American Fez

Dumb Bells

While humbled at the gym, brought to my knees by M C Esher's idea of a treadmill, a Rio Grande of perspiration cascading down my spine to its confluence with the vast sea of sweat forming around my feet, some booming, adrenalin-addled voice asked me what my favorite workout music was. This inquisitive interlocutor looked rather like Superman with a sports towel slung around his neck instead of a cape, a behemoth prepared to crush my iPod headphones and my head into smithereens with his bare hands should he find my answer insufficiently uptempo.
"The Song of the Volga Boatmen," I managed to reply, between desperate pants and gasps for breath, causing a brief yet terrible frown to pass darkly across his great facial edifice as various permutations of half-remembered track-listings and musicians tried to coalesce themselves into recognizable order in his brain.
"Is that Radiohead?" he said eventually, after much mental struggle.
"It might be." I told him. "It might be."

"So Long" at the Fair

Unplugged and unloved, about as useless as a Speak-Your-Weight machine in zero gravity, Zoltan stares deeply and despondently into his giant plastic cue ball as the future remains resolutely unrevealed.

But the past is also veiled here, since it is unclear to me whether, in his heyday, Zoltan mechanically intoned his recorded predictions into the penny arcade air via a hidden speaker system, or merely dispensed a pre-printed fortune-cookie style slip of paper from a slot into his client's grubby hands. Like the faux Uncle fester below, Zoltan can still be visited in-situ at the Fun-o-Rama in York, Maine, but I wouldn't expect a tall, dark, handsome maintenance engineer to fix him anytime soon.

Effing Broken

The freaky face of a faux Uncle Fester/Frankenstein photographed with my phone at a funfair in York Beach, Maine. Alas, the museum-quality amusement in question appeared to be no longer operational.

Food Dolorous Food

Have you been to a Daft Wally's Burger Factory before? No? Well I'm Wally Junior and I'll be your server today and there's just a few things about our amazing menu I need to tell you about. The menu is split into six mouthwatering international sections featuring twelve burger selections each called Mexicali Microwave, BBQ Conundrummers, Neptune's Bucket, As-Seen-On-TV, Jungle Veggies, and Euro Smorgasboard. Diners may make two choices from the Mexicali Microwave, BBQ Conundrummers and Neptune's Bucket Sections, but only one choice from the As-Seen-On-TV, Jungle Veggies, and Euro Smorgasboard Sections unless they substitute three choices from the Mexicali Microwave, BBQ Conundrummers and Neptune's Bucket Sections or only one choice from the As-Seen-On-TV, Jungle Veggies, and Euro Smorgasboard Sections. Dessert is not included but may be chosen instead of one choice from the Mexicali Microwave, BBQ Conundrummers and Neptune's Bucket Sections or a half-size portion of Jungle Veggies. There are a few additional specials of the day I need to tell you about. These are the Sizzler Dribbler and "Who's-The-Chef?" sections and can be found on the addendum to our menu on the pages marked Sections 7 and 8. Diners can order one item from the Specials menu as a substitute for two choices from the As-Seen-On-TV, Jungle Veggies, and Euro Smorgasboard Sections or all their choices from the Mexicali Microwave, BBQ Conundrummers and Neptune's Bucket Sections. If you want something to nibble before the main courses arrive, our delicious range of appetizers are listed on the Roly-Poly Rolls section of the menu located in the Appetizers Reading Room to the left of the bathrooms and are listed in alphabetical order from one to three-thousand. Now can I get you started with some drinks?

Heaven on Trip Advisor

My wife and I recently died and so made the trip to Heaven we'd been planning ever since our baptism at the First Church of Christ Traveler. Unfortunately, our experience of everlasting joy at play in the fields of the Lord turned out to be very different than the Five-Star Afterlife advertised in the brochure. My personal misgivings began as soon as we arrived at the entrance to this over-hyped celestial resort, an extremely gaudy set of pearly-look gates that were guarded by an arrogant and supercilious saint who couldn't find our reservation in his ridiculous book. However, after much haggling and argument he finally let us in and we were shown to a very shabby edge of a rain cloud overlooking a gasworks in New Jersey. My wife asked if we would each be given a pair of wings and a harp or trumpet, like we'd see in the brochure photos, but she was told that these were extra and required an upgrade to archangel class. Altogether it was an extremely annoying and rather unholy experience for both of us. Suffice it say, next time we die I think we'll give Nirvana a try. Mrs Bodhisattva from across the road says she loves it there because you don't have to think about anything since it's all done for you.

Trip Advisor: Blueberry Hill

Unlike previous Trip Advisor reviewers, my wife and I completely failed to find any thrill whatsoever on Blueberry Hill, and I find it hard to believe that we were even staying on the same hill as F Domino from New Orleans. Not only did the moon not stand still, it moved about a lot in a haphazard and extremely annoying way. And the wind in the willows didn't play Love's Sweet Melody as we had been promised either, but seemed to be stuck on an especially dreary version of Mood Indigo at a funeral march tempo.
In fact, my heart sank as soon as we arrived as the foot of the so-called "hill." Pictures on Blueberry Hill's web page had portrayed a beautiful green mesa covered with sparkling blueberries and elderly bluesmen dozing off in old-fashioned rocking chairs. Unfortunately the truth turned out to be rather different. After the uncomfortable and unpleasant two-hour jalopy journey from Jeremiah Bullfrog Airport, we pulled up at what can only be described as a muddy mound with clumps of weeds and stinging nettles growing out of it. I assumed there had been some sort of mistake, but our surly driver assured us that this unattractive wasteland was indeed Blueberry Hill. Then, on exiting the jalopy, I immediately stubbed my toe on an old rusty banjo that was just laying around on the ground and spent the rest of my vacation in the Saint James Infirmary. Needless to say, we will not be returning to Blueberry Hill. 

Venice For Dentists

Of all routine dental procedures performed in modern surgeries throught the developed world, the so-called Root Canal is perhaps the most feared, especially when the problem tooth requires that little bit of extra-special attention that dentists call a Grand Root Canal, or The Venetian Operation as it is sometimes known, which employs a gondolier-shaped and particularly gruesome example of endodontic equipment nicknamed "The Doge's Drill."
Of purely cosmetic dental procedures, meanwhile, the ever-popular The Bridgework of Sighs often produces the most disappointing results ...