Commentary - Humor - Nonsense - Sarcasm - Satire - Whimsy
SPECIAL EDITION
The Best of: On the Road with DR. EVIL
From Vol. IV, Nos. 1 - 12, 2002
January 1, 2003
A Missive of Irregular Frequency and Questionable Worth
THE ENRON CAPER
Commentary? I wouldn't know where to start. Treasury Secretary O'Neill wrote off the whole sleazy mess as "part of the genius of capitalism." Presidential economic advisor Lawrence Lindsey called it a "tribute to American capitalism." Isn't it a bit more than that?
THE
MORE THE MERRIER
One of my "pettist" of pet peeves, developed during my 73+ evil years, is when researchers don't include all significant contributors as authors on publications - another is when they try to get themselves included as authors when they made essentially no contribution to the research or the writing of the report or journal article. I admit that it can be a delicate and, sometimes, subjective decision. In my resulting paranoia, I have come to believe that when I see an article, especially a rather more significant one, with a single author, I immediately suspect that eligible authors were cut out. Then I noticed in the Contents for the 17 January issue of Nature, Vol. 415, No. 6869, an article entitled, "Replication-incompetent adenoviral vaccine vector elicits effective anti-immunodeficiency-virus immunity," by Shiver, Fu, Chen, Casimiro, Davies, Evans, Zhang, Simon, Trigona, Dubey, Huang, Harris, Long, Liang, Handt, Schleif, Zhu, Freed, Persaud, Guan, Punt, Tang, Chen, Wilson, Collins, Heidecker, Fernandez, Perry, Joyce, Grimm, Cook, Keller, Kresock, Mach, Troutman, Isopi, Williams, Xu, Bohannon, Volkin, Montefiori, Miura, Krivulka, Lifton, Kurada, Schmitz, Letvin, Caulfield, Bett, Youil, Kaslow, and Emini. Count 'em - 52 authors. It is pretty much understood that if all authors made equal contributions, they are listed alphabetically. There's nothing alphabetical about this list. Since Shiver is listed first and out of alphabetical order, it is probably safe to assume that he/she is the primary author and, perhaps, along with Fu, decided the identity of the remaining authors and the order in which they would appear. Beginning with the third author, there is very little of an alphabetical nature one can say about the order. I haven't seen the article yet, but I'll bet it took longer to decide the order and the "who" of the list than it did to conduct the research and to write it up. However that may be, Shiver should either be congratulated for being so generous or chided for including everyone in his organization, right down to the trash-pickup guy. Fortunately, bibliographers will be able to list the authors as "Shivers, et al." Is it possible that "Emini" is the name of his/her dog?
WHAT'S
UNDER YOUR UMBRELLA?
William Safire, the
former speech writer for Richard Nixon, is a Pulitzer Prize-winning columnist
for the New York Times. His op-ed pieces appear 3 to 4 times each week in
newspapers across the country. I have been reading him off and on for years and
must say that, during the Clinton years, thought him too hard on the poor
misguided man. I have now decided otherwise. In my estimation, Safire has proven
to be "right on" in his commentaries re: the political shenanigans in
Washington and elsewhere. I have become an admirer. A sudden and recent
revelation (to me) was that he is a dedicated wordsmith, beyond that which one
would expect from a journalist. I like words. I appreciate other people who also
like words. Not only that, but he mixes into his otherwise serious verbiage,
little humorous quips to lighten the load. An example? One of his recent columns
carried the headline, "Bush must remember who's Hu in Beijing." Hu
Jintao is the likely successor to power next year when Jiang Zemin steps down.
He ended his piece with "Bush should make . . . [his] pitch while looking
only at Jiang. But we all know Hu's on first."
It turns out that he has written several books on the use of words. His most recent is Let a Simile be Your Umbrella. I cut out an ad for this book and carried it around in my shirt pocket for over a week, moving it into clean shirts a couple of times along the way - looking at it each time it went into a new pocket. Finally - I SAY, FINALLY - I mentally removed the first "i" in "Simile" and the sky suddenly cleared. "Let a smile be your umbrella." The simile was perfect. I'm hoping to soon read the book.
MORE
THAN YOU WANTED TO KNOW
Think twice before asking for driving directions from a woman such as Mrs. Evil.
You'll likely get something like this; "You take I-40, to the left, I
think. I think that's it. And you pass an outlet mall on the right. If you want
to get some good buys on Henckel's knives or at Lane Bryant, take the next exit,
turn right, then right again on Washburn Road and go a few miles and you're
there. Anyway, keep going straight until you come to, I think, Route 143, or is
it 134. I think 143. Turn left. You'll pass a cute little house with the
sweetest cafe curtains in the window at the far end of the porch and a beautiful
red front door with a brass knocker that looks like a water nymph. Right across
the street is a Burger King where seniors can get free coffee. Ed and I stop
there all the time. Anyway, you stay on Route 341 for quite a while. Is
that right? No, I think after about a mile, you - - - and they have the best
broiled chicken sandwiches - wait a minute. It isn't Route 134, it's - -
-."
Well, you've got the idea.
THE
LATEST IN RESTAURANT BOOTHS
Mrs. Evil and I met some good
old friends for lunch at Cookers and were almost immediately shown to an
oversized booth capable of seating 6 full-size customers. Our evil friend Peggy
scooted in and sat down. I sidled up to her and Mrs. Evil sat on the outside.
Our evil friends Sarah and Duane sat on the other side. I was immediately struck
by how high the table was. Then I noticed that, rather than the table being
high, the seats were very low. I sat with my knees propped up above my waist. I
looked across the table at Sarah. She looked like Lily Tomlin, the comedienne,
in her role as a little girl with pig tails and, as I remember, was typically
seated in an obviously oversized chair using an oversized telephone. Sarah is
not, what I would say, tall, but the top of the table came up almost to her
shoulders. I was probably the tallest of our group and I had to elevate my arms
almost to the horizontal to rest them on the table.
We harassed our waitress about the the proportions of the booth and I suggested that Cookers could use an Engineering Anthropologist to redesign their booths. Later, when I asked for some whitener for my coffee, she reached into her ample breast pocket and retrieved about 4 of those little containers of, obviously, very fresh cream.
At any rate, we kicked the subject of booth design around for quite a while, but never did come up with an explanation. It was only later, as we drove home, that Mrs. Evil came up with the rationale.
Cookers obviously has its finger on the pulse of the chomping-out population. They have, like most others, been serving oversized portions (and, not incidentally, commanding higher prices) for some time. They have done their share in fattening up their customers. Now they have merely gone to some effort to accommodate to the enlarged abdomens of their cooperative clientele so that they will fit under the table - and to decrease the distance between the plate and the mouth. There are other efforts at redesign they could have tried. For instance, why not make the table narrower. That way there would be more space for our oversized tummies. But, NO! That would mean that they couldn't pile on as many plates. They could also increase the pitch distance between table-center to table-center. Of course that would require a change in floor plan. Far too complicated and expensive. Best to just lower the seats.
In the final analysis, we eater-outers are no different than the lab rats they fatten up in nutrition studies. No matter how much food is piled in front of us - we'll eat it all.
BALONI
HOTNEWS.COM WIRE
SPEAKER OF THE HOUSE HASTERT
FURIOUS WITH DEMOCRAT'S TACTICS
In a chance encounter with Speaker-of-the-House J. Dennis Hastert, R-ILL, our
on-the-street interviewer was bombarded with irate ranting regarding unfair
political tactics by Democrats in the upcoming fall elections. "They're
propping up a bunch of canines to oppose Republican candidates for the
House," he announced as he zipped up his fly and stepped away from a fire
hydrant. "Just practicing," he added.
"Huh? I'm sorry, Mr. Speaker sir, I don't follow you," our reporter responded.
"Never mind," says Hastert. "I take it you didn't see the newspapers,* right?"
"I didn't see anything unusual, sir. Did I miss something?"
"That piece about that damned dog some guy tried to qualify to run against Florida Secretary of State 'Sweet Babe' Kathy Harris.** I believe his name was "Percy" or some pseudo-human name like that. You knew she was running for Congress this fall didn't you?"
"Yes sir, I knew that, but no sir, I didn't see that."
"They even have slogans like, 'Never made a mess in the House' and ' PERCY! Putting the LICK back into Republican.' Luckily, we stopped the border collie in Florida - just barely. But they're trying it in other States, too."
"With Percy, sir?"
"No, dag nab it,*** not with Percy. Other dogs! It's downright unfair having to compete with dogs. If your smart, you'll practice whizzing on fire hydrants, too. If this goes the way I think it will, we'll all be whizzing on fire hydrants."
*
Dayton Daily, 18 July.
**
Harris' book about her role in the 2000 Florida presidential ballot recount, ''Center
of the Storm: Practicing Principled Leadership in Times of Crisis,'' is
slated for release in September. Is that a self-serving title or what?
***
A favorite expletive in Aurora, Illinois, Hastert's home town.
SEEING
THE LIGHT
We have all heard of people
who, after some very significant, typically unexplainable and perhaps
life-saving event, have turned from a life of waste and found religion. Such
events can understandably be powerful influences in encouraging one to turn
his/her life around. But I have to kind of wonder about events of little or no
significance having the same effect. One such experience was presented in a
recent edition of 48 Hours with Dan Rather. It seems there was this
wayward young man, who, after years of heavy drinking, carousing, general
debauchery, and playing a guitar, had a GERD attack - that is, heartburn - and
decided that it was a signal that he should straighten out his life and seek
salvation.
Now, I am not known to be a very religious person and I have had GERD for years. Why have I not recognized it as a signal that I, too, should turn my life around. I feel sort of left out. The gravity of such an event reminds me of an occasion when, as a teenager, my buddies and I had gathered at a local drive-in hang-out called The Bright Spot for one of our frequent late-night bull sessions. At one such gathering, a car suddenly careened off the street and slid to a stop in a shower of gravel. The driver, who was absolutely sloshed, staggered out from behind the wheel and over to where we were. Then, barely able to stand, he announced that, because he hadn't had an accident that night, he was turning to Christ.
I guess some people lead very uneventful lives.
MAKE THE PIE HIGHER *
by George W. Bush
I think we all agree, the past is over. This is still a dangerous world. It's a world of madmen and uncertainty and potential mental losses.
Rarely is the question asked, Is our children learning? Will the highways of the Internet become more few? How many hands have I shaked?
They misunderestimate me. I am a pitbull on the pantleg of opportunity. I know that the human being and the fish can coexist. Families is where our nation finds hope, where our wings take dream.
Put food on your family! Knock down the tollbooth! Vulcanize Society! Make the pie higher! Make the pie higher!
* These quotes from various appearances by Dubya have been arranged into free verse form by Washington Post writer Richard Thompson.
BEAUTY
WARTS?
A
Lancôme
of Paris cosmetics ad appeared in our mailbox recently. Its cover featured a
close-up of
the left side of a very attractive young woman's face. Her eye was almost closed
and her upper eyelid was painted intense midnight blue nearly to her brow, as
though a lumpy blacktop driveway sealer had been used. She had produced a most
seductive expression, with her mouth partially open (of course) and displaying a
perfect set of snow white teeth. On the edge of her upper lip there was a mole.
These presumably naturally occurring beauty marks are not at all unusual. The
original custom was to use little round beauty-mark gizzies of contrasting color
that ladies usually pasted near an eye or mouth, or cleavage to draw attention
to whichever she felt was her most attractive feature. Interestingly enough,
almost always on the left side. Hmmmmm! Is this the beginning of a trend?
Does this mean that we will soon see fake warts and moles for sale the cosmetics
department at Sears? Its one thing to use little round gizzies, but to use fake
warts? It reminds me of that character in "Goldmember" who had a
monstrous alien growing just north of the left side of his upper lip. It was so
hypnotic that Austin Powers couldn't break his concentration on it.
It reminds me of Miss G------, my 6th grade teacher. (Her name is being withheld to protect the guilty.) She encouraged her students to occasionally give memorized recitations. I will never forget seeing my friend Spencer Shattuck standing up in front of the class, beside her desk presenting a long involved memorized tale about a middle aged heroine who had a "beautiful blue wart southeast of her nose." He went on and on about that big old wart. I was in the back row, as trouble makers were prone to be, and found myself looking back and forth from Spencer to Miss G------. You see, Miss G------ had a beautiful similarly colored wart southeast of HER nose. I tried my best to keep from cracking up. I don't know if I succeeded or not. The next thing I remember was waking up in a small, dark and dank chamber in the sub-basement of the school.
Naw! Just kidding.
LILY
AND ME
Lily is our 8-year-old. She's
a cross between a carousing Chow and Sheba, a gentle part-Spitz belonging to our
son. She is a medium size dog, with a white, heavy double-layer coat. She
was assigned, essentially sight unseen, to me and Mrs. Evil by our evil son on
the occasion of her 6-week birthday. When we drove to Atlanta to pick her up, I
attempted to turn down the offer. She reminded me too much of a dog that bit me
when, as a 12-year-old, I was delivering handbills house to house for a
local grocery store. "No way, Dad, you are GOING TO TAKE THIS DOG," he
ordered. He had spent a lot of time housebreaking her and wasn't about to see
all that effort go to naught.
Lily and we have since become great buddies. She is ever sensitive to our moods. If I engage in enthusiastic conversation with Mrs. Evil and Lily is in the house, she will insinuate herself between us, as though trying to "calm" the situation and to "protect" Mrs. Evil. If she's outside, she will want inside to do the same. If I catch the flu or some other ailment and have to stay in bed, she stations herself at my bedside. Once I apparently groaned a little too loud in my sleep and Lily went to Mrs. Evil's bedside too arouse her on my behalf.
When we are to be out of town for more than a weekend, we board her. She has never had a problem with this - that is, until we had to leave her for eight days over this last Thanksgiving. For the first time, she became upset at seeing me leave her. I fretted about that the whole time we were gone. When I went to pick her up, I could see her standing on her hind paws and looking anxiously over the wall and down the corridor for me. While driving home from picking her up, she wedged herself from the back seat to a position between the two front seats of the car, pressing herself against my right shoulder and nuzzling me all the way home.
Lily has always been an year-long outside dog. It was not unusual to see her sleeping in the snow - as cold as 5 degrees F. She will often come to the door during the day and paw at it. Thinking that she might want to come inside, we open the door for her. She would then shy away from the door, obviously wanting one of us to come outside to play with her. Typically, she would not want to come into the house until bedtime - no earlier than 11:00 PM.
Now, suddenly, she wants to stay inside. Rather than go off to herself into one of the bedrooms or into the living room where she can lay on the rug and keep an eye on what's going on outside, she is constantly at our feet - absolutely certain that we are not going to step on her paws or stumble over her. She will not let us out of her sight.
Even though middle-aged, I hope that she is not going to be forced to give up the outdoors. That is her element.
I also hope I can some day become as good a person as she thinks I am.
Until the next time, have a happy New Year.
Dr. Evil
Why yes! I'm Evil.
Home - Visit the Rest of Volume IV
