Category Archives: Stupidity

Mushmouth, and the power of the mighty Internet

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Permit me to get a little geeky here for a minute, but for reasons known only to Google it seems that this blog, nay THIS VERY POST on this blog, has become THE go-to location for information on the Fat Albert and the Cosby Kids character known as Mushmouth.  I made a reference to this guy in a post about Nikki being cold all the time, and then went on a diversion about how the character that I always thought was Mushmouth was actually Dumb Donald (being the dude in the excellent toque with ocular orifices cut out).

Anyway, through the magic of page rank and the fact that there just aren’t many other blogs that have the electrons to spare where it comes to discussing these weighty matters, it seems that when you search for the rather recognizable word “Mushmouth” on Google, two of the first images that comes up are hosted right on this very blog.  I would love to say that this is the result of clever search engine geekery on my part, but actually it’s dumb (Donald) luck.

So what happens with this favourable ranking?  Well, people click on those pictures a lot, is what happens.  But how often do humans of the Earth (that are connected to the Internet) actually wonder enough about Mushmouth to Google for that word?  I can tell you:  a startling amount of times per day.  And some weeks, for whatever freakish reason, it goes absolutely bananas.  Here’s a little chart of the blog traffic from the first week in December.  Let’s see if you can tell when Mushmouth became a topic of interest for a short period…

Yes, Dec 4 was the most recent peak in Mushmouth’s popularity.  The VAST majority of the traffic around that day was Mushmouth traffic.  To give you an idea of the power of this one topic, if I ran ads on the blog, I might have earned ALMOST $1 that day.  Yer darn right, wow.  Still, that’s an incredible amount of traffic for this blog, and might I add quite likely the brightest that Mushmouth’s star has ever shone.  There’s no reason for me to share this with you, and you have likely gone off to some other shiny Internet thing by now, but one thing I have accomplished with this post?  Ever so slightly bumped my Google page rank for the word “Mushmouth”….

Tourists Get Fine, Count Blessings

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It seems that rangers at the Banff National Park recently had to fine a group of German tourists for bothering some of the wildlife.  It seems that they were chasing and yelling at a grizzly bear and her cubs.  Let’s process that for a minute.  A grizzly bear.  And her cubs.  Grizzly bears (who have one of the best latin names ever: Ursus arctos horribilis), on average clock in around 500 pounds, standing 3 meters if (gulp) necessary.  They are usually considered by smart folks to be actually the nth degree of grumpy on Vallentyne’s Cuddly <-> Grumpy scale of wild animals, registering a solid 100, which is actually the highest value.

For contrast’s sake for those of you not familiar with Vallentyne’s Cuddly <-> Grumpy (VC-G) continuum of wild animals, we have “shaved disillusioned lynx” at VC-G 87, “over-caffeinated porcupine” at around VC-G 75, “irritated house cat” at VC-G 64, “rabid squirrel” somewhere around VC-G 28, and “tranquilized baby bunnies” being at the start of the cuddly end at VC-G 0.

What I’m trying to get across here is: grizzly bear moms with their cubs are essentially the most dangerous thing you can find in the bush in Canada.

It is amazing that the park warden was able to actually fine the tourists, instead of needing a squeegee to gather their remains.

30 Grand(mother)

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Oh, if there’s one thing I love in this world, it’s people.  People are awesome.  They never cease to delight, disgust and amaze me.  For instance, this Florida grandmother, who decided that being a grandmother was a little too much work, and tried to sell her grandson.  Somebody talked, the police got involved, and they conducted a sting operation to catch her.  During the negotiation portion of the transaction, the undercover informant actually managed to haggle (HAGGLE!) the purchase price (OF A CHILD) down from $75000 to $30000.  Upon exchanging the money, the police swooped in and arrested the “grandmother”.

This story is noteworthy all by itself, but astute readers might wonder where the child’s mother (or father) might be during this activity.  It seems that the mother was already in jail (on charges of unrelated douchebaggery), and left her child in her mother’s care.  Dear old Granny.  The child is now in state custody, and hopefully will find a home somewhere that is a bit more stable REAL SOON NOW.

Cripes.

Yes these things do write themselves sometimes.

One Sick Monkey

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There’s a possibility that I am sick.

I never get sick.  It’s really rare, I’m pretty lucky that way.  It’s so rare that I think I miss the warning signs that other people might readily see as pending sickness.  If I saw them, I might take steps to avoid sickness, but instead I blunder headlong into sick like Lloyd on wet tile.  If only I had just slept a bit longer I might have avoided the whole thing.  Dang.

Anyway, I now will leave work during the middle of the day (gasp!) and sleep the sleep of the billing guilt (shock!).  That’s what you do when you don’t get paid sick days, every second of convalescence is spent measuring whether or not you are in fact well enough to get back to work and continue billing.  It doesn’t bother me that much, but mostly because I am never sick (remember?).  If this is a problem for you, I strongly advise against contracting as a form of employment.  The billing monkey never leaves, always watching, always screeching at you from the corner if you aren’t billing on a weekday.  Damn monkey.  He’s making me reconsider going home to sleep right now.  “If you can write that blog post, how sick can you really be?  You are able to just sit there and be sick and still bill, it’s not like you are a trapeze artist for Pete’s sake. Just tough it out for a few more hours to fill up your day and then go home and I will let you sleep in peace, really I will.”; quoth the monkey.  When monkeys speak, always use “quoth”.

Still trying to decide if the blasted monkey is right.  Maybe I should fling some poo at him sometime, instead of the other way around.  See how he likes it.

You guys can see the monkey, right?  Over there in the corner?  The one gibbering?  No, not that one, the other one.

Ah.

Right then, going home to sleep!

I was going to call it “The Chuck”, but I thought better of it…

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A short update today, just thought I would mention that I got a haircut.  While that seems a tad mundane (this is Mundane Ramblings people), I felt it deserved it’s own post.  I have previously been known to have been trapped on the inescapable slope of Hasselhoff when it comes to haircuts (a perilous and frictionless plane), but this time I didn’t go to my usual guy, and so instead of the ‘Hoff, I got “The Woolery”.  Yes, I left the salon looking like this guy:

I sauntered back to the office with many smarmy winks, snapping of fingers, and finger gun poses at everyone I saw.  Fortunately the whole cut didn’t take too long, since I just took two and two and I was right back ‘atcha…