Your Mama

San Francisco, CA 1976: When the lady came to drop off the flyers for the play, her car had a problem starting again, so I went downstairs and helped get it going. The flyers were for a play about the tribulations of black folks.

After she paid me to distribute the flyers, she said she liked my southern accent, and offered me a part in the play: a slave trader.

I thought, Why not?

I went to the audition, and got the part.

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Dennis to the Rescue

San Francisco, 1980: Network Answering Service had been running along fairly well, but then the hepatitus struck.

Bill the drunk came down first, then lanky Ed, followed in quick succession by lots more. And so it was, that particular Saturday, there were no operators able to work, to answer the phones for our 300 clients.

Early in the morning, I sat at the phones, alone, waiting for the world to wake up.

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Thanksgiving Past ... and Present

Norwich, Vermont, Thanksgiving Day, 1960: While they built their dream home in Hannover, New Hampshire, Adrienne and her parents lived across the Connecticut River, in Vermont. Their temporary home backed onto government lands, where her father took them hiking, but not during deer season.

In the paper, the farmer offered some hound dogs, because the hunters kept shooting at them. Whether hunters mistook the brown-colored dogs for deer, or whether they chose to shoot the dogs to prevent their chasing the deer, was uncertain.

Adrienne wanted both of the two dogs, but she could only have one so she chose the one and named her "Taffy". All the way home in the Renault, Taffy bayed out the window. Surely Taffy missed her sister.

But once settled, Taffy took to her new home, her new family, and the vast woodlands to roam, behind the house.

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Law 23 of Persistance

This is a simple law of nature, but one which is very handy:

If You Persist, You'll Win.

That's it.

In almost every situation, we humans have this one Freedom which we often overlook. It is this: We can try again.

This might not sound like much, but if you think about it, it's clear this means you have the freedom to keep trying until you succeed.

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Sweeping the Snow

St. Louis, Winter 1967: At the Carrie Street station are fourteen tracks, lined up beside the main tracks that run around town to the Southern Pacific, the Erie, and the other lines. A local company called the "Terminal Railroad" hauls cars on these main tracks, in a big circle around the city.

"Got seventeen Rocks!" the Terminal conductor says, walking into the concrete office where the bill clerk and I do our work. He hands a bundle of Bills of Lading wrapped round with a rubber band to the bill clerk, while outside Danny and the switchmen throw the switch levers sticking up from the tracks, so that the Terminal train, which has just passed our yard and is now stopped, can back up these seventeen cars for us, the Rock Island Line, into one of our fourteen tracks.

Unhitched, those seventeen cars sit while the Terminal locomotive powers the rest of their train around the bend and out of sight.

And then it began to snow.

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Stephanie Barbacaine

Dallas, 1965: First it was in Denton. The girls, Paula and Pretty Patty, had a house near Paul Miner's second house. I used to visit, and smoke, and draw pictures, and spent the night with Pretty Patty. One night I became convinced that a small sculpture might take wing, and fly around her apartment.

I don't remember those days with perfect clarity.

But Stephanie showed up. Actually her name was Patricia W., but she called herself Stephanie Barbacaine, and perhaps it fit better. Billy Bucher warned me. Some friend of his had got messed up, he said, by this Stephanie.

She had this peculiar, repeating behavior.

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Peter Gunn

Henrietta, Texas, 1959: All my buddies were agog with Peter Gunn on CBS television. How could one guy be so cool?

With a Henry Mancini themesong featuring a jazzed-up boogie and a horn section, Mr. Gunn looked much like a skinhead of today except for the suit, tie, and wingtip shoes. He was always listening to jazz and smoking cigarettes, with his super-short hair, quiet manner, and the relentless interest of sultry women. Mr. Cool.

Later, he appeared in a movie that prominently featured his high-tech telephone answering machine, which was a reel-to-reel tape deck mounted in the wall. He was just too cool to have an old-fashioned answering service with a switchboard. This tape deck looked really neat in the middle of the wall of his living room.

And so, fifteen years later, this is probably why I bought the answering machine.

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Third Annual Nigerian Email Conference

Abuja, Nigeria, November 7-9: "Don't miss this opportunity to learn how to write better emails, and make better moneys," says Mr. Laurent Mpeti Kabila, a senior assistant leader of the Revolutionary United Front of Sierra Leone.

"I present to you an urgent and confidential request for your attendance at The 3rd Annual Nigerian EMail Conference. This is an opportunity to meet your distinguished colleagues, learn new marketing techniques, and spend your hard-earned money. Attending this conference demands the highest trust, security and confidentiality between us.

The Keynote Address: Dr. Hamza Kalu adds historical perspective in his speech: "From Postal Scams To Email Scams: We Have Come a Long Way Infant Child."

The Kick-Off Breakfast: (Your choice) A hard-boiled egg, or two slices of white bread and a cricket.

Click here for full conference details.

On This Day: Welcome, Mayflower!

November 19, 1620, Cape Cod: The Mayflower dropped anchor today, bringing our first settlers to this continent. Let's all welcome them:

Yoohooo! Settlers! Ahoy, maties! Yoohoo!

Six Seconds

Mount Shasta: Today on the radio I listened to Arnold Schwartzenegger's gubernatorial speech. The guy is a pretty good inspirational speaker; I liked it.

I've read two of his books, and there he says that if you can imagine it, you can do it. In his radio speech, he used similies from his weight-lifting career, and he said, "It's always surprising to discover one thing: You're always stronger than you know."

And this reminded me of a young woman in a weaver's studio in San Francisco.

My friend Maggie had introduced me to Susan the weaver, and we became close, and I met Susan's friends. Most of them were weavers, too. In fact, a whole bunch of them shared a large studio space on Potrero Hill, and when I visited there one day, I was introduced to a most unusual young woman.

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On This Day: The UFO and Kafka

Greenwich Royal Observatory, November 17, 1882: The Royal Astronomer witnessed an Unidentified Flying Object today and described it as a "strange celestial visitor -- a circular object glowing green". Shades of Sir Ernest Glitch!

London, November 17, 1988: The original manuscript of the classic novel, The Trial (1925), by Franz Kafka, sold today at Sotheby's for £1 million, a world record for a modern literary text. Kafka had died from tuberculosis in 1924, having published almost nothing in his lifetime. He wrote most of these stories and novels while holding down a day job at the post office.

Although many literary critics have found deep allegorical meaning in these works, the rumor is that Franz and his brother used to read them aloud, and fall about on the floor, laughing. We are quite possibly indebted to Franz Kafka for the handy abbreviation "ROFLMAO", which means "Rolling On Floor, Laughing My A** Off." Thank you, Franz.

Jupitus Astoundus

Outer Solar System, Milky Way, 2003: The Cassini spacecraft, being in the neighborhood, has taken 27 snapshots of Jupiter, and NASA folk have assembled them into a very detailed portrait of Jupiter, shown here.

Our solar system's largest planet is eleven times the diameter of Earth, and may be made entirely of gas so it has no solid surface. In other words, nobody walking around, looking up at the beautiful 62 moons.

Walking would be tough anyway -- the gravity would crush you into a teacup -- and you'd be short of breath, as the air is made up of water (damp for breathing), ammonia (stings your eyes), and hydrogen sulfide (stink gas). It's windy, too. Little breezes up to 300 miles per hour are common.

The detailed patterns are actually huge clouds. Near the lower middle of the picture is the Great Red Spot. It's a swirling vortex of gas, large enough to swallow our entire planet of Earth.

The Cassini space probe also recently recorded the sound of a solar flare. More information about Cassini's mission, and more photographs of Jupiter are available .

Kind of makes you stop and consider the size of things.

No? Well, that's about the size of it.

Inferior Decorating

Denton, Texas 1965: I met Jon W. at the Hob Nob. He was a gay guy with a haircut like the Beatles, but before the Beatles record came out, so to speak.

At the time, I didn't really know what "gay" meant. In high school, my friend Bobby M. once spoke of "queers." I asked Bobby what that meant, and he said they were very mean guys who wanted to hurt you, specifically by blowing air ... well, this being a family-oriented autoblography, let's just say that Bobby's theory was wide of the mark.

So I met Jon and some of his friends, and they were kind of interesting, but I found it awkward. And embarassing.

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Driving Into Winter

Mount Shasta: Adrienne and I went for a Sunday Drive. On the map there's this little lake called "Crystal Lake", some few miles beyond Lake Siskiyou. A week ago we had snow on the ground, but it's long gone now, and Sunday being bright and clear, we went to find this Crystal Lake.

Just past the Lake Siskiyou turn-off we found the road, and turned up the hill. The woods were auburn and lofty above us, and the sunlight streaming down upon the winding road.

A quarter-mile up the road, and higher on the hill, we found a sprinkling of snow beneath the shady trees. As we drove the next quarter-mile, suddenly the snow covered the road, and soon after, the road was frozen with six inches of snow.

We stopped and turned around. Crystal Lake can wait.

I've never before had the experience of driving from Fall into Winter. But there it was.

On This Day: Dr. Livingston, I Presume?

Ujiji on Lake Tanganyika, November 10, 1871: Henry Morton Stanley was sent to Africa by his newspaper to find Scottish missionary David Livingstone.

Today he finally found him and made contact with the words: "Dr. Livingstone, I presume."

So Long -- Dylan Thomas R.I.P.

November 9, 1953: Welsh poet Dylan Thomas, author of Under Milk Wood, died at age 39, following the consumption of 18 stiff whiskies which put him into an alcoholic coma, from which he ne'er saw light o'day eremore.

"An alcoholic is someone you don't like
who drinks as much as you do."
-- Dylan Thomas

On This Day: Paradise Lost and Dracula

November 8, 1674: The blind English poet John Milton died at the age of 65. A student once wrote in an essay on Milton: "He got married and wrote Paradise Lost. Then his wife died and he wrote Paradise Regained."

Dublin, November 8, 1847: Bram Stoker was born today. This is important because he grew up and wrote Dracula. One summer afternoon in the middle of our sunlight-flooded back yard, at the age of 13, I shuddered to read how the dog jumped off the boat. And Miss Lucy ... ugh!

Joe Bob's Week in Review

JoeBobBriggs.Com, November 1, 2003:

"Wildfires raged through three separate areas of southern California, stoked by the hot Santa Ana winds and beetle-infested dead trees and some dudes with matches.

"Tom Sizemore was sentenced to six months in the pokey for beating up Heidi Fleiss during their one-year relationship. The actor admitted to a crystal meth habit that he says caused him to hit her in the jaw, because otherwise he could have lived happily ever after with his ex-convict callgirl pimpstress.

"Wheaton College, a fundamentalist Bible school in Illinois, lifted its 143-year ban on dancing and is planning its first school dance. The first song will be, of course, Theme from 'Footloose'."

Like these news stories? Lots more can be found on The Joe Bob Report.

On This Day: The Saxophone and Tchaikovsky

Dinant, Belgium, November 6, 1814: Adolphe Sax is born, and will eventually invent the saxophone. The saxophone never became popular during his lifetime, as it was considered an illegitimate instrument, and not fitten to be played. Then along came that no-account jazz music, and musicians who thought differently. Without Mr. Sax, what would have become of Paul Desmond, Stan Getz, and Jim Grantham?

St. Petersburg, November 6, 1893: Composer Peter Ilyich Tchaikovsky died after drinking unboiled water during a cholera epidemic. His last work was Symphony No. 6, the Pathetique. (For the exclusive benefit of Sir Ola, I'd like to add that Tchikovsky was also famous for the beautiful Le Sacre du Printeps.)

Powers of Ten

Going from mongo-big numbers, down to teentsy-weentsy numbers is always hard to fathom, for such as the Bloggard. But they say a picture is worth a thousand rodeos, so without adoing further, let's visit some real big and real small pictures ...

View the Milky Way at 10 million light years from the Earth. Then move through space towards the Earth in orders of magnitude until you reach a tall oak tree just outside the National High Magnetic Field Laboratory in Tallahassee, Florida.

After that, move from the actual size of a leaf into a microscopic world that reveals leaf cell walls, the cell nucleus, chromatin, DNA, and the subatomic universe of electrons and protons.

It's here: The Universe from big to teentsy.

Joe Bob Briggs and the Dallas Crimes Herald

Dallas, Texas, 1985: J.B. (who shall remain nameless) was a columnist for the Dallas Times Herald, which is a real big dominant daily newspaper, highly profitable because Neiman Marcus ('Needless Markup') advertises things such as diamond-studded his and hers gold bathtubs and other things which every home ought to have.

J.B. wrote a regular column, perhaps on food or travel, I don't remember. But for fun, he began running a weekly column under the pen name Joe Bob Briggs, in which he reviewed Drive-In movies, mostly horror and B-Grade flicks. His Drive-In column was right-wing and red-neck, and insulted any ethnic group faster than Archie Bunker, and he posted orbituaries for every Drive-In closing in America, labled "Communist Alert", on the theory that the Communists were wiping out the drive-ins.

Needless to say, he was a big hit in Dallas.

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The Legend of the Lands End Sweater

Lyon Street, San Francisco, 1990: I liked the picture of a camel-colored cashmere sweater. It seemed reasonably-priced in the Lands End catalog, and cashmere does feel so wonderful, so I sent off, and eagerly awaited the mail.

Soon the package arrived. It looked as pictured, and felt soft as expected. But there was a surprise.

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The Ashford Agency

San Francisco, 1989: Perhaps it was reading all those mysteries, late night and eyes gritty, and the sounds of the night outside. Maybe the accident of meeting Fay, in that seedy part of town just off the waterfront. Maybe I just worried about getting fat, and thought if I was a Private Eye, I'd be the Thin Man.

Whatever it was, I became a Private Investigator.

For a while.

The business card of The Ashford Agency referred to me as "Dr. Detecto". Adrienne kept calling me Defecto, but that was just her tough-girl style. The card had a picture of a dragon circling a castle spire beneath the moon, and a story ...

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Law 23 of Expectation

This is a simple law of nature, but one which is very handy:

A Human feels Satisfied in proportion to What Was Received, divided by What Was Expected.

That's it.

In other words, if you order a tall latte drink expecting a certain taste, and you get a tall latte drink that tastes as expected, generally you'll feel satisfied.

But what if the latte drink is larger or better-tasting than you expected? Since you got more than expected, you'll be greatly satisfied.

But what if the latte drink is perhaps OK, but it's smaller or less tasty than you expected? Now the satisfaction is divided by your expectation level, and you'll likely feel disatisfied.

But what if the lattes are generally small and poor in this particular place, and that's what you expect?

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