Category Archives: Farce

I, For One, Welcome Our AI Overlords…

Some time late last week, while sitting on my ass and perusing the internet as is my wont when I’m trying to unwind a bit, I had a question enter my mind about the weather for Saturday when I would be out at the CAF hangar in Camarillo.

Being a savvy, hip, handsome, intelligent, completely not full of shit, modern sort of guy, I said, “Siri, what’s the forecast for tomorrow’s weather in Camarillo, California?”

Simple, eh?

Until my phone, my iPad, and my watch ALL ANSWERED AT THE SAME TIME.

And all had slightly different answers.

I’m really, really looking forward to when they start arguing among themselves about those different answers.

When it gets to physical violence, or trying to infect each other with computer viruses in retaliation, then I’m turning them all off and moving to a cave in Alberta that’s 100 miles from the nearest cell phone tower.


Filed under Computers, Farce

Red Vines

This is on our kitchen counter and caught the attention of my psychotic brain:

It’s the “Original Red” label that made my brain go “ping!”

Are there Red Vines® that aren’t red?

If so, are they still “Red Vines,” or are they just “Red Vines®”?

If the latter, are they allowed to vote or make campaign contributions under Citizens United?

Is this the new Red Menace?

Should I have had that Ace Pineapple Hard Cider® before writing this? It probably made much more sense then…


Filed under Farce, Paul

The Great Ketchup Debacle Of 2018

There’s a great little local restaurant where we have breakfast on most Sunday mornings before we do our weekly grocery shopping. We’re regulars there, been going for years, the seven or eight waiters and waitresses know us. I’m also boring and order the same thing about 99% of the time. My usual is a club sandwich with steak fries and a Diet Coke.

This morning our wonderful and friendly waitress Connie brought a brand new, never before opened bottle of ketchup out of some refrigerator. By the time I got around to opening it there was a sheen of condensation on it from the humidity. I wiped it dry with my napkin to get a good grip on it and twisted the top off.

Well, at least that was the plan.

This bottle top was having none of that. No joy. No motion on the twist-off cap. No ketchup.

I tried the other hand. Same results.

I wiped it off again, switched back to the first hand, concentrated, leaned into it. The ketchup reward would be mine!


Okay, I’m serious now! Another wipe to make sure it wasn’t slipping, back to the right hand, think THROUGH the lid and VISUALIZE it coming loose…

I’m told I turned about the same color as the ketchup with my effort – but the lid never budged.

By this point Connie was back, asking if everything was okay. I gave her the ketchup bottle and politely asked for one that I could open.

She gave me a curious look, took the bottle, and twisted the top off in one motion.

People at adjoining tables guffawed and chortled.

Connie did a fist pumping victory dance in aisle.

There may have been applause from the crowd – I’m not sure and might have missed it as I was greying out in astonishment.

Of course, at that point I still had to get the ketchup out of the bottle and onto the fries, but my spirit had been crushed and my ego bruised to the point where I found no shame in sticking the knife into the bottle and pulling it out rather than turning the bottle upside down and shaking it for a half hour to get the condiment flowing.

I found a brief moment of redemption later in the day when a pickle jar needed opening for our holiday BBQ, but I go to bed tonight knowing that that ketchup jar kicked my ass and I would have had to eat my fries sans condiments if it hadn’t been for the almost nonchalant flick of Connie’s wrists.

Thus ends the Tale of the Great Ketchup Debacle of 2018!


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Filed under Disasters, Farce, Paul

Best Comment From The Airshow

(Oops, looks like I forgot to post yesterday! I remember researching something, apparently never wrote or pushed the “publish” button. That’s what? Four times? Five times? In over five years? “That will do, pig. That will do.”)

An ongoing repair in one of the CAF SoCal hangars led to the best line of the weekend.

Imagine the following, in an incredibly thick Scottish brogue which I won’t even attempt to reproduce in writing:

“Jesus Christ, you’ve got to have the fucking stupidest pilots in the world here! How many of them actually tried to piss in the thing before someone put up the sign??!!”

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Filed under CAF, Farce, Photography

One Of These Is Not Like The Other

In the sense that most of these make perfect sense for a Google auto-fill to try and guess what I’m asking, but the one…

Ripple? Really? Were they all out of Everclear down at the Rite Aid?

What is wrong with the world today? Why can’t kids just find some 21-year-old who will buy a six-pack for them for $20 and keep the change like we did?

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Filed under Farce

Doing It WRONG!

Image: Weather Underground

Dear Powers That Be:

With all due respect, if you’re going to just eliminate a day from existence, could we please make it a Monday and not a Sunday? It’s that whole “Monday’s sucks” vs “Sundays suck much, much less than the other days of the week” thing. Some of us are sort of on thin ice here to begin with, so it would be wonderful to get cut a little bit of slack as opposed to being kicked in the teeth while down to begin with.

tl;dr version – don’t be a dick.



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Filed under Farce, Paul

Heard In My Head

After being up way too late last night finishing up the CAF financials for today’s audit, I was up two hours early this morning to get out to Camarillo on time. As I’m coming out of the bathroom after showering and preparing to face the ordeal:

The Long Suffering Wife: “You can turn on the light.”

Me: “What if I don’t want to turn on the light? What if I’m still upset with the light over that little tiff and I’m not speaking to her, let alone trying to turn her on? What if I don’t care if the light ever gets turned on again? Serves her right after that little ‘tete-e-tete’ the light had with Rex, and while she says that it was just innocent word play, *I* saw how they were looking at each other and *I* know that it was much, much more than that! So I will NOT be turning on the light any time soon! Let the little minx just stew on that for a while – she knows where to find me when she’s ready to apologize!”

Well, at least that’s the way it played out in my head. Not sure if any of the drama or counterfeit angst actually made it past my larynx. I was pretty tired.

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Filed under Castle Willett, Farce