Last Friday I published a gently read post from last year about the ridiculous warning labels that manufacturers feel compelled to print because we, the citizens of this planet, are stupid. How else could you explain needing to explain that you should remove the child before folding a baby stroller? If I neglected to do that I would have to put a warning label on my wife’s shoe. “Remove from derriere before sitting after folding child in stroller.” I am really not excited to report that we are not getting any smarter but the folks at Michigan Lawsuit Abuse Watch are having a blast chronicling the slow and agonizing death of common sense. This year’s winners of the Wacky Warning Label Contest are in. The contest, now in its ninth year, is conducted to reveal how lawsuits, and concern about lawsuits, have created a need for common sense warnings on products.So enjoy this years winners starting with the runners-up. A cocktail napkin
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Disclaimer…today was a Doctor Date with the lovely Mrs.Burchett so there was no time to write.  I have retrieved a post from the early days of this blog when I didn’t have the dozens of readers that I now claim. If this post was a used vehicle it would be described as “gently read“. So please forgive the re-run. I hope to have some freshly baked blather on Monday. Have a blessed weekend! Occasionally  I take another step in my inevitable march toward geezerhood. You know that stage of life where you get grumpy and tell people how it used to be back in the good old days. One of the things that advances me more quickly to that stage is the attempt to make life risk free. A group called the Michigan Law Suit Abuse Watch has an annual contest to find the stupidest product warning labels. The Wacky Warning Label Contest is in it’s eighth year and they have uncovered
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This morning I looked out in the backyard and noticed that adopted dog Hannah was vibrating. She usually only vibrates when she meets a new friend so I got a little curious. When I investigated I found that Hannah had “befriended” a box turtle that had somehow found it’s way through our fences and into our yard. The turtle seemed considerably less excited about the relationship with Hannah but he/she did seem to sense that the vibrating lab was, at worst, annoying. A few minutes later I checked again on the turtle. The turtle had managed to fall into our pool and it was apparent that land turtles cannot swim. I looked for the leaf skimmer but we had attached the brush instead. In the meantime the poor little thing was flailing, stretching it’s neck as much as it could to break the surface, and it was clear the turtle was doomed without some help. So I jumped in and saved the
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Today is my lucky day! I am reluctant to share this information with you because all of you will be hitting me up for loans, gifts, donations, etc. Today my cyber mailbox is offering me untold riches. My only decision is whether I should accept the offer from Mrs. Bernice Dos Santos, Dr. Philip Mensah, or Mr. Ming Yang. Maybe I will just be greedy and accept all three. Let’s compare the offers on this amazing day! My comments are italicized. First up is Bernice.   I am Mrs. Bernice Dos Santos a citizen Angola. I am 45 years old with two children. Presently residing in South Africa because of the political crisis in my Country. I got your contact in strict confidence through South Africa Chamber of Commerce. (Good. I have always asked the South Africa Chamber of Commerce to be careful with my contact info. Good job, guys!)I would Honestly want to seek for an immediate assistance from you,
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Therapy has always been a word that generates a good response. Massage therapy and aromatherapy have a nice, relaxing connotation. But I am retiring therapy from my lexicon of positive words after experiencing a round of chemotherapy this past weekend with my wife. Joni and I embarked on the first mile of our marathon stagger to survival. It is hardly a race. Cancer, we are learning,  is a lot of hanging around hospitals, doctors, and nurses. The old cliche of “hurry up and wait” is the motto for anyone going through the monotony of long term treatment. When Joni was diagnosed with breast cancer in March the reality of that ugly word hit hard. But the reality of the reality settled over us Friday as I watched toxic chemicals drip, drip, drip into my beloved’s bloodstream. An Oklahoma newspaper recently ran a story on the weird logic of using poison for good. “You’re putting poison into the system to kill those bad cells,” said Andrea
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Just when I think they cannot come up with another ridiculous idea for a reality show they come up with another ridiculous idea for a reality show. I did a little research and found over 100 shows that could be called “reality” tv. There is actually a show called Reality Wrap-up on VH1 that summarizes all of the intellectual genius of these shows so that you don’t have to watch. What a blessing that is! For example, what if you missed the latest round of Date Plate, the show that pits two culinary Casanovas in a competition to win the stomach and heart of a beautiful bachelorette? The Food Network describes the riveting drama of this show.They work within a budget — and against a clock — each cooking a special meal for a woman they’ve never met. The most delicious part is that the bachelors can see and learn about the bachelorette through a video greeting card, while she knows nothing about the men
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Regular readers of these humble ramblings know one thing for sure. My brain is not wired according to factory specs. So it was no surprise to me that some synapses randomly crossed and I couldn’t get a gospel song out of my mind that I had not heard in, oh, forty years. That is the curse of a mind that can’t remember a security ATM pin number but knows every word to the Mr. Ed theme song. I suppose the trigger for digging this gospel tune out of my musty brain storage unit was thinking about the journey that Joni and I begin in earnest this Friday. Somehow that brought to mind a gospel song that was a favorite in my house growing up. I had a rather unusual spiritual environment as a youngster. My parents were not regular church goers but they loved southern gospel music. We would go to concerts in the big city of Columbus, Ohio featuring groups like the
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