The Random Yak

A new law in South Carolina requires all subversive organizations (defined as those who “advocate, teach, advise or practice the duty, necessity or propriety of controlling, conducting, seizing, or overthrowing the government of the United States”) must now register with the South Carolina secretary of state and pay a $5 “Subversive Registration Fee.”

By way of comparison, it costs $20.00 to register your dog (though admittedly only $4.00 if he’s neutered … and that one we’ll just allow to fisk itself).  In other words: you can own four subversives for the cost of just one pit bull.  If that ain’t a deal, I don’t know what is.

Failure to register your subversive organization can result in fines of $25,000 or ten years in prison – a fairly steep sentence, but hey…that’s what happens when you refuse to fill in the necessary forms.

(Word to the wise: the state doesn’t explain the consequences if you DO fill out the necessary forms.  I suspect, however, that the uniformed men knocking on your door aren’t from the tourism board.)

The Fits News blog comments:

“In the long and storied history of utterly retarded legislation in South Carolina, we may have finally found the legal statute that takes the cake for sheer stupidity”

Despite my general dislike of the adjective “retarded” to describe such actions (frankly, I find it insulting to the truly mentally deficient, most of whom would have recognized that this plan is too simpleminded even for someone who struggles not to drool on himself) I think Fits News probably hit this nail squarely on the head.  In fact, this probably rivals the IRS’ relatively well-known mandate on the declaration of illegally-obtained income for all-out Fail.  (And yes, I know the real reason for the statutes is often to provide a secondary cause of action to authorize the arrest of people we don’t have enough evidence to arrest on “real” charges.  That still won’t make me stop laughing at the theoretical entries on a mob hit man’s Schedule C Declaration of Self-Employment income.  Or his conversations with his accountant.  Which employment code DO you use for “contract murder”?)

In semi-related news, the Democratic and Republican parties have not issued a statement regarding their intent to cooperate with the new law.  I guess that kind of takeover and control doesn’t count…

Still, if you live in South Carolina, please register your politicians now.  After all, we don’t want them to accidentally end up in jail before their time.

Who wouldn't want Sir Garage of Door guarding the portal?

Seriously.

“Style Your Garage” offers a variety of photo tarpaulins for covering garage doors, most of which transform the door into a nonexistent portal to some other space.  They all seem to contain some vestige of the “garage interior” image (check out the antifreeze in the lower left above) which just makes the illusion more entertaining.

I’m not sure The Random Spouse would ever actually go for this – or that it would even work on our door (we have a sectional) but I have to admit that browsing the company gallery gave me more than a couple of chuckles.  The Nativity Scene, in particular, would be entertaining at Christmas (if it were only removable…which they don’t appear to be, at least for now).

If you have a few extra minutes, head over and browse.  The time is well spent, and at £ 150 or so apiece, the price isn’t even prohibitive, if you can find one your spouse won’t send you away for putting on the garage.  As for the rest of us, we can still dream:

We only have a single-car model, so we needed the one with the folding wings...

What’s not to love?

Obvious Warcraft-related jokes aside…I expected more from this one.

This morning Olympic organizers unveiled the official medal ceremony platforms for the Vancouver Games.  The official Vancouver Olympics website carried a long piece about the platforms, lionizing both the elaborate, decorative design and the committee which approved it.  Calling the platforms “a testimony to the mountains,” the article went on to describe the platforms in detail, along with the design and construction process that made them a reality.  In fact, it described the platforms so thoroughly that a reader could almost see them.

Almost.

But not quite.

Because, you see, the beauty, design and flow of the platforms rated a fifteen-paragraph story – without a single picture.

Note to reporters covering the Vancouver Games (and the editors and webmasters who love to make fools of them):  if you take the time to write an article about the beauty and unique design of a structure, particularly one which you think will become “a centerpiece” of the Olympic Games, you might want to include a photograph so people can actually see what you’re talking about.  If there isn’t a photographer free, borrow a camera.  Or a cell phone.  From the guy walking next to you on the sidewalk, if need be.  Because otherwise, people might just click through to your story  – with its tagline about “dynamic sculptural podiums” inspired by the gorgeous mountain backdrop against which they will play their part in the Olympic Games – hoping to actually see a photograph of said platforms.  Or mountains.  Or even a graphic representation of the Olympic rings with a mountain sketched in behind it.  Something.  And when they see fifteen paragraphs of text without an image, some of those readers might just head over to their blogs and mention it in a negative light.

They might even call it a Wednesday Fail.

February 2, 2010: Punxsutawney Phil, the official prognosticator of the groundhog set, sees his shadow and proclaims six more weeks of winter.

For those who didn’t know, Phil has stepped into the digital age, with his own official website run by the Punxsutawney groundhog club.  (Apparently, there’s good work in managing public relations for rodents.  Who knew.) Only slightly more disturbing than the knowledge that Phil now knows how to twitter and text is the fact that 26,000 of you cared enough to receive his prognostication by text message.

Which, incidentally, means you paid for the privilege.

And here I thought a weather-predicting groundhog was strange.

If you missed the events live, there’s a video posted online, and photos of the gala events at Phil’s official website.  (Aside from Phil, the big attraction in Punxsutawney appears to be making s’mores.  There also seems to be ice carving, though I saw no sign of Bill Murray.)

In fact, Pennsylvania’s tourism website seems to contain an alarming (and slightly disturbing) number of groundhog-related facts, information and press releases.  (Just a hint, folks…but if your state’s primary claim to tourism – at any time of year – revolves around the psychic powers of an overgrown rat, you might need to find somewhere else to live.  Evidence suggests you need to get out more.)

Curiously, the weather in Pennsylvania must be brighter than California.  If Phil had emerged from a left-coast hole, he’d not only have missed his shadow, he’d have needed an umbrella too.

So I guess when it comes right down to it, Pennsylvania isn’t that bad after all.  At least if you ask the groundhog.

He’s working as a mechanic under an assumed name.  Or so it appears.

When a customer dropped a 2008 Porsche Boxster off at Sanibel Shell for servicing last week, the shop owner took the car out for “diagnostics” – which apparently included a little jaunt down the nearby toll road at 160mph.  In the interest of thoroughly testing the vehicle’s safety, the mechanic also performed a “roll test” to ensure the Boxster would perform perfectly, and properly protect the driver, in the event of a major accident.

That, or he drove too fast and crashed the customer’s vehicle in a ditch.

After successfully escaping the vehicle and leaving the crash scene, the mechanic was arrested and charged with multiple offenses.

Perhaps the best part of this story, however, lies not in the tale itself, but in the reporting.  Because according to Naples News (see link) the man was charged with “willful and wreckless driving.”

Somehow, I think not.

The first week of February has been officially designated “National Patient Recognition Week.”

At first I intended to post a list of all the people I know who are more patient than I, in recognition of their superior skills.

Then I realized:

1.  There are over six billion people in the world.

2.  Approximately 99.998% of them are more patient than I am.

3.  I don’t know all of their names.

I considered looking them all up and sending personalized cards, but then I realized there’s really no benefit to that.  Besides, that would take a lot of time, and we’ve already established I’m not that patient.

With a new month just around the corner, and the observant among you doubtless getting ready for all the fun, I thought I’d mention that February is official:

Adopt a Rescued Rabbit month (as for the ones that are still in trouble…I guess we just point and laugh.)

Senior Independence Month (sorry gramma, you have to do your taxes on your own.)

Return Shopping Carts to the Supermarket Month (For real fun, return them to different stores than they originally came from!)

Marijuana Awareness Month (A question: are you more or less aware if you don’t inhale?)

Jobs in Golf Month (Tiger Woods joke intentionally deleted.  Feel free to make your own.)

Bake for Family Fun Month (and all this time, I thought the purpose of baking was eating…)

AND

The Olympic Winter Games in Vancouver, Canada.

Because some bad ideas never die.

14 year-old Michigan boy held his birthday party at a local Fairfield Inn swimming pool -  a good idea, when you consider how much fun pool parties can be.

Apparently not such a good idea when you consider who else likes pool parties.

Snakes.

Yep, you guessed it:  Snakes in a Pool!

The birthday boy and his friends were swimming in the pool when they discovered an eighteen-inch snake had come to join the fun.  Thinking the snake was a rubber fake placed at the edge of the pool as a joke (and understandably, I might add – these are teenage boys we’re talking about, and some humor never goes out of style) one of the boys approached the reptile, which hissed, slithered into the pool and swam away.  The boy’s parents notified hotel staff, who conducted a search but failed to discover the party-crashing python.

Hotel staff had apparently heard at least two other reports of snake sightings, and had removed one snake-of-indeterminate-variety from the pool area prior to the party (though the story fails to disclose how long ago that took place).

Hotel and corporate officials also failed to return calls from the press about the incident, but I doubt there’s much more they could say.  But I suspect that pilot “snake lifeguard” program isn’t working out all that well for them.  The snakes don’t mind, but the customers are throwing hissy fits.

Police in Mexico City recently chased down a pair of armed robbers who attacked a truck at the Mexico City airport and stole its cargo.  After loading fifteen boxes of stolen goods into their car, the robbers fled the scene with police in pursuit.  A high-speed chase ended in a crash when the robbers ran their car into a tree and fled the scene on foot -

- as did the stolen goods:  150 ferrets recently imported from the United States.

You heard me.

Ferrets.

This one has so many things wrong with it, I’m not quite sure where to start.  Or even if I ought to.

First off, who imports 150 ferrets from the U.S. into Mexico?  I didn’t realize there was a thriving ferret trade south of the border – and had even less idea about the booming black-market in miniature masked mammals.  I understand that some people think they’re good companions, though for my money a nice big dog or a cat – to say nothing of a horse – is nicer to pet and parrots have much more to say.

Though I must admit, as the story proves, if you need a pet that will willingly wear a mask and help you flee the scene of a crime, ferrets seem to be the way to go.

Last Thursday afternoon, workers in Buffalo New York, commenced demolition of the defunct Buffalo Color plant.  Buffalo Color formerly made dyes and food additives in the New York factory … wherein lies the foundation for a tale.

When demolition workers commenced destruction of the building, a pipe containing approximately 5 pounds of “residual” red dye # 40 burst, releasing the powdered dye into the atmosphere.  Prevailing winds carried the dye throughout the neighborhood, coloring snow – and unsuspecting snowmen – “a deep shade of pink.”

Authorities apparently declared the pinkish powder safe to play in, although water trucks were dispatched to clean up the rosy ruins.

No harm, no foul … though a number of New York snowmen have apparently signed a declaration reasserting their masculinity.

“We’re doing just fine,” the snowspokesperson reportedly declared, and this blogger believes him.

In fact, the evidence suggests they’re more than just fine.

They’re in the pink.

One minute they’re lying in cradles sucking on pacifiers, the next they’re calling 9-1-1 to surrender them…

A four year-old Italian boy recently telephoned police to request a pickup of his “dummies” (apparently, in Italy, that means a pacifier and not a parent) declaring that he had outgrown them and he thought the police should come and take them away.  In a rare but commendable show of community spirit, two officers actually showed up at the boy’s fourth birthday party and traded a “souvenir hat” (presumably of the police variety) for the pacifiers.

Which highlights just one of the differences between Italy and the United States.  There, kids call 9-1-1 to surrender their pacifiers.  Here, they call because they found daddy’s dope between the couch cushions and want to know why everyone passed out after eating the cookies they made with the powdered sugar.

I admit, when I first clicked through I expected to see a story about police arresting a child (and/or his parents) for (a) misuse of the emergency call line, (b) contraband discovered in the home while responding to the pacifier call, or (c) some other lunatic excuse developed at the time, probably in response to low blood sugar and/or caffeine deprivation on the part of police officials.  The fact that none of that happened, and the police went beyond the call of duty on top of it all, put this one over the top and got it linked this morning.

Other than that, I’m in the weeds, so don’t expect much until Monday.  If I need a pacifier pickup, though, I’ll let you know.

Here is one.

January 14: official “Dress Up Your Pet Day.”  (don’t believe me? check the link.)

I don’t know who decided this could possibly amount to anything more than a barking disaster (pun intended) but just for the record, permit me to remind you all of the proverbial wisdom applicable to the situation (italics, as always, are mine):

1.  The words “clothes on” do not appear anywhere in the phrase “putting on the dog.”  (Nor should they.)

2.  Clothes make the man, but they don’t make the dog a man.

3.  Give a man a fish, and he’ll eat for a day.  Give a cat a bonnet and she’ll claw your eyes out to-day.

4.  Everyone feels the cold according as he is clad - the dog didn’t feel the cold before, and now he just feels bad.

5.  The finest clothes are often lined with heartache and sorrow.

(If you don’t believe me, please peruse the following photographic evidence:)

see more Lolcats and funny pictures

see more Lolcats and funny pictures

6.  The older we grow, the greater our wonder at how much ignorance one can contain without bursting one’s clothes. (Mark Twain)  I suspect, when the ignorance threatens to bust a seam, the easiest answer is putting the clothing on something that cannot object.

7. A pretty face and fine clothes do not make character.  Laughter, yes.  Humiliation, definitely.  Character….no.

8.  Throw off your worries when you throw off your clothes at night.  (Napoleon Bonaparte)  And I don’t care whether he’s worried or just furious with you…let the dog throw off both, and don’t make him wait for darkness.

and last but not least:

9.  Beware of all enterprises that require new clothes.  (Thoreau)

Trust me: anything that can get this Yak to voluntarily quote Thoreau must be quite a concept indeed.  But sometimes even the most stalwart of us must toss aside personal interests for the sake of the greater good.  And leaving animals without clothing is absolutely, definitely and positively greater than the sum of the barks.

Suggested reading material on this topic:  Animals Should Definitely Not Wear Clothing, by Judi Barrett.

Those of us foolish stupid lucky enough to work for ourselves (at least until you get to know the real Managing Partner) know that this Friday has very special meaning.  It’s the day we get to send the IRS a late-Christmas or early Valentine’s Day gift.  (No ticking, please.) The IRS calls it “estimated taxes.”  (The blog’s editorial guidelines and chat filter don’t let me tell you what I call it.  I’m sure some of you can guess.)

As the law firm’s tax matters partner (aka ‘resident short-straw holder’) I’m responsible for preparation of the forms and calculation of the Numbers That Go On Them.  Sometimes this requires slightly more than basic math skills, but fortunately I manage to come up with responses that lie within the set of real numbers.  Most of the time, anyway.

In a rare fit of pique enthusiasm, I completed the final 2009 forms and decided to go ahead and download the 2010 forms in order to calculate the bad news for the year to come.  When I reached the IRS’ website, however, I discovered the news was even worse than I thought.

There is no 2010 1040-ES.

That’s right.  There is no spoon.  You can still find the 2009 forms cached in a corner of the Googleverse, and the 2010 Estate-and-Trust, Puerto Rican Resident and Resident-Alien forms are all in play.  But ask the IRS for a copy of the 2010 1040 estimated tax calculation form for individuals, and the server just stares.

I’m sorry, Yak.  I can’t do that.

But you can, I insisted, searching every permutation I could think of.  You must!  I am, after all, an individual, and theoretically self-employed.  The deadline exists, the form must too.

Oh, it does.  Don’t worry.  We just haven’t….finished…with it yet.

Which, of course, is precisely what worries me.

Now I know the Pollyannas among you will tell me not to worry.  The government doubtless delayed release of the form because they’re improving the process – making it simpler to understand.  I don’t doubt you’re right.  In fact, I think the new-and-improved 2010 estimated tax calculation form will probably look something like this:

Line 1:  How much income did you receive last year?

Line 2: Quit Lying. How much money did you actually make?

Line 3: Multiply Line 2 by 150%*           (*Because we know you’re still lying.)

Line 4:  How much income do you anticipate making this year?

Line 5:  Multiply Line 4 by 200%*    (*Because we know you lie more in a recession.)

Line 6:  Fill in the larger of Line 3 or Line 5.

Line 7:  Take the total from Line 6 and add the cost of the big-screen LED TV you’d like to purchase.

No, not that TV.  The next one up.  (The one you drooled on at the store this morning.  Yeah.  We saw you.)

Line 8: Add the total amount of your life savings to Line 7.

Line 9: Take 25% of the total from Line 8, and subtract the cost of two cans of beans and a package of store-brand frankfurters.

The amount on line 9 is your quarterly estimated tax payment.

Thank you for playing.  Please drive through.

Lest any of you have forgotten – the Winter Olympics begin one month from today.  But it appears the controversy has already begun.

The Random Yak has heard reports that representatives from the Antarctic Federation have once again made a plea to the IOC to recognize the indigenous athletes from the Sovereign Nation of Antarctica Pygoscelis and to permit them entry into both their national sport (the IOC calls it luge) and, surprisingly, the ski jump.

Although four years older, Adelie P. seems no less fit, and claims himself no less qualified, to compete in the luge than he was at the previous games.  This year he is joined by his younger cousin, currently identified only as R.H., who hopes to compete in the ski jumping and moguls competitions.

Some of you may recall the controversy that arose prior to the opening of the Torino games, when representatives of the IOC refused to acknowledge the Antarctic Federation’s request for admission and permission for the Pygoscelisian athletes to compete in the games.  Although no official transcript of the proceedings was ever released, rumors from sources close to the IOC claimed the use of such discriminatory terms as “vertically-challenged,” and “flightless” to describe the Antarctic contingent.  Sources also claim that the real reason the IOC refused to place the Federation on the list of approved entrants was that the athletes had announced their intention to compete in the nude.

“The Olympics are a family-oriented competition, emphasizing sportsmanship and fair play,” reports a former member of the Antarctic Federation team, “I guess some closed-minded individuals just don’t think naked luge has a place there.”

When asked whether he thought his lack of appropriate attire prevented him from competing at Torino, Adelie reportedly replied, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I intended to compete in evening wear.”

The mainstream media seems to be ignoring the issue – probably due to the fact that neither the United States government nor the Canadians currently recognize the Pygoscelisian claim to the southernmost continent.  That claim, founded on indigenous habitation (and better known under International Law as the “we got here first, neener neener” rule) has only recently taken on a serious character, and Pygoscelisian representatives hope that recognition from the International Olympic Committee will add credibility to their claims for the international recognition of an independent Antarctic Federation.  Unfortunately, as of the time this blog entry went to press, most world governments still think the idea of a Pygoscelisian nation is for the birds.

We at The Random Yak proudly recognize the Antarctic Federation, and openly support Adelie’s request to compete in the Vancouver games.  We’ll be following this story carefully in weeks to come, and keep our readers informed of the Federation’s progress with the IOC.

Apparently the spirit of exploration hasn’t totally died out in the Norse peoples.

Thursday morning, while his (apparently somewhat distracted) mother spoke with the check-in attendant at Copenhagen Airport, a three year-old Danish boy hopped a flight of his own – on the airport baggage carousel.

After taking a seat on the moving luggage belt, the young boy managed to pass out of the check-in area, through an X-ray machine and into the recesses of Copenhagen International…without attracting any undue attention.  In fact, the only one to take notice of the child was the X-ray machine responsible for separating properly packed-and-tagged baggage from that with suspicious contents.  When the machine failed to locate a proper luggage tag, it sent the boy down an alternate conveyor with the bags marked for manual handling and review.  The child ended up in a baggage processing area, where workers heard him calling for his mother.  Responding to his calls, they discovered the error and returned him to his mother unharmed (and presumably still improperly labeled).

Now, I understand the irritation caused by children on long flights, as well as the expense of taking children with you when you fly.  I understand that most airlines permit each passenger at least 100 pounds of checked baggage before charging for excess weight, and that for many harried mothers, a few hours of silence seems like a blessed respite.

But airlines run on schedules, and our modern era of high-alert baggage processing demands a certain amount of respect.

So next time, before sending the kid along…make sure he bears the proper tags so you can claim him easily at your destination.  Otherwise, you’re holding up the system for the rest of us.

(Note:  extra cookies and ice cream for anyone who got the title reference.)