Commentary - Humor - Nonsense - Sarcasm - Satire - Whimsy
On the Road with DR. EVIL
Vol. III, No. 4, 1 April 2001
A Missive of Irregular Frequency and Questionable Worth
TAKE THAT, YOU RASCALS
With the Big Income Tax Grabber, portrayed above, just around the corner, I thought the following especially appropriate for this issue of Dr. Evil.
Mrs. Evil recently found the following poem among some family records. From the looks of the "manuscript," it is reasonably old. She thinks she knows who the author is, but I don't have the guts to tell you. However, it's just as appropriate now as when it was written. Some things never change.
"I wish I were a sparrow with entrails like a goose.
So I could fly unseen, with bowels big and loose.
I'd circle over Washington. No one would ever know.
And when I heard those words, 'Mah Friends,' I'd chirp and let 'er go."
HEADLINE IN NEED OF
HELP
Over the years, I've seen some pretty ill conceived newspaper headlines. Two things I learned in my one-semester course in Journalism: 1) place the most important facts in a story up front so that the editor can conveniently chop it to fit available space and 2) make headlines short, accurate and easily understood. Here's one that I ran across on the internet:
"Pentagon Workers Freed in Ecuador," by Carlos Cisternas, AP, March 1, 2001.
Were these workers brought into Ecuador, then released? No! It was a multinational group of oil workers kidnapped in October of '00 and held within the country by local insurgents - and NONE worked for, at or near the Pentagon. The connection with the Pentagon? A spokesman for Secretary of Defense Rumsfeld was the first to release the news.
A better headline? "Pentagon: Ecuadorian Insurgents Release Hostages."
The next day I called up the site again to reread the article for more detail. The headline had been changed to, "Oil Workers Freed in Ecuador."
IF THIS IS TUESDAY, WE MUST BE
IN - - - - - -
The sign looks more like an oversized grave marker. It is in front of a sprawling and deceptively peaceful looking building. On it is engraved "FBI Academy" and below that, "Quantico, VA." Now, is it possible that anyone who knows how to read would, when standing in front of that sign, not know that he/she is in Quantico, VA? Quantico is on the western shore of the Potomac River about 35 miles south from D.C. That's the minimum travel distance from out-of-state, unless one unwittingly wades or rows across the river from Maryland. It may be that the verbiage was intentionally crafted to help identify the place for the typical FBI recruit. I suspect that it is worded purposely to help the average recruit be assured that he/she is in the right state, the right city, and in front of the right building. Considering the caliber of personnel currently found in this organization, a goodly number of them probably wouldn't otherwise be able to find the place.
MODERN STANDARDS OF
CLEANLINESS
I was sitting in the waiting room while Mrs. Evil had some minor outpatient surgery when a nurse emerged from the doctor's office, walked through the waiting room and into the hallway. Ordinarily I would have thought nothing of it, except that she was wearing typical operating room clothing, including a paper snood to cover her hair, a smock, a mask dangling under her chin, latex gloves and those little paper booties covering her shoes - garb typical of that which such people wear in operating and other clean rooms. About two minutes later she returned chomping on a candy bar. I couldn't help but wonder if she knew why she was wearing these protective garments. Did she think they were to protect her or the patient? Aren't they used to help prevent the spread of dirt and germs from ones respiratory tract, hair, body, hands and shoes to the operating room - and to the patient? Then, would you believe it, two more such people, similarly dressed, emerged and disappeared into the hallway. They were gone long enough that I wondered if they had gone to the parking lot to change a flat tire. It reminded me of the time I was in Steak and Shake and observed the fry-cook, wearing plastic gloves while he handled wads of hamburger before smashing them with his spatula and frying them to smithereens on the grill. Then, without hesitation, he manned the cash register, took paper money from a series of customers, rang up their bills and made change - still wearing those gloves. If he had changed into new gloves at this point, everything would have been fine. But he didn't. Without pause, he went on with his hamburger smashing and incineration. And THAT reminded of the time I went to Beer and Cheeseburgers for lunch a few years ago. As I finished my beer(s) and burger(s), I noticed the food pass-through between the eating area and the kitchen - and some of the fry-cooks working back there. Suddenly one of them put his hand up to cover his mouth while he sneezed. Such thoughtfulness. Then, using a Kleenex, he blew his nose. Since he didn't use his sleeve, he must have been a true gentleman. Then, being a devoted employee, he went right back to work. Should I have been comforted, seeing that, throughout this little episode, he was wearing plastic food-handling gloves?
See you at the next rest stop.
Dr. Evil
Why yes, I'm Evil.
Home - More of Volume III
