Wilder by Far

A look at life with the Wilder family. Updated most weekends and some vacation days. You can contact me at movingnorth@gmail.com..

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Wednesday, February 07, 2007

"When the astronauts moved to my neighborhood, all the leaves fell off the trees." - Colby, Upright Citizen's Brigade



Your tax dollars at work. Yes, the astronauts have a Monster™ Truck®.


As we were sitting watching Monster™ Trucks®, little did I know that a tragedy was unfolding, and I was smack dab in the middle of it. Let me explain.

The Boy and I were watching the Monster™ Trucks® perform. I noticed that every few minutes an Air Force commercial would play on the JumboTron (almost as big as the TV’s they sell at Best Buy nowadays). I then noticed that as the Monster™ Trucks® would race, they put a bracket up. In the upper right hand corner of the brackets was the Air Force logo. Huh. The Air Force sponsors Monster™ Trucks®. I was in a small way perturbed that the Air Force would spend our tax dollars (or even the dollars that the government just prints up) on advertising.

I was mistaken.

The Air Force doesn’t sponsor only sponsor Monster™ Trucks®. They own a Monster™ Truck®. Really. The Truck® in question was the Air Force Afterburner©. Our military owns a Monster™ Truck®. Let me repeat that: Our military owns a Monster™ Truck®. Now, at last, the reason that the Soviet Empire floundered can be told. We won the all important Air-Force-Controlled-Monster™ Truck® gap. How the hell could Gorbachev compete with that? (And, how the hell does spellcheck have Gorbachev in the dictionary??)

Frankly, with the demise of the United Soviet Socialist Republic (not the Californian one, the Russian one) I thought that we could beat our Monster™ Trucks® into riding lawnmowers. Peace, dude. No. The United States still retains our Monster™ Truck® advantage – I’m thinking that this is so the Chinese don’t ride coal-fired Communist© Monster™ Trucks® right into Smalltown, USA. Heck, maybe we keep the thing to scare the Swiss. Never did trust the Swiss, what with their little red Transformer© knives.

Here’s where the whole unfolding tragedy thing fits in. I’m thinking that actually driving the Air Force Monster™ Truck® must be the best job in the whole military. That must be the job that that astronaut dude just got, and his spurned, insane x-girlfriend couldn’t take it.



Q: How long does it take to drive from Houston to Orlando?
A: Depends®

Does it look like she smells like pee?

The Mrs. commented last night, “I hope that no astronauts move into our neighborhood. Bring the damn property values down.





So, that’s how I fit into the whole unfolding alleged-nutty-psycho-cheating-mother-tramp-astronaut-boiling rabbit woman saga. I feel so dirty. Makes me want to take a long shower, but she’s out on bail now. I’ve seen psycho.

As I alluded to last time, the freestyle Monster™ Truck® competition was actually interesting. The Monster™ Trucks® did acrobatics that would make Paris Hilton blush, jumping off of 30’ high mounds of dirt and landing on all fours ready for action. Wait, isn’t that exactly what Paris does?



$200,000 of your tax dollars just sitting on dirt in a Houston stadium. Doesn't it make you feel warm and fuzzy inside?


The first bit of drama came when Air Force Afterburner© flipped, and the dashing young astronaut driver jumped up out of the steaming wreck and dashed up into the seats in the stadium. I must say, I’m not an alleged-nutty-psycho-cheating-mother-tramp-astronaut-boiling rabbit woman, but he certainly did look courageous in a “just wrecked a $200,000 piece of government property” way. Perhaps the designers of the Air Force Afterburner© did some work on the Mars missions . . . maybe they needed metric tires or something.


As you can see, the USAF can fly not only planes, but cars. That must put fear into the heart of whatever tinpot despot rules Vermont now. Stupid Vermont.

At 10:00 The Boy became very agitated. I pulled out my earplugs and listened to his voice over the roar of the hydrocarbon powered behemoths down below.

“Daddy, it’s 10:00 PM”

I looked at the clock. Indeed, The Boy was correct.

“Daddy, it’s supposed to be over at 10:00PM.”

I was puzzled. “The Boy, are you having fun? Do you want to go? Do you have an appointment with Stephen Hawking to discuss the postulate that the quantum instability at the event horizon of a black hole will lead to eventual mass loss and dissipation of the black hole resulting in the eventual entropy of the universe leading toward a thin smear of subatomic particles being the end state after 1X10^200 years? Assuming proton decay, I mean.”

“Respectively, Father, yes, no, and no. Stephen had to postpone.”

“Then what’s the matter?”

“Daddy, it’s supposed to be over at 10:00PM.”

Let’s just say The Boy is nothing if not punctual.

The Monster™ Trucks® continued their acrobatics for the next 38 minutes. One of them (Taz©) caught fire. There’s nothing like watching $200,000 go up in smoke, though that must be cheap compared to the cost to train a alleged-nutty-psycho-cheating-mother-tramp-astronaut-boiling rabbit woman astronaut.


Okay, I only paid $20.00 a seat, and I got fire. That's value. It could have been better if they had burned some money.













The eventual winner, Maximum Destruction©, flipped and spurted oil everywhere. Somewhere there’s an astronaut joke in that. I’m just not going there.

Anyhow, getting out of the stadium lasted almost as long as the show. The Mrs. talked to The Boy via cell, and The Boy had the longest conversation I’ve ever witnessed.

I used to hope The Boy would grow up to be an astronaut, but, heavens, who would want an astronaut in the neighborhood?

8 Comments:

Blogger Dame Koldfoot said...

Dude! Let me be the first to notice that you FINALLY changed your title. Unless of course you changed it four posts back and I just now noticed it. You've been out of Alaska long enough for Paris Hilton to finish reading the script for her next movie.

As for the nutty-psycho-cheating-mother-tramp-astronaut-boiling rabbit lady: the guy she was hot for was from . . . Alaska! Will the coincidences never end? There is now conclusive proof (according to the Nightly News at least) that all nutty-psycho-cheating-mother-tramp-astronaut-boiling rabbit women in Houston are on the hunt for men from Alaska. Tell the Mrs. to hide all large cooking pots and lock the rabbit cage.

Q: Was this post funnier than usual?
A: Depends. I peed my pants laughing!

9:23 PM  
Anonymous Tiffany from PA said...

I don't know who is more entertaining, you or the Boy. Since you will read this, I will say you but that Boy sure is hilarious.

You made the change..... was it hard to let go of the old?

I have been reminded AGAIN, how wasteful of gov. is. lol

6:10 AM  
Blogger Tierre said...

Hey! Long time, no see. I was gonna ask the same question. Was it hard to let go? A few minutes ago, I put "Wilder By Far (formerly Life in Alaska)" on the sidebar of my blog.

Tierre (TY-ree)

6:57 AM  
Blogger A Public Defender's Life in Alaska said...

Yay! Finally. Yet I am also a little sad (really). I enjoyed reading about Alaska immensely and you helped me in my decision to move here. Since I would rather die than move to Texas, I doubt I will find your blog as useful now. Also, I just think Alaska is so cool, I hate to see people leave. I'll still read your blog faithfully but Alaska just isn't the same without you.

8:56 PM  
Blogger Duck Hunter said...

I like your new title.

7:03 AM  
Blogger Aaron the Truck Driver said...

"A Public Defender's Life in Alaska" is a knuckle head.

The reason you enjoy Life in Alaska or life in Texas or life anywhere is because the person writing the story has some talent!

I wish Life in Alaska was still Life in ALaska to but give the man a break. Your comments are depressing.

9:51 PM  
Blogger John said...

dame koldfoot,
I had planned to do change the title with a multi-million dollar Vegas party, but, lo, my credit card limit wasn't high enough. (Actually I'd planned on some new graphics and a new layout, but The Mrs. has been busy writing.)

You bring up a good point: My new favorite astronaut movie is no longer "Apollo 13" but is now "Fatal Attraction."

tiffany,
The Boy. He does nightly shows when we have company.

It was VERY hard to let go. Perhaps I will work my way back . . .

tierre,
I'm horribly late in adding a link! I'll get there - I promise!

a public defender's life in alaska,
I'm glad the stuff helped. Just keep in mind to never speak in declaritive sentences. It's made me a liar more than once (I do believe I said I'd never live in Texas at one point.)

duck hunter,
Thank you!

aaron,
Thank you, but don't worry, the public defender is all set for Alaska, and is probably more sad for me than anything.

4:43 PM  
Blogger A Public Defender's Life in Alaska said...

John is correct. I am sad for him. For many reasons, but especially the fact that the summer is coming. Truck Driver, I've misplaced the rule that one can only read blogs that are well written but never, ever offer any useful or helpful information. Can you please refer me to it again? Silly me.

8:22 PM  

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