Putting the Fun back in Funeral

Just in time for Halloween...

Bob's Mortuary:
Putting the 'fun' back in funeral


Things I Believe

That which does not kill us makes us whiny.

Better safe than sorry. Which is exactly what the safecracker told the judge.

All things must pass. Except that chicken bone, which you really shouldn't have swallowed in the first place.

Actions speak louder than words, unless you use a PA system.

Absynthe makes the hearth grow flounder.

A watched pot never boils, but a watched boil is gross.


Geek Jokes 0000 1010: Be of Good Cheer

I figure the whole reason that geeks have avoided sports all these years is because we didn't have the right motivation.

That and we kept getting beat up.

I'm hoping that this rousing set of cheers will help, at least with the motivation part.

Two bits four bits, six bits, a byte.
C'mon team, let's write, write, write code!

1 byte, 2 bytes, 3 bytes, a word.
C'mon crowd, let's make ourselves extremely audible!

Megabyte, gigabyte, terabyte of RAM
As much memory as we can cram
into our servers.

Gimme an O!
Gimme an X!
Gimme an F!
Gimme another F!
What's that spell?

For the other factor, getting beat up, I suggest curling up in a fetal position. It doesn't stop the beating, but it does help protect your laptop.



Squash is the only food which I was forced to eat in my childhood which I still cannot enjoy. Unless you count eggplant. And dirt.

So the fact that we spend a month of the year, leading up to Halloween, celebrating it makes me overjoyed, of course. The fact that it's actually a celebration of the effectively inedible, and generally uneaten, pumpkin variety makes it perfect. What better way to eradicate squash from our diet than by picking as many varieties as we can find and letting them sit around on our porches until they wither and die a horrible, moldy death? Or, more likely, until they get kicked in or thrown in the street on Halloween night (probably by kids who share my feelings toward them).

So it's a mystery how I found myself in a pumpkin farm this weekend. I'm pretty sure it has something to do with this fundamental fact of parenthood: what you enjoy has nothing to do with it.

Regardless, I thought I'd document some of the things I saw for posterity:


Feeling out of place

Inverse pumpkin


No caption: I just like the picture

Haycorn squash


Bone marrows


Pumpkin kin

Another corny caption

Finally, I couldn't help bringing this one back from several years ago in Russia, posted on a blog far, far away:



Minor Jokes for Friday

Every year in California, elementary school children study an important element in our history. In other places, students might study the history of their country or important elements of world history and how it relates to their lives. But here in California, our kids study the gold rush. That's right: money, greed, and the founding of a state by the hapless individuals who fell for that marketing trap.

And we wonder at the superficiality of Los Angeles?

In tribute to this annual reflection on our greedy past, I offer these minor miner jokes:

Q: What’s are the three rules of finding gold?
A: Mine, mine, mine.

Q: Why did the miner take a balloon ride in a thunderstorm?
A: He heard that every cloud has a silver lining.

Q: Why did the miner stay in California instead of moving north?
A: Because he didn’t like the sound of a place called “Ore-gone”

Q: Why are so many gold-diggers children?
A: Because it’s the only profession open to minors.

Q: What do you call the diggers with no clothes on?
A: Strip miners.

Q: Why does everyone love gold?
A: You can’t help but dig it.

Q: Why did the student pan for gold all night long?
A: His mother told him, “You’d better finish your homework, ore else!”

Q; Why was silver more popular than gold?
A: Everyone dug the silver, but panned the gold.

Q: Why couldn’t the miner ever find gold?
A: He looked and looked, but searched in vein.

Q: What did they call the miner that threw himself down his mine shaft?
A: A claim jumper.