Swine Flu: Run for your life!

OMG! It's the swine flu! I'm so scared. I mean I spend most of my time in Mexico rolling around in the mud with pigs and cutting deals with rural pig farmers. It's almost as bad as the West Nile virus that killed hundreds of crows across the US. But it's not quite as bad as the avian flu that killed many Chinese chickens and caused thousands to be slaughtered by the government in the worst chicken holocaust since KFC was founded.

The authorities are cracking down.

But they're having some fun too.

The swine flu is worse than AIDS. At least people got AIDS from monkeys. I mean, I know it's an ethical question that no one wants to talk about, but is it better to touch monkeys or pigs? Perhaps Michael Jackson has an answer. I like monkeys better, but that's just a personal preference. There are a lot of sick pig obsessed whack jobs out there.

I know what you're going to say. "But these people didn't get it from getting jiggy with pigs. Pigs are just genetically similar to humans and so the disease was easily communicable." I'm not buying it. Sounds like something a pig lover would say.

My Run-In with the Law

Turns out yesterday this blog was on crack. Not too uncommon on April fool's day I suppose. There were a lot of new readers. Well, I still have 996 facebook friends so no one made any money. Sorry (But not really, so I retract that apology). However, I would like to tell you that Wells County Nevada will soon be a little richer on my account. I'm not going to elaborate. I'm just going to say I am not a fan of pigs.

Let me tell you a story. This happened a little more than 3 years ago. It might sound like fiction, but I assure you, it is most unfortunately not.

I had a bad week. That's putting it lightly. I had broken off an engagement, tried to get my money back with the ring (successfully, but not without stepping on some toes), got a concussion iceskating, and was accused of stalking by mall security because I was in and out of the jewelry store so much. So I had it with Provo. On Sunday I just got in my car after church and started driving south. After I made it to about Cedar City I called my grandmother in Pasadena and said, "I just need to get out of here to cool off. Can I stay with you for the week?" Thankfully she obliged. We went to the Huntington Gardens, talked politics, strolled around the beautiful suburban LA scene, and had a jolly time. It was a much needed break.

But I was not that far away from Murphy's law and the age old adage that says, "When it rains it pours." I couldn't just cover up all my baggage with a brief SoCal vacation. 

Play ominous music here.

So I decided to take highway 50 across Nevada to get back home. For the record, most of northern Nevada is open, flat, lifeless desert. And, route 50 is probably one of the least traveled, most boring highways in America. So, I decided to make my trip as quick as possible (clearly a bad idea). I set the cruise control a 100mph. Well that was well and good until I saw the unmistakable outline of a cop cruiser coming towards me from the other direction. I knew it was going to turn around and follow me, but by the time he turned his lights on in pursuit he was about 2 miles behind me given my velocity. So, I reasoned with myself that he was probably chasing a jackrabbit or someone else, or that he'd stop after he realized how far behind he was. Bad move. All the while I was listening to Dishwalla (the Opaline CD on my iPod-product placement plug in the story). Well, after about 20 minutes I decided I'd humor him and pull over.

Pulling over was the right thing to do, but my next move was stupid. Not thinking very clearly I got out of the car. At the time I was wearing khaki pants, a black polo shirt and was barefoot. So immediately the cop is thinking, "DRUG LORD!" And the first things that came out of his mouth weren't pretty. They were along the lines of "F- you, I'm gonna shoot you! You f-ing stupid bleep! I hate your grandma and the jews! Blah blah blah, ethnic slur... you gypped me, yada, yada" It was the typical brash cop intimidation tactics. But I was pretty stoic and unphased, which probably pissed him off more. Then he said, "You put my your life and my life in danger," to which I thought, "No. You were the one who decided to chase me. You put your own life in danger. When you chase danger, danger gets you." But, fortunately for me I kept my mouth shut. Then another cruiser rolled up.

His partner tells me he was going to get a spike strip to stop me. Right. A honda civic with 218,000 miles on it, and a slightly refurbished engine going a touch over 100mph, and you were going to get a spike strip? So they cuffed me and threw me into the back of the cruiser. As I sat there they both had their guns still cocked and ready, pointing at the trunk of my car as if some little midget was in there ready to jump out with a Tommy gun when they opened it. Then they opened it and found my wetsuit and a scrabble board. Total shocker. The kid eagle scout and former LDS missionary who goes to BYU and just came back from visiting his grandmother doesn't have any drugs or fully armed midgets in his trunk. Just wetsuits and scrabble boards. Maybe they thought I stashed the drugs inside the little scrabble hourglass timer. Who knows.

So they took me down to the precinct and had my car towed. Once we got to the station he stopped lecturing me and took my finger prints and mug shot. Bail was set at 1264 dollars. He asked me if I wanted to pay it and leave or stay the night. So I stayed. But, before I could put on their oh so fine neon orange and white pinstripe jumpsuit I had to give them my clothes and shower. The shower was like a little squirt gun. The soap was as big as my fingernail. So I did the best I could as he watched. Then I got some cute matching neon orange boat shoes and dressed. It wasn't too bad. I could watch March Madness from just outside my cell in the common room, and was in there with only one other guy named Jimenez or something. Apparently he was drunk and had committed some domestic abuse. But, by law I was permitted two hot meals and a third one cold. Carl, a good inmate apparently, was the chef/cart pusher and he would bring the food and books. Things were looking on the up and up.

I managed to get a hold of a couple lawyers and friend and my dad and got the bail covered. But, before I left they had me arraigned. My ankles were shackled and my arms were cuffed as they put me in the back of a police SUV. Then they drove me one block over to the court house. After standing up and sitting down a couple times and getting handed a huge stack of paper with a line on the end with two boxes, one that said guilty, the other innocent, I checked the innocent box. Then they took me back to the jail, gave me my clothes and said I was free to go. But, I didn't have my car. So I asked, "Where is my car?" to which the lady at the desk said, "Oh, it was towed to Ely." Now I was in Eureka. I asked her how far away Ely was and she said an hour and a half east. So I then asked if I could get a ride over there to which she said, "Well if you wait 5-7 hours we could get one of the boys to take you after his shift or you could figure something out," to which I replied, "I'll just figure something out."

And I did. I went to the edge of town and hitchhiked with a rancher in a big truck. Little did he know I just got out of jail. He was nice enough and took me to Ely where he dropped me off at the first gas station per my request. Once I got into the gas station I asked the attendant for a phone book to look up the local tow places. She let me use the phone and I struck gold with the first number. I said:

"So I'm looking for my car."

"What's it look like?" he said, with a thick western drawl.

"It's a blue honda civic."

"97?"

"Yep."

"Well I jest got me one of them last night."

"Great. So where is your lot?"

"Where are you at? I kin come over and pick you up."

"Oh, the shell gas station."

How nice. Service with a smile and a pick up. I looked out the window and saw a beat up old white pickup truck and knew it was him. I hopped in and we started shooting the breeze. He was a nice guy, and took a liking to me. He said, "I like you so I'm only going to charge you 20 dollars for the lot fee. Usually it's 60." I was thinking, "Wow. Thanks. Maybe this won't turn out to be so expensive after all." Well that dream was shattered. When I came back to settle the bill he charged me 435 dollars and handed me the affidavit so I could make sure everything was still in the car. Turns out I was missing the most important thing. My wallet. I scrounged around but couldn't find it. So I paid him with my card number from memory. Then I asked him if I could use his phone. I knew where my wallet was. I called Eureka county jail and the desk lady answered the phone. I said, "Hey this is Michael....yes I was your guest last night...is my wallet there?" She said, "Sure is, I have it in a nice manilla envelope right here." Then I asked, "Is there any possibility someone might be able to bring it out to Ely," to which I got the pat reply, "Well maybe in the next 5-7 hours when someone gets off their shift." So I went back to the jail, driving without my wallet to get my wallet and get the heck out of Nevada. And I did. But only after having visited Eureka twice, Ely twice, and having paid to run the entire town of Eureka for a month. I later settled with the court and got the evading charge removed after a year of good behavior, but settled for the speeding charge. The lawyer cost me a grand. So the total cost of my indiscretion was about 3000 dollars. 

And that's the story of how I got thrown in jail. I wish it was an April fool's joke.

The Corn Dog Diet

Corn dogs: neither corn on the cob, nor a dog. Sure they contain corn, and hot dogs, but that just opens a whole new can of worms. Hot dogs aren't made from dogs either. In fact they're made from excess pig parts that no one else wanted. So why not call a hot dog a "hot cylinder of pig entrails," and call a corn dog a "cylinder of pig entrails wrapped in processed corn bread." Mmmm. Just makes the mouth water. But, even knowing all that, and renaming it, people would still buy them. Why? Because they taste good. Sure, they might give you a coronary, but what doesn't these days? I mean you can have heart problems from eating hamburgers and french fries for crying out loud. You can become sterile from staring at a microwave, or get brain cancer from using your cell phone too much. So, why not indulge in a corn dog? Might as well.

I know I won't turn one down when I'm offered one. 

But, speaking of corn dogs, I have a friend who loves them. He in fact lives off of them. I'm not kidding. He eats a steady diet of corn dogs and soda. And yet, he manages to remain quite trim and full of vim and vigor. Some of you may envy him, and rightly so. He is a man of men. God of corn dogs. A brilliant anomaly showing just how good processed food and American consumerism can be to one person. This is why I suggest the corn dog diet. I do not suggest it for Jewish people, unless they can find corn dogs that are made of lamb, but for all the other heathens I whole-heartedly endorse it. This is how the corn dog diet looks each day of the week:

Breakfast:

Microwave 2 corn dogs

Remove ketchup bottle from refrigerator

Remove 2 liter bottle of root beer from refrigerator

Eat corn dogs with ketchup

Pour a glass of root beer

Refill glass as needed

Lunch

Microwave 3 corn dogs

Remove ketchup bottle from refrigerator

Remove 2 liter bottle of root beer or coke from refrigerator

Eat corn dogs with ketchup

Pour a glass or root beer or coke

Refill glass as needed

Dinner

Microwave as many corn dogs as you want

Remove ketchup bottle from refrigerator

Remove 2 liter bottle of Dr. Pepper from refrigerator

Eat corn dogs with ketchup

Pour a glass of Dr. Pepper

Refill glass as needed

Repeat Daily.

I hope I have not sent too many of you to your unwitting and unfortunate demise. Good luck.

Satire Report Blocked by the BYU Gestapo

Well well well. Turns out the Stasi/Gestapo BYU site blocking censors finally got me. It's probably because all I put up is extremely offensive, full of swears, pornographic and just not aesthetically pleasing. Not enough fluffy bunnies and oatmeal raisin cookie recipes.

I feel honored to be blocked by BYU. I think it means I'm edgy. My content is crazy edgy. I'm sticking it to the man, not because I am trying to, but because the man believes I am. How cool is it to stick it to the man without trying? I would have to say, pretty cool.

This episode of censorship reminds me of a story of two of my friends in high school. I don't think it's fair to say we were good friends, because I for one, was entirely opposed to something they held dear. Censorship. They were two goody-two-shoes girls who loved reading. I asked them on one occasion what they thought of The Catcher in the Rye. The response I got was unexpected. "Oh, that book is terrible. Nothing but swearing and taking the Lord's name in vain. I crossed out all the bad parts though," one said. I figured that she owned the copy, but then the other had a sudden outburst, "Yeah, we check out a lot of books at the library, then we cross out the bad parts with permanent markers and turn them back in." Wow. I was shocked. It was one thing to edit something for yourself, but editing public property? Yikes. And they were dead serious.

So, ever since then I've been even more skeptical of censorship. It probably doesn't help that I also have read Fahrenheit 451, 1984, Animal Farm, and seen Equilibrium. But, at the same time, although BYU might like to think it's got some amazing system for burning books and blocking blogs, it doesn't come close. As it turns out, my blog wasn't targeted like I thought. BYU just blocked any external links on facebook. If you type my blog in your browser on campus, BYU permits it. So what it really comes down to isn't a competent diabolic censor trying to stifle free speech and kill my superhero creative juice, but just an inept system that blocks indiscriminately. I bet it would even block a link to a Helping Hands Service site that was linked to facebook. Oh silly BYU.

I will however, continue to promulgate the fact that I was blocked by BYU. I will wear it like a badge of courage. Maybe I'll even post in the corner somewhere, "This site was blocked by the BYU Gestapo." That would work better for me than a good Zagat's rating. But, on the other hand, people who see that might be disappointed when they see all of my kosher content. So, I'm going to have to post more pictures of cloven hoofed animals. Maybe I can get another little badge that says, "Content on this site not Kosher in any way, see look at all the pork products." 

PS - I'm sorry to my Jewish friends.

Here is an oatmeal raisin cookie recipe:

INGREDIENTS (Nutrition)

3/4 cup butter, softened
3/4 cup white sugar
3/4 cup packed light brown sugar
2 eggs
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 1/4 cups all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
3/4 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon salt
2 3/4 cups rolled oats
1 cup raisins

DIRECTIONS

Preheat oven to 375 degrees F (190 degrees C).

In large bowl, cream together butter, white sugar, and brown sugar until smooth. Beat in the eggs and vanilla until fluffy. Stir together flour, baking soda, cinnamon, and salt. Gradually beat into butter mixture. Stir in oats and raisins. Drop by teaspoonfuls onto ungreased cookie sheets.

Bake 8 to 10 minutes in the preheated oven, or until golden brown. Cool slightly, remove from sheet to wire rack. Cool completely.

And a picture of something fluffy:

Eating pigs cures cancer

I've always believed that pigs are magical. Scratch that. I've never believed that.

But they do have a special place by my heart. It's that place slightly below it that digests my food. I like to call it 'stomach.' Honey ham is delicious. Ham for the holidays. Mmmmm. But whether you like pigs in between two slices of bread, or whether you wish you had a little pig running around your house instead of a dog, pigs are great.

And, if their succulent meat and intelligence level (higher than both dogs and cats) were not enough, a new study came out shows that eating them cures cancer. That's right. Eating ham and cheese sandwiches, a bag of pork rinds, a platter of pork chops, or even chewing on your dog's pig ear chew toy will save you from cancer. Cancer that you probably already have from using a microwave. Cancer that you got from sunbathing too long. Cancer that you were born with (like when your favorite sibling called you a cancer).

At this point you're wondering, "What chemical agent is it in pigs that saves us from cancer?" My answer: All of them. You are just going to have to accept the fact that Brazilian cannibals were right. You become what you eat. They used to eat only the most valiant and ferocious warriors so they could take on their strength and ability. Well, with pigs it is no different. You eat them and you become delicious and intelligent. And, because pigs are generally cancer free, you also become cancer free.

Voila! Bon apetite! Pass the bacon.