Indulge me, won’t you?  Imagine for a moment that you are enormously bored (Yeah, I know it isn’t difficult and is the precise reason you visited this site in the first place).  Now, imagine that quite suddenly two small pigs, about the size of dice, appear before you.  Are you surprised?  Perhaps even…  Intrigued?  I knew you would be!  “Pass the Pigs, old boy!” one the delightful swine shouts out to you.  Go ahead…  Do it.  You take up the pigs in your hands and give them a good toss.  Incredibly amused now, aren’t you?

Welcome to the wonderful world that is Pass the Pigs, a charming, highly entertaining and remotely educational children’s game from Winning Moves Games.  Prepare to be amazed!  I never thought I could be so easily amused by a simple game…  But I am!  Pass the Pigs is the greatest invention in the history of everything!  If you aren’t familiar with it then please, allow me to illuminate your dark, joyless world and blow your mind!  Pass the Pigs is a game in which the player tosses two pig-shaped dice and obtains a score based on the combination the pigs landed in (Some combinations include, but are not limited to: the “trotter”, the “razorback” and my personal favorite, the “leaning jowler”).  At the end of the game the person with the highest score (Or the first to reach 100) is the winner.

There is even a barrel of laughs enchanting and obviously true history behind the inventors of the game, Jack and Hugh Pigfellow.  Apparently, the two brothers were growing tired of being tossed about and set themselves to the task of created little wooden dice in their likeness.  “Whilst pork scratching a scoreboard on an old piece of fence posting, Hugh shouted “Oink, Pass the Pigs, Jack!” and so the first version was invented,” as the story goes.  The Pigfellow brothers went on to become, what the story refers to as “a phenomenal success” in their homeland of Pigalonia.

The truth is Pass the Pigs is not something altogether new to me.  It was given to me by my grandparents, as a while elephant gift I’m sure, although I can’t fully recall.  What I do remember, however, is the obscene amount of time I and my good friend Kade Christopher wasted away playing Pass the Pigs at school (Instead of attending class, mind you).  But alas…  The game was lost to time.  That was the end of all happiness.  But this Christmas (Which I’m sure will go down in history as the greatest Christmas ever) found Pass the Pigs and joy in my hands again.  Kade found the game and has given happiness a long deserved renewal.

For more information on Pass the Pigs or to order a set of your own, please visit: www.winning-moves.com

Love and Madness,
D. Bradford

p.s. – It should be noted that Jack and Hugh Pigfellow always appear in tuxedos.  Therefore, anything said by them (Including “Pass the Pigs”) should be uttered with an air of snobby arrogance.  Kade and I find this highly amusing.

The staggering inconsistency of public restrooms.  It may not seem like an issue worth of your precious time, but I assure you that the facilities in which you leave behind your body’s waste are of the utmost importance.  The topic I’d like to address specifically regarding the bathroom is the unpredictability of the design, maintenance and overall feeling of sanctuary in public restrooms.

Firstly, defecation and urination were never meant to be held in any sort of public forum.  Sure, the roman’s had their public baths.  Even in some parts of Asia there are bath houses still in regular operation.  This is still no excuse.  Just because the Romans and Chinese bathe together, doesn’t mean that their also pissin’ and shittin’ all over the place while they’re doing it.  Releasing of one’s bowels is a private matter, intended for the privacy of the home (Or an outhouse if you are so inclined).

However, should the mood strike you…  If you’re scarf shopping at the local strip mall or Cruising down town parks in your wood-paneled station wagon and you suddenly feel a stirring in your nether regions that could only be dealt with immediately…  You have no choice.  You have to use the state provided lavatory.

But every one of them is different, aren’t they?  Have you ever noticed that?  Public restrooms (In this country, at least) range in cleanliness and luxury from the lowliest gas stations closet space to the- I can’t think of the nicest restroom I’ve ever been in.  For the sake of argument, let us say the lobby of the Airport Hilton.  Differences include (but are certainly not limited too) faucets (Which can be levers, knobs or the always highly entertaining motion sensor), stalls (The variants in the stalls at the SLCC campus are terribly fascinating, but more so… frustrating.  There are stall doors here that won’t open because the door hits the bar attached to the wall.  There are stalls so short that if you are standing to pee into the bowl you can easily glance over into the next stall and get a fantastic view of the activities of your pee-neighbor) and drying materials (By this I mean what you use to dry your hands after washing.  This can include paper towels (by means of multiple types of dispensers), the ever reliable air-blower (Which take three times as long, but hey…  We saved some trees.  Sidenote:  At SLCC the paper towel dispensers have a sensor that only lets a certain amount of paper out at a time.  An obstacle easily circumvented by the use of both hands on two different dispensers!  Clever, right?  That’s why I’m at a community college!), and my personal favorite… The long loop of towel.  The one that was one continuous circle of material that supposedly ‘cleaned its self’ every time it was pulled).  I don’t even want to go into the frightening state of sanitation in most public restrooms.  Most should have been declared a bio-hazard years ago.

So what does this mean for us as purveyors of these faculties?  Does it mean holding in unwanted surplus until we’re home?  Even if it means poisoning our body’s delicate balance of systems?  I think so…  It’s a small price to release in peace.

Love and Madness,

D. Bradford

p.s. – The writing on the stalls in public restrooms is equally as interesting and worthy of a story in and of its self.  At SLCC I’ve followed the messages of a particular bathroom…  Artist, if you will…  Who calls himself “Fart Eater” and has dubbed this summer the “Summer Of Sex!” and I don’t disagree.

I’ve always had an interest in space travel.  I’m just fascinated by the history and technology.  Space travel technology is just all so primitive, really.  The shuttles, satellites and suits all seem so fragile.  It makes me think of some kind or alternate, Flash Gordon like universe of undersea adventure.  Whenever I see a space suit it makes me think of those old deep sea diving suits.  The huge, bulky ones with the rusty metal dome helmets complete with that swinging gate in the front.

I particularly like the early years, the U.S.S.R. stuff (No, I’m not a commie red.  I’m as blue-blooded as the next American).  It seems an absolute miracle to me that we ever made it to the moon first.  Since the beginning of the space race it was the Soviets all over the place, ahead of us at every turn.

The U.S.S.R.’s Lunar Program was the one that was kicking our capitalist asses.  But of the infamous Lunar satellites (Which include many ‘firsts’ like: first lunar flyby (Luna 1), first photographs from the dark side of the moon (Luna 3) and first deployment of a lunar rover and analysis of lunar soil (Luna 17)) it’s Luna 2 that I find most fascinating.

Fascinating probably isn’t that right word, though.  Let’s try…  “Humorous”.  I say that because Luna 2 was the first man made artifact to strike the moon.  The emphasis being “strike”.  It struck the moon.  That was its purpose.  It didn’t quietly drop down onto the surface like a downy feather, full of sunshine rainbows (the first “successful” soft landing on the lunar surface didn’t come about until Luna 13.  That’s 11 Luna’s later) It literally struck it.  The goal of Luna 2 was simply to hit the moon.  “We know it’s there… We flew by it…  Let’s see if we can hit it!".  I just love the idea that for thousands of years there's complete silence on the lunar surface and then all of a sudden...  BAM!  And this pointed, metal ball slams into it.

It’s a goal that goes back to cave man days when Neanderthals used to throw rocks at the moon in a vain attempt to bring it down (So they could possess its demonic powers, of course).  And you can’t tell me that the people who were alive during the short time that the moon was believed to be made of cheese didn’t occasionally desire to strike it down and fest on the sweet reward.  So now, thousands of years later, we’ve finally reached our goal…  We’ve finally accomplished hitting the moon with a multi-million dollar rock.

Love and Madness,

D. Bradford

p.s. - I forgot to mention...  It was on Sept. 14, 1959 that Luna 2 hit the moon.  I know you were dying to know!

For those who don’t know what I’m taking about… Let me enlighten you.  Geocaching is a delightful little pass time that, as Craig Dilger of the Daily Herald said in his article “New-age Treasure Hunts”, “Combines technology with the outdoors” (Dilger).  Specifically, the participant looks up locations of “Geocaches” on the internet, and then loads the latitude and longitude into a GPS device.  Then, they go to the site and dig up some sort of box or bag and admire the…  “Treasures” inside, hidden by another “Geocacher” as they’re apparently called.  Hard to believe, But it’s actually a big hobby.  Yeah…  People do it.

Not only that…  They enjoy it too!  In the article from the Daily Herald, Dilger tells us about a young couple (Jacob and Helen Barlow) who met…  While Geocaching.  It was a Geocaching blind date, no less.  How lovely!  The two hit it off, of course (No huge nerd can resist another huge nerd) and met up several times after that (to go Geocaching, obviously).  Once, even, at an actual, honest Geocaching event.  Now they’re married and they go out Geocaching every day, according to the article.  Between the two of them they’ve found over 4,400 Geocaches. “My favorite part about Geocaching is that it is a hobby that we share together” said Mr. Barlow.  Whether he was referring to his newly wedded wife or the entire human race I can’t say for sure.

Lovely…  Just lovely.  If that isn’t alarming enough…  Apparently there are 487,460 active caches worldwide, 37,749 Geocachers registered on the web and 9,688 Geocaches hidden in Utah alone.  It makes you wonder what exactly we’re all doing with our short time here on this little planet.

Love and Madness,

D. Bradford

p.s. – Be sure to visit www.geocaching.com...  Loser.

People who drive around in old police cars.  I don’t know where they’re getting them or why, but they’re annoying.  I always see them driving behind me in the rear view mirror and think that some cop is tailing me.  So I slow down a bit…  I make sure I’m doing everything just right…  Then they get upset that I’m going so slowly and they pull around me.  That’s when I see that they’re not cops at all.  Dammit!  Why?

It’s particularly irritating when they still have that little spot light attached to the side there.  And when they have a bike rack or something on top.  They look exactly like a police car then.  Especially at night or in the dark of the morning, when I’m driving to work.

Where do they get these cars anyways?  Police auctions?  I’ve heard of police auctions but I’ve never known anyone to actually go to one.  There must be some kind of strange counter-culture of people who scavange police auctions.  "You wouldn't believe the deals you can get! I mean...  Just look at this car!  I had get rid of the CB radio, the shotgun holder and clean some blood off the seats...  But hey! I got it at a police auction!  Retail is for suckers!"  I wonder at the kind of mentality that thinks that driving around in an old cop car or repossessed crack van is "the thing to do."

Love and Madness,
D. Bradford

Does anyone remember when you were young and every strange looking and bizarre food item frightened you into paralysis? A paralysis from which you were immovable?  No matter many tools of convincing the enemy (parents) tried to employ against you…  It just wouldn’t take. When I say “strange looking and bizarre” I’m talking about things like mushrooms, olives, peppers, onions, various green things, etc…  The types of items children are automatically repulsed by.

“Try the broccoli…  It’s good for you!”

“Get thee back, woman!”

I’d say that everyone went through this phrase for the better part of their youth. But most eventually grew out of it.  In the transition from childhood to adulthood it is common that one develops a keener sense of taste for the more exotic ingredients (For the most part) and prejudices held previous are forgotten.

But that’s not what I wanted to talk about.  What I’m thinking of are the ass kissing kids.  The one’s who were supposedly right up there with the adults with their overly developed palettes.  Do you know what I’m talking about?  The kids who, when you dismissed or at the very least scowled at your unappetizing food, they gave you the same lecture that your parents did!

“Have you even tried it before?  If you’d try it, you’d like it!”

“I’ve tried it…  I don’t like it.”

“Oh…  Well…  You just don’t know about flavor.”

These kids had been forced by their loved ones to try the food over and over again and had finally decided to feign delight in favor of constant culinary oppression.  And now they were taking out all their hate and frustration on you.  I have a feeling that those kids are politicians now.

Love and Madness,

D. Bradford

p.s. – I still don’t like any of the foods I listed above…  Except broccoli.

Food and freedom were never meant to be one.  This has never been more evident than in the phenomenon that is Subway.  Subway’s sandwich making and service system is beyond my comprehension.  I have no idea how to react to it.  It makes absolutely no sense to me.  I don’t know what the purpose is.

Firstly, okay…  It’s nice to be able to customize your sandwich ingredients.  Oh boy, yeah!  That’s great, yah know…  But what I’d like to do, really, is order the sandwich that is up on the board.  Would that be so difficult?  I’d like to be able to say:  “I’ll have the ‘Chicken Ranch Club,’ please.”  And then get exactly that.  But I can’t.  It’s impossible.  As soon as I ask for a particular sandwich I’m bombarded with a serious of grueling inquiries regarding the ingredients of the sandwich.  I don’t know what goes in the ‘Chicken Ranch Club’!  Just make it already!

“What kind of meat do you want?”

“Oh…  Well, it’s the ‘Chicken Ranch Club’ so…”

“So you want chicken?”

“Yeah, yeah…  I want the chicken.”

“What kind of sauce do you want?”

“Are you kidding me?  Ranch…  I want ranch.”

“Okay, now…  What kind of veggies?”

“What?  Are you trying to say 'vegetables'?”

I just don’t get it.  If you’re going allow changes, substitutions and omissions of every single part of the sandwich then why even have specific sandwiches at all?  Why have the “Turkey Breast & Ham.”  What kinds of questions are you going to be asked if you order the “Oven Roasted Chicken Breast” (“Do you want the chicken breast to be oven roasted?”) or the “Sweet Onion Chicken Teriyaki” (“Do you want teriyaki on that?”)  It’s like you have to just create your own sandwich from scratch.  That’d be fine if that was the hitch but it’s not.

Secondly…  I don’t really have a second point to complain about.  Oh, wait!  Isn’t Subway supposedly some big health-conscious place?  Why then, by the time you’re through the dreaded gauntlet, are you offered soda and a cookie?  It just doesn’t make sense!

Love and Madness,

D. Bradford

p.s. – I was once pressured into choosing a bunch of ingredients I didn’t want because they were training a new employee; However, I did get a free cookie out of it.