Business, economic development - the unofficial Chamber of Commerce

Continuing from my last article on association, let’s see how this technique generates hilarious result. By association means by pairing or combining thoughts, images or even words together.

The most popular and obvious form of association in comedy is
INCONGRUITY; by pairing of opposites or contrasts. Like fat and thin, black and white, new and ancient and the list goes on. By juxtapositing two opposites it creates incongruity. This premise can whip up endless potential humorous ideas. Examples like a tall reek-thin man standing beside his rotund wife, a caveman using a handphone, a smart-talking donkey with a dumb owl or a devil having a friendly round of poker with an angel. As I’ve said before “anything goes”. But of course not all incongruities will produce funny result.

Another obvious source of incongruity is the OXYMORON. Oxymoron is a figure of speech in which two seemingly contradictory words are combined. Examples like: open secret, good grief, original copies, small crowd or alone together.

Similarly to the technique of incongruity, is the REVERT. Here you take a normal situation and reverse it into its opposite. The most popular example is the bride carrying her groom into the room. Just take any ordinary situation and turn it around and see whether it can engender laughter. Like instead of having a bird in a cage, have a man in a bird cage, with the bird watching outside. “Anything goes”!

Use the association technique to light up your creative fuse and set it ablaze with ideas. Spur your brain to make new connection or new associations with opposities that will attract laughter.

A freelancer from Malaysia who dabbles in both visual and performing art. Cartooning, script-writing, acting in TV and movies, doing voice, sound and singing impressions under the stage-names: Wacky Willy and SFX-Man.

Read more articles and free tips at: http://funny-ideas.blogspot.com/

Reach me at: kertoon@yahoo.com

“bless her heart” - said after making a negative comment about someone “She is not too smart, bless her heart”
“he’s like a one-legged man in an a__-kicking contest” - someone is working hard, but getting nothing accomplished
“off like a herd of turtles”
“love in a cottage is he__ in a hut” - love may be rosy some times and rough the others.
“don’t spit in the air, it may fall on your nose” - watch what you say, you may have to retract your statement
“dont cut off your nose to spite your face”
“all ashore that goin’ ashore!” - we are here
“daaaayyyyylight in the swamp!” - wake up
“don’t put the cart before the horse”
“six of one, half dozen of another” - it’s all the same
“greenhorn” - someone is just starting to work in the woods or as a fisherman
“skunked” - If you go fishing or hunting and come back empty handed
“God’s rolling logs around up there” - thunder
“marble orchard” - cemetery
“it’s comin’ a gullywarsher” - raining hard
“it’s a real frog strangler” - raining hard
“you see some sights when you haven’t got a gun” - when you see someone really weirdly or badly dressed
“you’re fixin’ to get a whippin’ or I’m fixin’ to ….. (go to town or whatever)”
“pretty is as pretty does”
“well don’t feel like the Lone Ranger” - you are not alone
“when you find the money tree be sure and tell me.”
“right now, a pig on a plate is worth two in the pen”
“I’m not as green as I’m cabbage looking” - when we try to pull the wool over someone’s eyes
“the cow is out of the barn”
“slower than molasses in January”
“as nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs”
“colder than blue hell”
“scarce as hen’s teeth”
“knee high to a grasshopper”
“thigh high to a mule”
“runnin’ around like a chicken with its head cut off”
“hotter than the hinges of hell”
“jumping from the frying pan into the fire” - from one bad situation into something worse
“like the kettle calling the pot black”
“may be small but he’s wound tight”
“shaking the dew off the lily”
“it takes a big boy to whip a little man”
“smell bad enough to stink a dog off a gut wagon”
“a wit of the nit type”
“don’t let your mouth run off ’til your brain’s in gear”
“shinier than a new penny”
“grinning like a Cheshire (Chessy) cat”
“a knife so dull you could ride it to New York”
“a chip off the old block”
“leave a dead dog lie”
“pitch black” -dark
“as common as house dust”
“right as rain”
“more fun than a barrel of monkeys”
“more than one way to skin a cat”
“not worth a hill of beans”
“like water off a duck’s back”
“shotgun wedding”
“madder than a wet hen”
“you can’t get blood out of a turnip”
“useful as a pogo stick in quicksand”
“haven’t been there for a coon’s age”
“charge it to the dust and let the rain settle it.” - used when someone wanted something but had no money to buy it
“yun side.” - the other side of where you may be standing
“nothing goes over the devils back that don’t come out from underneath his belly” - if someone does wrong to someone…..they in turn will have something done wrong to them.
“what goes around, comes around”
“he/she is showing his true colors”
“might as well be spittin’ in the wind” - to no avail; not doing any good.
“never buy a pig in a poke”
“a hard nut to crack”
“she (or he) has been around the teacup looking for the handle.” - very experienced
“bury the hatchet”
“sweatin’ bullets”
“where there’s a will there’s a way.”
“no point of closing the barn door after the horse is stolen.”
“raining like pouring pee out of a boot.”
“a knife so dull it won’t cut hot butter”
“raining like cats and dogs”
“you’re pulling my leg”
“you’re yanking my chain”
“butt ugly”
“grin and bear it”
“slick as a whistle”
“tougher than a baked owl”
“tougher than a bag of hammers”
“slick as a smelt”
“that dog don’t hunt” - bad idea or flawed logic
“slick as a ribbon”
“happy as a tick on a fat dog”
“not worth the bait in a rat trap”
“shakier than and old coon”
“heavier than a dead preacher”
“skinny as a raffle turkey”
“like fleas on a dog”
“as welcome as a skunk at a lawn party”
“big hat, no cattle” - all talk and no action
“he thinks the sun come up just to hear him crow” - he has a pretty high opinion of himself
“she’s got tongue enough for 10 rows of teeth” - that woman can talk and talk.
“it’s so dry the trees are bribin’ the dogs” - We need some rain
“just because a chicken has wings doesn’t mean it can fly” - appearances can be deceptive.
“they ate supper before they said grace” - Living in sin
“you can put your boots in the oven, but that doesn’t make them biscuits” - you can say whatever you want about something, but that doesn’t change what it is.
“cold as a well digger’s knee”
“don’t get your panties in a wad” - patients
“he could sit on the fence and the birds would feed him” - lucky
“he’d argue with a wooden Indian” - argumentative
“he couldn’t organize a pissing contest in a brewery.” - worthless
“he’ll squeeze a nickel til the buffalo screams.” - cheap
“don’t trip over the outhouse.” - caution
“tired as a boomtown whore.” - tired
“don’t squat on your spurs.”
“if you lie down with dogs, you get up with fleas.”
“more fun than a barrel of monkeys!”
“it’s better than a sharp stick in the eye.”
“I’m busier than a cat covering crap.”
“off like a herd of turtles”
“between a rock and a hard place”
“shootin’ the breeze” - talking with friends.
“when the cows come home”
“slept like a rock”
“eat like a pig”
“clean as a whistle”
“fresh as a daisy”
“the boob tube”
“knock it off”
“picture perfect”
“a bunch of malarkey”
“cute as a bug’s ear”
“knock your socks off”
“the early bird gets the worm”
“better late than never”
“hind site is better than fore site”
“waiting for my ship to come in”
“wish in one hand and ____ in the other”
“left high and dry with no pot to pee in.”
“kick the bucket”
“six feet under”
“in my prime”
“early to bed early to rise makes a man healthy, wealthy and wise”
“slow as molasses”
“nice as pie”
“hit the hay”
“rise & shine”
“smooth as silk”
“moxie” - a lot of guts
“can’t see the forest for the trees”
“well he’s got some brass ones don’t he?”
“that makes about as much sense as a jar of dirt.”
“too bad, too sad, life goes on.”
“fell out the cracker tree.”
“over yonder”
“one gene short of a marble”
“fit as a fiddle”
“flat as a “flitter”
“low as frozen molasses going up hill”
“o dark thirty”
“aren’t you just the cat’s pajamas!” - all dressed up
“timbuktu”
“jacking their jaw” - talking a lot
“ah, button your lip” - shut up
“slingin’ the bull.”
“going to town” - going shopping
“in the boondocks” - out in the woods.
“way out in the boonies” - way out in the woods
“goosepen” - a burned out stump
“no-account”
“triflin”
“ain’t fit to tote guts to a bear”
“like a red-headed stepchild”
“rode hard and put up wet”
“fixin’ to learn big wood from brush” - learn a lesson
“whipped like a rented mule” - lose the game
“I didn’t come up the Clyde in a banana boat”
“I was born at night, but not last night!”
“my train fell off the track”
“kick a bush” - go to the ‘powder room’ when you’re out in the woods
“wool choppin’” - hair cut
“ear bobs” - earrings
“ran sacked the place”
“I work like a slave to bring in the bread”
“chompers” - false teeth
“neat as a pin”
“cool as a cucumber”
“ride like the wind”
“gettin’ your ears lowered” - hair cut
“dishpan hands”
“if the devil don’t find me and the crik (creek) don’t rise”
“if the good Lord willin’ and the crick don’t rise”
“in a pig’s eye”
“can’t make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear”
“spit quick or die.”
“numb as a hake” - hake is a fish
“can’t get theyah from heah” - can’t get there from here
“slicker than froghair”
“plain as a mud fence”
“tougher than a cob”
“tighter than dick’s hatband”
“looser than a fart in a windstorm”
“older than dirt”
“he/she “would lie for a nickel and the truth worth a dime”
“cuter than pink slippers”
“gayer than a birthday tablecloth”
“randier than a boar coon”
 ”He’d gripe with a ham under each arm”
“I’m hungrier than a bitch hound dog suckin’ pups”
“She’s uglier than a mud fence”
“It’d be a dark night at the well before she’d get a drink- (In other words, she’s so ugly she’d only get her water from the well at night to avoid being seen.)
“I’m hotter than a popcorn fart”
“I’m sweatin’ like a whore in church on Sunday”
“I’m too pooped to pop.” - very tired
“I’m a stuck duck in a dry pond” - meaning a very difficult situation to get out of
“It’s so noisy in here, I can’t hear myself think.”
“It’s about as useless as a sore thumb”
“It’s colder than a well digger’s butt in Idaho.”
“I’m worn to a frazzle” - very tired
“It came a real gully-washer last night.” - lots of rai)
“Whew, I’m hot as a bear!”
“There were so many people, you couldn’t stir ‘em with a stick.
“took off like a cat hit in the a__ with a boot jack”
“he’s pretty as a speckled pup”
“He’s drunker than Old Cooter Brown”
“He came in 3 sheets in the wind” (to describe someone drunk)
“He’s tighter than a fiddle string” -very conservative with money - He doesn’t know “You’re gettin’ just a little bit too big for your britches — I may have to take you down a notch or two.”
“Oh, it’s too far and snakey.”
“Don’t just sit there like a frog on a log”
“I’m so thirsty I could drink the well dry”

About the Author

Lisa Jay is a freelance writer and the jewelry designer behind Lantana Designwear. You can visit her websites at http://www.LantanaDesignwear.com and www.JewelryMakingHQ.com
Be sure to sign up for her newsletter at http://www.LantanaDesignwear.com/signup_newsletter to receive information on jewelry, fashion and womens issues.

I decided to enclose a funny picture with my last letter to relatives in Arizona. It was a picture of me sweeping three inches of snow off of my car at seven a.m. so I could go to work. This should amuse my sister-in-law. “Who wants to move where it freezes every winter?” The answer, “My husband, your brother, the last great explorer but not the one scraping snow.” My sister-in-law writes, “It was really cold last night. It got down to 48 degrees.” Yeah, right. Bring out the long johns and thermal socks. She also writes, “What is this black ice that you mention? Is that some Northern term? Slide off the road? What? How?” Why do I write to her? She never liked me anyway. I married her baby brother. Just stole him away from the family. All six foot two helpless inches of him. “But,” I write, “Next month the ice will melt. Then we’ll have slush. After that our yard becomes The Big Muddy. Maybe I’ll skip the winter picture and send her a summer picture of flies, earwigs (she never heard of them either), wasps, spiders and me with my swatters and zappers. She is easily amused.

Believe it or not, my other sister-in-law is worse than the one I just mentioned. “When God gave out brains, she thought He said “trains and she missed hers” as the saying goes. One day I was helping her sort clothes. She threw a pair of pants in the discard pile. “This is no good. The button is missing,” she remarked nonchalantly while my mouth dropped open. When I recovered, I said, “Let me take them home, find a button and sew it on. Then my nephew can have his favorite pants to wear again.” She look very confused. Now I know where the expression “dumb as a post” comes from. Someone else knew my sister-in-law.

Marge has been writing all her life and just published two humor books. She writes a column for her local paper, The West End News, called “Excerpts from Granny’s Journal” and belongs to a writers group called The West End Misfits. She is the library director in a small town in the Northwest. You can email her at asccm@hotmail.com.

blair bear and his missions.

Here we see a Brown Bear. Looks cuddly doesnt he. But that is not
always what Luigi needs in his bears, and useless in cold climates.

Contrast this with Arctic Bear above, quite a large customer,
but not much good in warm climates. Luigi needed a third way.

And as luck would have it, a totally new type of bear appeared.
Unlike any seen before, the new BlairBear.
He had apparently evolved, Darwinian like, just in the nick
of time to save all mankind.

Unfortunately, after several seemingly successful years, his public
mentioned he looked a lot like Arctic Bear and to cap it all he was
found to have thawing snow under his nails, kept under wraps before.
It was curtains for BlairBear.
Its a fair cop Guv, I had a good run for my money he said.

Nevertheless he comes in useful at times on special missions for Luigi,
Like here, preparing an honest level playing field, then shifting
the goalposts, a classic sign of BlairBears.

And here, by day, controlling the sea, Canute like, enthralling
onlookers with his seemingly awesome tricks.

Whilst by night he simply moves the beach.
And leaves a little memento of what he calls his
modest country residence.

He is available now should you want to set up a committee,
or a seminar, or intensive investigation, or a council of war,
or investigative panel, a quango, action group, listening panel,
or even a full inquiry.

It takes seconds to activate these and they last months on end,
and you dont have to comment on anything to do with it
until it is over. He learned these skills from many years
of hosting Teddy Bears Picnics in Antarctica, despite
only having three bears at his disposal.

This new brown bear, the Gordon, is under testing with a view to
full production in the near future. However there are teething
troubles with his maths, and his propensity for taking money
off smaller bears and then throwing it away, or just simply
losing it and having to borrow it off bigger bears.

He also has a bit of a temper if he doesnt get his own way,
and stamps on other friendly teddies.
Nevertheless he looks like no teddy we have seen before
doesnt he children.

So all is not lost, a contingency plan is in place, and in any
event Luigi employs old clapped out bears for devious missions
long after their original cover is blown.

They are especially useful if they have dubious associates.

But is there then even a FOURTH way.
Rumour has it that Blair Bears female partner,
DamsonBear would have you think so, and
is trying to invent one in time for next Spring,
in case GordonBear is not quite ready in time,
or squashes too many little bears before then.

Remember, this is all fantasy land, and the bears here
are all our friends.

Both ArcticBear and BlairBear are sponsored by Northern Glacier Union Co.

Blair Bear has been seen by people

Have you seen Blairbear. What was he up to today
and where did you see him. Was he grinning.
If you saw him, please email with his location,
as there are fears for his health or that he may
run away soon.

email steiffbears@blueyonder.co.uk

Road Rage Rant for Blairbear Click Here
View Road Rage Rants for Blairbear Click here
http://www.stiffsteiffs.pwp.blueyonder.co.uk

About the Author

deranged ex systems programmer also unhinged by an engineering background. over 40 so very old.

You did this to me!

Me! The king of the jungle.

The ultimate muscle bound stud. Adonis! God’s gift to women.

I’m going extinct!

I hope you women out there with your equal rights are happy. You better enjoy me while you can.

The Y-chromosome, the fingerprint of maleness, is weakening, being stripped of the genes defending it.

When it goes, men will no longer exist.

In the beginning, the Y chrome was healthy, like the female‘s thing. But just like men are serial killers and tyrants who cause wars, and not women, the men’s Y thing is dysfunctional.

In fact, according to scientists, men today are technically just mutant women, that’s all, genetically modified women. Are you a guy who thinks you’re tough? You’re just a girlie man.

So if somebody is rude to you, say to them indignantly, and in an effeminate voice, “don’t you dare talk to me like that, I’m a genetically modified woman.”

Does that mean George Bush would look good in a red satin prom dress?

In the end, the world will be composed of Amazon lesbians

and a few going-extinct men held over perhaps as sex slave toys.

If that’s the case, I hope I’m one of the few.

When did this trouble start? Approximately 100 million years ago, a mutation of the Y-chromosome’s ancestor in early mammals split off to enable development of a separate male gender. The problem with mutating is, the Y thing can’t stop doing it.

Currently, the Y has lost thousands of its purpose-giving, protecting genes, like a middle aged guy loses his hair.

The Y only has 27 genes left.

When it stands alone, it becomes irrelevant. Then it goes. Poof!. No more men.

When will this extinction occur? Approximately 125,000 years.

Blame rats, mice. They did this to us.

Ironically, one tiny rodent that currently lives in the Caucasus Mountains called the “mole vole”

managed to avoid Y extinction by throwing out the Y and installing its own “offshoot” relay-type half-and-half gene.

This might give us hope. But to date, no other species has been able to do this.

Congratulations to the mole vole. You women. If you want something masculine and hairy in 125,000 years, you’re going to have to date a bisexual, bipolar, hermaphrodite mole in some Russian mountains.

Science already enables lesbian couples to experience parenthood by sperm implant. The possibility of someday injecting the nucleus from a female egg into another women’s egg, allowing two women to parent a child—without any involvement by a man—Y, sperm, anything—is almost a certainty.

One hitch. The child of such a couple will always be a girl. The girl will not be a clone, but will have two regular biological parents. Two mothers, instead of a mother and father.

Wonderful!

In the meantime, us tough guys are weakening down. Today, approximately seven percent of us men are infertile or not-very-fertile because of continuing Y mutations that were not present in our fathers.

How does that make me feel? I suddenly have a strange empathy for the passenger pigeon and the dodo bird. I also feel a peculiar urge to put on a dainty lace apron and bake cookies.

© Copyright 2004 by SammonSays.com

John Sammon is the author of two books and writes a weekly humor column you may access at www.SammonSays.com

Of all the people who know me, no one would say I am afflicted with worryitis. They may say other things about me, which may or may not be true, but that’s another story.

If you ask me, and nobody has, worry is just a waste of time that could be used more profitably. Every hour of worry takes away from an hour of happiness. There is absolutely no “rhyme or reason” to spend one moment worrying.

Actually, there is a little “rhyme,” (it sounds more like rap than anything else), but I assure you there is absolutely no reason for it.

A friend has a cute motto he likes to call to mind; “Why worry when you can pray,” which makes perfectly good sense. If we would spend time we would use to worry and pray, we would discover little to unduly concern us.

Very little in life causes me to agonize or be anxious. I have better use of my time than wasting it in such a useless employment carrying no benefits or retirement.

This has not always been the case with me. Once, and not too long ago, I worried about everything. You name it, and I’ve worried about. My worry list was longer than the list of promises of a politician running for re-election.

Then I worried about missing something I should be worrying about, which was my Waterloo, and you know what happens when you miss the loo.

This is not to say I don’t have a worry in the world. There is the war in Iraq; the economy; and trying to remember what my wife asked me to bring home from the store tonight. If I’m not careful, I could easily slip back into those gala days filled with worry.

That was then, this is now. A few years back someone introduced me to a marvelous strategy dealing with worry. Since then, my worrying time has been cut to a bare minimum. Because I’m the kind of person I am, I want to pass this scheme along to my friends: both of you.

I call the plan, “The Wednesday Worry Club.” I simply referred to it as the WWC.

Very simply, anything that comes my way in the category of worrying, is jotted down on a 3×5 card, which is then placed in a special box called, “The Wednesday Worry Club Box.” The item on the card is forgotten as I drop it into the box. Every Wednesday I open up the box and go through the cards.

The cards are color-coded for convenience. Red cards are for serious items; green cards are for financial worries; blue cards are for items not needing immediate attention; and yellow cards are for issues with the Gracious Mistress of the Parsonage (the bulk of cards in the box are yellow — but you didn’t hear it from me).

The effect is simplifying my life and freeing up significant time previously occupied with worrying. I cannot tell you how this has enriched my life and I am anxious for you to experience the benefits of the WWC.

On Wednesday afternoon when I open the box, the cards fall into three categories.

One: Issues that are too late to do anything about. This is my favorite category. The theory being if you postpone anything long enough it will be too late to do anything about it. Many of the red cards fall into this area.

The interesting thing is, when the item is first put on the red card and placed in the box it seems to be extremely urgent, as though something needed to be done right away. However, placing it in the box and forgetting about it until Wednesday takes away the thorn of urgency.

Two: Issues that are no longer urgent, important, or needing any attention at all. This, too, is a favorite category. Too often a certain person in our house, (I’ll mention no names), insists that a thing needs immediate attention. However, some things postponed long enough take care of themselves.

Most issues, if left alone, will work themselves out without any outside help. And I consider myself outside help. The further outside, the more comfortable I feel.

Three: The final category, issues that can be postponed until next week. Many of these are green cards. As I go through the cards, regardless of their color, I try to postpone as many as I can.

There is a finesse in this aspect of the WWC. It takes a long time to develop expertise in the area of postponement.

The key to all of this, of course, is to carry about on your person at all times enough colored cards. It is a sad day when I run out of cards, usually the yellow cards.

Then a thought emerged in the back recesses of my mind. How many trees have been used to produce all these 3×5 cards I’ve been using. Immediately, I brought out a fresh red card and made a notation. I cannot wait until Wednesday to find out how this works out.

Of course, there is a better way than the WWC. David, that marvelous Shepherd Psalmist of the Lord wrote, “Trust in the LORD with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding. In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths.” (Proverbs 3:5-6 KJV.)

Instead of committing my anxious thoughts to cards, I could “Commit thy way unto the LORD; trust also in him; and he shall bring it to pass.” (Psalms 37:5 KJV).

Recently, the WWC has given way to the WNPM (Wednesday Night Prayer Meeting).

About the Author

Rev. James L. Snyder is an award winning author and popular colunist living in Ocala, FL with his wife, Martha.

I’m contemplating making this the title of my next novel. I
often wonder why people decide to own a home. Oh I’ve heard the
arguments pertaining to NOT throwing rent money away and the
joys of having an “Investment” and all the other upside
arguments that are made for the joy of home ownership. I agree
that some are valid and coherent in their logic and I would
further agree that for some people having a house is a wonderful
thing. For me, this weekend, owning a house was anything but
wonderful.

My wife had been on my case for nearly a year to take down some
wallpaper borders in our family room. Now I actually liked the
borders and was therefore reluctant to accommodate her request
and successfully stalled this project for twelve solid months.
This, alone, was a masterful display in the art of dodging that
would make any procrastinator proud. Alas, like all good things,
this too had to come to an end. It was time to paint that room
and it was time for the borders of those happy Mallard Ducks to
meet the landfill.

Mistake 1. I set up a timetable for the job and shared it with
my wife. Lesson for all us married guys; never, ever set up a
time table because your spouse will actually hold you to it and
nag you incessantly once you fall behind.

I was able to peel off the water proof decorative covering and
was left with the ugly brown backing that was stuck to the
walls. No problem I thought to myself (Stupid me). I hoped in my
truck and was off to the hardware store. I bought a bottle of
solvent that claimed to remove this stick on mess easily; $9.95,
plus a new scraper, $12.55. I paid for my stuff and made my way
home. I sprayed this awful smelling stuff on the wallpaper
remains and screamed in agony as the backwash came back and
fried my eyeballs. After ten minutes of rinsing my eyes under
cold water and gagging from the smell I decided that it would be
prudent to don some goggles and perhaps open a few windows. I
waited the required amount of time and got to work.

Well, things weren’t going well, the backing wasn’t coming off.
I scraped and scraped but only succeeded in getting a numbing
ache in my arm and shoulder. I reread the directions to make
sure I didn’t forget something. After a few minutes I assured
myself that I wasn’t that stupid and tried again. Same results,
an aching shoulder and not much progress to show for my efforts.
At this point I had gone through the entire bottle of solvent
and had no success. I decided that if I used a step ladder I
could probably get better angle while scraping this baked on
crap.

Mistake 2. Force, ladders and physics. For every action there is
an equal an opposite reaction. I climbed on the step ladder took
a few deep breaths and forced the scraper into the backing then
promptly fell over backwards landing on my posterior. I
literally pushed myself off the ladder and landed with a
resounding thud that shook the entire floor. Now the litany of
colorful metaphors flew like dandelion seeds in the wind scaring
my 14 year old daughter and convincing my wife that everybody
would be safer if they left the house, which they did.

I took a few deep breaths and walked off the pain from my fall.
I studied the problem and tried to think of a rational solution.
I figured the solvent I purchased wasn’t strong enough, so off I
went back to the True Value Hardware store. I found another gel
solvent that was recommended by a clerk, $12.95 and happily went
home snickering. I would prevail against this hideous backing or
die trying. I sprayed this gel, literally soaking it with this
blue gooey substance. After about five minutes my hands started
burning, not the mild tingling, but like I had stuck them in my
wood stove. My fingers and palms were turning dark red. I ran to
the bathroom and began frantically washing my hands in cold
water. After fifteen minutes of soaking my hands in the bathroom
sink filled with water and ice cubes my fingers stopped burning.
Well, I emptied the sink and melted the ice. I figured that if
this stuff would melt flesh, the backing was as good as off the
walls. I’d be back on schedule in no time and have the room
painted before the sun set.

I looked up at those pesky brown stripes imagining those little
particles of paste dissolving in hideous agony from the blue
death I had imparted. It was about this time that my throat
started burning a bit causing me to open a few more windows. The
moment of truth had finally arrived. Like some mad axe murderer
I approached my foe with scraper in hand. I expected the backing
to peel off like orange rind and was stunned when all I scraped
off was a mess of blue goop that started burning my fingers
again. I won’t repeat the language I used to express my dismay
at this turn of events; fortunately nobody was in the house to
be on the receiving end of my vile rant.

I glanced over at the clock, four hours had passed, and I had
less than half of one wall partially removed. I looked into the
kitchen at the two gallons of paint, the brushes and rollers
knowing that I should be half way through painting at this time.
I looked back over at the border backings and began to panic. My
wife would be home in slightly under an hour she was having
company and had planned on showing off her newly painted room.
She was going to come home and find a room full of blue acidic
goop covering the walls and not too much else in the way of
measurable progress. I ignored the pain and attacked the wall
with a new sense of desperation; fear of my wife’s wrath. I put
all of my strength (as much as the ladder would allow) into
scraping this backing off my walls. I ignored the burning
sensation and continued to force more and more of this paper off
the wall. After forty minutes, I was dripping with sweat and my
shoulders and arms were screaming like I just went ten rounds
with Muhammad Ali. I rinsed my hands off and grabbed a tall
glass of water.

I took a ten minute breather before getting back on the job.
That’s when I noticed, to my absolute horror that the blue goop
had dried, and dried into a rock hard shell. The over spray that
had dripped down the walls was now rock solid and seemingly
impregnable, I shook my head and muttered, at least it didn’t
burn anymore. The walls were a disaster. There were streaks of
solid blue running down white walls with blotches of blue goop
saturating an ugly brown border backing. As per my usual, I had
succeeded in making a bad situation worse. At this point I heard
the garage door open and knew my wife had come home. Now it
would all hit the fan. She walked in expecting to see a painted
room and saw brown and blue nightmare. She simply glared at me
awaiting some rational explanation of what I had done during the
last several hours. I pleaded my case in between curses. I told
her I didn’t give a flying explicative if the room ever got
done. To further emphasize my case I tossed my wallpaper scraper
like a throwing knife and embedded it into the far wall. I went
back into the kitchen and grabbed my jacket, I was leaving to
get a cup of coffee and cool off.

I had my Pumpkin Spice Coffee and after a few sips, things
seemed to be right with the world. I stopped back at the
hardware store and explained my predicament to another sales
clerk. I pointed out the product I had been sold and was
informed that it was one of the strongest consumer grade
solvents available. I agreed with him, displaying my chaffed red
hands as proof of his claim. I asked if there was something
stronger. He nodded and disappeared into the back room. Two
minutes later he emerged with a small bottle of a product that
needed to be mixed with hot water. I bought this and a
razorblade scraper; total purchase $17.86.

I arrived home and heated a pan of scalding hot water. I dumped
the water into a bucket and began to sponge the blue mess I had
made earlier. To my relief it was dissolving and some of the
paper actually began to fall away from the wall. I used the
razorblade scraper in an attempt to get a better bite under the
backing forgetting that sheetrock is mostly paper. Yes, I tore
out some huge chunks of the wall during this process, but I did
get a lot of the paper removed. I would have to patch the wall
once I finished, if I ever finished. At this point I was tired
and frustrated. The room wasn’t going to be painted tonight and
I really didn’t care all that much anymore. I was frustrated and
tired and didn’t have the energy for Border Wars anymore.

I awoke Sunday morning and went back at it, assuming that I’d
be ready to paint by noon. I repeated my first mistake by
relaying this plan to my wife. I got the snicker and the look of
doubt as she took the kids out for the morning. After two more
hours of razorblade scraping and using this industrial strength
solvent that stunk like decomposing road kill, I had managed to
put several deep gauges in the walls and finally remove the bulk
of the backing. I patched the walls and went for a coffee run
while everything dried and the house aired out from that gawd
awful smell.

To finish this long rant, the room was finally completed around
9:00PM Sunday night. To my amazement it looks pretty darn good.
The fact that I have several cuts from the razorblade scraper,
burnt hands and fingers and aches in both arms and shoulders not
withstanding. This whole weekend fiasco set me back $53.31 in
solvents and supplies along with another $40.00 bucks in
environmentally friendly paint. I looked at the room this
morning and wondered why people put themselves through this
torture. Is owning a home worth all this agony? Next week
there’ll surely be something else that needs to be repaired,
repainted, raked, mowed, cut, trimmed, replaced or assembled. Is
this what it means to be a homeowner? Damn, no wonder Condo’s
are selling like hotcakes up here. My wife wants the hallway
painted next weekend. I smiled politely and told her where the
brushes and rollers were, I want no part of that project.

Creativity is one of the greatest tools for success in business.

All businesses are created first by ideas.

Then once you’re in business you need ideas for marketing,
advertising, solving problems, product development etc.

The difference between success or failure could be one just one
idea. That’s all!

Below are three ways to generate profitable business ideas.

1. Communicating regularly with other business people can
generate many ideas. There are many resources online and
offline to meet new business people lie; seminars, chat
rooms, discussion boards, trade shows etc. Sharing your
knowledge, asking questions, and taking in new information
will stimulate your mind. Your brain will begin to put all this
information together to create profitable business ideas.

2. If you’re not much of a communicator, try reading. Reading
can also stimulate your mind. Read business books, magazines,
e-books, websites, journals, e-zines, newspapers etc. Your
brain will generate profitable ideas by absorbing and
rearranging this information on a regular basis.

3. Don’t have a lot of time to read? You could listen to
business audio books, seminars and courses. Listen to
them in the car, while your doing house work, working in
the yard, or exercising. Also, tune in business related radio
stations. This will help you save time and generate
profitable business ideas at the same time.

There are a few extra tips that will help improve these idea
generation strategies. Take short breaks to brainstorm about
the information you absorbed. Keep a notepad and pen
handy to record your ideas so you don’t forget them. All
businesses need profitable business ideas to stay ahead of
competition and survive.

Warmly,

I-key Benney, CEO

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

I-key, an “Enlightened” man & Millionaire CEO from New York City is the creator of “Mscsrrr: Millionaire Secret Cash System”, home based business, online investment opportunity (http://www.mscsrrr.com) which has helped thousands of ordinary people from all over the world to attain financial security and shining success during the past 2 yrs.

There you are, talking to someone, who, you assume, is intelligent. Then, quite unexpectedly, he or she says something that makes you realize that, like it or not, you’re talking to an ass.

Now, a researcher believes he has accounted for the sudden turn of events. In an article in the prestigious New England Journal of Medical Hot Flashes, he explains that he at first intuited the probability of the upper body’s rotational capability and then did a study that involved observing people in an MRI while they talked.

He discovered that when a person says something really stupid, his or her body does, in fact, suddenly rotate on the hips, so that the butt faces up.

He is currently doing a follow-up study to determine if the same people, upon recognizing the idiocy of their ways and apologizing for the dumb comment, can rotate back to the position he refers to as heads up.

Tom Attea, creator of Newslaugh.com, has had six shows produced Off-Broadway and has written comedy for TV. Critics have called his writing “”delightfully funny” and “witty” with “good, genuine laughs.”

After five years of mostly loyal service, my trusty computer finally gave up the ghost on me, recently.

It had been on it’s last legs for some time, so the other week I decided to bite the bullet and replace it, and now I’m sitting at my desk most days with something that’s loosely comparable to the HAL 9000.

I was aware, in the general sense, of just how fast the world of computers moves. With constant technological advances, anything you buy today will be obsolete fairly soon. However, I hadn’t banked on just how fast the whole design of computers changes.

My old computer was boxy and white, it had cables running to and from anything connected to it, and it had to be given an order to do something.

HAL, on the other hand, is all wireless. It’s grey and sleek. And it seems to be thinking for itself at least half the time. It knows more than I do, and worse yet, it KNOWS that it knows more than I do.

The wireless aspect, especially, bothers me. Somehow, when I type something, it is transferred to the screen without any sort of physical connection. This computer could run on voodoo for all I know. I know that if something is working, I should just shut up and be glad of it, but I’m just too paranoid by nature not to find stuff like this weird. I don’t like not knowing how my computer does things, I feel like it’s mocking me.

I’ll give you an example. The other day, I was collecting various links for a project I was working on, and decided to make a separate folder in the “Favourites” box in my web browser. I then told the computer to hide the folder so it didn’t pop up every time, which, of course, it did. What I hadn’t banked on was that it hid it so well that I haven’t been able to find it, since. For all I know, it’s down the back of my sofa. HAL certainly isn’t telling.

It’s also a lot faster. I don’t understand data-compression - indeed, I don’t really feel I have to - but somehow it saves songs to it’s memory in less time than it takes to play them. That’s more than I can do.

You can play me a song and after a few run-throughs I can pick up the basic chords and the words. What I cannot do, however, is hear the opening bars and then sing you the whole thing verbatim and quote you the changes for every instrument needed. HAL can.

In short, it’s scary.

Like all guys, I have the creeping fear of turning into my father. I think a major sign of the fact that you’re getting older is when technology overtakes you. I was fine with my old computer, understood it implicitly, it was the kind I used in high school.

HAL, on the other hand, is part of a new breed. I wouldn’t be entirely shocked to learn that it chooses to look like a computer, and is in fact made of some sort of liquid metal that can imitate whatever it feels like when my back is turned.

Admittedly, I have a ways to go before I’m as baffled by technology as dad is. He often shouts at the TV remote for not doing what he wants it to, and, unable to get rid of the menu he has somehow brought up, will sulkily sit and watch TV around a box of options in the middle of the screen that obscures most of the picture.

It’s beginning to get the better of me, though. My old computer had an endearing quirk, if by endearing I mean “makes you want to kick it out of the window.” Sometimes, through stretching or leaning or whatever, I would mash a random selection of buttons on the keyboard and something unusual would happen. Either it would deleted everything I’d been doing forever, or the screen saver would come on, or, once, an inter-dimensional vortex was opened to the planet Noquilon, although admittedly that was after a very long stretch and a lot of button mashing.

I haven’t the faintest ideal of how I used to pull this off, but it made some sort of sense. Random button pressing can lead to unexpected events. Only fair, really.

HAL, on the other hand, does it of it’s own accord. I press a series of buttons that seem perfectly logical and it still does something that, more often than not, leaves me staring, slack-jawed, at the screen. It’s entirely too much technology for my mind to handle; I’m like a monkey with a lawn mower, or George Bush with an entire nuclear arsenal.

Proof, if proof were needed, that machines are evolving too fast comes from the little “help” characters. My old computer had a cartoon paper clip as your little “help” bringer. Recently when I tried to search for yet-another file that HAL had hidden, I was guided by a Labrador.

Not only did the Labrador find files that I was convinced no longer existed anywhere in the known universe, but I realised that as such, in the space of five years, the help icon has progressed from an inanimate, simple object that would sit on my desk and do simple things when needed to something that can sit, stay, get the paper and piss on my shoes.

If that isn’t a powerful metaphor, I don’t know what is.

Luke Haines