Three Scoops is a Blast! Read online

  There was only one answer. What started out as an electronic version of ham radio needed to evolve into something much more – global group therapy. But who would lead the way? Was Barney the man for the job? Leadership needed to come from somewhere.

  This is the folklore behind the founding of CA which is the in-the-clouds version of AA. For the first time in a week, Mr. Bracken sat down at the computer keyboard and stared at the text box. For a few seconds, he paused to compose himself. Then, with the most serious intent he ever mustered, he typed these fateful and life-altering words, “Hi, my name is Barney and I’m a cyberholic.”

  Obamacare and Harry Potter

  September 5, 2009

  To understand the current medical-coverage debate in the United States, you have to know your history. When President Bill Clinton was first elected, his wife Hillary took on the task of comparison shopping around the world to determine the best medical plans. The conclusion was that the best coverage was offered by Hogwarts Academy in the wizarding world.

  A wave of a wand and broken bones were healed. The brewing of a potion and most other afflictions could be overcome. Moreover, the Hogwart’s plan was very comprehensive. For example, being a full or even a half muggle was not considered to be a pre-existing condition that would disqualify one from coverage.

  The head of Hogwarts at the time, Albus Dumbledore, in discussions with Hillary, said he would be pleased to make a similar plan available in the United States on one condition. He wanted something in return, the legalization of gay marriages. Hil and Bill on the Hill said they would do what they could, but change was more likely to come through state legislation.

  Therefore, over the next several years, many states did bring in the appropriate legal changes and high profile same-sex couples tied their knots in California and elsewhere across America. But then Dumbledore died and the whole arrangement fell through.

  The Democrats fell out of favor with voters and eight years of darkness descended on the land. I’m not trying to be political here, but the parallels seem obvious. It was a time of Death Eaters (Republicans?) roaming everywhere and Voldemort (Bush?) rising to the ascendant.

  Now that those days are past and President Obama has been voted in as President, the subject of universal health care has returned to the front burner. Private negotiations with the wizarding world are heating up again. But there is one big problem. The behind-the-scenes point man for the new health care providers is Harry Potter’s friend Ron. This presents a potential public relations nightmare for the President.

  Private-sector health care providers are fiercely opposed to government intervention in their industry. If they ever find out the truth about the secret negotiations that are underway, they will take every opportunity to speak badly about this so-called Weasley Plan. The President is at his wit’s end trying to figure out how to package and sell his efforts without revealing too much.

  By the way, Hogwarts was where swine flu first reared up, not Mexico, as most people have been led to think. Animal steward, Hagrid, suffered the first instance of an animal-giant crossover of the virus. Malfoy had just received his degree in medicine and was newly appointed as chief medical officer of the school. He badly botched Hagrid’s care and is now facing a string of malfeasance and malpractice suits.

  For a while, the school was under quarantine due to the outbreak of the dreaded disease. The first symptoms among the school’s animal population were interesting and ironic to say the least. They included, dare it be said, hog warts.

  Disney Goes After a Bigger Fish than Marvel

  September 10, 2009

  After recently acquiring Marvel Comics, Disney Corporation is apparently now going after an even bigger prize, Hell Inc. In a surprise move, it has been learned that the devil is interested in selling his interest in the underworld and moving to Palm Springs. There’s something about the climate there that appeals to him.

  The devil’s minions have been assured they will retain prominent positions in the new entity. They will have key roles to play in each day’s closing parades at Disney’s various theme parks.

  When asked whether hell’s acquisition might not be in conflict with Disney’s prime objective of providing family entertainment, a company spokesperson replied, “Not at all. The synergies from owning everything are enormous. Think of High School Musical set in Hades.

  Besides, it isn’t just about entertainment. There is the punishment factor if people don’t tune in to our programming. Of course, a small percentage of the population already thinks watching Disney shows is a trip to Hell. We’re still not sure what to do about that faction.”

  Some of Marvel’s stable of comic book characters were contacted by reporters for their reactions to the latest news.

  “Jiminy!” said the Green Hulk. “I’m just getting used to reporting to a cricket and now this is being thrown at me. It’s making me angry and Disney won’t like me when I’m angry.”

  “I’m having trouble fitting mouse ears over my horn stumps,” said Hellboy. “But if the new deal goes through, it will be like going home for me.”

  The era of the big getting even bigger seems to be gaining momentum at this stage of the business cycle. In other financial news, a huge unnamed international oil company is in negotiations to buy all of the air we breathe. This is likely to receive a stamp of approval from North American regulators, but it may be held up by authorities in Europe who are supposedly concerned about some conflict of interest issues.

  As well, several foreign sovereign wealth funds are known to have an option on buying Mars. Interest in this solar system’s sun has also been expressed, but it is hard to conduct due diligence on something so unapproachable.

  Investors knew something was up with Disney and Hell yesterday when Twitter traffic on the subject took off. It became the number one trending topic as the day wore on. The discussion is thought to have been led by Snow White’s little birds.

  As for that other prime piece of real estate, Heaven, gatekeeper Gabriel has indicated there is no way it will ever be sold. However, the actual Pearly Gates may be another matter. Feelers have been put out on Craigslist. Sotheby wanted to handle the transaction, but it was not able to confirm that the pearls are actually real and not just cultured.

  My Wife and I Argue over our New i-Phone

  September 16, 2009

  At the end of the day, Donna and I lie in bed and send messages out over Twitter by way of our new i-phone. The following is one of our typical conversations.

  ME: Ho het yourwelf a hoof bool to reaf? That’s not what I typed.

  DONNA: What did you mean to say?

  ME: Go get yourself a good book to read. I was just sending a message to all my friends on Twitter. The keypad on this i-phone is so small, my fingers are mangling my message.

  DONNA: You’ll get the hang of it. It’s incredible technology.

  ME: I know. It’s a whole new world out there. I love this stuff.

  DONNA: So you’re back on Twitter?

  ME: Yes, but I have to think of something interesting to say. I’ve got it. I know what to tell everybody. Now summer is over, I’m going to stop eating popsicles. Do you think that will get me thousands of followers.

  DONNA: No.

  ME: What do you mean no? Will it get me one follower?

  DONNA: Probably not. It doesn’t grab the attention.

  ME: What am I going to do when even my own wife doesn’t find my tweets interesting?

  DONNA: You have to think about what makes you read someone else’s posting.

  ME: I pay attention to the picture and I like messages that are clear and easy to understand. I know what I don’t like. I don’t like all those letter abbreviations, things like BFF and LOL. They slow me down. I have to stop and think what they mean.

  DONNA: Yes, but that’s the younger generation. They can fire those things off easy as can be.

  ME: Then maybe I’ll have to come up with my own letter combinations.
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  DONNA: Nobody will know what they mean.

  ME: Sure they will. It will be determined by the context.

  DONNA: I see what you’re saying. For example, you could sign all your tweets DOM for dirty old man.

  ME: Hah-hah. And you’d be DOW.

  DONNA: Hey, I resent that. I’d be DYW, dirty young woman.

  ME: All right, I’ll give you that one. I’ve got another idea. Maybe we should sign-off to each other every night over Twitter. That might spark some interest. I could say something like, “@Donna_Carrick Tweet Dreams, Tweetheart!”

  DONNA: Now you’re sounding like Humphrey Bogart, with an even worse lisp than usual.

  ME: That would be okay with me. Remember The African Queen. At the end of the film, Bogart and Katharine Hepburn are facing a hanging by the captain of the German boat, but Bogart talks him into marrying them first. Hepburn’s face lights up and she adjusts her hair. It’s one of the great scenes in all of the movies.

  DONNA: Simply fabulous. He was a real DOM in that movie. Mostly unshaven and hitting the bottle. Remember the leeches? Yech! But she straightened him out.

  ME: We need to be cute in a similar way.

  DONNA: It’s going to be hard when all of your tweets should end TTIB.

  ME: TTIB?

  DONNA: Remember the context. TTIB – this tweet is boring.

  ME (after a second or two): Okay, you can just KYCTY.

  DONNA: I’ll bite. What’s that mean?

  ME: It should be obvious. Keep your comments to yourself.

  DONNA: Nite dear. It’s been a tweet talking with you.

  ME (in a pretend sour mood): Likewise, I’m sure.

  No Problem, Excuse Me and the Limits of Civility

  September 26, 2009

  A spate of public rudeness lately has raised the question of how society has come to this sorry pass. Kanye West in the world of hip hop, Serena Williams in tennis and Joe Wilson in Washington’s political hot house all stepped over the traditional bounds of civility in the past week. What are the trends that have taken us in this misdirection?

  Upon first reflection, I blamed Omarosa. She was the one who was most unbearable in the opening season of Donald Trump’s “The Apprentice”. Unfortunately, it must be admitted her wigged-out activities went a long way towards making the show a hit. We couldn’t take our eyes off her “train wreck”, whether we liked to admit it or not. Because bad behaviour pays, Omarosa has gone on to have a rewarding career.

  But the history of behaving badly goes back much further. How about blaming running shoes? It was the “sneaker” companies and their ads – for example, “Just Do It” by Nike – that stressed attitude above all else. Politeness gets short shrift when “in your face” is the new mantra. Attitude has certainly been one artillery piece in the war to break down society’s norms and standards. But there are more, based on popular culture.

  Maybe it was the movie Animal House. It started a whole trend whereby stupidity, crass actions and the graceless came to be glorified by America’s youth. The problem is the movie was really funny. And again, it paid off for its producers. Who doesn’t want to have a toga party? But the long-term consequences, well that’s another matter.

  Outrageous behaviour in professional sports has been around forever. In tennis, it reached its apogee when Jimmy Connors and John McEnroe perfected their attention-grabbing and baby-gets-his-way performances. Now, some of the women players are getting in on the act as well. In the early days of golf championships, a tournament wasn’t complete until Tommy Bolt threw one or maybe all of his clubs into a pond in a fit of rage.

  Awareness of anger in political forums has been on the rise due to news broadcasts of fisticuffs in far-away Parliaments. Going way back, when Brutus, Cassius and their buds got together and dispatched Caesar on the Ides of March, well that was certainly rude.

  Personally, I’m more concerned about lack of good manners closer to home. On a day-to-day basis, there are two phrases that are starting to drive me crazy. People used to say “Excuse me, please” when they needed to get by and you were inadvertently in their way. It was a gentle request that usually solicited smiles by both parties and friendly nods.

  Now, “Excuse me” (without the “please”) is usually a peremptory command and apparently means “Get out of my way, I’m coming through.” It’s the pedestrian equivalent of the driver who believes he or she is the only one on the road or at least the only one who really counts.

  Excuse me is often met with the phrase, “no problem”. In this context, I suppose it’s okay. But I cringe when I hear it from sales people in stores or waiters and waitresses serving in restaurants. Even when it is uttered in the cheeriest of voices, it grates.

  When I make my request or place my order, I don’t expect it to be a problem. I’m making the normal banter that would usually precede an exchange of goods or services. That’s what you’re here for, isn’t it, to fulfill my request? I’m not asking for much.

  When it comes right down to it, I don’t even care if it is a problem. Just do it (please). That’s what I’m paying for and it’s also what you’re being paid for. If you’re making a pittance, then speak to your manager. If you would rather be someplace else or talking with your fellow workers or contemplating life in general, well then…. Wow, I’m really getting worked up here. I guess I’m the one being rude, now, according to most standards.

  This whole thing about being civil, it’s a challenge. There are nearly seven billion of us sentient and sensitive beings on earth, each as the centre of our own universe. It’s a wonder we haven’t already bumped each other off. On second thought, maybe you should get your licks in now while you still have the chance - Joe, Serena and Kanye. Just remember that the patience of some of the rest of us is hair-trigger too.

  The Seagull Poet of Butter Bay

  October 4, 2009

  In a vision, he’d once seen another seagull in a top hat dancing at the Trocadero. It was the most elegant thing ever. He became entranced by imagery and longed to give expression to his own special voice. There was no doubt, he was a poet at heart.

  That’s what his girlfriend, Sandy Barr, told him. Never mind, he knew the truth anyway. He was always functioning with his head in the stratosphere. There was something about it that felt so right. He knew it was his true calling.

  He was a vagabond, a troubadour, a traveling jester, riding the winds and sometimes performing for his meals. But he had higher aspirations. He wanted to put his experiences in words. His world was something that needed and cried out for sharing.

  He’d breathed in autumn’s tangy smell from wood-burning stoves; felt the sharpness in the air as winter’s cold grip crept in. He’d seen the brightness bloom as spring’s healing bonnet led to summer’s torpor and absorbed the splintery hues of water in all its seasons.

  He knew writing poetry was no path to riches. That was okay with him. Few seagulls achieved worldly success. Jonathan Livingston had been a rare exception. For a while, Johnnie L. had been able to enjoy a high life based on royalties. Then the fortune ran out and existence depended on scraps the same as for everyone else.

  Still, he was bothered by some misconceptions about his brethren. The bad thing that humans said about seagulls, that they were all scavengers, was a liquorice-hearted lie. Humans thought they were so smart. What did they know? Did they think all of his swooping and swirling in flight was just for fun? No, it was sky-writing in 3-D.

  The aerial scripture was satisfying in its own way, but now he wanted to find a larger audience. How to reach out to people? Damnable kids with their opposable thumbs, text messaging each other willy-nilly. It was like trying to decipher the Da Vinci code, figuring out what they were saying. Give him old-fashioned language, something he could get his beak around.