Local Evening News Substitute

Does this sound familiar? You spend a little too long in the shower, or you receive a poorly-timed phone call, or you black out and wake up hours later in the neighbor’s hydrangeas dressed like the Burger King, with no recollection of how you got there, only to discover to your chagrin that you have missed the Local Evening News, again. And now all those people who did see it have got the edge on you. They’re chugging down the Information Superhighway while you’re sitting over in the emergency lane with smoke pouring out from under the hood. Yes, my friend, they know things that you don’t, and it won’t be long before they start using it against you, and soon they’ll have taken all your stuff, and you’ll have nothing left to live for.

You’d probably prefer that that didn’t happen, and so would the good folks at LENScorp. That’s why we put our best people to work on the problem, and now they’ve come up with a way for you to have your evening news and miss it too. We call it Local Evening News Substitute (LENS) and we’re pretty excited about it. And I think you will be too, once you have the facts, and assuming you’ve got a lick of sense.

What we’ve done is to carefully analyze local news broadcasts for the last 10 years using the latest in quantum nanocryptoscatological techniques, originally developed by NASA, the NSA, and the SSA, to come up with a scientifically formulated supplement that contains all the essential ingredients of the local evening newscast in a highly concentrated and easily swallowed form. Now you can get your local evening news whenever it’s most convenient for you, and because it’s been refined and distilled into a 30:1 extract you can get through the whole thing in a minute, leaving you more time to spend with your family. Or to sit alone in the dark drinking Everclear. With Local Evening News Substitute it’s your choice! So open wide, and prepare yourself for a brand new news experience. Here’s a sample to get you started:

Generic Reporter: We begin tonight’s coverage with this exclusive report on a frightening situation that developed in a northwest Phoenix neighborhood earlier today, as police attempted to arrest this woman, 54-year-old Jane Generic, who was reportedly operating a meth lab in a trailer home containing 117 cats, many of them underfed and in generally poor health. A 7-hour standoff ended when the woman emerged from the home covered with cat feces and was tasered several times by a police officer who has since been suspended for allegedly soliciting sex from a teenage drunk driver. We’re not clear on the details at this point, but somehow the woman managed to elude police and carjacked a van loaded with illegal immigrants. She then proceeded to lead police on a wild high-speed chase on Valley freeways, apparently unconcerned about gas prices, which remain at record high levels, with ozone in the unhealthy range for the fourth day in a row. The chase came to an abrupt halt when the woman swerved to avoid a puppy duct-taped to the highway, drove the van into a flooded wash and had to be rescued by a helicopter. One witness at the scene told our camera crew that it was the most exciting thing he had seen since Suns guard Steve Nash’s high-octane performance against the San Antonio Spurs in Friday night’s NBA semifinals. The 12-day old puppy was rescued by police and taken to a local animal shelter, where he remains in guarded condition. This is Generic Reporter, reporting live from northwest Phoenix.

Generic Anchorwoman: That’s quite a story, Generic Reporter. Do we know anything more tonight about the fate of that puppy?

Generic Reporter: Well, Generic Anchorwoman, police officials tell us that the puppy had sustained several superficial stab wound and both his ears had been cut off, but it looks like he’s going to make a full recovery, and already the shelter has received 1,648 calls from people wanting to adopt the little fellow.

Generic Anchorwoman: That’s wonderful Generic Reporter-- we certainly wish the little guy the best. He’s so cute!

Generic Anchorman: Well, you probably wouldn’t cut the ears off a puppy, but how about your own ears? That’s exactly what many Valley residents are doing. A new form of plastic surgery called hyperplastic ear reduction, or HER, promises to erase years from your appearance by removing up to 60 percent of your ears. But is this new procedure the Fountain of Youth or just another scheme to prey on the elderly? Our Investigators report on the latest trend in cosmetic surgery when we return.

Generic Weatherperson: And if you think that Paris Hilton is hot, just wait till you see what’s in store for our weather the next seven days. I’ll tell you just how bad it’s going to be—and we’ll check in on this week’s “Just Kill Us Now, Bellis”…after the break.

(Currently this product is only available for the Phoenix, AZ metropolitan area, but we hope to add other cities soon. Stay tuned for details.)

Michael, Michael, Michael--why does everything always have to be about Michael?

I’ve noticed that a lot of people seem to be squabbling about whether Michael Jackson was found “innocent” or “not guilty.” People, now is a time for healing, not divisiveness. (I’m not saying there will never be a time for divisiveness. There will be such a time—I’m really looking forward to it--and when it comes I’ll see to it that you’re among the first to know.) It doesn’t matter if Michael was found “innocent” or “not guilty.” All that truly matters is that he was found to have the resources to hire his own lawyers, rather than having one appointed for him by the court. This is the heart of the American system of jurisprudence, the finest in the world.

I also think it’s important to keep in mind that Mr. Jackson is a visitor from another world, in a galaxy far, far away, and he appears to be having a bit of difficulty understanding and adjusting to our ways. Perhaps the radio transmissions upon which his pre-mission briefings were based had gotten badly garbled by sunspots or something. It may well be that on his home planet sleeping with children is considered acceptable, even admirable. Or maybe they don’t care for it either, and that’s why they sent him here.

As you may recall, we had a similar situation a few years back with E.T. the Extraterrestrial, who also slept in the bed with earth children. Or maybe under the bed, I can’t quite remember. The point is that he was never even brought to trial, much less convicted. So please just leave Michael alone—don’t you think he’s suffered enough? And even if you don’t think he’s suffered enough, I can assure you that I have suffered more than enough for both of us as a result of this incessant Jacksonian prattle, and that I deserve a break today, or if not today, at least by early next week.

Now is the time that we must come together to heal America’s wounds, and I can think of no better way to do that than for us to turn our nation’s collective gaze away from Michael’s misadventures and focus it once again on Janet’s breasts, which in my opinion have received shockingly little coverage. Sure, there was a brief, titillating flurry of interest in her right breast, but what about the other one? I’m sure it’s nice too. Why have we heard nothing in the press—and seen less—of Janet Jackson’s left breast? Could it be a partisan cover-up? Think about it. Not now--later, when you’re alone.

A revision of my previous position on that whole bedbug business

OK, you know what, I’m gonna have to analyze that old adage after all. I thought I could refrain from doing so, but I can’t. I’m just not that strong. I have to face the facts: I’m part of the problem, I will always be part of the problem, and I might as well accept that and try to work within the system.

At first I was puzzled as to how the people who made this saying thought we could stop the bloody bedbugs from biting us when we were already unconscious. Then I realized that the problem was that most adage analysts, myself included, had always focused on the final section “don’t let the bedbugs bite,” while virtually ignoring the “sleep tight,” assuming—incorrectly, as it turns out—that it served little purpose in the saying other than to provide a catchy rhyme. My friends, nothing could be further from the truth. Sleeping tight (i.e., inebriated) is in fact the key to the whole puzzle, and once we understand its true meaning, everything else falls into place.

Actually, the key to the whole puzzle is the sleep apnea that results from going to bed drunk; “sleep tight” is more of a clue that leads us to the key, like a note that says “The key’s under the doormat.” The doormat represents the rest of the saying, that’s keeping us from seeing the key, and it’s really my groundbreaking analysis of the adage that’s analogous to the note, which enables us to cut through the bullshit and see the key. So the next piece of the puzzle is the fact that bedbugs locate their prey by detecting carbon dioxide produced by the respiratory process, which you may recall was disrupted earlier by the alcohol-induced sleep apnea--but would that be the lock or the door?

OK, this whole thing is starting to unravel—let me start over. Sleep apnea, which prevents us from breathing, is the key, and “sleep tight” is still the note that leads us to the key, but now the key is inside the house, under a vase of flowers, and the note is a yellow sticky note on the fridge reminding us where we put the key, which makes a lot more sense, cause what kind of damn fool would go to the trouble of hiding a key under the doormat—which would be the first place a bedbug would look anyway—and then leave a note on the door telling where the key was. So now we’re all indoors except the bedbugs and “sleep tight” has reminded us that sleep apnea is under the vase of flowers, so we take sleep apnea out from under the vase and put it in the lock, which represents our breathing, thus preventing carbon dioxide emissions (the door) from opening, and with carbon dioxide emissions closed and locked, the bedbugs are stuck out in the front yard, so all they can do is go bite somebody else, or go to sleep themselves.

Oh, for God’s sake, I forgot the alcohol! I’m going to try one more time and if that doesn’t work I’m giving up. OK, so now “sleep tight” is the note that leads us to the alcohol, which is the key under the vase, and we use the alcohol to lock sleep apnea, which prevents carbon dioxide emissions from opening, thus keeping the bedbugs locked out in the front yard. (The whole distinction between breathing and carbon dioxide emissions was contrived to begin with—I had to do it because I had forgotten about alcohol and didn’t have anything left to be the door. This is much nicer.) Then we take alcohol out of sleep apnea and put it back under the vase, and finally we can go to bed (bed doesn’t represent anything—it’s a real bed) and get some sleep. I don’t know about you, but I am exhausted.

I blame myself for this oversight and all the needless suffering that has resulted from it; however, many adagologists who are less willing than I to accept personal responsibility for screwing up insist that the misdirection was intentional, and that this cryptic saying was the means by which a secret order of Bugnoscenti communicated their arcane knowledge to their followers around the world, while concealing its true meaning from the masses. The purported purpose of the deception was to protect this ruling elite from the deleterious effects of bedbug attacks, while keeping the general populace itchy, scratchy, sleepy, dopey and docile. For centuries, according to a paper recently published in American Adagology, “this Secret Order of Bugnoscenti has ruled over an obedient, phlebotomized population of insanguinary indolents, toiling zombie-like in the stinking moneypits for their pitiless puppetmasters.”

I don’t know, I think they’re being a bit paranoid, or maybe they’ve been hitting “the key” a little heavy, if you know what I mean. But even if such things were going on during the middle, old, bronze, or dark ages, nothing like that could happen now. Could it? I mean, who would go to that much trouble to get a bunch of pasty-faced, bug-chewed zombie minions when they could just buy modern, high-tech zombie computers for like a nickel apiece, that’ll toil in the stinking moneypits 24/7 as long as they have an internet connection.

Anyway, the joke’s on them, cause what we now know that the ancient Bugnoscenti didn’t, is that sleep apnea has been linked to high blood pressure, a major fear factor for heart disease and stroke, so probably you’d be better off to just let the darn bedbugs bite you and drain off a little of that blood. And it might not hurt to reevaluate your plans for world domination, which sounds like it would be very stressful, and would pump your blood pressure up even higher, and before you know it you’d just pop like a big red balloon.

Or you might prefer to go with leeches, which are enjoying the renewed interest of the medical community these days, and are so much more fashionable than bedbugs. They come in a wide variety of sizes and colors, so there should be no problem in finding a leech suited to your individual needs and decor. Medical-grade leeches have a low incidence of sexual side effects, as long as they are removed before the initiation of intercourse. So ask your doctor if leeches are right for you. Who knows, it may turn out that the bedbugs were right for you all along. Wouldn’t that be something, after all the trouble I’ve gone to?

Wow, we’ve really learned a lot here today, haven’t we? The one thing I hope everyone will take away from this session is that sometimes those hoary old saws are replete with a profound and timeless wisdom, even if they sound dumb as hell. This same principle applies to my writing, by the way, so keep your eyes peeled and perhaps you’ll be the first to discover the deeper hidden meaning (cryptonificance) in what at first glance might appear to be a pithless parcel of persiflage. Sorry, there’s no prize, just the personal satisfaction of a job well done. Hey, that’s more than I get out of it.

Tiny little bugs are sucking the life out of our economy

Bed bugs threaten to put bite on U.S. hotel industry - May. 12, 2005
You know what they say, “Good night, sleep tight, and don’t let the bedbugs bite.” But do you know why they say it? Me neither.

This is another one of those sayings that doesn’t really make a lot of sense when you analyze it… so it’s probably best to not analyze it. Wow, I just realized that right this second as I was typing. I was about to analyze the hell out of the thing, but what’s the point? I’d launch into some long, tiresome tirade, and most people would stop reading right about now, and those who didn’t would not be uplifted in any way by my nit-picking and negativity. This saying has probably brought great comfort over the years to a lot of people who have not analyzed it. I don’t know about you, but I no longer intend to embrace negativity, and I’m seriously considering giving up nit-picking as well. I don’t know about you, but I want to be part of the solution, not part of the problem.

Coming soon--another little round robot!

iRobot - Robots for the Real World : Scooba Landing
Another milestone on my personal journey to total sloth. I already own and enjoy the Roombafloor vacuum and automated cat chaser, but sometimes someone has to mop, and sometimes that someone has to be me. It's quite distasteful, so I am happy to see that iRobot will soon be making a robot floor mopper named Scooba. I'm hoping that next year they'll come out with the Grand Pooba toilet cleaning robot. I don't know about you, but when I was much younger I used to dream of using an army of robots to control the universe. That seems increasingly unlikely, so my new dream is to use an army of robots to control just the living room, kitchen and one bathroom. I think that might be doable.