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My Rod And Reel, They Comfort Me
Erik Deckers
Laughing Stalk Syndicate
Copyright 2004
As spring gets warmer, and the days grow longer, that can only mean one thing: Fishing!
I realize there are those people who argue that fishing is a year round sport, and that they will fish during the winter, but these people can only be described as weird. If the whole point of fishing is to relax, why do I want to sit through bone-biting cold when everyone knows the fish are at home drinking hot chocolate and watching "Jaws IV: The Revenge."
Every fisherman dreams of finally hooking the big one, like Fat Cat, the 132-lb. catfish from the Tennessee Aquarium. Kathie Fulgham, public relations manager for the Tennessee Aquarium, told me several years ago she was the largest catfish on display in the world.
I thought it was rather odd that they would hire a catfish to handle public relations, since that's usually a job for sharks, but Kathie said no, Fat Cat was the largest catfish, not her.
But around the time the ice melts and the ice fisherman have been pulled from the lake, the more sane fisherman twitch their arms and flick their casting hand in anticipation of another season spent trolling the world's lakes, oceans, rivers, and catfish tanks at state aquariums. I myself take a 20 hour drive up to the wilds of Canada each summer and spend a week on a remote lake.
So in the spirit of the renewed fishing season, I would like to offer Erik's Commandments for Fishing, in case we ever end up in the same fishing boat.
1. Mocketh not the Man who requires a glove and a pair of needlenose pliers for fish removal. It's not that he is a sissy so much as he just doesn't want to get fish slime on his fingers. . . Okay, it's because he's a sissy.
2. Teaseth not the Man about being a sissy, because he is mightier than you.
3. Week-long fishing trips are for men only. No women are allowed. Yea though women are wondrous in my sight, they want us to do things, like bathe daily, and not smoke cigars in the cabin. Or on the boat. Or outside.
4. Verily I say unto thee, the fish was this big. . . actually it was THIS big. And it weighed 12 pounds. Why would I lie about such matters?
5. Playeth not the practical jokes, like pulling on my fishing line when I appear to be dozing in my seat. I do not sleep, but merely resteth mine eyes.
6. Hide not the Holy Needlenose Pliers either. It wasn't funny the first eight times.
7. Thou shalt have no other baits before artificial lures. Minnows, worms, and other creatures of the sea and Earth are squishy and unclean. Hast thou forgotten that we are a sissy?
8. If thou disobey me, and insist on using creatures of the sea and Earth, thou shalt bait mine hook, lest I become squeamish and drop the bait in the boat.
9. Expecteth not that I will fillet the fish. Oh sure, I'll try it once, but do not make this a habit.
10. Dispose of fish remains far away from camp across the lake. It attracts bears and its day-old odor bringeth tears to mine eyes.
11. Special commandments to wives: Washeth not the Holy Fishing Vest. It is imbued with the smell of victory. And cigars. Hangeth it in the garage for a week instead.
12. Thou must resist the temptation to discard the fillet knife just because "it's old." Scoff not at the Man's need for six fillet knives -- they each serve a useful purpose.
13. Yes, the Man understands the irony of owning six fillet knives even though he does not like to fillet fish. The Man hath not questioned your need for a doll collection you no longer play with.
14. And while we dwell on the subject, scoff not at the Man's need for eight fishing rods and reels either. This is how the Man moves other, lesser fishermen to sing his praises.
15. Verily I say that eating fried fish is healthy and good for the Man. Worry not, for the Man hath eaten of vegetables on Wednesday. Or was it Thursday?
16. And on the eighth day, when the Man returneth home, keep the day holy and silent. Verily, the man is tired from staying up late every night playing poker and smoking cigars.
=====
Erik Deckers
(published week of May 7th, 2004)
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What a Way to Make a Living
Erik Deckers
Laughing Stalk Syndicate
Copyright 2004
Now that I've started a new job, I find myself getting up earlier, well before my accustomed "at the crack of noon." Needless to say, I had forgotten there was a "6 o'clock in the frigging morning," which means I tend to be rather groggy and shuffle around the house in a dazed stupor before I realize I've just stuffed the dog into the coffee maker, and taken the coffee beans outside to do their business.
So to help me get my bearings, I've developed a schedule that I follow religiously each morning.
5:57 am - Look at the alarm clock. Sigh heavily with the realization that I've woken up three minutes before the alarm is supposed to go off.
5:58 - Try to get back to sleep for those two crucial minutes, knowing that if I do, I'll be completely refreshed and ready to face the day.
5:59 - Curse an indifferent and sometimes cruel world that doesn't seem to care that my alarm is going to sound in less than 60 seconds, and I lost three whole minutes of precious sleep.
6:00 - Debate whether to hit the snooze button or hurl the alarm clock across the room. Since the latter will most likely draw a sharp -- and painful -- response from my wife, I hit the snooze button.
6:01 - Despite my best efforts, I can't go to sleep. The theme song from "9 to 5" starts running through my head incessantly for the 8th morning in a row.
6:02 - Curse Dolly Parton and her catchy lyrics.
6:05 - Shut off the alarm and shuffle aimlessly to the bathroom. I'm going to pull my hair out if I can't get this stupid song out of my head.
6:12 - AAGGHHHHHH! When did THAT start turning gray?!
6:18 - "9 to 5, what a way to make a living. There's no getting by, it's all taking and no giving."
6:20 - Curse the housekeeper for leaving my clean laundry in a pile on my chair. Now I can't find anything unwrinkled to wear.
6:21 - Pull out the ironing board and iron. Say a silent thank you to my mother for teaching me to iron my clothes.
6:22 - Carefully iron my shirt, making sure to get between the buttons
6:23 - Wait a minute, we don't HAVE a housekeeper.
6:28 - Find a spot on the shirt just as I iron the last part. Throw it on the floor and find a new shirt. Carefully inspect the new shirt first to make sure there aren't any hidden spots on it.
6:34 - Pants! Where's my frigging pants?!
6:35 - Scatter the clothes on the floor as I desperately look for my pants.
6:36 - I swear to God, if I don't find my pants soon, I'm going to -- oh wait, here they are. Who hung my pants up in the closet? Maybe we DO have a housekeeper.
6:38 - "Got to move ahead, but the boss won't seem to let me. Sometimes I swear that man is out to get me!"
6:40 - Why can't I get some other happy, uplifting song stuck in my head, like a funeral dirge?
6:42 - Coffee! Where's the frigging coffee! Are we out of coffee?! I can't function without my coffee. A pox on you, Juan Valdez!!
6:44 - Curse my wife for introducing me to coffee in the first -- oh wait, here it is. Did the housekeeper put it in here?
6:45 - No, I'm pretty sure we don't have a housekeeper.
6:46 - Start the coffee maker.
6:48 - After an extensive search around the house, I can definitely say we don't have a housekeeper. Do we?
6:49 - Take the dogs out. Desperately shush them as they bark at the neighbor's dog. Marvel -- for the 1000th morning in a row -- that I have the dumbest dogs in the entire county.
6:50 - I mean, I've taken these dogs out every morning for nearly three years, and they still have no clue why we come out here each time.
6:51 - "9 to 5, for service and devotion. You would think that I would deserve a fair promotion."
6:52 - Just pee, you dumb dogs! I'm going to be late.
6:55 - Wake up my wife to tell her good-bye. Ask her about the housekeeper.
6:56 - What do you mean, we've never had a housekeeper?
6:57 - I know you're not my housekeeper. I never said you were.
6:58 - Tell my kids good-bye.
7:03 - No, I'm not saying I expect you to clean up after me. That's not what I'm saying at all.
7:04 - Grab a cup of coffee, run to the car, pull out of the driveway. Begin the 50 minute commute to work.
6:00 - The alarm goes off. It looks like I fell back asleep after all.
=====
Erik Deckers
(published week of May 14th, 2004)
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Give Him the Finger!
Erik Deckers
Laughing Stalk Syndicate
Copyright 2004
Although I try to remember my childhood differently, anyone who knew me will tell you that I was a rabble-rousing little terror who got into all sorts of trouble.
"A heller!" my grandmother shouts during one of her flashbacks.
But my father is a psychology professor at Ball State University, and he was sometimes able to control my behavior. Of course, when I was a boy, he wasn't quite aware of the awesome power he commanded, which lead to some unfortunate incidents.
I remember when I was four years old, my dad took me to the psychology department's rat lab, and got me to stick my finger in a rat cage.
He did this by looking me straight in the eye, and with all the seriousness and concern he could muster, told me, "Whatever you do, don't stick your finger in the rat cage."
As a result, the idea of not sticking my finger in the rat cage was immediately pushed out of my mind by the more important question of "what will happen if I do stick my finger in the rat cage?"
This was immediately answered by the rat who lived there, when he bit me on the finger. And as if being bitten wasn't bad enough, I was then taken to the emergency room for a tetanus shot, administered right on my butt.
Meanwhile the rat -- being a psychology rat -- was enrolled in an outpatient treatment program for anxiety and post-traumatic stress disorder. Or it was tested for rabies, I can never remember.
I was reminded of this incident when I was alerted to an Associated Press story by my friend and fellow humorist, Jennifer Layton.
According to the AP, zoo keepers from the Rio Grande Zoo in Albuquerque, New Mexico have banned a frequent zoo visitor for life, after finding his finger outside a jaguar exhibit.
A groundskeeper saw a man with blood on his pants, and asked if he was okay, but the man ran off. A little while later, the man's finger was found outside the cage of Manchas the jaguar.
Of course, I now have to call him Munches the jaguar.
Officials tracked the man down through his New Mexico Zoological Society pass, which wasn't that hard since only four people bought one. However, his name was not released by officials, so I have to call him Stumpy.
It seems that Stumpy was intrigued by Munches, and most likely stuck his finger in the cage. So Munches, doing what jaguars do best, bit him.
I have to admit that when I read the story, my first thought was that my father had begun using his powers for evil instead of good. But a quick phone call confirmed that he hasn't been to New Mexico since the late 1970s, so my concerns were put to rest.
According to the article, zoo director Ray Darnell said they telephoned Stumpy to ask if he was missing any fingers.
Darnell: Hello, Mr. Johnson, this is Ray Darnell of the Rio Grande Zoo. Funny story. We were cleaning out the jaguar cage and found a finger. We were wondering if it was yours.
Mr. Johnson: Let me see. . . 7, 8, 9, uhhh, 10. Nope, they're all here. Yesiree, I have all nine -- I MEAN TEN -- of my fingers.
Darnell: Are you sure? The police fingerprinted it and determined it belonged to you.
Mr. Johnson: No, not me. Must be my twin brother's.
Police went to Stumpy's house and confirmed that he was, in fact, the owner of the missing finger.
So zoo officials banned Stumpy because "you just can't take the risk," Darnell told the AP. Although I don't know who faces the bigger risk, Stumpy or Munches.
According to the zoo's general curator, Tom Silva (no relation to the guy from "This Old House"), this is the only case that he knows of where a zoo visitor was injured by an animal. However, a few years ago, a temporary employee lost the tip of one of his fingers, which was found later in -- say it with me -- Munches' den.
This makes me wonder what it is about Munches the jaguar that makes people want to stick their fingers in his cage. It would be easy to understand if it were Dave Barry, since he's made his entire career out of sticking his finger in his nose and then writing about what he finds. But instead, these are people who are somehow hypnotized by the big cat, or they usually preface their stunts with "hey y'all, watch this!"
In either case, I think Munches needs to be removed from the Rio Grande Zoo and placed somewhere where no one would care who he eats.
I hear "Survivor Island" is nice this time of year.
=====
Erik Deckers
(published week of May 21st, 2004)
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Now That I Have Your Attention
Erik Deckers
Laughing Stalk Syndicate
Copyright 2004
What are you thinking of right at this moment?
If you're a good Laughing Stalk reader, you said, "Gee Erik, I'm thinking about all the laughs I'm going to have as I read this week's column."
But if you're a German motorist, there's a 33% chance you're thinking about sex. Of course, the odds that you're a German motorist are pretty slim, considering I've only got one German reader and she knows enough not to read while driving.
What she thinks about while she's driving, I'll never know. But the Auto Club Europa in Stuttgart, Germany wants to find out.
According to a Reuters story last Thursday, the ACE took a survey of 1833 German motorists. They found that one-third fantasize about sex while stuck in traffic jams, while only 10 percent think about finding a faster route.
So much for that famed German efficiency and planning.
Eight percent think about how much gas they have, seven percent think about finding a bathroom, and 10 percent of them think about their families. In other words, they're thinking about the consequences of the last time they thought about sex in that traffic jam a few years ago.
In another Reuters story from last Friday, more German researchers wanted to figure out what people think of during sex. But since a door-to-door survey was out of the question, the scientists hooked up volunteers to a brain scanning device and made them look at pornography.
While researchers found that both men and women had activity in the temporal lobes -- the part of the brain that controls memory and perception -- they found that women also used their frontal lobes, the part of the brain that deals with planning and emotion.
However, researchers were not able to determine whether this meant that women were busy planning their schedule while men "lost themselves in the moment."
German woman: I have to pick up my dry cleaning, go to the bank, and meet Ingrid for lunch.
German man: Wow, boobs!
But if we're to draw any conclusions from these two studies, it's that German researchers are more obsessed with sex than other researchers.
We could also conclude from another Reuters story, that insurance company executives are also obsessed with sex.
Mitchell Blaser, the Chief Financial Officer of the Americas division of Swiss Re, is suing the strip club Scores for $28,000, saying this was not the amount he actually spent in one evening. According to the lawsuit, Mitchell Blaser, CFO of Swiss Re, says that he "only" spent about $15,385 on strippers and alcohol in a single evening.
The Chief Financial Officer is the person responsible for his employer's money, making sure it's not wasted or spent foolishly .
Keep in mind, Mitchell Blaser, CFO of Swiss Re, is not denying that he spent thousands of dollars on strippers and booze, but that he just didn't spend $28,000. He says the Scores staff extorted $8,615 from him, and signed an unauthorized $4,000 tip in his name.
I think if I were Mitchell Blaser, CFO of Swiss Re, I would be embarrassed that I had just made national news for spending more money on strippers and booze in one night than the 2003 US Poverty Level for a family of seven ($27,820).
I certainly would not want to draw attention to my name -- Mitchell Blaser -- or embarrass my employer -- Swiss Re insurance company. And I certainly wouldn't admit that I had ACTUALLY only spent a little more than the poverty level for a family of three ($15, 260).
But according to Scores spokesman Lonnie Hanover, Mitchell Blaser, CFO of Swiss Re, ordered five magnums of champagne, each costing $3200. He also spent $7,000 for lap dances and to be accompanied by 12 strippers for hours.
Hanover said they have three signed receipts from Mitchell Blaser, CFO of Swiss Re, over the course of the night. He also said that American Express has investigated Mitchell Blaser's claims and believe that Mitchell Blaser, CFO of Swiss Re, did spend as much money on strippers and booze as the price of a brand new Toyota 4Runner SUV.
Hanover went on to say that while they have entertained heads of state, professional athletes, and other Wall Street executives, no one has ever ordered more than one bottle of their most expensive champagne. So Mitchell Blaser, CFO of Swiss Re, should be proud for spending more money on champagne than a family of three who falls below the poverty level. He should be proud that he has helped boost the local strip club economy, rather than giving it to someone who would have wasted it on food and rent. Mitchell Blaser should hold his head high, and boast that he spent as much money on strippers and booze in a single night as a school teacher earns in a year.
It will give him something to think about the next time he's stuck in a German traffic jam.
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Erik Deckers
(published week of May 28th, 2004)
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