Pilot’s crazy photos taken in an airplane cockpit (CNN)

It was meant to be “Crazy pilot’s photos taken in an airplane cockpit,” a CNN editor told me later, but someone flubbed the dub.

I’m the pilot’s wife. I found the photos but it was our maid who peddled them to CNN.

My man is a congenital selfie-taker. The whole stash of photos, snapped over a thirty-year career in the air, are selfies.

The largest cache deals with his fear of flying. He hated to fly. Spooked him. So many shots of him coming in for a landing at a major airport, shrieking in terror. (Photos with audio are what? Videos? I don’t own a phone). They soundproofed his cabin, that I know.

He was also a sexaholic. I forgave him of this. As a person who has only a vague idea about what “sex” is, I regard it as a sort of hobby for him. His collection of pictures of himself  “down there” while he was “behind the wheel” confirm my belief that sex is a strange and questionable way to spend your  time.

Bruce nevertheless was a fun-loving guy. He always flew with his pet snake Mert on the plane. He loved that reptile. So many hilarious pictures of Bruce grinning, cabin door open, passengers crying out over his shoulder in the shot (audio!) as they scattered down the aisle when Mert spread his cowl.

You can peruse the pics for yourself in The Herpetologist’s Monthly and the Self-Abuse Journal.

Plane turns round due to toilet issues despite 84 plumbers on board (Mirror)

It was a United Airlines flight.

15 of the plumbers were scabs, outnumbered by more than four to one. They kept their traps shut (no pun intended).

30 of the plumbers were undocumented. They wished to fly under the radar (no pun intended).

The 39 union, U.S. plumbers all had their wives with them, who said “I want to spend one day with you when you don’t stink.”

The 39 plumbers consulted with the airplane crew and offered estimates for their 39 different solutions plus individual bills for the consultations.

If a plumber comes to your house, he (I haven’t met a she plumber yet, tho I’m sure there are some) won’t use your facilities, even after he’s fixed them. In the current situation, the wives asked for a pass on that convention.

If you invite a plumber over for dinner, he will use the facilties but won’t fix them.

The airline held itself blameless, as the plumbing problem was initiated by the free snacks distributed for the flight, which were bacteria-ridden after being packaged by a fly-by-night (no pun intended) company in West N’aai’banistan.

There were 24 yoga instructors on board who helped passengers learn how to “hold it.” Some did.

There were 2 shrinks, to help with the shame.

Peacock Banned From Plane (MetroNews)

I was there. Flight 326 out of Florida. Jet Blue.

It wasn’t so bad. It won’t fit in a bird cage, they said. Put the bird in a damned kennel, I said. Or whatever you call those cages.

It doesn’t have to be walking around in the aisle, I said. It was worse than the drink cart. You couldn’t get to the bathroom. And speaking of bathrooms, it was worse than a Canadian Goose with the you-know-what.

Jet Blue didn’t ban the peahen. She was no problem. She got into somebody’s pretzels but that was all. A bit of a wallflower.

How different can bird sizes be, you ask. My budgie sat on my shoulder for most of the flight. That big galoot peacock would come alongside and the two of them would eye each other. Comical sight! The peahen pretended not to notice (my Mert is a girl).

QUIK POLL #478

I asked the following question to the first 100 people I met on the street. Demographic info filed separately.

Who is the most famous Roman emperor?

• Nero (67%)
• Caesar (21%)
• The Pope (12%)

Who is the most famous U.S. president?

• Trump (79%)
• Washington (12%)
• Lincoln (9%)

Crumbling Infrastructure

It’s crumbling, the Infrastructure.

I was driving on the I57 and hit potholes. The crumbling highway, but Holy Cow those potholes shook up the old Firebird’s chassis. The edges of those holes need to be a little more crumbly than they are.

I’m bumbling and grumbling and fumbling and it’s humbling and i’m jumbling things in my head and tumbling and mumbling and my innards are rumbling and i’m stumbling, but by God I’m not crumbling, not yet.

Ever see a bridge crumble? Just sort of melts into the river.

Ever see a structure crumble, whether infra or outfra? The outlines go soft. The thing draws scorn. Fresh scorn. You can’t fix it. Got to tear it down.

I knew a Mongolian kid named Jumble. Never checked the spelling. In English I mean.

Finally, the good news: A crumble is a dish of British origin that can be made in a sweet or savoury version, although the sweet version is much more common. A sweet variety usually contains stewed fruit topped with a crumbly mixture of fat, flour, and sugar. (Wikipedia)

But a crumble doesn’t crumble when it gets old. It petrifies.

Domesticating the Squirrel

I always wanted a pet squirrel. I was insistent. My parents couldn’t say no. Hence, they were both grievously injured.

I mean, I wanted a tame squirrel. You’d have to be a fool to bring a black-market wild squirrel into the house. Just the sound of it in the birthday gift box was frightening. You could hear those talons working. I had my folks open the box. Hence their grievous wounds.

But a tame squirrel is not to be found on Amazon, nor even in a lab. I expected my parents to initiate a breeding program (not of themselves haha).

I knew it would take generations, many, many generations of the little rodents before their genes could be changed.

But there are promising signs at the gitgo. Have you ever seen squirrel poop? No? That could be a very good sign. Maybe they don’t poop, or maybe they hide it away where you can’t find it. Either way is a win.

Another good sign is you won’t have to put their things away. All they have is nuts and they bury those.

You need to breed out:

• The impulse to bite and claw
• The impulse to climb the drapes
• The impulse to chitter too damn much
• The impulse to squirrel away anything but nuts
• The impulse to reproduce on a rodent’s timescale, lest you be up to your neck in squirrels

Once you get a tame one, keep it outside. You might have missed a gene or two! The rapacious gene can be hard to find. Although come to think of it, you can always regift.

Radioactive Home Remedies

Learn Fun Facts recently posted a blog entry I wrote on the subject of radioactive nostrums.

Thanks, Edmark!

Guest Post: My Angels (Anne P.)

I’ve always seen angels. Hallucinations or schizophrenia, they’re real to me. They walk beside me and talk to me. Not always, but sometimes. One at a time.

Usually a  girl, although once in college and once when I was coaching a male lacrosse team for the company, they were uncertain boys.

All were my age, until I approached forty. Then they began to get younger as I got older.

The girls preferred the diaphanous. The boys preferred leather. They all stayed buttoned up, so some simple questions about them remained unanswered.

None were beautiful or ugly, but they were all attractive to me, and intriguing. At some point I learned that the Persians invented angels and for a while all my visitors had black curly hair and black curly beards, male and female alike.

We never discussed religious matters. Being old immortal Persians, they might have tried to convert me to a belief in Ahura-Mazda or another of their gods. Instead, we strolled along talking about whatever came into our heads.

What I discovered about angels:

• They’re a lot like me.
• They don’t ask questions.
• Their strongest response to my confessions was “Oh. Huh.”
• I never met one I didn’t like.

The Very Dark Web

The Dark Web is part of the Deep Web. The Very Dark Web is part of the Very Deep Web.

You can make a browser go to the Dark Web, but only by resetting its scruples. No browser can go to the Very Dark Web. Browsing is for winners.

The Dark Web is for the heinous, winners though they may be. There can be visuals on the Dark Web. The Very Dark Web has no visuals. Too dark. Audio only. Mostly low moans.

My grandma visits the Very Dark Web. She’s been dead for years, which tells you something. Her visits do not cheer her up.

The Very Dark Web has a special place for Dark Web visitors. Don’t go there.

Ever hear Elvis do Heartbreak Hotel? The VDW is like that. No love. I went to the VDW after you broke my heart ’cause I couldn’t dance, you didn’t even want me around, and now I’m back to let you know I can really shake ’em down.

The Dark Web is about crime; the Very Dark Web is against crime. McGruff the Crime Dog? He’s down with VDW. Trump’s Justice Department is so mean to McGruff. They hate McGruff. No love for McGruff.

Best machine to use for your visit? A hammer to the head haha. But no, the older the computer the better. Less memory.

My Backyard

I left my bed today for the first time in many months. Bruno helped me downstairs and out into the backyard.

The sun was high. The day was warm. I sat in a garden recliner.

The yard slopes down a mile through light woods to the river. A ship with all sails set passed heading south as I settled.

So much air. So much space outside. Breeze in my hair.

A band of Roma camp in the woods. The police and then the army asked me if I wished their removal. Let them stay. I see the smoke rising from their fires.

The dogs stay close at first, then begin to roam, then to course across the hillside. They flush a few rabbits but these dogs are not the old borzoi. They can chase but they cannot catch.

To die outside of that damned room, this is an end worthwhile.