I've always been a fan of Get Smart! and the funniest running gag for me was the use of the "cone of silence". This thing called a "pentaphone isolation space" brought that immediately to mind. If you can't track one down perhaps the Nicosphere 3000 will serve.


One Reply to Christmas Post #12: Sorry About That Chief

Aaron Shurtleff | November 24, 2007
Wow! I wish I could have seen that when I was in Copenhagen! Golly.

And was it really important to tell us that the building it's in used to be a slaughterhouse? Is anyone seriously thinking to themselves, "You know, I didn't want to go, but if the building used to be a slaughterhouse, then I have to be there!"?


Web Junkie

Steve West scours the Web searching for interest or absurdity and then shakes his head ruefully when he finds it. Read more »

Little Hoover Dam Break

This week's mini-flood o' links. Ridiculous weatherman names. These are real. Go »

Ahnuld's Dog, Heinrich

"Heel, Heinrich!", commands the Governator. "Kiss my grossly over-developed ass," snarls Heinrich in return. Go »

Post Florida is Literally Murder

Brenda and I recently returned from a wonderful week spent in Sarasota with Scott and Kelly. Lauren and her husband, Jon, were able to fly down from ND to care for Olivia while we were travelling. The trip started as a mixed bag of positives and negatives, as the people in the row in front of us spoke incessantly and at an annoyingly loud volume but the young lady who shared our row was delightful. Go »

Steve West: Punnyman

Recent conversation with Brenda: me: I've only been addicted to one thing my entire life. Brenda: Yeah? What's that? Go »

Barbie Gets Implants

In the early ‘90’s, I heard a stand-up routine by Cathy Ladman in which she was buying a Barbie doll as a birthday present for her niece. She’s looking at the doll displays and her eye catches a “Gift-Giving Ken”. She says, I really don’t think this is gonna prepare her for adult relationships. Go »

Christmas and a Lizard's Tale

One Christmas when Lauren was eight, like a lot of girls her age, wished for a pony. My backyard at the time was about the size of a Volkswagen Minibus. Despite her assurances that she would let it roam the neighborhood for sufficient exercise, I said, “Not this year,” as I pictured myself following the horse with a pooper scooper. Go »