SUPER IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT!!!!

The world is a cruel place… especially when you move. That’s what I’ll be doing on Saturday and Sunday. One of the many unfortunate side effects of moving is the lack of internet access. Optimistically, I’ll be back up and running in about 8 business days. Worst case, I’ll never see the internet again. I will then realize that, karmicly speaking, I just wasn’t meant to peruse the internet for things like this and this. I certainly hope that’s not the case. So please forgive my absence, or just call it business as usual.

Some people have pet rocks…

I have pet peeves. Yes, it’s true. Sometimes people do things that irk me. These things involve not washing your hands after you go to the bathroom, using florescent green ink to write notes, eating your slice of pizza directly over the rest of the, as yet uneaten, pizza, purchasing vowels and NBA officiating. But one of the worst offenders in my giant book of pet peeves is the vanity license plate. They’re not so bad when you can understand what they are trying to communicate through clever uses of the numbers 2,4 and 8, but sometimes, it’s an inside joke that only two people in the world know about. I will lose sleep over not knowing what it means, and I consider this a travesty.

This pet peeve also includes the license plate holder. I’ve accepted that many people in this world think that “Get in, Hold on and Shut up” is as clever as it gets. And of course there’s the ever popular, “Driver carries no cash, wife has it all.” I once saw that on the back of a rusted out ’78 Datsun. What was left of the paint job was irreversibly sun damaged, none of the hub caps matched and use of duct tape repair was rampant (I, of course, had the highest respect for this man knowing that he was keeping his vehicle up to code with a liberal use of duct tape.). I’ll bet that guy was getting held up at gun point by various gang members all the time and he had no choice but to protect himself in the only way he knew how, with a license plate holder.

One of the negative things about commuting 45 miles each way to work everyday is that I invariably encounter said license plates and license plate holders. Today, much to my chagrin, was no exception. It was a double whammy, and that’s saying a lot because every day when I get in my car, I say, “No whammies, no whammies” several dozen times in the hopes of avoiding any and all whammies, and wouldn’t you know it, I get a double whammy! What are the odds? 15,321,246,986,511,216,987,413,151 to 1,356,998. Strange odds I know, but seriously, who’s betting on that kind of stuff? Soccer moms and out of work chimpanzee actors, that’s who. I’ve seen them at the local dive bars, arguing with their bookies and it's not a pretty sight. (what was I doing at those local dive bars? That’s none of your damn business and I’d appreciate it if you’d keep your nosey little face out of my affairs!)

So I’m driving to work, and as usual, things start to slow down to the break neck pace of 15 mph. I suppose that’s fast if you’re on foot, but in this modern age, it just doesn’t do it for me. I’ve got 150 horses under the hood, and if you think they like to be corralled into a 15 mph pace, you’re dead wrong. They are wild horse and they like to run free. Unfortunately, the corralling that takes place means that the likely hood of me being annoyed by someone else’s license plate/ holder are increased by approximately 1,000,000,000,000,000%. Trust me on that one, I did the math, and that’s the increase. I triple checked it and had 4 unbiased mathematicians from 4 different, neutral countries verify my findings, and even though there was some grumbling about how bad the craft service table was, all of the mathematicians agreed with my findings.

Once the crawl had set in, it was only moments before I saw what would be the bane of my existence for the day. There they were on my right, a small, late model midnight blue BMW. My eyes were seemingly drawn to the license plate holder. I don’t know why, probably because irony knows no bounds. I read the license plat holder, knowing full well that nothing good would come of it. This is what it said, “Walk like it’s for sale and like the rent is due tomorrow.” Now I admit, from time to time, I make stuff up. Occasionally, my posts will be somewhat fictional in their content. This however, is no such post. I cannot for the life of me figure out what this piece of nonsense is supposed to mean. I will lose sleep over this. I will curse the existence of license plate holders and I will very likely run that person off the road should our paths ever cross again. Sure, maybe that’s a little harsh, but at this point, the rent is due and they are pretending to sell something. I don’t know if they are tight on money, I don’t know if it’s an apartment, a condo, or a house and I’m not sure if there are any homeowners association fees due. The license plate holder gave me no indication of that. If anyone has any knowledge on this topic that they are legally allowed to share, please feel free to do so in the comments.

The Most Honest Post to Date

Here’s a little known fact about me, I sneeze approximately 1,329 times a day. I’ve tried everything from saying to myself, “self, do not sneeze today” to writing on a chalkboard, “I will not sneeze today” several dozen times. None of those seemingly bullet proof solutions have ever been able to suppress my amazing urges to sneeze though.

It’s gotten to the point where I’ve had to hire two retired mall security officers to carry around a mobile sneeze guard and hold it in front of me wherever I go. The Mall Pigs, as I like to call them, (seriously, it’s a term of endearment…) and I can often be seen walking around town, taking in some fresh air. Awhile back I had an automated system that was mounted on a giant backpack. It was a circular guard that would rotate every 5 minutes. As the shield passed through the backpack, it would be washed off, thus ensuring that I had a newly cleaned sneeze guard every 5 minutes (kind of like the protective shields they have on the tv cameras mounted on Indy cars.). While I loved the automated system, as I am a gadget freak, I missed the human touch. I like having officer Dukowski and officer Schmidt at my sides for every day conversation. I keep the automated sneeze guard in my car though, in case one or both of them call in sick. (for those of you that are dying to know, and I’m sure there’s at least one or two of you out there, officers D. and S. have a squeegee system worked out where in they alternate cleaning off the old fashioned portable sneeze guard. I do not envy them, but they rarely complain about it.)

This brings me to my next topic. All to often, people like to point out to me that when you sneeze, apparently you can’t keep your eyes open. This is false. I can absolutely keep my eyes open while I sneeze. Not only do I have photographic evidence of me in mid sneeze, eyes wide open, but I challenge anyone to stand directly in front of me whilst I sneeze and see if I close my eyes. What 99.95687% of the people I encounter don’t realize when they tell me this is that I have a stamped certificate from my optometrist. It has been notarized by a state representative and states that I possess “Superior Ocular Control.” Or SOC as it’s known in the optometry world. It’s not surprising that they don’t know this Because to my knowledge, I am the only person in the state of California that qualifies for such a prestigious award. I’m not shy about presenting it to them either. When question, I can often be heard explaining to the individual that I have SOC.

I will answer the obvious question now. No, I do not keep my eyes open every time I sneeze. While I do possess this rare ability, I choose not to do it unless called out on a challenge. The reason for this is that the only known side effect of not closing my eyes while I sneeze is that all of my eyebrow hairs fall out. Again, if challenged, I will not back down, but I prefer to keep my eyebrows. While everyone agrees that I don’t look any worse without eyebrows, as a matter of personal preference, I like to have them there. When I put on the prosthetics, everyone can tell and it’s just sad. “Nobody’s eyebrows are that perfect!” people will say. They are right; no one person has eyebrows as magnificent as my little eyebrow toupees. But the three hours it takes every morning to get them to look that way just isn’t worth it for me. Sure, having remarkably perfect eyebrows is nice, but the cost in time is to high. Bear in mind that I have many things to accomplish through out the day and to lose 5 hours to the eyebrows (three to apply, two to remove) is just too much.

While I can see how many people might think that all this sneezing would be a bit of a curse, allow me to enlighten you to one of the many perks it offers. A study was recently conducted by the National Association of Sneezing And Loitering (N.A.S.A.L. for short.) wherein it was determined that given the high totals in everyday sneezing produced by me, (I was second overall in the world. First place when to some Norwegian named Thor. He sneezes an average of 1,700 times a day. I rarely break 1,500 on a good day.) I am the most blessed individual on the face of the planet. (Turns out Thor, the first place guy, is kind of a jerk, so people rarely bless him. He’s actually ranked as the 5,631,326,215 most blessed individual in the world, if that’s any indication of how big of a jerk he is.)

Ahhh… another post in the books. Feels awkwardly unsatisfying, doesn’t it? Don’t worry, maybe next time I’ll post about something that makes sense… maybe not. Hot damn I’m unpredictable!!

New Post Eve

Is everyone excited?

October 31, 1977

Four Forty P.M.

The moment my life started,

Not when it began.

Mostly Useless Inovation

Now, watch in amazement as I proceed to post while totally ignoring the fact that I haven’t done so for nearly one full month! Although I must admit, when I started blogging, I said to my self, “Self, there’s no way in heck you’re going to go one full month without posting, got it?” and I was like, “Yeah me talking to myself, I hear you. Loud and clear.” (It should be noted here that I consider one month to be approximately 32 days, thus I am still inside the set parameters.)

If you’re like me, and I gather that most of you are, then you like to save money and spend a lot of it at once. I am constantly exploring ways to do both things at the same time. It usually proves to be quite a chore. Saving money and spending a lot at the same time is a lot harder than in sounds. In an effort to accomplish what I call “Speaving” money, I recently stumbled across an ingenious idea. It’s kind of tricky, but see if you can follow along.

Step one is the purchase of a home. The market right now is not very buyer friendly, but I have the feeling that will change soon enough. Give it about 5 years or so, then start looking for a house to buy. There are a few crucial elements to the house that you’ll want to be aware of. One thing you’re going to want is a nice tall tree in the backyard. The bigger the better. Another is to make sure that the power lines lead into the house from the roof. That is a must.

Step two is to immediately stop paying attention to that large tree in the backyard. Treat it almost as if it doesn’t exist. Don’t water it, don’t prune it and certainly do not name it. If anyone suggest that you give it a name, smack them square in the mouth and say, “Don’t you see what I’m trying to accomplish here?!!?” Then stop inviting that friend over, or, if it was a family member, move them into the garage, make them sleep on an old army cot with wobbly legs and feed them through a slot in the door. If the neighbors or the police ask you about why you have that relative locked up in the garage, just say, “Who? Him? Oh, that’s just an animatronic robot I made myself with some parts I bought at radio shack. Yeah, by trade I’m a robot designer. That’s just a little home project I’m working on. I think that someday the market for pretending you have you’re very own prisoner is going to be extremely high, that’s why I’ve programmed him to whine and complain and say things like, ‘Help me! I’m trapped in here!! Won’t somebody please let me out of this hellish dark dungeon?!!?’ Pretty cool, huh?” 99% of the time they will agree with you and give you some suggestions as to what else the prisoner should do, like, scrape at the walls or pound on the door, you know, regular prisoner type things.

Step three is to wait about 10-15 years and then plant some tree killing weed/vine to grow around the tree and choke it to death. This isn’t too complicated. Often times it will grow on its own. If you neglect your yard long enough, you’d be surprised what kinds of odd things spring up. Not to mention a whole new slew of creatures that will move in and make nests. And sometimes you get really lucky and one of those creatures will wander into your garage, make a nest in some plastic bags, suffocate itself, create the most horrific smell your nostrils have ever encountered with its dead and decaying carcass and you won’t be able to figure out what the hell it is for a good 6 or 7 months, then it will go away almost as mysteriously as it came. About a year after that, you will be cleaning your garage and happen across the dead animal. I urge you to resist vomiting on the spot, but it’s almost inevitable that you will. Just remember not to toss your cookies on your mom’s collection of old Elvis\Beatles records. That’s key. Write that down somewhere. At this point in time it would be advantageous of you to actually have animatronic robot building skills as you will have no desire whatsoever to remove the dead animal from the garage. And it will be imperative that you remove all dead things from the garage.

Step four is to wait. This is probably the hardest part. You should be about 17 or 18 years at least into the Speaving process. Make no mistake though, not once single cent has been speaved. That glorious moment has yet to come. It took me almost exactly 20 years to speave as much money as I did, but it was well worth the wait. Basically, you’ve neglected the large tree so much that a good gust of wind is all that it will take to knock it over. You are waiting for that gust of wind to knock the tree over onto the power lines and take them out. Here’s where the speavings begin. If all goes according to plan, the tree will knock out your power, that’s the savings part. And if the tree falls properly, when it takes out the power lines, it will also rip apart the socket where the power enters the house. This is where the spending begins. If you are lucky, the socket located in your house will be an original (and if you did this right, your house was built in the 50’s or earlier) and pretty much nobody will have a replacement for it. We didn’t get that lucky. Unfortunately for us, we found some electrician who happened to have the parts. Had we been lucky, we would have had to go to the city, get a permit for a new meter box and updated socket install, hire a professional to install the new equipment and then get the power company to turn the power back on. That would have meant at least 1 full week without electricity. Imagine the savings!! Not to mention the spending!! Permits aren’t cheap, and neither is the labor it would cost to install all the new equipment. Then there’s the bonus of having half your wall ripped out, I can’t forget to mention that. As it stands, we were only without electricity for 3 days, but all in all, there was some good speaving to be had.

So that’s how you speave money. I look forward to hearing if anyone else has some good ways to speave money or if they want to try out my technique. I’d love to hear how it works for someone else.

*note from the author: Ok, so this happened at my parents house, so I guess I should give them proper recognition for their part in helping me to develop this great way to speave money. Without them, none of this would have been possible.

Well, here we are near the end of the post… funny, I thought there would be more trumpets sounding and wild cheering… it looks like my fortune cookie was wrong. I would also like to say thanks to everyone that continues to stop by here, hoping that I’ll post something new, useless and almost completely unfunny. You guys are troopers and deserve some recognition. Virtual high fives all around!!

Injury Time Out

Well, I’ve really done it this time. I currently have a severely sprained left ankle. (my right ankle is fine, for all of you right ankle fans out there.) Softball is once again the culprit. Or more specifically, those two giant pits that right handed batters dug out in the batters box are the culprits. I was sliding into home on a close play at the plate and my left ankle got caught in one of the aforementioned pits and I jack-knifed over the plate. There was a popping sound and immediate pain. I was able to connect the two and determine that something not so good had just happened. I know what you’re thinking though, and don’t worry, I made sure I touched the plate. I was safe and the run counted. We only lost by 12 runs. Could have been 13…

I make ludicrous decisions all the time. There was no reason to change my ways the other night, so I drove myself home after the game. For those of you that don’t know, I drive a manual transmission vehicle. The left foot is kind of key in that it operates the clutch. Let me just say that the ride home was not the most fun I’ve ever had driving my car. Though no one recorded me on my drive home, every time I shifted, I would not deny screaming such obscenities as, “Paul Walker is a good actor!!” or, “I like the musical stylings of Kenny G.!!!”

When I got home, I could at least hobble inside. The next morning, well that was a slightly different story. Putting weight on it was not really an option. I mean, sure, I could have put some weight on it, but that would just mean more obscenities and a lot more pain. I was brought up to be extremely pious, not that I am, but since I’m living at home, I like to give my parents the illusion that they did something right. Therefore I try to make sure they don’t catch me saying things like, “Monday is my favorite day of the week!” or, “The WNBA Rules!!” They put a lot of hard work into raising me and I don’t want to disappoint them.

I made a somewhat baffling maneuver that day by calling my doctor to make an appointment. They were able to fit me in at 2:45. Of course, that’s really just something they put down on paper to make people feel like they matter. I sat in a room by myself for a good 35 minutes before anyone came to see me. After about a minute and 3 seconds of tests, they determined that it was severely sprained and that they would need x-rays. I was then instructed to hobble down the hall to the x-ray technician. I did so and was lucky enough to fill out a second set of paperwork before the x-rays were taken. The x-ray lab is not associated with the medical clinic I go to, they just happen to be in the same building, conveniently located right by all the doctor’s offices. I find this to be an amazing coincidence.

They have a fancy new x-ray machine, or more specifically, they got rid of those archaic film slides that they developed and it’s all digital now. Much faster to get the results. However, you still have to wait another 45 minutes to an hour for the doctor to come in and say, “Well, the good news is there are no fractures or breaks. Put this aircast on for a few days and here’s a prescription for some anti-inflammatorys and pain killers.”

My favorite part about the x-rays was when the technician threw the heavy lead blanket over my crotch. I felt really good about medical technology at that moment and half expected her to wink at me and say, “For the kids.” She was a fairly old woman, but very nice. She walked me all the way back to the examination room.

So far, this story has me spending the majority of the past two days in bed with my ankle elevated. I haven’t gone to work. Not that I could drive myself even if I wanted to. But it’s really weird, as much as I’d like to wake up at 6 a.m. and head out to a day of misery and boredom at work, I haven’t really missed it the last two days. Who saw that coming?

I am also forced to officially acknowledge Softball as the devil’s game as it has wrecked my shoulder, torn my hamstring and now severely sprained my ankle all in the span of a few months. 2005 has not been a good year for my softball career. I’m out for at least a week or two with this one… probably longer. But knowing me, it will be shorter, then re-injured and consequently longer. I seem to have very selective learning.

Tomorrow I head back to work, fully hoping that the drugs make me all kinds of drowsy and I sleep through half the day at work. Here’s to drooling on my keyboard!!

Cue The Somber Music…

It is with great disappointment that I post today. As many of you may know, or at the very least, have forgotten, one of my many goals in life is to become a millionaire playboy. I’ve taken several personality and aptitude tests, and they all say the same thing, I don’t like to work, but I love vacations and spending money, so all I’m really qualified to do is be a millionaire playboy. Well, tonight, they mega millions lottery jackpot is 150 million. I don’t know about you, but that certainly sounds like the makings of the millionaire portion of the millionaire playboy.

Here’s where things get kind of fuzzy. Some of my critics out there would argue that I made a somewhat crucial error when I failed to actually buy a lottery ticket. Of course, we won’t really know if that’s true or not for several weeks as there is currently a cluster of 32 supercomputers crunching the numbers to verify that my lack of purchasing a ticket has directly affected my ability to obtain those 150 million dollars. Plus, I still have to wait until tomorrow morning when the state lottery commission may or may not give me a call informing me of their decision to just bequeath the money to me. I submitted my aptitude tests to them several weeks ago, so it really wouldn’t surprise me at all if and when they call me with the good news.

In the mean time, I will have to occupy my time with some of the more unsavory activities in life. I have great confidence that I will receive a call in the morning, but I suppose just to humor fate a little, I will still get up and prepare for work, just as I do every weekday morning. Yes, I agree with every single one of you that it is an unnecessary thing to do, I really should just let the sweet sound of my phone ringing wake me rather than the heinous sound of my alarm clock, but what can I say? I’m a glutton for pleasure. Besides, I’d much rather answer the phone showered and ready for the ensuing press conference rather than be all crusty eyed and groggy… The last thing I want to do is say something foolish in the press conference like, “I’m going to donate all of my winnings to Bill Gates, because I think he offers the public top notch products at fair prices and he should be rewarded for that.” I’m prone to that kind of chicanery when I’m groggy…

If, in the highly unlikely event, I do not receive such a call (ludicrous, I know.) I will consider alternative means of obtaining millions of dollars, including but not limited to: Begging my mom and dad for it; buying it on eBay for a greatly reduced price; becoming a professional athlete; selling my secret to happiness; or blackmailing France with some fairly incriminating photos.

So that’s pretty much all I have to say about that. But that leaves this post a bit shorter than I’d like. Don’t think for one second that I’m going to let a little something like lack of content or substance shorten up my post though. Oh no. I am unscrupulous when it comes to this sort of thing. You can expect that the next few paragraphs will be completely unnecessary, but they will be padding this post. And in the end, I’m all about the padding.

So I spent most of my three day weekend trying to get this to work. If it doesn’t work for you now, I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised because it turns out, I was a bit of a failure this weekend. If it does work, enjoy because it took me entirely too long to do it. I’d also like to say that if you’ve got a computer that’s working pretty well and you’re not really into that kind of care free living, just give it to me and I’ll take care of that nagging little problem. If nothing else, I learned this weekend that I’m awesome at making computers slow down and freeze up a lot. It’s a gift and I shouldn’t waste it.

I also changed the oil in my car. I’ve gone all synthetic. None of that petroleum based garbage for me anymore. No sir, I’ll pay a lot more for some stuff grown in a lab. Basically, the theory is that I’ll have to change it less because full synthetic is supposed to last a lot longer. My aunt and uncle change the oil in their car once a year. It should be noted that I think they are stupid and have grossly over estimated the abilities of this synthetic oil, but their engine hasn’t seized up yet, so maybe their still stupid, but right about the oil. I have to be honest, the car felt good today… I don’t know that I actually possess the ability to detect more or less friction between the pistons and the cylinder wall, but if I do, then I think this synthetic oil reduced the friction making the engine feel silky smooth and dare I say even peppier than normal. When I hit the freeway onramp at 145 and launched myself, literally, into traffic this morning, I distinctly remember thinking to myself that it felt easier than usual.

Ok, enough padding.

In the beginning…

Often times, nobody on the street stops me and asks how I got started in this crazy blog business. I often feel obliged to reply though. It is a tale far less harrowing than you might think, but I feel at this point in my career, I owe it to my readers to explain how this utterly pathetic blog raised itself to almost complete mediocrity in a mostly unreasonable amount of time.

Hard as it is to believe, there was a time in the Shuck N Jive history when nobody commented. No, not even myself. While I make no great claims to be above that kind of behavior, the fact is, the thought just never occurred to me that I could create pseudonyms and carry on largely uninteresting comment conversations with myself. These are the types of things we learn in hindsight. The truth of my life is often far less interesting than the fiction of it. The truth is, I started the blog with no intention of telling anyone about it, and I was to wait and see what fate would make of it. I find it’s best in these types of situations to just let fate take a crack at it, then if fate sucks, I can always step in and show fate a thing or two about how to suck at stuff.

Well, as fate would have it, I received my first comment from Jack Safety. I had only been blogging for a couple of weeks, but it sure felt like it had been several weeks. Up until that point, I had not truly grasped the power of comments. I had seen them elsewhere, mocked them in my head but had yet to do any commenting of my own. Shortly after replying to my first comment, I had an epiphany: What if I went out and actually commented on other blogs? I was pretty sure no one in the history of western civilization had ever even considered thinking about such a thing, but why would they, blogging has only been around for like a couple months, right? I knew I was on to something big. Probably the biggest and most profoundly important thing in the world, so I didn’t want to screw it up. I knew that I had to comment, but where, and how?

Legend has it that there was once a great blog about an intern in New York. So great was his blog that it was linked on the blogger home page and I can only imagine it garnered as many as 2 or 3 hits a day. (well above my meager totals of –21,365,468,161. That’s right, I was actually negatively page loading the internet and consequently making the internet shrink unnecessarily.) People would visit this great blog and glow in it’s majesty. Of the few lucky ones to be linked on this great and wondrous blog was the lovely Jasmine. (however, at this time she was not yet known far and wide for her glorious rack.) Through the intern, many came to play with Jasmine. I was not one of them. Though it was naturally assumed, in fact, my path to Jasmine was much more fateful. As is my want to do, I kept clicking “next blog” up in the top right corner, passing through the insurance ads and the foreign languages I had no chance of understanding (hard to do, I know. Much as I’d like to say I understand Sanskrit, truth is, I just don’t. What can I say? I had a below average kindergarten teacher.). I clicked away until I landed upon a long list. My first “100 things” list I had come across on a blog. The magnitude of it sucked me in. I read, I laughed, I cried, I drank some Gatorade, I read some more, I took a nap, I read some more, I resurfaced the driveway, I read some more, I planted some tomato plants, cared for them, nurtured them to full adult hood, enjoyed their bountiful fruits, and eventually I finished reading the list. It was a long list. (The true irony of it all is that Jasmine is notorious for complaining about the length of my posts. Can you say, “hypocrite?” I can, only I pronounce it, “Jasmine.” (at this point I’m hoping Jasmine knows I love her and that I’m only kidding, but should I die in my sleep tonight, we’ll all know that I had it coming.))

Um…. Where the heck was I? Oh yeah, so after finishing that enormous list, I notice that 5 separate and distinct people had taken the time out of their day to say things to Jasmine. Mostly regarding her post. I couldn’t help myself. (I often can’t.) So I read the comments. Having read them, I felt like I had nothing valid to say, so I decided to instead just make fun of the comments themselves. (it was really just the first comment that made me want to do it, but then I didn’t want to leave anyone out.) What transpired is now Shuck N Jive lore. I’ll let it speak for itself. Click here to be bored by yet another instance of my under-whelming maturity. For this reason, and also because Jasmine’s hellfire was not thrust upon me, she has now officially been elected into the Shuck N Jive Hall of Fame and also her ninja call sign has been changed for reasons I cannot explain at this time. It has also been retired and bronzed and some other cool stuff too. (this time though, it’s not that I don’t have any totally sweet pictures of everything, I do, I got loads of them, big, giant, truck loads of them. It’s just that we decided that no media be allowed inside those hallowed halls, so no one gets to see. Except those that have been elected. So, you know, get elected or something… good luck with that.)

That was the first, but certainly not the last, time I made an ass out of myself in the blog world. In spite of that, I somehow managed to make a few friends. Now I have links of my own on the right and I can honestly say that each and every one of those blogs are worth reading, plus their authors comment a plenty on my blog. That’s part of the deal too. I don’t link otherwise. I’m too lazy. Don’t think you can comment once and then get linked. Not going to happen.

My First Milestone…

…worth mentioning. I’ve hit several milestones along the way, but up until now, none of them were worth mentioning. I mean, does anyone really care that my blog single handedly ended the thirty year civil war that plagued Konshciszistan? I certainly didn’t. Or maybe when I cracked the 100 spam comments in a 24 hour period… hardly something to be proud of.

No, we are here today to honor one of the Shuck N Jive’s 37 commentators. The milestone that was reached quite recently, in spite of the fact that many critics said the blog would fold in the first month due to its utter lack of anything worth reading, is the 500^th comment. That’s right, 500 times someone other than myself was unable to restrain themselves and inwardly motivated to leave a comment that was 10 times more interesting than the actual post it was commenting on. (I had to remove myself from the count because otherwise we would be celebrating the 40,000^th comment right now. Seriously, I think I have comment Tourrete’s )

This commentator has been here from the start. In fact, according to my records, their first comment was made on 3/2/04. Now, for those of you who are thinking, “But Jon… you didn’t start blogging until March of ’05?” Well, that’s what makes this commentator so special. They were commenting almost a year before I even HAD a blog. That’s dedication. And I refuse to believe that it's simply a time stamp error by a rogue email server. No, that's just not possible. I believe whole heartedly that this commentator was simply well ahead of their time. After crunching the numbers, I found that this person makes up 28% of all the non-me comments. No one else is even close.

If you haven’t figured it out by now, the 500^th comment came from the lovely and talented Cadiz 12. And given the aforementioned statistics… it really isn’t a surprise. (Seriously, you might think that you comment a lot, but you got nothing on Cadiz… trust me. She practically doubles up the next closest person to her. Don’t be ashamed or embarrassed by that. There’s a reason she’s been inducted into the Hall.)

So Cadiz 12, we here at the Shuck N Jive institute solute you and your efforts and look forward to more of the same!

Given your heavy hitter status, The Green Ninja moniker will be forever retired and will never be worn by another blogger. A bronzed Green Ninja statuette will be placed in the Shuck N Jive Hall of Fame along with a with a short 5 hour movie detailing the growth and comments of Cadiz 12.

(at this point, were I a skilled magician of some sort, there would be a sweet graphic photo here of all kinds of Cadiz 12 Hall of Fame type stuff, but what do you think this is? omarphillips.net? No sir, no bandaids required here, we aren’t that cutting edge.)

I apologize for the brevity of this post, but it was mostly unplanned.