The Miracle Of Marlboro | Tragic Comedy

I'm old enough to remember cigarette ads on television. Most were (like all ads) ridiculously exaggerated concerning the adventures in coolness their product would bring. But these tobacco ads are intrinsically evil when promoting a product the manufacturers knew were killing people. They still know. That surgeon general's warning on the side of a pack of cigarettes isn't enough for me. "This shit causes cancer. Period." That works for me.

Web Junkie

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

Top Ten Top 10

Letterman has practically made a career out of his "Top 10" Lists. I'm shocked he doesn't have the copyright. He does, at least unofficially, as anyone who does anything similar immediately brings thoughts of him to mind. Go »

First Post

Rather than clog the TC Board with things that mostly interest me exclusively, this seemed a more appropriate avenue. I'll probably post something nearly every day as I'm online daily just surfin' & lookin' for weird stuff. For example, how else would I have ever known of these products if I hadn't seen them using "strange" in a search string? Go »

Vacation Week VI

I think leaving the state qualifies this as a vacation trip. We went to Pennsylvania and enjoyed ourselves at Hershey Park in Hershey, PA. The temperature was about 80 degrees (tolerable and pleasant) therefore the water was about 70 degrees tops (actually quite chilly). Go »

Darth Vader Is Alive And Well And Living In My Toaster

So we got this gift from a mother-in law who shall remain nameless; a "super-mega-nuclear look at me long enough and your face will melt like that guy in Raiders toaster. There was nothing wrong with our existing toaster but when she saw it on QVC, my nameless mother-in-law had one of those have to have it moments. I've nicknamed the toaster Darth Vader because regardless of the setting, it turns the bread to the dark side every time. 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 »