When is too much fun too much?

Sat Mar 29, 11:18 AM ET
MUNCIE, Ind. - William M. Bowen woke up after a night of drinking with friends and realized he was inside a commercial trash-collection truck full of waste. The driver had just emptied a commercial trash bin into his truck and was about to activate its compactor when he heard Bowen screaming.
"He looked up and this gentleman was standing out the top of our truck," said Larry Green, market safety supervisor for the Rumpke waste disposal company. Green said the only thing Bowen said to the driver was that he was cold.
"This gentleman was extremely intoxicated," he said.

It’s clearly Spring. I see little dirt piles everywhere indicating that the worms are turning. I see ants in the house. I hear birds chirping in the morning. In a short time the Island will be green.

I’ve also noticed that summer people are starting to trickle in already! As a public service to our summer residents who come here to relax and enjoy themselves, I thought I might review a few indicators that you have overdone the whole, “What the hell, I’m on vacation,” theme.

If you wake after an evening of reveling and find yourself face up on the golf course with a tee in your mouth, and a golf ball on the tee, and someone is about to tee off from your head, you had too much fun the night before.

If you find yourself tied to the railing on the ferry with a multitude of ferry tickets taped to you because you passed out on the deck and have been riding the ferry all night, you’ve been having too much fun. But at least you know you were polite to the ferrymen because they tie the rude people to the outside of the railing.

If you wake to find yourself floating on the raft behind The Dory wearing only your underwear and the Christmas tree lights, you’ve had too much fun and probably made the cover of The Reporter.

If you wake to find ten fire department guys thirty feet below you, looking up at you and shouting, “Don’t move! You’re caught on the windmill! Wait for the cherry picker!” You’ve had too much fun.

If you wake to find yourself in a huge nest made of rough sticks and you see egg yolk on your pants, and a very large bird is looking at you as if it’s deciding which of your eyes to pluck out, you’ve had way too much fun and hopefully, you have a cell phone handy.

If you wake to find yourself on the little kids playground and you have been sick all over the seats of the toys, and you are surrounded by angry mothers who are looking at you as if trying to decide which of your eyes to pluck out, you’ve had way too much fun and a cell phone won’t help you. However, if you can summon any of your sprinting skills from high school, this would be a good time to engage them.

If you wake to find yourself in the girls locker room, dressed in a cheerleader outfit, and you are neither a girl nor a cheerleader, you have had way too much fun and you also have evil friends.

If you wake to find yourself with one arm around a huge coffeepot and a big coffee mess all around you and several half asleep workmen surrounding you with a look of “Give me coffee or I’ll kill you” look in their eyes, you have breached the Holy Coffee Grail at Pat and Steve’s. Step awake from the coffee pot, don’t make any sudden moves. Any amount of fun you had the night before will be canceled out soon by the beating you are about to receive if the coffee doesn’t flow.

If you wake to find yourself in the cabin of a beautiful boat, and you come up on deck to a sunny morning with no land in sight, just the sparkling water surrounding you, and no one else is on the boat, and you don’t own a boat, not only did you have too much fun, but somewhere there is a group of stranded people. Go back in the cabin and look for the ship to shore radio and a bottle of tequila. Hit the May Day button, take the tequila up on deck and get hammered because you’re going away for a long time. On Shelter Island, the rule is one year in jail for every ten feet of boat. If you’re on a 25 footer, that’s two and a half years.

Have fun, but not too much fun!

All Natural Flight...

Fly naked on nudist holiday flight
Tue. Jan 29, 9:13 AM ET
German nudists will be able to start their holidays early by stripping off on the plane. OssiUrlaub.de, said it would start taking bookings for nudist day trips from the eastern German town of Erfurt to the popular Baltic Sea resort of Usedom.
“The passengers will have to remain clothed until they board, and dress before disembarking,” said Enrico Hess, booking agent. “The crew will remain clothed throughout the flight for safety reasons.....I wish I could say we thought of it ourselves but the idea came from a customer," Hess told Reuters by phone. "It's an unusual gap in the market." Naturism, or "free body culture" (FKK) is well known in Germany. "There are FKK hotels, restaurants, shops naked, for example," Hess said. "For FKK fans, it's nothing unusual..... We're a perfectly normal holiday company."

“Sally, this is so great. How did you book a flight so late?”
“Pure dumb luck Patty! There were 17 vacancies on this plane - all the other flights were sold out! I don’t know why they had so many vacancies, but I checked it out, it’s a reputable airline. They’re just making one stop en route to Lucerne at a place called Erfurt.”
“Fantastic!”
“The booking agent said everyone will be flying natural, he wanted to know if we’d have a problem with that.”
“A problem traveling natural? No make-up and sweat clothes? Sounds like heaven to me.”
“Me too, Patty. I hate putting on makeup when I travel. It always smudges and crumbles and I look like a raccoon by the end of the trip.”
“I’m going braless.”
“Whoa Patty! Living on the edge now!”

(one hour later)
“Nice smooth takeoff. Everybody is socializing. What a friendly group, Sally!”
“They sure are. Looks like a club.
“Oh my gawd! Sally! That guys is.. is he? He’s stripping! Call the attendant!”
“I’m hitting the button now! There’s another one - that big guy - and his wife?!?”
“Hello, I’m Helga, how can I help you?”
“Hi, look Helga... all these people are taking off their clothes!”
“Ya, it is a natural flight. Ver you not toldt?”
“We were told it was a natural flight, yes, but we thought that meant you could dress casually.”
“Vell, it means you don’t have to dress at all. Have a nice flight.”
“Oh Patty... I think we’re going to be the only ones with clothes on. What are we going to do?”
“I’m calling Helga back.”
“She can’t help she said.”
“She can bring vodka!”
“Look, that woman’s had three c-sections. Poor thing! Look at all the open heart surgery scars, Patty.”
“These are not ‘le bode beautiful’, none of them.... I can’t believe all the hairy backs and butts, Helga better leave me the whole bottle.”
“Boy, Patty, you sure can spot the implants.”
“I don’t want to spot anything. I’m not even going to be able to hold down my lunch!”
”Patty, one of them is coming this way, a man. Oh geez....”
“Hello, I speak english, I am Karl. Are you ladies joining us today?”
“No, we’re just on our way to Lucerne.”
“Vell, it’s very nice to go natural. You might like it. Ve’ll be together for four hours you know. You have nothing to be ashamed of. Ve are all born naked. It’s just brainvashing that ve need clothes. Look at me.”
“Oh, that’s okay, Karl, we’d rather not. You’re so, so... so close.”
“You can’t tell if I’m a bum or a corporate lawyer. All the lies are gone.”
”You’re right Karl, clothes make us lie. I guess you can tell from my attire that I’m a three time Karate champion.”
“I make you nervous. I understand. I’ll leave. I’ll send you a gift, just to be a friend.”
“That’s not necessary, thank you just the same.”

(Karl leaves and shortly returns)
“A whole bottle of blue label Stoly... this is the good stuff, Sal. You should have some.”
“I don’t think I should. I joke about drinking, but you know I don’t drink.”
“This is a good time to start.”

(one hour later)
“Sally! SALLY! No more Stoly! Where are your clothes? You have to get dressed before we descend! NO! I don’t want to learn any german drinking songs with you! Karl - stop encouraging her! Now see that? They’ve called the pilot to come here and settle you down. You be nice. He said, sit down - he’s not going to let you fly the plane naked. C’mon Sal, sit down. I’m covering you with this blanket Good girl, you just sit there and sing.”

(the next day)
“..so I did my best to find something to dress you in, Sally, and here we are in our nice little hotel.”
“I’m so sorry, Patty. I don’t remember a thing.”
”I know.”
“Are you going to tell me why I have a heart tattoo on my boob with the name Karl in it?”
“No, not today. Maybe tomorrow, after I explain the tattoo of the Stoly bottle on your rump.”

No More Money for the Whore

Now Being Served: Client No. 9

I genuinely pity Eliot Spitzer, seen above telling the public that the distance between his fingers is actually eight inches (how many women have heard that before!). He went to Harvard and Princeton, married well, three lovely daughters, worked his way up to govenorship of New York State. At only 48 years old, if he did a good job in NY, he might have been chosen as a VP on the Dem ticket in 2012, from there, the Presidency. Yes, it was all going so well. But power corrupts. I could almost nominate him for a Darwin Award for being phenomenally stupid. Talk about shooting yourself in the foot, okay, maybe a little higher, but he essentially ended his life. He lost his job, position, will probably, and deservedly, be disbarred. His wife, I’m betting, will divorce him as more revelations surface about how long he used professional services. And his teenaged daughters, who have now seen their mother weep bitter tears, won’t ever feel the same about him again. And you can bet that as adult women, they will have major trust issues with men. Eliot probably thinks he’s the only victim here. Will he ever understand how it hurts his wife when he chases young babes, while she allowed three pregnancies to ruin her body? Mrs. Spitzer, such a trained political wife, stood neatly dressed behind him, as he carved her heart out with a spoon. I hope she cleans him out. She deserves the best possible life she can get hold of now. God Bless her.

It’s a good thing Eliot wasn’t a Shelter Island man. Most of the gals on the Island would not have stood quietly behind their cheating husband while he announced how penitent he was. I’ve taken an informal survey and I’d like to advise any men in Shelter Island politics, not to expect their wives to stand behind them in their moment of betrayal, they have different ideas for atonement. An Island woman would have beaten Eliot to death with one of the folding chairs from the front row.

Now, with horror, Mrs. Spitzer and the country get to watch the whore rake in the profits with centerfold spreads from stroke magazines and TV interviews, and movies of the week.

When did shame go out of style? As a parent, I made certain my children understood that there are behaviors that are shameful and your should feel guilty and remorseful. Society uses guilt and shame to curb aberrant behavior - but apparently ban is lifted if you make a lot of money doing it, or if it involves someone famous.

“Hi Mary, you busy tonight?”
“Hi Sally, no, what’s up?”
“I’m short for the rent money, I thought could service some guys at the bar.”
“Sally! That’s horrible! You’re kidding right?”
“No, no, you don’t understand, the guy at the bar I’m targeting is in the Suffolk County Legislature. He’ll pay me not to publish the pictures. I’m bringing whip cream and a chicken, the kinky stuff really brings in the bucks.”
“What pictures?”
“The ones you’ll be taking.”
“That’s prostitution and blackmail!”
“No, no, it’s a public service, we’re exposing a county official for the two timing lying cheat that he is.”
”Wait, that’s still wrong. I can’t be part of that.”
“Yea, but we’ll get about $5000 from him for the pictures and the newspapers will give us even more.”
“But if we sell the pictures to him, we can’t double cross him and sell them to the newspapers. He’s a county executive, he’s a powerful guy.”
“Please, he’ll resign ten minutes after pictures come out, no threat there. I think I should get my hair done for the TV interviews. They pay like $50,000 each. You and Don can get the new boat.”
”$50,000? Boy that’s tempting. But I’ll be selling out my integrity. Everyone will be talking about me.”
”Well that’s the nice thing about owning a boat, you can’t hear people talking about you over the roar of the engine and the clinking ice in your glass.”
“Hang on, Don just woke up. Let me put him on the phone with you.”
“Okay.”
5 minutes later....
“Hi Sal, so what did Don say? It’s a bad idea right?”
“Nope. He said he’s going upstairs to get the better camera for you to bring. He wants a double outboard.”

Overreaction to Children???

“What we have here, is a failure to communicate,” from Cool Hand Luke.


German puts out cigarette with fire extinguisher Tue. Feb. 19, 2008

BERLIN (Reuters) - A virulent anti-smoker in Germany was so angry when his girlfriend lit up he emptied a fire extinguisher to put out the cigarette, caking her and their apartment in powder.
After the woman ignored his request not to smoke, the 42-year-old sprayed the contents of the extinguisher all around the flat shouting abuse, police said.
"He said he wasn't bothered by the damage it caused," the spokesman said. "And that he's through with his girlfriend."

Yes, those reformed smokers can certainly be emphatic. But haven’t we all had moments when we overreacted to something? Or is it just me?

In a police station fifteen years ago:
“Now Ms Flynn, I know you don’t think you did anything wrong, but driving a Bobcat through the sliding glass door and scooping up your children's toys and then driving and dumping them in a landfill is a little extreme, don’t you think?”
“You don’t know these kids, Officer. I swear they are the spawn of Satan! I can’t keep up with them! One is three the other is two, together, they have the combined destructive power of a Category Five Tormado.”
“You mean tornado.”
“No, I mean tormado, that’s what my daughter, the evil one, calls it. They call down the powers of hell and in the three minutes it takes me to run to the bathroom and back, they have gotten toys I have never seen and filled in the remaining spaces on the rug, trapped the cat in the dishwasher, kneecapped the mailman with a wooden spoon and ground up my glasses in the sink disposal. I think they communicate telepathically with other children and systematically select one mother at a time to drive insane. It’s their goal to take over the world. I think Mr. Rogers is their ring leader. I think he sends them messages through the TV.”
“Now, Ms Flynn. Stop and think how that sounds.”
“You’re right. Mr. Rogers couldn’t do it alone. The Teletubbies must be in on it too. It’s that Tinky Winky...or maybe Po, no Po isn’t bright enough, definitely Tinky Winky.”
“You know what you need? You need to take some time off during the day, treat yourself a little, give yourself a break.”
“Right, and whose gonna watch the twin pillars of peril?”
”How about your husband? Won’t he watch them awhile?”
“Not in this life.”
“Maybe you should get a little medication, to lower your stress level. Get some valium from your doctor.”
“Now there’s a idea I can use! Valium, better living through chemistry, why didn’t I think of that?”

Two weeks later, in the same police station:
“Ms Flynn, we’re all real glad that you’ve stopped using construction equipment as a means of housekeeping and child rearing.”
“Yes, things are so much better now.”
“Can you tell me why your children just sit on the couch now? They don’t even watch TV, they just stare into space.”
“I move them every hour.”
”Yes, I’m sure you do. But why are they so floppy and why do they need to be positioned on the couch?”
“It’s your plan, it’s working extremely well, I’m very happy.”
“My plan?”
“You suggested I go a see a doctor and get some meds to help me deal with the stress of raising two children under five.”
“And you did that?”
“Yes. I’ve been giving the kids regular doses and everything is just wonderful, there’s no fighting, no destruction, no screaming, nothing. It’s perfect. I get up in the morning, water the plants, position the children, then I might bake something, or watch Oprah. I can’t thank you enough for your advice.”
“Actually, I meant that you should take the medication.”
“They didn’t have enough control before? You want ME to medicate MYSELF and give them all the strategic advantages in this parenting war? I think not.”
“It’s called child abuse.”
NO - it’s called self defense!”
“Give me the medication, Ms. Flynn.”
“Here’s my purse, get it yourself.”
“What the hell is in this bag? Everything is sticky and damp!”
”My kids poured maple syrup in my bag before I put them on meds.”
“I see. You know, perhaps I’ve been a little hasty.”