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You want to go on a plane trip? Fine, you can have the one I just suffered through.

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Humor Post #69 from the world’s Crankiest Curmudgeon’s Middle School Blog (and probably the awesomest YA blog too) –

Yeah, yeah, I know it’s been way too long since I posted last, but it’s not my fault, really it’s not. Daniel hasn’t put up anything I’ve sent him because he says he’s too busy writing Moose stuff. Moose stuff? What in the world? Since when are moose more important that Dr. Crankenfuss? Anyway, I’ve sent him three posts and he says he’ll get them up this week. “Just give me time,” he says. Yeah, well, it’s time already.

Okay, here goes. Now I know it says Humor Post #69 up at the top, but there’s no humor in this post. Only justified rage. (See picture at above left.) Yep, that’s how I felt after my 3-day trip to New York City. The trip itself was great. We were visiting my cousin in Brooklyn and I had a good time. She’s way too cool. Went up the Empire State Building, visited the Statue of Liberty, and best of all, went to a Yankees game! But that’s the good stuff. I’m here to rant. And I have good reason to after those plane trips.

Like on the way up, they treated my mom like she was a hijacker or something. She had just bought a big bottle of aerosol sunscreen and the security people confiscated it because it was over 4 ounces or something like that. $12 down the toilet. Boy, was she mad. If she had brought a suitcase along, she could have packed it there, but all we had were overnight bags because we didn’t want to get stuck with a $50 charge for two suitcases. So we had to cram everything into something that would fit in the overhead lockers.

Except for that, the trip was okay. The trip from Raleigh to NYC, that is.

New York City, as I said, was fun and great. But that’s not what this post is about. It’s about the Hades we lived through on the way back. See, we got to the airport around 4:00 for a 5:30 flight just to make sure nothing wrong would happen. Yeah, like that helped. The boarding went okay. We were on American Airlines. Then we got ready to take off. We’re like seventh in line and then they send us back to where we started. The pilot came on and said because there was a thunderstorm in Raleigh, we had to wait. So we did wait in that plane, which was starting to get stale, you know. After another half hour or so, they made up get off the plane. Crap! Well, storms in Raleigh usually don’t last very long. We’d only have to wait a while, Mom said. We trudged back into the airport, sat there 10 minutes and an announcement came on and told us to call an 800 number to make new arrangements. They wouldn’t help us where we were; we had to do it ourselves. So Mom called and they gave her all sorts of stupid advice, like “You can take a plane from Kennedy Airport that’s leaving in 20 minutes.” Yeah, except we were at LaGuardia. How were we supposed to get to another airport in that time? Then they tell her there’s a US Air flight leaving in another part of the airport in a little while. So we rush all over the place — that airport is HUGE — to get there and find out when we do get there that we’re too late. All that trouble for nothing. And the US Air people tell us we could have stayed back at American because they had flight leaving at 9:30. Hey, American never told us that! If we hadn’t listened to their advice to go over to US Air, we could have gotten seats on the 9:30 plane. So we go all the way back to American and guess what. Now that’s plane’s sold out, that’s what. So now we’re tired, mad, and hungry. And still in New York.

Long story, right? Okay, the ending is we never got on any flight that night and we had to go all the way back to Brooklyn to stay with our cousin and we had to come back the next morning to FINALLY get a flight to Raleigh. Seemed like half our trip was spent in the airport.

My Grandpa says when he was a kid, flying was fun. They gave you good food and you didn’t even have to pay $6 or $10 or whatever it is they charge now. It came free with your ticket. Wow, what a concept. All I know is next time, we might think about walking to New York. Yeah, we could take our car, but you know what they charge for parking in New York? I could go to college for that.

So Crankenfuss has a warning for all you out there. Just be happy where you are and make all your relatives visit YOU. Or, you can just be incredibly rich, have your own plane, and just jet around to your heart’s delight.

Easy enough. I should have thought of that back before my trip.

Anyway, talk to you very soon again (if Daniel gets his head out of that moose mess he’s in).

from Dr. Crankenfuss,
Your Dude with the Tude

Freak Speak

What’s wrong with football, baseball, and soccer? How about their names?

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Humor Post #68 from the world’s Crankiest Curmudgeon’s Middle School Blog (and probably the awesomest YA blog too) –

Anyone catch any of the NBA playoffs? Pretty awesome stuff. Those guys can do stuff on their own that the rest of us would need pulleys, ropes, wires, and green screens to bring off. But I realized that there’s something else good about basketball. Its name makes sense. Basket + ball = a game where you try to get a ball into a basket. How simple! How truthful! How sensible!

Now let’s talk about football, America’s most popular sport by far. It’s so popular they still talk about it almost every night on ESPN and the season ended almost six months ago. But the trouble is that football is hardly played with the feet at all, unless you count running. But then shouldn’t we call every sport (except hockey) runball? Anyway, you do use your feet in football, sure, but at the very most once every four or five plays. Usually it’s less. Now there IS a game that uses your feet much more. It’s called football. Well, uh… that’s what it’s called in every other country in the world except ours. We call that sport soccer. Huh? But even football/soccer would be better named as foot and head ball since a bunch of goals are scored by headers (which is hitting the ball with your head, for those of you who don’t live on Earth).

Okay, you say baseball does have people running to bases. Yes, you are so right, but you are so wrong that that’s the best way to describe the game. Wouldn’t the bat, or the actions of pitching and catching have as much or more to do with the game? Besides, getting on base isn’t the ultimate goal. Getting to the fourth base is! So baseball, you strike out too.

Well, what about hockey? you ask. (Or maybe you don’t, but hey, it’s my blog and Ima be in charge.) Hockey is basically just a soccer… uh, football game played on ice. A bunch of guys trying to get a ball (or a ball substitute) into a goal surrounded by a net. (That goes for lacrosse too.) Nothing in the name hockey even suggests a hockey stick, kind of an essential part of the game, wouldn’t ya think? And there’s other games called hockey, like field hockey. And what’s a hock anyway? Just askin’.

Bowling? Where’s the bowl? Golf?? Tennis??

There goes Crankenfuss, you say. Always pointing out the problems, but never anything good to say. True enough. Most of the time. But today I have a few sports where the names DO MAKE SENSE. Handball! Yep, it’s not that popular, but you score every point by hitting a ball with your hand. What a concept! Notice that it’s not called wallball though that would at least include an important part of the game. And there’s swimming. Ah, a sport that tells it like it is.

Diving.
The 100 meter dash.
The high jump.
Long jump.
Calf roping.
Dumpster diving.

And how about fishing? I’m talking about fighting those marlins and swordfish, not sitting around drinking beer all day in a rowboat and catching minnows. And one more great one: bullfighting! Even though it’s not really a fair fight, what with them stabbing the bull about a gajillion times (by the picadors; you can look it up) before the matador ever gets into the ring, it still pretty much summarizes what’s going on.

So in closing I’ll say… I’m through. ‘Nuff said. Game, set, and match to
Dr. Crankenfuss
Your Dude with the Tude

Freak Speak

You Always Hurt the One You Love. Just look what this guy did to Tiger Woods.

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Humor Post #67 from the world’s Crankiest Curmudgeon’s Middle School Blog (and probably the awesomest YA blog too) –

Please everyone, before we start… Go check out the menu above for this site. See the link just after “Home”? What a thing of beauty that is, don’t you think? Dr. Crankenfuss’s Blog. Makes you appreciate what a great country you live in, doesn’t it?

Anyway, here’s a short and sad story. It’s the story of a dude who really likes Tiger Woods. So he goes and buys a ticket to see Tiger at the U.S. Open. (FYI, that’s one of the biggest and hardest tournaments there is. It’s a high class tournament in a beautiful place.) Now, say the guy lives near San Francisco. Well then, he can go see Tiger for somewhere around $200-300 for one round cause they played the tournament near San Francisco. At least that’s as close as I could figure it out from my incredibly thorough web research. Of course, then there’s probably $50 for parking, but we won’t mention that. If he has to fly in, ooh, that’s way more for the flight and the hotel, the meals, all those souvenirs like the life-sized blow-up doll of Tiger, and lots of other cool stuff.

So he wants Tiger to see him, to really notice him, ya know, so Tiger will remember him and appreciate what a great fan he is. So he dresses in a way that’s hard for Tiger to miss. A way that truly honors his hero.

This is a guy who gets to vote? And they won't let kids vote? (This picture came from Reuters.)

Yep, that’s right. He dresses up in a tiger suit. Now this isn’t some six-year-old getting ready for Halloween. It’s an ADULT MAN who gets to vote and to drive and probably has a job and responsibilities and the ability to fork out a bunch of money to see Tiger in person. How can things be so bad if this dude can scrounge up all that money? And the tiger suit. That had to run him half a week’s salary at Big Lots or Family Dollar.

Anyway, if I could talk to this guy (and I really wouldn’t want to), I’d say, “Dude, this getup makes you look like an idiot. You know, as in F-I-D-I-O-T! I don’t know if Tiger saw you, but if golfers get freaked out by people talking too much or by taking pictures, he probably had a meltdown when he saw you!”

Hey Tiger, over here, over here. (Photo by Associated Press.)

“Hey, that’s probably why Tiger flamed out this weekend,” I’d go on. By this time, he’s trying to get away but I keep following him giving him my deep insightful analysis . “Tiger was doing great on the first two days, you toe sucker, but then he got an eyeful of you jumping up and down and calling his name and BOOM! His game got zombified. And it’s ALL YOUR FAULT!”

And think about those other poor people walking nearby in the top picture. The one guy in the sunglasses is going, “Give me a break, bimbo!” and the others are doing their best to pretend they’re not in Madagascar III. Some woman in the crowd is probably telling her husband, “We paid $1000 for this? I wanted to spend our vacation money to go see a live performance of ‘Dancing With the Stars,’ but you said we should come and see Tiger. Well here he is, right next to you. Why don’t you ask him for his autograph? Oh, you’re going to pay for this one, big boy. Just you wait.” And the poor husband is going to himself, “Why me, Lord? Why me?”

And to top it off, during the award ceremonies, some guy dressed up like a bird jumped in front of the champion and started “tweeting” on television. Really! What is happening to our world. Two weeks ago we had an epidemic of zombie attacks, people eating each other’s faces and sending body parts through the mail. (I’m not making this up. I saw it on television. On the real news, not in “The Walking Dead.”)

Yes sir, we live in a great country, yes we do. Lucky we have the freedom we do or guys like this would be put in places they deserve.

Anyway, that’s all I got. It’s not much, but Daniel has been drawing cartoons of moose for around 10 hours a day so I don’t get to write squat. Talk to you soon, I hope.

Till later,
from Your Dude with the Tude
Dr. Crankenfuss

Freak Speak

-DIS makes no sense! So I’m gonna dis it.

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Humor Post #65 from the world’s Crankiest Curmudgeon’s Middle School Blog (and probably the awesomest YA blog too) –

Question: Why do so many people have trouble reading?
Answer: Because English is messed up, that’s why. If it made more sense, people wouldn’t get so mixed up.

Here’s a total screw-up I figured out all on my own. Just by thinking, you know. And I’m just a kid. So there must be gajillions of other things I haven’t even noticed yet.

We’re working on prefixes in English class and there’s a bunch of them that mean “no” or “opposite of.” Like -un, -im, -in, -non, and -dis. I think you know pretty much what I’m talking about. Our teacher says knowing these prefixes will help us on those standardized tests they give us all the time. But I had to ask about -dis in class last week and my teacher couldn’t really answer me. So I’ll ask you.

-DIS — Like disrespect is the opposite of respect, like dislike means to not like, like dishonest means not honest. Easy, huh?

But I thought of a couple that make NO SENSE! Now how are we supposed to do gooder in school if English is such a wreck. (And yes, that was supposed to be funny. Epic fail, huh? So what’s new?)

Here they are:
The wind is gusting.
The wind is disgusting.
Huh? I don’t think the second sentence means the opposite of the first.

Or how about this?
She’s stressed.
She’s distressed.
Huh? again. This time both sentences mean the same thing. Here –dis is a prefix that means absolutely nothing. Must be there for decoration, I guess.

Like I said, I asked about these in class, but my teacher didn’t have a good answer for me. At least she seemed interested and said she’d look it up. I’m not sure anyone else noticed because most people weren’t paying much attention. That’s because prefixes aren’t the most exciting thing for most people. More people listened to me at the beginning of the lesson when I tried to be my usual brilliant self. The teacher asked someone to give a sentence that used disperse. So I raised my hand and said, “Dis purse is made of leather so it costs a lot.” At least I got a few groans and the teacher gave one of her “Oh, please” looks so I guess that counts as a success.

So anyway, getting back to the “disgusting” and “distressing” examples from above, it takes Dr. Crankenfuss once again to point out why American kids have such a hard time in school. It’s not our fault. It’s English’s fault. Why don’t they fix it? One of these days, they’ll hire you-know-who to fix the world and everyone’ll have it a lot easier.

But till then, keep checking her for beautiful pearls of wisdom from Dr. Crankenfuss,
The Dude with the ‘Tude

Freak Speak

The Ten Hardest Things to Do in the World

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Humor Post #64 from the world’s Crankiest Curmudgeon’s Middle School Blog (and probably the awesomest YA blog too) –

Today I have a giant philosophical question for you. What’s the hardest thing in the world to do? Now, as most of you know, I love sports even though I’m not so hot at them. But hey, if you can’t be a star, you can always be good at watching them on TV while you chow down on pork rinds and doughnuts with powdered sugar (preferably not in the same mouthful).

Well, I found lots of debates on the web over what’s the hardest thing to do in sports. And I found a bunch of stuff that I have to admit would be a little out of my range. Hitting a fast ball from some moose throwing at 100 miles an hour always gets mentioned. And that WOULD be a hard assignment. Hey, you might think the ball was coming at your head. And you could be right! That teeny bit of worry might make you a little less successful at concentrating on your goal. But if you don’t mind possibly dying from a clop to your block, you might have a chance of hitting a pitch once in a blue moon, no? Just as two ants in the Superdome do have a remote chance of meeting at the 50 yard line, so you too have a chance of hitting a fast ball. Just keep swinging, anytime, all the time. You might get lucky. And lots of people HAVE hit a fast ball, haven’t they? They’re called good baseball players.

But here’s another list I’ve come up with that almost no one has done or can do. Yeah, it’s possible in theory, but then why do so few people do it?

1) Setting a pole vault world record. Sure, once a year or two, one person in the whole world does it. But most any “normal” person would rip their shoulder apart trying to pole vault. It would probably feel like holding a horse and then he saw some pretty mare he liked and he bolted while you’re still holding on. Goodbye, body part!

2) Landing a quadruple jump in ice skating in perfect form. First, almost no one can even do a quad. What, maybe five or ten people in the world? And how often do they land it perfectly? Uh, I’ll let you look it up. Naw, I think this would be harder than hitting a fast ball.

3) Winning the Tour de France without artificial help, like with steroids or blood doping or stuff I can’t even explain. Only one guy wins the thing every year so already you’re up to a 1 in 7 billion chance. The race is like 3,000 miles long and much of it is up, way up. And many, if not most, of the winners do it by cheating. And even the ones who don’t, lots of people think they do. Oh, this is one is tough!

4) Scoring 50 points on Kevin Garnett in 20 minutes. Just think of those razor elbows rewiring your grill. Yep, this one has never been done so it might definitely qualify. But if you use your tricky intelligence (like I often do), you could make it happen. You could score 50 on him in a video game like Moose Hockey or something. Yeah, that’s kind of cheating, but the job should have been better defined.

5) Throwing three no-hitters in a row in the Major Leagues. Hah! I came up with another one that’s never been done. This guy Johnny Vander Meer threw two straight no-hitters in 1938 (against the Boston Bees??? and the Brooklyn Dodgers). But three? Nevahh! So this might be the hardest one yet. But still maybe possible some how, some day, some way.

6). Being a mom. Yeah, this isn’t exactly a sport, at least not one usually covered on ESPN, but I had to bring it up because people always say, “Being a mom is the hardest job in the world.” Excuse me for being a sourpuss, but C’MON! Millions, maybe even billions of women seem to be able to do it (and still have time to watch “The View” and “Dr. Phil.”) Hey, for all I know, a few guys have done it. There’s that old movie called “Mr. Mom,” remember? Sorry, ladies, this one doesn’t even come close to the others I’ve listed and the ones coming up. Now if they said, “being a great mom,” that would narrow the field considerably. But they never say it that way. And so, Dr. Crankenfuss nixes that pick.

Okay, now let’s get serious. Here are three finalists from Dr. Crankenfuss that might be sports or they might not, but they’d sure be harder than anything mentioned so far. Ready?

1) Climbing Mount Everest while holding your breath. Even possible? No, no, and uh, no!

2) Winning the 100-meter butterfly at the Olympics while tied up with duct tape into a little ball in a sack. Reasons? The thing only comes around once every four years. You have to know how to swim the butterfly. You have to understand the metric system. You’re bunched up in a little sack. ‘Nuff said.

3) Turning inside out (while alive) with no one else’s help. Okay, it’s not exactly a sport, but it would be cool if someone could do this. Hey, I’d pay to see it.

And for my grand finale (and #1 out of all ten I’m putting on this blog post), here’s the most impossible thing in the whole world to do because no one’s ever done it and no one will  ever do it, I’m sure. FOLDING A FITTED SHEET SO IT LOOKS NICE AND NEAT. You think so? Try it, bub. Now try it again. It just never looks right, does it. Believe me, I’ve tried and I’m sure zillions of others have, probably even on other planets. No way, nowhere, no how, it’s a no go.

So even though I’ve given you the ultimate answer to this mind-shattering conundrum, feel free to offer your own second-best suggestion. I won’t laugh, I promise. Except at the dumb ones.

From Dr. Crankenfuss,
Your Dude with the ‘Tude