particularly care for. Or you may be frightened to try something new, because of all of the internal demons who keep telling you “You can’t do that!” Well, it’s time to bury those bad thoughts and give it a try. You might surprise yourself.

Just don’t call and ask me for tutoring. I fully intend on forgetting everything I learned by about 8:00 PM tonight. :)

Liquids on a Plane

Yes, even in times of overly hyped pseudo-terror, you still have to laugh. And laugh I did at this poster I saw online this AM:

I'll keep this in mind next week when I'm waiting around the Omaha airport for 3 hours while we wait for the TSA to confiscate a tube of Chap-Stick from an 80-year-old lady. Sheesh.

Fun at the Airport

I’m about to mock what may very well be a serious situation. But c’mon – what are the odds?

According to this morning's news, Scotland Yard broke up some supposed terrorist plot to blow up U.K. to U.S. bound airplanes via liquid explosives. Good for them!

But as a consequence of this not-so-bright idea, all liquids and gels are now banned from flights and your carry-on bags. No pop, no Starbucks latte grande to go, no toothpaste, no deodorant, no Jeri-Curl, no flask of JD to help take the edge off between flights. They’re confiscating the stuff at the “courtesy is our middle name – okay, not really” TSA inspection station. If you have a baby, you can bring formula or breast milk (which apparently isn't flammable), and maybe some juice for a little one. But that's it.

Now, I can see taking away people's booze. I saw a guy board once with two large bottles of Everclear shoved in his carry-on. Add a piece of rag, light it, and boom - instant Molotov. But confiscating deodorant? Hmm…. “Take me to Cuba or I’ll expose my B.O. to you!”

And oh yeah – the airport security alert is now up to CODE RED. So fly the friendly skies, kids – but be ready to rat out the guy sitting next to you if he so much as sneezes.

I mention this in a really sarcastic manner for one good reason: In 5 days from right now I’ll be forced onto one of these flying interrogation machines. Miss Katie and I are off next Tuesday for a couple of days on the West coast, visiting family. So we’ll get the great joy of being frisked, patted down, investigated, inspected, neglected, rejected, all for the pleasure of two cramped coach seats and a 3 ½ hour layover in Salt Lake City. Happy, happy, joy, joy.

I’ve never had what you’d call “positive, enlightening experiences” with the TSA – I’m the guy who always seems to be randomly searched for extra screening. (And no – they haven’t given me the “bend over and grab your cheeks” inspection yet, but I did get an up close and person hernia check from Mr. Cold Hands at Sea-Tac once.)

I’m not the kind of guy who would try anything stupid at the airport – the extent of the metal I’ll wear usually consists of just my eyeglasses frame, my wedding right, and the metal in the zipper and button on my pants. And hey – if it mean getting through the process without being groped, I’m willing to remove two of the three of them. So it just seems kind of silly – picking out a middle-aged white guy from B.F.E. Iowa who has no carry-on packages for a terrorist inspection, especially in OMAHA, NEBRASKA. I don’t exactly fit the usual Al Queda profile, that’s all I’m saying.

I love to travel and see new places. It’s the process of getting there that’s the biggest pain. It’s this reason I usually prefer to drive. But what can you do – Seattle is 1600 miles from here, and I have 4 days. As much as I like the open road, that’s a little *too* marathon for my tastes.

So Delta Airlines it’ll be. But I am going to take my backpack with my statistics textbook, a notepad, and some pencils. Hope they don’t think I’m going to poke someone’s eye out with a sharpened #2.

See you at 35,000 feet – I hope.

Mmmmm.... BRAINS!

There are three things in this world I truly hope to see in my lifetime:

1 – Flying cars. I want one, you want one. C’mon - admit it.
2 – Bush admit that “gee whiz, maybe we didn’t have any business invading Iraq.” (Good luck on ever seeing that one. You might as well ask for the Tooth Fairy and Santa Claus to say that.)

But number 3 on my Most Wanted list? It’s got to be this one:

* * * * * *
You know anybody who needs an "anti-stupid" pill?

BERLIN (Reuters) - A German scientist has been testing an "anti-stupidity" pill with encouraging results on mice and fruit flies, Bild newspaper reported Saturday.

It said Hans-Hilger Ropers, director at Max-Planck-Institute for Molecular Genetics in Berlin, has tested a pill thwarting hyperactivity in certain brain nerve cells, helping stabilize short-term memory and improve attentiveness.

"With mice and fruit flies we were able to eliminate the loss of short-term memory," Ropers, 62, is quoted saying in the German newspaper, which has dubbed it the "world's first anti-stupidity pill."

* * * * * *

Anti-stupid pills. I’d buy them by the truckload, and make it my life’s work to slip them into the coffee of many, many people I know. Maybe even drop a case or two into the local water reservoir, just so I’m certain that all bases are covered.

Imagine – no more stupid drivers. No more dim neighbors. No more brainless politicians.

It’s almost too much to ask for, isn’t it?

Stuck On You

You know, this being Iowa and all, it could be that she just spent a little too much time at one of the nearby casino buffets. After all, the sign does say, "All You Can Eat".

* * * * * *

Woman gets stuck on toilet, suffers burns

COUNCIL BLUFFS, Iowa - A woman who became stuck to a toilet seat in a shopping mall restroom was treated at a local hospital after paramedics used fingernail polish remover to free her, officials said.

The 53-year-old Council Bluffs woman suffered burns to her skin in the incident, which happened Wednesday, officials with the Fire Department said.

Investigators said they believe someone placed a cement compound on the toilet seat in the restroom at the Mall of the Bluffs.

Investigators say they are treating the case as an assault and vandalism.

The woman, who wasn't identified, told KETV in Omaha, Neb., that the burns are painful and that the incident was one of the most embarrassing moments in her life.

* * * * *

Mark Your Calendars

Today is August 3rd. Why is it important? Well, for one thing it’s my manager Skippy Whitebread’s birthday. Being the boring eater he is, I suspect he’ll celebrate it with a PB&J on Wonder bread with the crust cut off, a carton of super-sugary kid’s Trix yogurt, and a couple of Twinkies. In other words, his typical lunch.

But besides being Skippy’s Big Boy Birthday, August 3 is an important date for me, too. Or at least it will be 365 days from now.

You see, if my planning is right and everything goes as planned, in one year from today, Friday, August 3, 2007, I’ll graduate from college. Ta-Da!

Yes, 23 years after I walked away from college, I’ll finally finish what I started. It’s been absolutely worth it though to go back to school after all this time. I’m glad I did it, and I’m glad that the Lovely Mrs. G. talked me into it.

I left school in 1984 only 5 classes short of finishing – I was recruited for a job, and I chose the allure of money over sitting in a classroom for another 6 months. I know, I know – dumb kid. The job went poof, and so did my credits. So here we are, 20+ years later, and I had to start all over again. But this time there will be no “jumping the gun” – I’m in to win, baby.

I have 8 little classes left to finish – Statistics, Ethics, Art Appreciation, Business Law I and II, Sociology, Management, and Physical Science. Our last class will be July 3, and the Pomp & Circumstance happens a month later on August 3.

And then the real fun starts -- moving out of Disappointing Iowa in favor of Sunny Florida.

So we’ll see you in a year – bring your own tassel, ‘cause Tommy will be on that stage, front and center. Better late than never.

I Want(ed) My MTV

Today is MTV’s 25th birthday. I’d celebrate, but I’m way outside their key 14-to-20 demographic nowadays, so they probably wouldn’t notice me. Still…

I consider myself lucky to be in the “right place at the right time” to witness the early days of Music Television. We got MTV in Seattle in the fall of 1981, when I was a 16-year old high school junior. It was stunning – 24 hours of music videos from either Rod Stewart or bands you’d never heard of before. I can’t tell you how many hours/days/weeks of my life I spent in front of the TV, watching crappy music videos, listening to odd bands, and loving every minute of it.

Our standard television conversation during 1982 – 1984 usually sounded something like this:

Me: “Hello?”
Friend: “Hey – whatcha doin?”
Me: “Oh, nothing – just sitting around, watching MTV.”
Friend: “Yeah, me, too.”

It was more than wasted time in front of the idiot box – it was a whole new way of life.

Why, back in my day (makes me sound really old, doesn’t it?) MTV only had a few dozen music videos. We’d watch horrible crap like Southside Johnny and the Jukes, or this obnoxious song about the pleasures of “Two Triple Cheese, Side Order of Fries”. Then there was a risqué (for the time) Dr. Hook song about “Baby Makes Her Blue Jeans Talk”, which the video featured a 3 solid minute butt-shot of a blonde walking down Hollywood Boulevard in holy-crap-how-does-she-breathe tight jeans. (My mother really hated that one.) And of course, there were Fish Heads, Fish Heads, Eat ‘Em Up, Yum.

Now, THAT’S entertainment.

Before long we were discovering all sorts of new bands – ABC, Aha, Adam Ant, the Go-Go’s, The Police, Duran Duran, Men at Work, Bow Wow Wow, Devo, Frankie Goes to Hollywood, the B-52’s, and of course Madonna. (I remember watching her hump the stage during the MTV Music Awards, and asking my friend Bill, “Can she do that?” I guess she could – and more.)

Sure, their videos weren’t overly glossy, and often they used a cheap gel lens as their only “special effect”, but it was FUN. No over-the-top choreography, no computer manipulation and/or body enhancement, no product placements.

I haven’t watched MTV much in the last 15 years – it seems our paths veered off at some point around 1989 or so, and they no longer wanted me to sit there for hours nonstop lovingly admiring Madonna’s much-younger-then cleavage. (That’s probably a good thing.) I did watch the Osbournes a few times, mainly because Ozzy as someone’s father is still weird to believe. But other than that, I don’t have much use for MTV any longer.

And I’ll avoid the cliché about their not playing music videos any longer, because let’s face it – it’s been a mighty long time since The Police or Dire Straights were hip to teenagers. There’s tons of profit in showing 20 hours of reruns from The Real World or the Jessica Simpson Family Hour, which probably means more to MTV’s shareholders than breaking a new artist.

Still, I’ll remember all those nights, staring with an odd fascination at this new fangled technology - Music Videos. And they said it’d never last.