Places I’ve Never Been

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Lots of people want to know where Flin Flon is, so I say, “Look it up.”

Other places may be as interesting, if only judging by their clever names. I’ve never been to North Dakota, but Zap, North Dakota sounds like it could be thrilling, maybe even…electrifying?

Bald Head, Maine may not be as exciting as Zap, but it sounds funny—like a silly old man. That old man probably has a few jokes fresh enough to listen to for the first few tellings.

Two Egg, Florida is either a breakfast-loving town or a place that likes to produce birds.

Of course, there’s always Big Foot, Illinois for all of our cryptozoological needs. Let’s go there and see if we can spot some strange creatures. Do you want to go with me?

There’s one place I’ve never been that I really want to go check out, and that’s Boring, Maryland. Boring is the kind of name you give a town where lots of stuff is happening but you don’t want more people to show up.

The same tactic may be behind the naming of Okay, Oklahoma, but it may only be a play on the first two letters of the state’s name. Do you think it’s a swell place? Is it alright?

The place I’m not so sure about is Lawyersville, New York. It might be a great location for lawyers. However, it may not be a good town to visit if you fear being sued for all the ones in your wallet.

Ben Hur, Texas is probably super fun if you really enjoy chariot races. Or possibly if you really enjoy Charlton Heston movies. These are things which appeal to specific tastes. Much like Disco, Tennessee. Disco, Tennessee is probably where you could find the most mirrorballs in the world.

Speaking of tastes, there’s a Chocolate Bayou, Texas. What do you suppose they have there? Is there chocolate? Is there a bayou? Is there really chocolate in the bayou, or is it just brown water and so they decided to call it Chocolate?

Eclectic, Alabama has to be the best, doesn’t it? Possibly that one depends on the opinion of whoever made the selection.

Muck City, Alabama could be the worst, but somehow I don’t think so. It probably is really clean, but what would attract anyone to tourist there? I think I’ll go anyway to find out what a tourist might do.

The same might be said of Roachtown, Illinois. Could be nice, but what is there to see?

If you’ve ever felt like you don’t fit in, you might like Odd, West Virginia. You might say, “That’s my kind of town.” You never know until you try.

Then there’s Panic, Pennsylvania, with its constant urge to lose control. Who can resist?

If you’re still intrigued enough to go with me, our last stop will be Frankenstein, Missouri. On the other hand, it might be River Styx, Ohio. Whichever is our last, it’s going to be a fantastic journey visiting all these places with strange names.

Hacked

The world is my oyster.

You see this block of text? I could put literally anything here. Funny stories. Interesting statistics. Blatant lies. I could unapologetically plagiarize the Gettysburg Address, or the Q’uran, or something.

The possibilities are limitless. That’s an exciting prospect.

Especially for my college-level son who found my blog open and started click-clacking away on my keyboard. He confessed to all sorts of crimes I didn’t commit. He also put a bunch o’ weird typos and stylistic choices in my ‘blog. Pretty sure he put some AI stuff in there, too. Would you like me to rewrite it more concisely? Let me know.

The worst part, without question, is that he renamed all my bluetooth devices. My stereo is now called “Upstairs Alexa.” My headphones he named “Sink Disposal.”

I can’t find my phone anywhere, but I’m too afraid to connect to “FBI Surveillance Van” to find it. That one might be real.

Funny slang

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Some funny slang I picked up last time I was in Flin Flon, Canada:

Angel grass—Christmas tree tinsel, also known as snake mirrors

Brain bucket—a bike helmet or a motorcycle helmet

B.C.—birth control (anything unattractive)

Betty—skeleton key

Bomber—a cool leather jacket, someone who rides downhill really fast, or even the actual trail which provides the fast downhill

Cherry—someone who is a bit naive; also anything really new and beautifully unused

Duke—dookie, poop

Drag—to haul something slowly, to race cars, to dress up in clothes meant for the opposite gender, or a bad trip

Freak—someone who likes something too much

Get fresh—buy new clothes

Keester—butt

Kook—a strange person

Muggles—those who don’t know, outsiders

Oil burner—anything expensive

Pineapple—a bomb

Shovel—spoon

Spliff—anything that slows you down, or to fall hard

Spoon—shovel

Stalled—anyone who is not moving or moving really slow

Stone sucker—a total fool

Toilet—the head muck-a-muck’s office

Football

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I’m a mountain biker. That fact doesn’t preclude or necessitate a dislike for football, whether it’s the North-American type about dudes in nylons slapping each other’s butts or the European/South-American kind with murderous, bloodthirsty fans. Being a mountain biker doesn’t mean you have to dislike football; however, because I’m an outsider, I’m in the perfect point to give you an outsider’s point of view. I’ve never painted a number on my chest or thrown a cash wager on a team. I’ve never gone to a stadium to watch the “action” up close. A few times I’ve enjoyed watching games on television or even local games in fields where the seating is whatever you brought, but I can tell you with definitive experience it’s much more fun to PLAY either type of football than to watch. Watching is the lowest form of any kind of sport, for sure. Watching any kind of football is like watching the Titanic sink—there’s an entertaining gurgle sometime between beginning and end—but the end is just sad. People paid for tickets, you know what I mean? One thing I absolutely love about North-American football is that fans wearing Raiders gear are the equivalent of punk rock fans wearing Misfit t-shirts. Some are all dark and brooding, super serious about their fanaticism. Others are just wearing it because they truly like the band/team. And don’t forget the street cred, dude!

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Birthday Cards

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In 2025 I roped my family into sending everyone we could, in our extended family, birthday cards. It didn’t involve store-bought cards, though. Instead, we made our own and wrote a personal note in each card. We found an old Calvin and Hobbes book at the library surplus sale. We bought it for one American dollar and cut strips out to put in each card. For each person, we tried to pick comics they might enjoy, so each card was personalized in that way as well.

It was a satisfying exercise, with only a little bit of arts and crafts necessary. We used colored construction paper, Sharpies, and a little clear tape. About half way through the year, we realized taping the comics inside the card was totally unnecessary, so we ceased that operation.

The whole process wasn’t too difficult, though parts of the process were challenging. If there were birthdays with a long time in between, then it was challenging to make sure we didn’t forget. A couple of times during the year we noticed someone’s birthday was coming up soon and we had to rush the card. Two days was the limit for in-town deliveries. One time we were late enough we had to take the card to the person ourselves. None were late, fortunately, even the out-of-town ones. Another challenge was being consistent, so no one in the same family got more or less than anyone else in the same family.

After one year of that, I can say I would do it again, but not this year. I need a break.

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