Word-for-word, this was the phone message left on my answering machine. It was a gruff sounding voice, like a cross between a grizzly bear and someone who had lived in the South so long that their accent had fermented and taken on complex subtle hints of apple, walnuts, motor oil and dirt. This is what I heard: “Hello, my name is Calvin Johnson and I’ve been trying to reach Scott Thompson [my brother] for so damn long. He never answers the phone and I’m trying to reach him because I’ve got this vintage motorcycle. It’s still in its box. I think it’s a 1955 British some-kind-of-a-G*****n motorcycle. And I understand he’s interested and I want to get rid of it. I’m willing to give it away, but he never checks his phone, he never gets his messages. So I understand you’re his brother, so will you please tell him if he wants this motorcycle, it’s still in the box, it’s all shiny looking and it’s all new and it looks goooo-ddd. He can have it if he wants it, he just needs to come and get it! Tell him to give me a call. My number is [repeats my phone number] … No, that’s not it. That’s the number I just called. I’m a silly boy! The number is [gives a new number]. Get on that boy! Tell him to call me up. See ya, bye.” So I hear this — remember, think grizzly bear with a Southern accent, but […]

Oh, sweet, tooth-rotting pleasure. I can feel the tingle of decay from years past just thinking about Easter. And apparently for good reason. It’s all about the sweets, baby. According to the National Confectioners Association, Easter ranks second only to Halloween when it comes to sales of confections — also known as candy. This is the organization that runs a survey polling whether people would prefer a real or chocolate bunny on this holiday. (It found that 82 percent of those polled would rather have a chocolate or candy bunny instead of the fuzzy kind. But it begs the question: Did they explain that people wouldn’t have to eat the live bunny?) Anyway, can’t say that I’m stunned by Easter’s candy fix. It’s a sweet-tooth holiday. But a few other statistics I found from the group were astounding: 90 million chocolate bunnies are made for the holiday each year; 5 million marshmallow chicks and bunnies are produced each day while gearing up for Easter; and 16 billion jelly beans are brought into the world. Sixteen billion! That’s a lot of sugar. Why is Easter all about the sugar? I remember once as a kid getting a sugar egg — it was almost as large as a football and hollowed out inside. In there, if I recall correctly, there was a sugar bunny in what looked like swimsuit model pose. Not sure exactly where my grandparents got the questionable egg, but I do know it had only two ingredients: sugar and […]

I was frankly ashamed and embarrassed when I read the headline online: �Many Americans see little point to Web?� What is this country coming to? Did I really read that right? Are there people out there who just don�t care about the Internet? Can it be? Don�t they understand how important it is? How it�s changing our lives and making the world a better place? How else are you going to watch videos of guys jumping bikes off buildings or singing cats? Singing cats, people. Get with the program. Believe it or not, there are a lot of people out there who don�t use the Internet. It was a Reuters story that said �a little under one-third of U.S. households have no Internet access and do not plan to get it.� Pshaw! Of these millions � in fact 31 million rebel households � most just don�t see why they need it in their lives. Don�t see why they need it? Didn�t I just mention videos of singing cats? How about getting your identity stolen, contracting a computer virus or losing thousands of dollars in online poker or a Nigerian E-mail scam? You�re free to choose. You think you can get that through television or any other media source?

Is this the best you can do?” I shouted at the heavens while trudging across Fifth Avenue. The howling wind leaned against me like a brick wall toppling over, and the snow fall got thicker and thicker. “I can hack this, no problem. I’ve survived hurricanes!” And then the sleet started to fall. That’s when I curled up in a garbage can and convinced myself I was gonna die. I was in New York City last week for a conference on advising college newspapers. You have to try very hard, or literally be on fire, not to have a good time in New York, and even then it still would rank up there as moderately enjoyable. But sleet sure does test you. It was like someone firing BB pellets at me. Check that, it was like 13,000 people firing BB pellets at me. I’ve seen and been in my share of snow over the years, but this Florida boy has never in his life experienced sleet. It’s like a dump truck of gravel falling from the sky. The trip had begun with such wonderful weather. When I arrived, it was in the upper 60s and I went for a 5-mile jog in Central Park. Gorgeous. For a while I forgot I was even up north. I was quickly reminded, though, when as I was running around the reservoir and hit a cold pocket of air. Unusual, I thought, before glancing down at the water. “Odd muck,” I said to myself. […]

So, the race is on. It’s March, and time for the Jacksonville River Run, that 9.3-mile monster with a bridge on the tail end that will give you altitude sickness and make your calf muscles sue for divorce. The race is Saturday, and will attract literally thousands of runners like me who can’t understand that you don’t have to pay $30 to run 9 miles — you can do it at home for free! I’m excited and pumped up, though, and the truth is, I’m already racing. But it has nothing to do with my feet touching the pavement 10,000 or so times. Rather, this race is to see if I can figure out my new running watch before the starting cannon fires on Saturday. Nothing could be worse, or more embarrassing, than being trampled by 8,000 runners because I was still standing there at the start trying to figure out which button would get my watch going. “I hit start! What’s wrong with-” SPLAT!

It’s a titanic and monumental task, and I recognized the daunting challenges it presented. “Rome wasn’t built in a day,” I comforted myself, before remembering it did burn to the ground at one point. What the heck was I thinking getting my mother a computer? My mother’s computer literacy is right up there with penne pasta. In fact, in nine out of 10 laboratory tests, cooked penne proved it was faster when it comes to turning on the computer, logging onto the Internet and searching out a Martha Stewart recipe. My mother is most successful on a computer when she grows frustrated, bangs her head on the keyboard and, miraculously, something happens. Not what she wanted, but something does happen.

Far be it from me to criticize the recently deceased, but I couldn’t help but wonder what the world would be like today if not for Robert Adler’s most famous invention. Who was this 93-year-old man who died last week? What device did he set upon the world, changing us in so many ways? Well, he was the inventor of the remote control. Yes, Robert Adler invented the television remote way back in 1956, the year that mankind officially became a collective heap of saggy Jell-O sprawled across the sofa. I ask again, what would the world be like if not for this invention? Seriously, think about that. For one, we wouldn’t watch TV. Heck no. Something would come on that we didn’t like, and we’d be too lazy to get up to change it. Instead we would go out and construct monuments or come up with the cure for cancer. Why do you think Egypt’s pyramids were built? They didn’t have remotes! So they stacked chunks of rock. Think about it: Goodbye Montel; hello society a better place. Maybe I’m fooling myself. Maybe we would find other sedentary interests to fill our time, like watching leaves grow or exploring the great details on the surface of a pork rind. Or more likely, someone else would have come up with the idea for the remote control instead. It might not have been as effective. Imagine if TVs came with a trained monkey who changed the channel for us. “No, not […]

Dear Dog Toy Manufacturer, I don’t mean to be rude. It’s not my style to jump down people’s throats, call them names or tell them their mother looks like a walrus hooked on margaritas. That’s not me. But allow me to ask you just one question: What happened in your childhood to make you so mean? So malicious? So diabolical and sadistic? In short, why do you want to make my life miserable? Over the years, I have supported you. I have spent gobs of money on your dog toys, probably helping to put your kids through college and meat on your table. Yet, you repay me by creating toys that push me to the edge of sanity. So as a consumer I have a few suggestions I would like you to consider: 1. Stop putting squeakers in dog chew toys — Why in the world are you so hung up on this? Every toy you ever make has a squeaker in it. If it’s a ball, there’s a squeaker. If it’s a bone, there’s a squeaker. I buy dog food and half expect it’s going to squeak. Enough with the squeakers. If my dog ate coffee grounds and a bag of sugar, washed it down with a bottle of Jack Daniels then shot lightning out of her nose, it still wouldn’t come close to what she’s like when a squeaker toy is in the vicinity.