Tues., Aug. 17, 1999
"If you've got
an even-tempered cat who's a good sport, here's a fun experiment we heard
about from Brian Jones, a physics professor at Colorado State University.
Take the cat and go into a dark, carpeted room. Slowly push and drag
the cat along the carpet on its side. Try it at different speeds.
If you do it right, you'll see sparks flash between the cat and the carpet."
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Today's "Kitchen Sink Science" newspaper column
Looks like I don't have an even-tempered cat. And as soon as my hands
heal enough for me to hold a telephone receiver or post a letter, I'm not
going to have a newspaper subscription, either.
I wonder: Does my friend, Betsy, have a lock on all the luck in
the world? Not only is she cute, smart, and musically talented, she
had the good fortunate to be attacked by an ostrich.
And she didn't even have to take it into a dark room and rub it on the
carpet! Just look!
I'm beginning to suspect that I missed out on something very, very important
during those 6.5 days I was absent in first grade....
Saturday I got into trouble just by going to a Pizza Hut for dinner.
I would have written about it before now but an anchovy head that I found
on my pillow Sunday morning indicated that it might be best to wait
a few days.
It all started when I tried to order the Sicilian pizza.
"Uh, I'm sorry," the burly, husky-voiced waiter informed me, "but the Sicilian
is, uh, no longer with us."
"You mean you're out of it or...?"
"The Sicilian has obtained employment elsewhere - possibly as compost,
but you didn't hear that from me."
"But you really said it was great in that big ad campaign, didn't you?"
"A terrible misunderstanding. We thought maybe with a little more
hand-tossing, it might be persuaded to rise to the level of adequate, but,
alas - it was not to be. Please accept our apologies."
"But the Sicilian is still on the menu."
"It is? What an unfortunate oversight on our part. I distinctly
recall ordering that rubbed out. I assure you, next time you come
in, you'll never even be able to tell it was there. Here - have a
free Pepsi compliments of the management."
"A Pepsi isn't going to fill my stomach the way the Sicilian would have,"
I whimpered.
"I humbly suggest the deep dish vegetarian. Very good ingredients,
and no animal died in the process of its manufacture. At least not
that anybody can prove in a court of law."
"But my heart was really set on - "
"Look - are you thick-crusted or what? You want a piece of a lousy,
no-good, greasy Sicilian, you're welcome to go try to find one in the dumpster
out back or the buried 55 gallon drum of your choice, but don't be coming
into my restaurant trying to lay one on my table because we ain't running
that kind of establishment, ok? The Sicilian is history! Now,
if you'll excuse me, I believe I've got a few olives in the back in need
of a good, swift cleaver. You decide you want to order something
respectable, you wave your hand - just not too fast. Alright?
Alright."
I ended up just going to the salad bar per the suggestion of the gentlemen
who came and sat with my wife and me.
Only to have some near-sighted old lady with a set of tongs mistake me
repeatedly for a salad topping.
It was, as they say at the Federal Emergency Management Agency, quite the
anomalous phenomenon.
One that has landed me a spot on the waiting list of the Federal Restaurant
Patron Protection Program....
Late Breaking Development: They found the Sicilian I was looking for this
afternoon. It had somehow got itself buried under the golden arches
of a new McDonald's being built on the outskirts of town.
Needless to say, I've tasted better....
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