The Tin Man Goes on a Killing Spree

Keeping up my fairy tale news stories with some dark humor...

Breaking news from the Emerald City today as Tin Woodman, also known as the "Tin Man," went on a killing spree, killing two adult Munchkins, three winged monkeys, a human girl and, we were told, her "little dog too," a Terrier named Toto. The teenage girl has been identified as Dorothy Gale, a Kansas native passing through following a freak tornado accident.

The incident happened on the famous Yellow Brick Road where detectives told us the gruesome scene turned the cobblestone pathway, "a sickening shade of orange." An arrest warrant had been issued days earlier for Dorothy, who allegedly landed her home on a woman from the East. One officer, who commented with a condition of anonymity, said, "The evidence against Ms. Gale was quite obvious. It's definitely her house."

Authorities are questioning Dorothy's other traveling companions, a local mentally handicapped man made of straw and a male lion described only as "cowardly." Neither were able to stop Woodman, but Oz authorities located the suspect several miles down the road, rusted to a stop, where he was disassembled. Gale's ruby slippers were reported missing.

One local villager, who stressed he "represents the Lollipop Guild," agreed to speak with us and said Woodman had been seen carrying an axe through Oz, which has been strictly forbidden by Wizard law since the early 1900s. The Tin Man's motives are unclear at this point, but an Oz spokesman said, "He's heartless."

Bears Separate After Burglary

The couple made famous after a home invasion by the blond-haired Goldilocks is separating. Mama Bear has filed for divorce from Papa Bear, citing "irreconcilable differences" and seeking custody of their child, Baby.

When reached for comment, Mama Bear said, "We just had nothing in common. He liked his porridge too hot. I liked it too cold. We've even been sleeping in separate beds for years." She continued, telling the Forest Report, "Our family never got over that horrible burglary. Papa refuses to fix the broken chair, and Baby hasn't spoken since he found a human in his bed. It's all very unbearable."

On the other side of the dispute, Papa responded simply by saying, "Yeah, we can talk. So what?"

Goldilocks is still at large.

I Want to Be a Hero

I know a lot of heroes end up being ordinary, humble people who are just doing something to help out their fellow man. Admirable, to say the least.

But that's not me.

I want (dare I say need) that moment where it's just me and death going head to head for the good of mankind.

As horrific as it might be, I want that chance where a stewardess yells, "Can someone fly this plane!" And I step up. I've got my plastic wings on the pilot gave me and 30 hours at a flight simulator. I'm landing this plane. It could be spiraling and I'd be at the helm, calming the tower down. "Listen, I got this."

I even pull the stewardess aside sometimes before we board. Just to let her know I'm available. Chances are they aren't going to need me, but you know, better safe than sorry. It's a good way to have a stranger sift through your underwear, but that's a sacrifice I'm willing to make.

Here's another thing I do to prepare: Eye of the Tiger. Everywhere I go I have that cued to the hook. Because when the adrenaline kicks in and it's go time, there's no better soundtrack for rescuing a cat from a tree.

I've even been playing a little of that Guitar Hero, just in case.

I won't ever wear a cape or a silly outfit. What I will borrow is the idea for the utility belt. That has to be handy. When the need arises: Tweezers, side pocket. Taser, other side pocket. Number 2 pencil, fanny pack.

While people are planning the perfect crime just for fun, I'm secretly planning the perfect rescue. Because I'd like to just materialize when help is needed, make the grab, and disappear. Like a phantom. The lucky recipient looks at me and says, "Thank you! You're a life saver!" I just shake my head and say, "No need to thank me. It's what I do." Then I'm gone. And bystanders are whispering to each other, "Who was that guy?"

It's not that I'm trying to be humble. I'm just trying to be a hero. It's what I do.

The Blackout of 2007

A few days ago the electricity went out in my apartment for a while and I was thrust into the Stone Age.

This is an account of the Blackout of 2007 that occurred in my apartment building recently.

1:04pm: The electricity shuts off. I immediately panic and run into a wall.

1:06pm: I try flicking the light switch up and down. Nothing happens.

1:09pm: I find a book to read, but it’s not the same without the mp3 narration. I get bored, but leave a bookmark on page 3.

1:15pm: I get the urge to churn butter. I lie down until the feeling passes.

1:17pm: I hear a bird chirp outside and get scared. I usually don’t hear them over the whir of information.

1:21pm: I start to wonder what will happen if the electricity never comes back. I go to the fridge to check for emergency provisions. Just beer and hot dogs. Then I notice the light didn’t come on when I opened the door and I start to weep.

1:22pm: I drink a beer.

1:23pm: I pretend to play XBOX for a while to a blank TV screen. I get a new high score, but my head hurts from all the imagination.

1:35pm: I go to the bathroom to get an Advil. I’m relieved the water still works. The terrorists must have missed that.

1:37pm: I play pick up sticks on the tile floor.

1:40pm: I start to construct a solar energy panel out of tin foil and some extension cords on the porch, but a neighbor looks at me funny. Maybe he wants to kill me and steal my batteries.

1:48pm: I light a candle.

1:49pm: I realize it’s still daylight out and I blow it out.

1:50pm: Without the distraction of TV and the internet, I meditate and discover the meaning of life.

1:55pm: I venture out of my apartment to see if I can find a generator. I see a sign that says, “In case of emergency, break glass.” I shatter it with my hand and grab the axe inside. Then I just carry it around for a while, to protect the neighborhood. The electric security fence is down. Anyone can get in. Even a T-Rex.

2:01pm: The blood loss from my hand is making me a little woozy, so I go back to my apartment and curl up in the fetal position.

2:04pm: Hooray! The lights are back on! Sweet sweet electricity! I'm saved! Bless you Thomas Edison!

2:05pm: I forget the meaning of life.

Ethnic Pride

There’s a weird thing is this country with ethnic pride. Most people seem to identify and relate to people based purely on their geographical background. Puerto Rican Day Parade. Black History Month. St. Patrick’s Day.

I’m German. I have nothing, nothing to be proud of. We started that one war... and then the second one… and the little mishap with the Jews. Plus I look ridiculous in lederhosen. The only thing Germans really get mentioned with anymore besides those two skirmishes is David Hasselhoff. And it’s true. Germans love him. That’s clearly the reason I watched Baywatch.

When the World Cup rolls around, I keep up with the progress of Germany, but I don’t actively root for them like I do for England, USA, and Trinidad and Tobago. And when that Olympic torch is lit, I'm careful to extend my indifference to all nations equally.

In fact, the only sport where I actively support a German is the World’s Strongest Man competition. Because there’s just nothing like seeing a giant minotaur named Franz drag a tank across the line to victory and let out a blitzkrieg of German gibberish.

The only words I know in German are pancake and donut, thanks to a friend of mine. And a few scattering words and phrases from the History Channel that would ruin any Hanukkah party.

Speaking of which, as far as I’m aware, I have no Jewish enemies. I’m a likeable guy, once you get to know me. And I’m willing to bet if Anne Frank knew me, she would like me too. She might even write a little passage about me in her diary.

It would start off pretty innocent, just a simple mention that she met me and thought I was cute. It happens. Then she would start to give in to my charm a little bit.

“Dear Diary,

I’ve been thinking about Jeff a lot lately. I don’t know what it is, because he’s kind of awkward and nerdy. And some of the stuff he says or writes is just plain wrong. But when we were playing hide and seek the other day, he showed me the best spot in the attic. He’s so sweet.”

What can I say, I’m likeable.
Well, maybe not after this…

Bone Thugs N Harmony

Warning: This Miscellaneous Thought will definitely offend you. I’m offended and I wrote it.

This past Sabbath there was a documentary on the Discovery channel called “The Lost Tomb of Jesus” associated with Academy Award Director James Cameron. James Cameron? What is he doing looking for Jesus? First, Harrison Ford as Indiana Jones was crusading for the Holy Grail. Then Tom Hanks and the DaVinci code were upsetting Christians with contradictions about the Bible. Now the "Titanic" guy is excavating Jesus bones? Can’t Hollywood Jews leave Jesus alone? Where is drunk Mel Gibson when you need him? And for Christ's (bones) sake, why James Cameron?

The documentary explained that archeologists had discovered the tomb of Jesus and his family. Yes, that Jesus. The one you’re thinking of, not the other one.

In the tomb, according to the TV special and reports, they found Jesus’s coffin and bones, as well as the remains of Mary Magdalene who is said to be his wife. One of the coffins even has “Judah, son of Jesus” written on it, which brings new meaning to the phrase ‘what would Jesus do?’” It’s ok Catholics, Jesus was having unprotected sex too.

The tombs inscriptions are written in Aramaic, but the tomb reads, “Yehuda bar Yeshua,” which roughly translates in English to “Judah son of Jesus.” All of these bones were reportedly dug up by a dog named Odysseus, which in English roughly translates to “Odie.”

As an atheist, the hardest part is interpreting the documentary. Parts of the documentary contradict itself, so sometimes I don’t know what to think. And the first and second halves of the episode seemed to paint the Jesus tomb in a different light. It’s hard to decide what to believe, especially since some of it could have been lost in translation all these years. There are even certain sects of atheism that believe in parts of the documentary, but not all of it. While the Purists believe the documentary is infallible. I’m so confused.

The problem most people are having is “how do you prove it’s Jesus?” Simple. DNA. Just like everything else. We’re in the process of identifying the father of Anna Nicole’s baby. Why not experimenting with Jesus bones? I’ve been told since Sunday school that we all hold a little piece of Jesus. I know I keep mine right here… in my heart. And you can’t see me, but I’m pointing to my heart. Where the Jesus DNA is.

And if they have Jesus DNA, what will keep them from cloning Jesus in the future? Maybe that will be the second coming everyone has been talking about. An army of Jesuses (Jesusi?) marching from the Vatican, turning water into wine and all that. And the Jesus clones will be pit against the robot army and there will be a battle of “biblical” proportions. The world will be forced to take sides as the Jesusi and the Robots clash in an apocalyptic war reminiscent of the movie "Terminator," which was directed by James Cameron. Oh, that’s how he’s connected…

OSHA

Today at work an OSHA sign almost fell on my head.

Robot Cars

Just think, in fifty years we won't even have to drive our own cars. Robots and machines will control vehicles and we'll just be the passengers. No more wrecks. No more crazy traffic. No more tickets. There won't even be a need for traffic cops.

There will still be police though. We have to have someone to quell the rising robot rebellion.

Eddie Murphy Continues to Be Unfunny

I don't mean to turn this into an Oscar blog or something, but I saw this and thought it was interesting.
Eddie Murphy Storms Out After Loss

Also, I wanted to point out I got 4/5 right on the Oscars. Not too shabby. Plus, I noted the Best Supporting Actor could have gone in any direction, so that clears up that little mistake. So really I was 100% correct, if you think about it.

I was always good at picking the winners though. 'Ole Lucky Leins they used to call me down at the race track. And they'd tussle my hair after a big win. Until I told them to bet it all on Barbaro in the 2006 Preakness. That damn horse hurt its leg. So they hurt my leg. And now I'll always walk with a limp.

Wait, what were we talking about?

Best Picture

The Queen – This movie was only nominated because Helen Mirren was just that good. A mere formality in the category (much like the monarchy) and I was about as interested as an American is in the British royal family. Though it wasn’t as painful to watch as the usual royal backdrop (see Marie Antoinette), The Queen served as just a medium for Mirren to “act a fool up in here.” You go girl. (I'm so white) She’ll win the Oscar, this movie will not. This spot should have been replaced by Little Children or Children of Men.

Letters from Iwo Jima – Haven’t seen it. I heard it better than its American sister Flags of Our Fathers and its Japanese brother Karate Kid Part II. I’ve heard it could sweep in and win it all though. “Sweep the leg, Johnny.”

Little Miss Sunshine – A cute little movie that is being dubbed “the little independent that could” since it continues to win accolades in the road to the Oscars. It is definitely a great movie for a comedy, but not the best comedy of the year which would go to Borat or Thank You for Smoking. Steve Carrell might be one of the funniest men in movies right now, but did a great job supporting a fantastic ensemble cast. Though I think it’s only being considered so funny because of the ending, which is like nominating 1993 masterpiece Airborne because the end rollerblading scene was totally rad. Which it was. Totally rad.

Babel – An awful meandering film with an unrealistic plot and very little character development. It’s a collection of stories that barely connect throughout the film. I liked it the first time when it was a good movie called Love Actually. Or Crash. Or twenty others just like it. Maybe if the writer had come up with an original concept and put the movie in the right order he might have been able to salvage a memorable movie. And I heard enough "babble" and "Babel" puns to last me until next year's Oscars lineup of hack talk show hosts. Babel and Joan Rivers are both awful.

The Departed – A gritty cat and mouse tale of rival undercover rats from both sides of Boston organized crime. The favorite for this year’s Oscar, The Departed is a thriller from beginning to the end, unlike Oscar rival The Queen, which is mostly boring from start to finish. There are few flaws throughout, but you only notice them if you’ve seen the original Infernal Affairs, an equally great film. And if you saw The Departed and didn’t like it, then I have one question for you. Why do you hate America? Because you’re a communist. So listen Red, this movie will win Best Picture.