tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-55353012011-04-21T17:11:42.110-04:00PhutatoriusServing up inflammatory chestnuts since . . . well, today.Phutatoriushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02544136431952176779noreply@blogger.comBlogger1191100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5535301.post-1124132417487303032005-08-15T14:58:00.000-04:002005-08-15T15:00:17.496-04:00True story: Today I called a customer service number. A machine picked up, and a recording told me to "Please listen carefully, as our menu options have changed." The recording then said, "If you are trying to reach [customer service number], please press 1 now."There was no other menu option.Phutatoriushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02544136431952176779noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5535301.post-1118618885521837142005-06-12T19:23:00.000-04:002005-06-12T19:28:18.700-04:00So I apologize for largely abandoning this site in recent weeks. It's because I'm trying to push through to the end of this novel. If you want proof that I am actually otherwise occupied, check in here now and again to read about New Jersey's Amazing Turnpike Witch.As for Phutatorius, I promise you he will rise from the ashes with renewed strength, like Stefano DiMera on Days of Our Lives. Phutatoriushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02544136431952176779noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5535301.post-1113494035209151202005-04-14T11:53:00.000-04:002005-04-14T11:57:42.616-04:00It's all politics and "who you know" with these kaleidoscope people, I swear. I don't know why you'd have a special society devoted to kaleidoscope learning, but then be all snotty about who gets in.The fact is, The Wife won that auction fair and square. The people at the Brewster Society can complain all they want about how we paid the guy who came in and Giloolied their bidder, but that's allPhutatoriushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02544136431952176779noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5535301.post-1108147784177873432005-02-11T13:42:00.000-05:002005-02-11T13:52:53.346-05:00Thanks to this fantastic online resource, I am now able to say "Tails up! Orphan, visiting and expecting food, plunges through the air!" in Inuit.Oddly, though, this dictionary does not include a single word for snow. I had heard a lot of hype on this point and was expecting to find at list 50 of 'em. Worth noting, though: Inuit has two words for "good for nothing," as well as a specialized Phutatoriushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02544136431952176779noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5535301.post-1107287006437377532005-02-01T13:24:00.000-05:002005-02-01T18:59:24.750-05:00Well, the passage of another winter storm is marked once more in Cambridge by the sudden appearance of metal folding chairs in dug-out street parking spaces. A strange phenomenon, this propagation of folding chairs in the street, and it prompts a city-dweller to consider how — and why — all these chairs make their way into street parking when it snows.
A first possibility is that these Phutatoriushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02544136431952176779noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5535301.post-1106279588518912642005-01-20T22:12:00.000-05:002005-01-20T22:57:21.463-05:00I should note, by the way, that 2004 was a lousy year for campaigning. But January always brings with it the seeds of hope, and I expect to make big strides, militia-wise, in the coming months.
You all may remember that November saw my advancing hordes held in check west of Tibet by the fleet-footed legions of the Crunch 'n' Munch Kid. I know, I know — he prefers to be called General Doom.Phutatoriushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02544136431952176779noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5535301.post-1105727889878826762005-01-14T13:25:00.000-05:002005-01-20T22:10:25.706-05:00Today the Wife and I embark for Florida for the long weekend. We've arranged a non-stop flight to Tampa on Song, or Delta/Song, or Song/Delta (the two airlines — or is it one? — seem to have some kind of identity relationship, a precise understanding of which eludes me, due to a treasured lack of knowledge about corporate matters), which can mean
ONLY
ONE
THING . . .
The Big Horse isPhutatoriushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02544136431952176779noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5535301.post-1105673296303861142005-01-13T21:45:00.000-05:002005-01-13T23:18:42.946-05:00Well, I'm to the point now where I'm considering plastic surgery. That's where I am right now — because I've spent the last ten days trying to get these miserable earbuds — which Apple actually has the gall to sell separately — to stay in my ears, and I'm coming round to the view that it simply is not possible. I am making strides with the right ear. I really have that 'bud lodged Phutatoriushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02544136431952176779noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5535301.post-1103983070323407172004-12-25T08:55:00.000-05:002004-12-25T08:57:50.323-05:00"Only I didn't say, 'Fudge.'"
Merry Christmas, everybody!Phutatoriushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02544136431952176779noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5535301.post-1103398543336640652004-12-18T14:27:00.000-05:002004-12-18T14:53:29.970-05:00
His name is Vito. He has 50cc of roaring Italian engine driving that back wheel. And there is storage space under the seat. This ain't no foolin' around. Phutatoriushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02544136431952176779noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5535301.post-1103322729758975132004-12-17T16:44:00.000-05:002004-12-18T21:16:01.856-05:00Well, if I had thought the damned monkey had feelings, then, no, I wouldn't have put the Santa hat on his head in the first place.
Yes, fine — he's a chimpanzee, not a monkey. Fine. And I'm a wealthy industrialist with ambitions that border on a Don Quixote Complex, but I'm no stickler for accuracy: you can just call me "politically corrected."
I understand that a chimpanzee is a primate,Phutatoriushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02544136431952176779noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5535301.post-1102524712090849002004-12-08T11:42:00.000-05:002004-12-08T13:40:57.813-05:00"If you really want to know what will get all that wax off your apple peel . . ." began the man in the top hat and Renaissance Era neck-ruffle.
I stopped my frenzied polishing, looked up into his eyes (one brown, one blue), and nodded to indicate Yes. Yes, I would.
"It's urine does that trick." And with that, the man winked at me and vanished from my office doorway, as quickly as he came.Phutatoriushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02544136431952176779noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5535301.post-1101758300617693332004-11-29T14:55:00.000-05:002004-11-29T22:37:09.596-05:00I'm putting my Christmas wish-list together, and I'm stuck. I don't know whether to ask for a "New York City" T-shirt like the one John Lennon actually wore in the famous picture or the T-shirt that shows the famous picture of John Lennon wearing that "New York City" T-shirt.
I mean, you can make a case for both. I think it's probably cooler to wear the same one that Lennon wore — that wayPhutatoriushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02544136431952176779noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5535301.post-1101315264571523682004-11-24T11:42:00.000-05:002004-11-29T22:32:17.440-05:00
A friend of mine solicited my thoughts on Saturday's OSU-Michigan football game. I wrote up a lengthy response to him and mailed it off, and then it occurred to me that I had not posted here in some time, and my dissertation on the Buckeye win was probably Chestnut-worthy, most notably because it's about time somebody got on ABC's case about their programming. And no, I'm not talking about Phutatoriushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02544136431952176779noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5535301.post-1100100569428840662004-11-10T10:06:00.000-05:002004-11-10T10:38:37.356-05:00You know what? I'm getting sick and tired of J.D. Power & Associates (and no, just because I said their name, that doesn't mean I have to link to them — nothing in the Blogger's Handbook says I have to do that). What, some guy wakes up in the morning and just decides that he and his Associates are going to start ranking stuff? And they're going to run a business based on that?
Here's my Phutatoriushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02544136431952176779noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5535301.post-1099431426495087692004-11-02T15:39:00.000-05:002004-11-03T00:28:21.060-05:00
The 2004 race for the Presidency has been fraught with plot twists and high drama, but none quite so startling as the appearance of crowds of orange pylons outside the nation's polling places.
The high turnout of orange pylons — which has reached as many as seven per hundred voters in some districts (see inset) — took both parties by surprise. "The candidates took us for granted," an Phutatoriushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02544136431952176779noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5535301.post-1098469047627156502004-10-22T13:44:00.000-04:002004-10-22T15:48:01.960-04:00I finally delivered my keynote speech at the Brewster Society convention — that was Wednesday — and I got back to my desk this morning after a day of travel to find more than the usual amount of Hate Mail stacked on its right corner.
Some of you might know that after the brouhaha with Jerry Lewis, I brought in some consultants from McKinsey for an audit of our mail-sorting procedures Phutatoriushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02544136431952176779noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5535301.post-1097077075797032622004-10-06T10:37:00.000-04:002004-10-06T13:29:54.386-04:00Marital strife ensued this weekend, when I went on craigslist and traded away the Wife's Horn-Of-Plenty to the Smithsonian for a flat-panel HD-ready television and a brick of M-80s.
I had no idea what kind of grief I would be getting for this. Apparently (and I never knew this until after I sold it), the Horn-Of-Plenty was a 1200-year-old heirloom, bought from some hard-up Druid in the English Phutatoriushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02544136431952176779noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5535301.post-1096338851557155912004-09-27T22:05:00.000-04:002004-09-28T21:12:12.536-04:00Last Wednesday I had an amazing out-of-body experience.
Yes, yes, I understand, Lieutenant. Under the law I have a right to remain silent. But under God I have a responsibility to spread the Word of the Lord. And I think that last Wednesday I may have been Visited by the Spirit. I'm thinking this because of the Light that I saw, a warm glowing Light, and the Song of the Angels, sung by a Phutatoriushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02544136431952176779noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5535301.post-1095900366352830502004-09-22T20:11:00.000-04:002004-09-23T09:26:58.510-04:00Editor-in-Chief
MAXIM Magazine
New York, New York
Dear Sir:
I write to apply for a job with your magazine. Specifically, I think I am a strong candidate for the position of Sexy Woman Cover Blurb Writer. Although I do not have very much experience writing sexy woman cover blurbs, I believe my talent and enthusiasm for this sort of work makes up for what my resume lacks. My writing has zip Phutatoriushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02544136431952176779noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5535301.post-1093880344030008172004-08-30T10:47:00.000-04:002004-08-30T11:41:55.100-04:00Well, I finally picked up my Pneumatic Walker air cast for my ankle today (broken, by the way, for those of you who regarded me as less than a trouper in recent weeks).
The P. Walker, christened DAS BOOT by the Wife, has many virtues. Its chief purpose is, of course, to immobilize my ankle when I walk on it. But I like Das Boot for other reasons, chiefly because it enables me to crush my Phutatoriushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02544136431952176779noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5535301.post-1093743802015599672004-08-28T21:42:00.000-04:002004-08-28T21:43:22.016-04:00The voices in my consciousness aren't mine. They're billions in number, they flare up at random and they interchange components. They're you and yours and with the rest of everyone else they add up to me, and the sumtotal, substantially less than its parts, hates and fears them.
And now, a word from our sponsor.Phutatoriushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02544136431952176779noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5535301.post-1092761774327772862004-08-17T12:14:00.000-04:002004-08-18T11:12:40.433-04:00The Olympics only come along once every four years . . .
[FACT-CHECKER: every two years, Boss.]
Yes, right — every two years. The Olympics only come along once every two years, but let me tell you, they might as well be lighting that torch inside my sinuses, because I am FEELING THE FEVER. The five golden rings; "higher, faster, louder"; over 100 athletes from at least 50 countries Phutatoriushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02544136431952176779noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5535301.post-1092362821201990122004-08-12T22:05:00.000-04:002004-08-12T22:07:01.200-04:00I wrote the last line of my novel today:
In her review Martha Cadwallader is going to write that she's just ripping off Spider-Man. But Martha Cadwallader can go fuck herself.Phutatoriushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02544136431952176779noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5535301.post-1091812898511785702004-08-06T13:17:00.000-04:002004-08-06T13:44:21.866-04:00Let's see if we can't get us some Mos-lems today. Let's get That Other Guy We Busted and cut a deal with him. We'll tell him to go find us a mosque and take some Mos-lems' temperature on a money-laundering scheme. We'll have The Guy say he's trafficking in missiles . . .
We don't have any missiles, boss.
Dumb-ass! Of course we don't have any missiles. But we're not busting these Mos-lems Phutatoriushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02544136431952176779noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5535301.post-1091479903445084552004-08-02T16:20:00.000-04:002004-08-18T11:14:08.756-04:00Well, I found myself going once . . . going twice . . . and SOLD! for $475 in Saturday night's Internet Personality Benefit Auction — not a half-bad haul for A Day with Phutatorius, when you consider that
(1) sex with the high-bidder was OFF-LIMITS, as everyone knows I'm a happily married man,
(2) many of the bidders (the wastrels!) had blown their wads on other folks by the time my lot Phutatoriushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02544136431952176779noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5535301.post-1090378480538907222004-07-20T22:35:00.000-04:002004-07-21T10:07:28.523-04:00Not so much quick hits today as meandering thoughts:
• Might be nice if the cops self-imposed a curfew on their "turn on the siren so we can run the red light" schtick. Maybe some of us would get some sleep here on the corner of Putnam and Western. And yes, commenters and minutiae hounds, that's the third time I've posted a link to an intersection. See if you can name the other two Phutatoriushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02544136431952176779noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5535301.post-1090126400521074662004-07-18T00:52:00.000-04:002004-07-18T00:53:20.520-04:00See Jungle! See Jungle! Go Join Your Gang Yeah! City All Over Go Ape Crazy!Phutatoriushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02544136431952176779noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5535301.post-1089833529112708392004-07-14T15:04:00.000-04:002004-07-15T08:44:30.140-04:00John Kerry and I haven't spoken since about December, when we last played our Friday night game of whist, and the Wife and I beat the livin' tarnation out of him and Terry. It was something to watch that night, as the hands turned against him and his anger steadily increased. Then, finally, the eruption: he violently overturned the card table — "like Simon LeBon in Hungry Like the Wolf," I Phutatoriushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02544136431952176779noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5535301.post-1089297140608155912004-07-08T09:51:00.000-04:002004-07-08T11:03:11.980-04:00Foot Update — Day 19:
Last week was marked by the eruption of over a half-dozen canker sores in my mouth. What the hell, you might ask, does that have to do with your foot, Phutatorius?
Wait for the payoff.
Now my lips and tongue are as vulnerable to the occasional canker as anybody's. And when I'm attacking a beefsteak with enthusiasm I may gnaw inadvertently on the inside of my cheek, Phutatoriushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02544136431952176779noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5535301.post-1088981647694560792004-07-04T18:39:00.000-04:002004-07-08T16:47:35.493-04:00WHEN in the Course of human events, it becomes necessary for one fan Base to dissolve the political bands which have connected it with the Bullpen of its home town Team, and to assume among the powers of the earth, the separate and equal station to which the Laws of Nature and of Nature's God entitle it, a decent respect to the opinions of mankind requires that they should declare the causes Phutatoriushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02544136431952176779noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5535301.post-1088444916496178402004-06-28T13:16:00.000-04:002004-06-28T15:56:34.570-04:00Cut-and-paste my face over Mary Decker's (and kick the breast size up a notch or two), then put Zola Budd in a portable latrine maintenance truck, and you'll have a pretty good idea how my right foot came to look like an eggplant last week.
For my part, I'm convinced that the Instapundit (no, I'm not going to link to him) is at the bottom of this "accident." We haven't spoken since I left the Phutatoriushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02544136431952176779noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5535301.post-1087265507900134682004-06-14T22:08:00.000-04:002004-06-14T22:49:05.073-04:00Well, the negotiations were long and arduous, the lawyers barked and spat, but after a long three days it all came to fruition. The papers are signed, the heretofores and henceforwards duly noted and initialed, and I am now pleased to announce that Phutatorius & Co. has finalized a three-way cross-promotion deal with Pepsico and Smith & Wesson.
Now I know what you're thinking. You're Phutatoriushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02544136431952176779noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5535301.post-1086656285557490412004-06-07T20:47:00.000-04:002004-06-07T21:13:50.050-04:00So it occurs to me that I've gone almost a year posting on this site without an empty recital of God Bless America for gratuitous applause. Shame on me, people — love for a nation and its values does not a patriot make. It's an opt-in category, dammit, and you have to sing the song. So here goes:
Bobo — bring my tuning fork! And hustle! Honestly, what is an intern chimp good for? Phutatoriushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02544136431952176779noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5535301.post-1086542199397171922004-06-06T12:30:00.000-04:002004-06-06T13:34:38.336-04:00In the spirit of the Super Size Me documentary, which I still haven't seen, and while all of it remains fresh in my mind, I think I should lay out in full what I had to eat this week, while the Wife was in Madison at her RNA conference.
• Tuesday, June 1: One peanut butter and jelly sandwich; one green apple; one banana; one cup raspberry yogurt; one cheese quesadilla, with sour cream and Phutatoriushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02544136431952176779noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5535301.post-1085585944912843922004-05-26T10:44:00.000-04:002004-05-27T09:49:54.103-04:00They — and by they Those In The Know understand exactly who I'm talkin' about — are finally putting aside the cartoon drawings and computer animation and are reviving a live-action Kool-Aid Man figure for TV spots later this fall. On a lark last week I went to a closed audition for the job of the Man in the Pitcher Suit.
How I got the invitation in the first place is a longer story: letPhutatoriushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02544136431952176779noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5535301.post-1084995698308983782004-05-19T15:35:00.000-04:002004-05-20T09:01:40.963-04:00Dear United States Postal Service:
My brother-in-law and I chipped in to purchase a vintage coffee maker in an online auction two weeks ago. The product was to be mailed to me, but I never received it. The auction seller clued me in today to a tracking number for the package, and I was able gather online your assurances that the product was indeed "DELIVERED" on May 12, notwithstanding that I Phutatoriushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02544136431952176779noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5535301.post-1084375773969325772004-05-12T11:08:00.000-04:002004-05-12T15:49:55.653-04:00The Wife and I spent a quiet couple of days in Provincetown last weekend. Largely uneventful — pleasant weather, long walks and bike rides, overindulgence in Portuguese fried doughs and Gruyere cheeses — but I should say I came home with an issue stuck in my craw.
Allow me to set the scene: a reasonably bright Saturday morning by the seaside. The Wife and I ambling down Commercial Phutatoriushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02544136431952176779noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5535301.post-1083811714733212942004-05-05T22:17:00.000-04:002004-05-05T22:57:01.560-04:00Last year I worked at the federal courthouse in South Boston's Seaport District. From my desk I could look out the window at the Children's Museum, which is notable from a distance for the gigantic blow-up Arthur the Aardvark figure that stands guard atop its roof.
At that time, however, the bespectacled Arthur was a far-from-imposing sentinel, as through most of my year at the courthouse he Phutatoriushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02544136431952176779noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5535301.post-1082995353035699152004-04-26T12:02:00.000-04:002004-04-26T15:55:19.593-04:00So the bank is all mad at me now because I filled up my safety deposit box with ground beef a month ago. They complain that it took almost a week to trace the source of the smell, and ultimately one of the tellers went faint on Friday afternoon and they had to hospitalize her — this in the middle of their biweekly payroll deposit rush. As it turns out, the woman in question had been living Phutatoriushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02544136431952176779noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5535301.post-1082591564649884892004-04-21T19:52:00.000-04:002004-04-21T19:55:43.390-04:00From the "My Wife Would Never Make This Mistake" Department:
Out last weekend with friends at a bar in Philadelphia — a bachelor party in fact, God bless the groom — and a woman struck up conversation with several of us at the end of a narrow corridor crowded with people. "I wish I were Wonder Woman," she announced. "That way I could just fly my invisible plane to the other side of thePhutatoriushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02544136431952176779noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5535301.post-1082142102808506212004-04-16T15:01:00.000-04:002004-04-16T15:06:43.140-04:00It's been too long since I last posted. Thing is, I've got nothing to write. I mean, really — nothing.
With great power comes great responsibility. Spider Man or Superman or somebody said that. Maybe it was Clark Kent's dad (it certainly wasn't Dubya's). I don't know who said it first, and I don't care. The point is that as time passes, it becomes increasingly difficult to muster postsPhutatoriushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02544136431952176779noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5535301.post-1081440414456294492004-04-08T12:16:00.000-04:002004-04-08T15:20:07.046-04:00I don't see why I couldn't make a living naming corporations. I read the billboards, I follow the securities fraud docket — I know what's hip:
Ecoblast, accufarm, InfoSurp, byteRite.
I think I have a knack for this. But for the occasional spondee, it's really just dactylic syllable-cramming, right? With maybe a strategically applied bit of hyper- or hypo-capitalization — for style's Phutatoriushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02544136431952176779noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5535301.post-1081214549607765412004-04-05T20:47:00.000-04:002004-04-06T10:40:34.780-04:00Just sprung ahead yesterday morning — happened while I slept, of course, and I didn't feel a minute of it. I'm sure that's by design, so the time change doesn't "inconvenience" folks, but I have a better idea:
Give everybody a week to spring ahead, and let 'em make the jump whenever they damn well please. Who wouldn't want to show up to work an hour late all week long and tell the boss, "Phutatoriushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02544136431952176779noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5535301.post-1081055776966711432004-04-04T00:12:00.000-05:002004-04-04T00:20:19.530-05:00Here's something I wrote a while ago about a friend of mine, back before I settled down. Somewhere along the line I lost track of Lola. I wonder what she's doing now:
I have a friend named Lola. She has brown hair and brown eyes and a five-inch needle that spring-loads out from under her right middle fingernail and retracts into her hand on command, into a tendon sheath reaching from her Phutatoriushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02544136431952176779noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5535301.post-1080744476337940972004-03-31T09:47:00.000-05:002004-04-02T12:11:00.326-05:00Any momentum I had going to work today was dissipated when a gigantic minivan and a police car — with flashers on — blocked my passage out of the parking lot. I arrived during that stage in the ticketing process when the policeman goes back in his car to nap for several hours with the impugned driver's license and registration in his pocket.
As there was no apparent transaction in Phutatoriushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02544136431952176779noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5535301.post-1080406524861864212004-03-27T11:55:00.000-05:002004-03-29T09:47:05.090-05:00I write today from the Radnor Hotel in St. Davids, Pennsylvania, site this weekend of the National Steering Committee for "Project Kaleidoscope," to which the Wife and I, despite our charter membership in the Brewster Society, could not wangle invitations. But this snubbing will be the subject of another complaint.
Today's complaint concerns Auntie Anne's (which, incidentally, the Wife chooses Phutatoriushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02544136431952176779noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5535301.post-1079541048451762812004-03-17T10:28:00.000-05:002004-03-17T11:39:36.110-05:00I could spend a week cataloging what was lousy about that last "Ides of March" post, but that would dwell on the negative. So instead, quick hits, in an upbeat "three cheers" format:
• Three cheers to the fourteen people at last night's Sting concert who did not yell SHUT THE F**K UP! at the shrieking spastic woman in the left-side orchestra. Your understanding of how silence works did Phutatoriushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02544136431952176779noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5535301.post-1079406371730813222004-03-15T21:46:00.000-05:002004-03-15T22:15:30.280-05:00Well, another Ides of March has come and gone (knock on wood) without significant incident, no thanks to that rooftop sniper across the way, who waited all day for me to come outside before finally stepping out for a mocha at around 4:30 in the afternoon. This gentleman's stick-to-itiveness made for quite a nuisance, because I really wanted to go the gym — I thought he'd never leave. It Phutatoriushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02544136431952176779noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5535301.post-1079028868419409582004-03-11T12:15:00.000-05:002004-03-11T13:45:09.873-05:00So it turns out that my much-anticipated interview with Barbara Walters will likely never be aired. It seems the network execs reviewed the tape and decided that we "didn't click," which is — I presume — a polite way of saying that I didn't like her sad-sack lines of inquiry and she didn't like my honest and forthright answers. At any rate, I'm legally free and clear to transcribe the Phutatoriushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02544136431952176779noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5535301.post-1078695746082319532004-03-07T16:21:00.000-05:002004-03-07T20:27:37.403-05:00I came up big in Music Trivia on the flight home from Florida yesterday. Yeah, that's right: of the four rounds I played, I ran away with three, and in the fourth only a controversial photo finish gave temporary honors to "JOHN" up in 11E.
Song's flights are equipped with personal touch-screen monitors, embedded in the seat backs in front of you, just above the collapsible tray tables. The Phutatoriushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02544136431952176779noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5535301.post-1078254863675955022004-03-02T13:56:00.000-05:002004-03-02T16:02:54.060-05:00In the men's room of Harvard Square's Border Café today, after lunch, I spotted a shiny quarter resting heads-up in the toilet basin. This presented me with a bit of a quandary, as I have been out of work for several months now. How committed could I really be to my indolence, if I could not be bothered to roll up my sleeves and dig out this quarter, which might well purchase me another Phutatoriushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02544136431952176779noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5535301.post-1077983938215521232004-02-28T10:48:00.000-05:002004-02-28T11:01:02.686-05:00Product packaging info of the day:
Ayr® Saline Nasal Mist — non-medicated, mercury-free.
USES: Ayr Mist moisturizes nasal passages relieving dry, crusty, and inflamed nasal membranes; useful as a nasal wash for sinuses, allergies and colds. Safe and gentle. Doctor recommended.
DIRECTIONS: With head in an upright position, put spray tip in nostril. To spray, give short, firm squeezesPhutatoriushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02544136431952176779noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5535301.post-1077305023469184912004-02-20T13:43:00.000-05:002004-02-20T15:47:07.640-05:00The way I see it, there are three classes of fortune-cookie fortune. There is the fortune that makes a descriptive — usually complimentary — statement about the reader's life or personality: You are a wise person with a keen eye for flattery. Then there is the fortune that offers unsolicited advice or encouragement, leading the more paranoid among us to believe that the fortune-writer Phutatoriushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02544136431952176779noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5535301.post-1076883787405442292004-02-15T17:01:00.000-05:002004-02-15T17:47:40.670-05:00Earlier today, in the Snow Park lodge at Park City, Utah's Deer Valley ski resort, I peed in the urinal next to Emmy-winning TV sports personality Cris Collinsworth. No kidding, people — I thought I recognized him buckling his boots, and when he announced to his party, in signature Southern twang, that he was off to the privy, I was 100%. It was Cris Collinsworth, and no one can tell me Phutatoriushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02544136431952176779noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5535301.post-1076423405347399332004-02-10T09:23:00.000-05:002004-02-10T14:38:55.593-05:00Quick hits today (been a while):
• Looks like my home state is determined to remain a swinging hotbed of gay promiscuity. Rock on, Ohio! But remember, kids, when you finally decide to settle down and make a commitment, you'll have to come to Massachusetts.
• From the Name That Zealot department: a religious fanatic talks a man into blowing up a warship with a boat full of explosivesPhutatoriushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02544136431952176779noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5535301.post-1075994202631963382004-02-05T10:03:00.000-05:002004-02-05T15:06:49.793-05:00I saw myself naked in the shower yesterday, and boy, was I offended. I mean, it totally blindsided me. I'm reading ingredients off the shampoo bottle, and it slips out of my hands. I bend down to pick it up and — bam! — absolutely without warning: full frontal nudity.
It was a crass and classless stunt for my body to pull at any time of the day, but to do it at 10 a.m., when it knew IPhutatoriushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02544136431952176779noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5535301.post-1075766730328709262004-02-02T18:35:00.000-05:002004-02-02T22:01:37.920-05:00Checked my eBay feedback the other day, and boy did it take me by surprise! Here are some choice cuts:
• Super Fast Payment and Communication! I wish all eBayers were this good . . . and this Presidential.
• Lightning quick payment, and with the right message, could do well in Iowa and New Hampshire!
• great to deal with, strong on national security and civil rights, not 2 Phutatoriushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02544136431952176779noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5535301.post-1075596462489400342004-01-31T19:27:00.000-05:002004-01-31T19:51:45.123-05:00CBS. How may I direct your call?
"Yes, uh — can you put me in touch with whoever it is who is planning the Super Bowl halftime show?"
That would be Mr. ******. He's quite busy at the moment —
"Yeah. Fine. Whatever. I don't need the honcho. Just anyone who can tell me who's gonna be the super-secret surprise halftime show guest."
Sir, I don't think anyone with our organization isPhutatoriushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02544136431952176779noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5535301.post-1075474865892314282004-01-30T09:24:00.000-05:002004-06-07T21:13:29.670-04:00Mark my words: Indians minor-league prospect Kazuhito Tadano will go down in history as one of the all-time great relief pitchers. He will also, apparently, go down on camera for money. WHOA! Stop the presses, Phutatorius. As the late, great Joe Strummer used to say, "start all over again . . ."
Indians minor-league prospect Kaz Tadano recently discussed his college-age appearance in a Phutatoriushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02544136431952176779noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5535301.post-1075317347499206222004-01-28T13:41:00.000-05:002004-01-28T19:36:42.483-05:00Tried the new Diet Coke with Lime yesterday. My verdict? Stomachable while still cold, which places it certainly a step above its Lemon Equivalent, which even after its alleged 2004 flavor overhaul tastes like carbonated furniture polish. But let's be clear: it does not remotely taste like Diet Coke flavored with lime juice.
That in itself is not a problem for me. I grew up on artificial Phutatoriushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02544136431952176779noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5535301.post-1074970231588185732004-01-24T13:30:00.000-05:002004-01-24T13:59:41.560-05:00It's about time I came clean. I am a ninja assassin. There, I've said it. I don't see what the big deal is. And to be honest, I'm not half-bad at it, so I think I have a fighting chance to survive when the Old Master sends his hotheads from Ninja Central Command after me. Bring 'em on, Sensei.
The whole oath of secrecy really is kind of absurd, when you think about it. Oooh, aren't we Phutatoriushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02544136431952176779noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5535301.post-1074785184386560042004-01-22T09:46:00.000-05:002004-01-22T14:27:28.060-05:00Quick hits today, to get the ball rolling again:
• I thought I was the originator of a great newsworthy pun — "Between Iraq and a Hard Place" — but Google says otherwise. I was closer with "Dems' Fighting Words," with only the Democratic Congressional Campaign Committee getting there first. Still, with 322 million native English speakers in this world, and half of them it seems Phutatoriushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02544136431952176779noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5535301.post-1074570309526366402004-01-19T22:25:00.000-05:002004-01-21T21:46:13.996-05:00I have, quite by accident, stumbled across Wife Kryptonite. If at any point during the day I find myself cornered — with the Wife on the high moral ground and myself squarely in her sights in the lowlands — I resort to a talismanic five-word sentence:
Wo-man, geets to makin' pies.
It's an absolute stunner, totally freezes her in her tracks, and it buys me time to think up a more Phutatoriushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02544136431952176779noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5535301.post-1074110354051308032004-01-14T14:11:00.000-05:002004-01-15T09:45:08.106-05:00There is an abandoned portable toilet (see attached photo) sitting on the River Street Bridge three blocks from my apartment. I say "abandoned" because it has been there for weeks and is not, so far as I can tell, affiliated with any current road construction project. Months ago there was a work crew doing God-knows-what to the intersection of River and Memorial Drive, but that was summer. Phutatoriushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02544136431952176779noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5535301.post-1074014580389170922004-01-13T11:31:00.000-05:002004-01-13T18:31:18.170-05:00Here's hoping the Italian Bocce Federation (FIB) spends 2004 cracking down on the proliferation of nonstandard equipment through American sporting-goods stores.
Last summer's cookouts were overflowing with bastardized kits. Too often I was boxed into defending Italian-American honor with what were essentially painted croquet balls. Though it seemed a feeble excuse to the uninitiated, it reallyPhutatoriushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02544136431952176779noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5535301.post-1073951187725836422004-01-12T18:02:00.000-05:002004-01-13T11:33:05.263-05:00It's time for a humbled Phutatorius to extract foot from mouth and frame his deepest apologies to the Daimler Chrysler Corporation. I had spent much of the past six months insisting to anyone who would listen that the "legendary" status of the HEMI engine, so wildly touted in Dodge's recent ad campaign, was wholly fabricated. That is, who are they kidding? There was no HEMI legend until about Phutatoriushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02544136431952176779noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5535301.post-1073873626821757122004-01-11T18:18:00.000-05:002004-01-11T22:30:23.796-05:00Fact-checking for the Book sent me in some strange directions the other day. For starters, I had written that a character was "built like a .22 slug," by which I meant to indicate, short, squat, and solid. It occurred to me, however, that I had never seen a .22 slug, and preliminary Internet research had me questioning whether there really was such a thing.
At any rate, there followed a good Phutatoriushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02544136431952176779noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5535301.post-1073368509014202762004-01-06T00:54:00.000-05:002004-01-14T11:09:24.106-05:00More quick hits:
• It appears that right-wing movers and shakers are lobbying to get Reagan's head on the dime. I've got a better idea: leave FDR where he is, and put Nixon on the flipside. That way we have a bipartisan coin and no dispute about which side is "Tails."
• This just in: A Plague of Mad Cows prompts desperate Bush Administration officials to sacrifice 450 male calves toPhutatoriushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02544136431952176779noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5535301.post-1073353266468321222004-01-05T19:53:00.000-05:002004-01-05T21:36:12.826-05:00Everywhere I go, people are complimenting me on my socks. Why, just the other day, the man at the DMV window, usually sullen and uninspired in his work, told me that he'd been admiring my socks all the way through the winding line. His interest in my socks was enough to get me extra-special treatment: he took five photos of me for my license renewal and allowed me to choose from the set, to Phutatoriushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02544136431952176779noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5535301.post-1073022453111114332004-01-02T00:47:00.000-05:002004-01-02T12:05:06.436-05:00It was a grim New Year's Eve in the offices of Phutatorius & Co., as word got round quickly that I had fired my longtime food taster earlier in the afternoon. Even now the coffee room and cubicles are bustling with rumors that I canned Malachi because of his reluctance to work the holiday, or that the firing was about downsizing, part of some grand layoff scheme to send a leaner, meaner Phutatoriushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02544136431952176779noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5535301.post-1072810961013314032003-12-30T13:59:00.000-05:002003-12-31T00:41:18.496-05:00I just ran by a flock of Canadian geese along the river today. I noticed that none of them had ears. It then occurred to me that, in fact, I have never seen a single bird with visible ears. Now birds can't be deaf. They're always chirping at each other. Mating calls, and all that. And ducks take off at the sound of a gunshot.
Birds hear, clearly — but with what?Phutatoriushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02544136431952176779noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5535301.post-1072715591264781492003-12-29T11:02:00.000-05:002003-12-29T11:37:30.966-05:00Received via email from csresponse@columbiahouse.com, at 10:32 AM today:
Dear PHUTATORIUS,
Re: Account # XXXXXXXXXX
We have noted that you have returned several recent DVD shipments.
When you joined the Club, you agreed to contact us when you do not wish to
receive your current Director's Selection. This way, we can be sure to send
you only the selections you want.
The quickest and Phutatoriushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02544136431952176779noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5535301.post-1071979407653505222003-12-20T20:26:00.000-05:002003-12-21T01:51:49.796-05:00Somebody help me. I don't know who or where I am.
Four hours ago, I woke up on the floor of this room: a ten-foot cube, with no windows or doors. The floor is cold asphalt, the ceiling untreated concrete, and the walls uniform cinder block held together with quick-dry mortar. The room could well have been built around me while I was unconscious.
Reasonably fresh air is piped in through Phutatoriushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02544136431952176779noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5535301.post-1071807385052843672003-12-18T23:13:00.000-05:002003-12-18T23:37:17.903-05:00Today's Guilty Movie Thought, from two hours into It's a Wonderful Life:
Pottersville looks like a blast. Who wouldn't prefer its Main Street's pool halls, weekly prizefights, and legions of dancing girls to the humdrum laundromatscapes of Bedford Falls? It grieves me to say it, George Bailey, but a petition is circulating in the community to ensure that you were never born. And they almost Phutatoriushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02544136431952176779noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5535301.post-1071718661225289952003-12-17T22:19:00.000-05:002003-12-17T22:40:10.920-05:00From the "Greatest Hits" collection, my draft Pet Restriction By-Law, which our Condominium Association rejected — but narrowly — in October:
"23.1 Oversized Pets.
Notwithstanding the language of By-Law 23 ("Pets"), no Unit Owner shall keep any individual pet whose weight exceeds forty pounds. Pets found to violate the weight limit shall have their diets reduced by two thirds until Phutatoriushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02544136431952176779noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5535301.post-1071628230524401022003-12-16T21:29:00.000-05:002003-12-17T22:43:10.483-05:00So the Wife and I went to see the Boston Pops Holiday program Saturday night, Pops Dude Emeritus John Williams conducting. It was a glorious evening, and the Wife, as is her wont, looked smashing. Here follows an incomplete record of what crossed my mind during the performance:
Do they take drink orders after the music starts? — Diet Coke, some kind of wine for the Wife . . . ooh! And a Phutatoriushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02544136431952176779noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5535301.post-1071096445458022202003-12-10T17:16:00.000-05:002004-03-02T17:12:00.593-05:00You can have your tinsel and ribbon, your sugarplums, fruitcakes, and hot toddies. The holiday season is for me about giving, plain and simple. There is nothing quite like that genuine warmth inside — the spark of good cheer — that comes from providing a benefit to another. Giving a gift is a natural high unlike anything your Schnapps or egg nog or even your uncut Afghan opiates can Phutatoriushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02544136431952176779noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5535301.post-107094182115806252003-12-08T22:49:00.000-05:002003-12-10T17:56:43.326-05:00Quick hits:
• I saw Al Sharpton in the DC National Airport terminal today, boarding a shuttle flight to Laguardia. What a fabulous head of hair that man has.
• Diary of TiVo Angst, Entry #451: The DVR is ten minutes from erasing your week-old — but still unwatched — episode of 24, but your Wife is watching a recorded episode of Queer Eye for the Straight Guy and she won't Phutatoriushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02544136431952176779noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5535301.post-1070467535662043382003-12-03T11:05:00.000-05:002003-12-10T19:41:45.106-05:00I write to you once again from the Sheraton in Iguazú, this time to report on a conspiracy by the Argentinian government.
Two days ago the Wife and I and a third party — one of her co-workers — were walking down the well-worn tourist path to the waterfalls when we happened upon several strange-looking, presumably indigenous animals. I have never seen the likes of these creatures in the Phutatoriushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02544136431952176779noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5535301.post-1070319831426758112003-12-01T18:03:00.000-05:002003-12-02T08:49:56.903-05:00I write today from the Business Center of the Sheraton Internacional Hotel in Iguazú, Argentina. The resort is dropped smack in the middle of a rainforested national park. To the sights, then:
The keyboard in front of me is set up for Spanish speakers, and aside from its maddeningly misplaced punctuation keys, it diverges from the QWERTY configuration in its introduction of a Phutatoriushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02544136431952176779noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5535301.post-1069291415727178972003-11-19T18:50:00.000-05:002003-11-19T21:26:15.950-05:00Travel Journal, Postscript:
For those of you who missed me (no postcards for anyone, so don't feel slighted), here's a day-by-day recap of our cruise itinerary, with concurrent mention of each day's dinner sorbet on the ship:
November 4 — Bridgetown, Barbados, "Refreshing Piña Colada"
November 5 — Scarborough, Tobago, "Refreshing Passion Fruit and Champagne"
November 6 — Phutatoriushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02544136431952176779noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5535301.post-1068761937708503442003-11-13T17:18:00.000-05:002003-11-13T17:19:16.796-05:00Travel Journal, Day Eleven:
I am at the end of my rope. I have had Chuck Mangione's "Feels So Good" ringing in my head for six straight hours now, and I know that my period of suffering is only beginning. Another week's battery of The World's Second Most Recognized Tune (so sez Chuck himself, anyway) lies ahead of me, and over that time I expect to be pushed to the brink of self-immolation a Phutatoriushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02544136431952176779noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5535301.post-1068514115355131482003-11-10T20:28:00.000-05:002003-11-11T19:55:29.500-05:00Travel Journal, Day Eight:
Some set-up here is appropriate. The Wife and I are quite possibly the youngest passengers on our ship, probably thirty-plus years below the mean. It intimidates the crap out of us — probably unfairly, as most people we've encountered are affable enough. The program of interaction is by now predictable: we tell the other guests what we do for a living, and they Phutatoriushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02544136431952176779noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5535301.post-1068177769660411902003-11-06T23:02:00.000-05:002003-11-10T20:37:25.323-05:00Travel Journal, Day Four:
I blog now via satellite, from a remote location in the Atlantic Ocean, some one hundred miles north of the coast of Suriname in South America. The cruise ship continues to plunge ahead through the deep toward our next port of call,
Devil's Island, French Guiana.
I never thought I would see the penal colony again — though it was eighty years ago, I remember my Phutatoriushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02544136431952176779noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5535301.post-1067897201720046692003-11-03T16:21:00.000-05:002003-11-03T20:21:03.203-05:00Travel Journal, Day One:
We arrive in Barbados two days before embarcation to find only one of our four bags making its appointed rounds on the claim conveyor. This leaves me with but one change of clothes on the cusp of our Amazon adventure: 1 pair white tube socks, 1 pair boxer shorts, 1 twelve-year-old Smiths T-shirt, 1 red sweatshirt, 1 pair cargo pants. As I wear the same cargo pants Phutatoriushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02544136431952176779noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5535301.post-1067534797903316602003-10-30T12:16:00.000-05:002003-10-30T12:26:43.446-05:00I got the "Park Place" game piece in McDonald's Monopoly yesterday. If you get "Boardwalk," don't pay this guy without writing me first. I'm willing to go as low as a hundred grand. Phutatoriushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02544136431952176779noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5535301.post-1066600590541828622003-10-19T17:30:00.000-04:002003-10-20T13:26:53.196-04:00A good, brow-ridge grabbing monocle can be hell for the first week or so. That is, until you achieve the required skin-thickening atop the cheekbone, your monocle can really dig into your face. You can expect wear and tear during the first couple of days — cuts, blistering — and, if you're not careful placing and removing that little devil, you can give yourself a wicked laceration.
Phutatoriushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02544136431952176779noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5535301.post-1066330472953900802003-10-16T14:52:00.000-04:002003-10-16T14:54:32.286-04:00Today's Game Six edition of Haiku Sports Recap:
What Yankee bullpen?
Joe dialed: twenty-six rings,
but nobody home.Phutatoriushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02544136431952176779noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5535301.post-1066244679705515322003-10-15T15:01:00.000-04:002003-10-15T15:04:39.750-04:00The two sentences your Phutatorius added to the Novel today:
"The feeling receded from Jerry's fingers and toes, the pain drained from his ankle as sleep's centrifugal powers spun his ideas out of the Realm of the Practicable: visions of pit traps covered in palm leaves gave way to giant sand saguaros pricked with the tips of tranquilizer darts. Bring it on, Mother Pumpkin, bring it on . . ."
Phutatoriushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02544136431952176779noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5535301.post-1066067736594214472003-10-13T13:45:00.000-04:002003-10-13T15:00:16.956-04:00You know you've finally found your way to the club when you see the headline act wandering around in the street.
The Wife was a bit queasy as we turned the corner onto Elbow Street last night in Providence. She didn't want to park the car on the street — not with that wild-eyed dude in the jean jacket lurking around. I looked the guy over, just to see what he was up to.
"Wife," I Phutatoriushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02544136431952176779noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5535301.post-1065669105944331572003-10-08T22:35:00.000-04:002003-10-30T12:28:38.210-05:00Let this post serve as notice to the world that I have Hank Williams, Jr. in a safe house at an undetermined location and am holding him for ransom. That's right, people — your "irreverent, rambunctious, fun, boisterous, rowdy, reckless, exuberant" country rocker has been singing the blues in my custody since last Friday. And he'll stay in his cage until his friends, family, fan clubs, and Phutatoriushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02544136431952176779noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5535301.post-1065450378068905342003-10-06T10:17:00.000-04:002003-10-06T10:26:51.673-04:00Last night I was asked, for the 100th time in two years, by a waiter at a chain restaurant, "Have you eaten at any of our restaurants before?" Like there's something new and important I need to know before I can order a meal at Ruby Tuesday's.
Please, oh please, sir — I beg you — clue me in to the mysteries of your occult institution. I am lost and wandering and confused; reel me in Phutatoriushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02544136431952176779noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5535301.post-1065294968258567582003-10-04T15:16:00.000-04:002003-10-10T17:45:16.130-04:00The other day I was cooking dinner (believe it!), when the Wife without warning threw open the back door to the apartment, which opens into our kitchen. I say "without warning" because I had not heard the neighbors' knock, and I was in the process of dropping my salad dressing-stained trousers to throw into the wash.
By the grace of God I was not standing pantless in the kitchen when the door Phutatoriushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02544136431952176779noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5535301.post-1065059111953311282003-10-01T21:06:00.000-04:002003-10-10T17:45:41.206-04:00The way I see it, there are two kinds of people in this world — the good Americans who understand and appreciate the peanut and its many derivative products (oil, brittle, butter, &c.) and the bastard communists who are tearing down the Lovely Legume's good name with their made-up allergies.
When I was a young pup, there was none of the throat-closing, seizing-up, and carting-off that you Phutatoriushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02544136431952176779noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5535301.post-1064897479968473782003-09-29T22:43:00.000-04:002003-10-15T15:26:43.843-04:00It's been a while — I've been away — but I'm back in Cambridge and back online. Sunday night's flight home from Hilton Head might be passable as eventful: the Wife and I had a brief layover in Charlotte, and a 10 p.m. flight out to Boston. We were well-settled on the flight out of Charlotte and winding our way across the tarmac when the captain reported over the PA that an undesirably Phutatoriushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02544136431952176779noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5535301.post-1063915856797166842003-09-18T16:10:00.000-04:002003-09-19T10:30:32.700-04:00I turn 30 years old today, with some amazement at my dumb luck in making it this far. There were times in my life when many of you who are closest to me (admit it!) did not believe I would live to see the 21st century. But here I am, on the cusp of my fourth decade, stronger than ever, and I want to thank all of you who stood by me through all the shit, through the drinking and hard drugs, the Phutatoriushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02544136431952176779noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5535301.post-1063857363031696942003-09-17T23:55:00.000-04:002003-09-18T17:18:24.903-04:00The Blue Cross/Blue Shield website — like most advertising vehicles of companies that purport to provide intangible services, but in fact screw you out of your money — bears photographs of a collection of people of all races, ages, and genders, all of them visibly satisfied customers whose ear-to-ear grins are no doubt directly traceable to their belief that, whatever life foists upon Phutatoriushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02544136431952176779noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5535301.post-1063668888029633372003-09-15T18:58:00.000-04:002003-09-15T19:46:05.060-04:00Here's a tracklist of an album I hope to record someday, once I've taught myself to play the guitar:
1. The World Is Over, and I'm Still Here
2. Walk It Off, Brother
3. I'll Be in the Overhead Bin (If You Need Me)
4. Your Sorry Ass for $100, Alex
5. Flathead or Phillips? (Instrumental)
6. She Said She Had "Standards"
7. (I Wanna) Climb the Walls like Spiderman
8. They'd Love You in BurmaPhutatoriushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02544136431952176779noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5535301.post-1063161220289890952003-09-09T22:33:00.000-04:002003-09-09T22:33:50.086-04:00It seems I can't walk down a street these days without somebody accosting me and asking me how they can license themselves to sell upholstery in Virginia.Phutatoriushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02544136431952176779noreply@blogger.com0