Tag: satire

No pumpkin-carving experience is complete without a near-fatal knife wound

image Carving a jack-o-lantern used to require little more than a pumpkin, an oversized kitchen knife, and a tourniquet. It was a simple matter of plunging a 10-inch French knife into the gourd of your choice and creating a triangle-eyed, square-toothed masterpiece of horror. In those days, the trickiest thing about making your jack-o-lantern was deciding on how to light the candle.

Option one: Light candle, then attempt to lower it into the pumpkin without catching your sleeve on fire.

Option two: Put the candle inside the pumpkin first, then attempt to light it without catching your sleeve on fire.

Option three: Accept the inevitable and just light your sleeve on fire, then go find a candle.

After a quick trip to the emergency room for stitches and some light skin grafting, you could return home and set your jack-o-lantern on the porch, where it would remain until gravity and molecular breakdown eventually caused it to collapse in on itself like the birth of a new star — appropriately enough, usually around Christmas time. Continue reading No pumpkin-carving experience is complete without a near-fatal knife wound

Getting to the bottom of another random moment from The Box

After getting the blindfold on Tippy the wild squirrel last week, I've decided it's just easier to leave it on.
After getting the blindfold on Tippy the wild squirrel last week, I’ve decided it’s just easier to leave it on.
RELEASE THE SQUIRREL!
That’s right! It’s Tuesday, which means it’s not only a deadline day here in our newsroom, but also the day I quietly dump the contents of The Box — a collection of unclaimed photos dating back to the 1980s — onto the floor and randomly pick an image with the help of a wild, blindfolded squirrel. The photo closest to the person in the room who screams or gets bitten (quite possibly both) first is chosen! Given that last week was our first edition of this exciting new feature, I still maintained the element of surprise this morning, thanks to my stealthiness and what a fellow journalist called my, “gall to pull the same stunt that sent an intern screaming all the way to her guidance councilor.”

“HEY!” I offered in my defense, then drew a blank.

Which brings us to this week’s randomly selected photo from The Box… Continue reading Getting to the bottom of another random moment from The Box

Study reveals male-pattern baldness doesn’t include ears

(Welcome to this week’s edition of Flashback Sunday, which is when we travel back in time to when my only followers were agents from Homeland Security, thanks to my calling Alabama fireworks “the backbone to our nation’s first strike capabilities.” This week’s flashback is an important reminder to all men that a well-laid comb over will go completely unnoticed if it must compete with ear hair that resembles a family of chinchillas…)

If you are a male over 40, chances are your ear hair has grown 2 centimeters since you read this.
If you are a male over 40, chances are your ear hair has grown 2 centimeters since you read this.
What I’m about to tell you may be considered vain. On the other hand, it could also be considered a responsible act of brushfire prevention. I’m talking, of course, about excessive ear and nose hair. I bring this up because of a recent conversation I had with someone who wanted to express his opinion on…

Something.

To be honest, I can’t remember what it was because I couldn’t overlook the fact that he appeared to have a chinchilla stuck in each ear.

I tried to be a good listener.

Tried to look reflective.

At least until I realized saliva had pooled in my open mouth.

As you might expect, this person was a male over the age of 40, which seems to be about the time follicles in men’s ears and noses begin producing hair at an alarming rate. I say alarming because I’ve heard of men purposely growing enough ear and nose hair to make a comb over. Continue reading Study reveals male-pattern baldness doesn’t include ears

To be heard above the crowd, a writer needs to establish their voice

Typewriter at mic It’s time once again for my weekly Nickel’s Worth on Writing, when I utilize my 15 years as a columnist to offer writing wisdom some of today’s most successful authors have called “Full of…words,” “Utterly…complete,” and “Total…advice…”

Or as Stephen King described, “The place I go to scare myself.”

But enough accolades already!

For only the second time in NWOW history, this week’s offering is a re-post. The reason has nothing to do with laziness or lack of inspiration, and everything to do with answering a question that many new followers have been asking since last week’s Nickel’s Worth on Writing:

Have you ever considered plumbing as an occupation?

As I consider that suggestion, I thought I’d answer the second most frequently asked question since last week’s NWOW post, which was:

You have a unique writing style. How do I avoid it?

So let us begin… Continue reading To be heard above the crowd, a writer needs to establish their voice

Now that I’ve tackled my freezer, I’m ready for Mt. Everest

image You may find it hard to believe, but I’ve come close to losing my life 23 times in avalanches. Each incident was absolutely terrifying. Each incident had me wondering if I’d be found in time.

And each incident occurred while standing in front of the refrigerator when the freezer door fell open.

The last time was less than a week ago, while I was looking for my water bottle. One minute, I was poised in the soft glow of the refrigerator light satisfying my thirst; the next minute I was buried beneath chicken drumsticks, hamburger patties, fruit-flavored Popsicles, and a frozen Tofurkey left over from our healthy food kick back in the late 1990s. Continue reading Now that I’ve tackled my freezer, I’m ready for Mt. Everest

Another random moment from “The Box” of unclaimed photos

The Box: home to old, unidentified photos that have remained unclaimed. Probably for good reason.
The Box, home to old, unidentified photos that have remained unclaimed. Probably for good reason.
Last week, we said goodbye to our weekly feature The Door (of Shame, Blame and Brilliance) and introduced The Box: a collection of odd, unidentified photos which — just like many items in our break room refrigerator — have remained unclaimed for 10 years or more. Each week, I will utilize my journalistic training, combined with the full extent of our 1980s computer technology, to explain the circumstance surrounding a randomly chosen photo from The Box. This random selection process is achieved by me quietly dumping the photos onto the floor and then, just as quietly, releasing a wild, blindfolded squirrel into the newsroom. The photo nearest the first reporter to scream is the winner!

I have to say, the selection process went extremely well for this first edition of The Box.

(In an entirely unrelated matter, if anyone is interested we are seeking a new intern.)

Now, let’s get to this week’s photo… Continue reading Another random moment from “The Box” of unclaimed photos

Investigating the latest crisis: Flamin’ Hot Cheeto addiction

(It’s Sunday! That one day each week we allow ourselves a lazy start to the day by laying in bed a little longer! Sundays are also reserved for Flashbacks here at Ned’s Blog, which is my way of being lazy by running a post from the distant past. So in a way, we’re laying in bed together!

*awkward silence*

OK, well… I really need to go brush my teeth…)

I thought I was nearly undetectable in my “school teacher” disguise; obviously, I was wrong.
Being a journalist can be dangerous. Especially when it involves middle schoolers and their snack food. I knew this when I approached my editor, who can also be dangerous, particularly when her candy drawer is found empty, even though she keeps it locked with a key hidden in a folder labeled Extra Work for Reporters.

In spite of this danger, I asked if I could go undercover to investigate what Fox News reported as “a growing crisis in schools across the country — and we’re pretty sure that country is somewhere in the U.S.”

What I’m talking about, of course, is the growing crisis of “Flamin’ Hot Cheetos” addiction.

According to an article in the Chicago Tribune, a teacher in New Mexico wants to ban Flamin’ Hot Cheetos from school due to the snack’s complete lack of nutritional value and its addictive nature.

“But Twinkies are fine,” she added. Continue reading Investigating the latest crisis: Flamin’ Hot Cheeto addiction

Writers who don’t talk to themselves scare me

image Welcome to this week’s edition of Ned’s Nickel’s Worth on Writing, where some of today’s most prolific writers come to acquire the kind of wisdom Tom Clancy has called “…an example of complexity and insightfulness I generally delete from my first drafts.”

Or as Hunger Games author Suzanne Collins raved, “My measuring stick when it comes to font size.”

But enough accolades already!

Whether you’re a novelist, columnist, poet or Subway sandwich artist, talking to yourself during the creative process is important. Admittedly, I can only speak with some authority on the first three; that last example is mostly an observation based on the two Subways in our area. Regardless, at the risk of sounding politically incorrect, I think every good writer needs a certain level of multiple personality disorder with a dash of schizophrenia. That’s because, as a writer, you need to have the ability to do more than simply observe and notate things about people and situations; you have to be able to inhabit them in the same way that, say… Justin Beiber inhabits his role as a skinny caucasian gangster.

Except unlike Justin Beiber, you must be believable. Continue reading Writers who don’t talk to themselves scare me

It’s time to close… The Door. So let’s open… The Box!

The Door, a sentinel of journalistic milestones and witness to the occasional kidney stone, is closed pending any new developments, i.e. screw-ups..
The Door, a sentinel of journalistic milestones and witness to the occasional kidney stone, is closed pending any new developments, i.e. screw-ups..
It’s been almost a year since I opened The Door (of Shame, Blame and Brilliance) in our newsroom to readers, and together we have shared 38 pieces of newspaper faux pas that Siuslaw News reporters have pasted, taped and otherwise adhered to The Door by any means possible since the 1970s. In that time, we have witnessed inventive photo cutlines such as “Shoppers shopping at shops” and entirely too many references to “probes and probing.” We’ve been informed of the obvious, such as how “wearing more clothing can help keep you warmer,” and how easily one wrong letter can lead to senior citizens “crapping themselves in a blanket.”

It’s no wonder The Door has become a journalistic Mecca, capturing the attention of well-known reporters like Barbara Walters (“The Door offers a pureness to journalism I haven’t seen since Anderson Cooper’s booty”), Morley Safer (“Do people still use ditto machines?”), Keith Morrison (“No one knows what seeeeecrets hide behind The Dooooor, especially if someone has flushhhhed”), Geraldo Rivera (“My sources have confirmed Al Capone once used The Door.”), and Anderson Cooper (“Unless it’s a closet door, I’m not interested — and can someone please tell Barbara Walters to stop looking at my butt?”) Continue reading It’s time to close… The Door. So let’s open… The Box!

Consumer warning: Beware of dangerous superheated pickles

image (It’s Flashback Sunday — but DON’T PANIC! Just because this post isn’t even remotely familiar is no indication you are experiencing the beginning signs of dementia! Actually, the fact that you read this blog at all is probably the best indication. Regardless, posts for Flashback Sunday are chosen because they 1) Have appeared as a newspaper column but not on my blog, or 2) were posted here long ago, back when all of my followers could fit into a two-door Mini Cooper — and did, often for no apparent reason…)

It wasn’t long ago that I found myself driving down the road with an 800-degree onion ring searing my flesh. I had just left a Burger King drive-through and, after exchanging pleasantries at the window and maintaining my composure long enough to exit the parking lot, pounced on my combo meal sack like a hyena at a gazelle feed — laughing and eating, laughing and eating. Continue reading Consumer warning: Beware of dangerous superheated pickles