I See By Your Outfit

While perusing some of the photos that were originally on the now defunct *The Institutes hard drives this image popped up. It was familiar looking as if the rider atop his magnificent steed was known, perhaps a famous cowboy from the 60’s or 70’s. Was he in one of those westerns that were so prevalent back then? “Breakheart Pass” maybe or “The Cowboys”, surely not “The Wild Bunch”. The longer we viewed the image the more curious we became. The only clue we had was a cryptic note written in a firm but shaky hand that could have been written while horseback that said “Cattle Drive May 1973”. Could that have been the origin of this picture. After all that was 45 years ago, a time that will live in infamy. Another clue was the fact that the horse who was apparently named “WhoaBoy” had very short legs. They barely reached the ground, the herding dog, a corgi named “WatchIt! I’m walking here!” had longer legs. The mystery deepened.

We had to get to the bottom of this mystery to find out the secret of the cowboy, “Could it be done?” we asked ourselves. We went into the tuff shed where we had stored many of the records and old machinery and scratched off lotto tickets and other secret stuff from our long time association with The Institute, and found the Rolodex that contained all the names and addresses, dress sizes, cigarette preferences, land line numbers, (see Wikipedia for information on what a land line was) food allergies, relevant status, gender, personal info, shoe sizes, whether they were inked or not, (interesting side note here. Inked meaning Tattooed.  Rarely anyone had a tattoo then, only hookers, some ex-military guys, people who had been in Russian prisons, and Alice What’s her name who had one in the coolest place, but that was it, you just never saw it, oh yeah Biker Bitches, they had them.) hopefully containing the one name that might help us in finding out more about this image.

There it was, the name and home number of one of our secret benefactors and researchers, Mr. Peabody, inventor of the pretty much forgotten WayBack machine. What’s more the start code for his WayBack machine was there too. And almost beyond belief was the very machine itself. Forgotten, stacked behind The Institutes collection of old National Geographic magazines, which are going to be worth a goldmine someday, but still workable as there were still glowing lights on the main GoBack panel. What a coincidence.

Mr. Peabody himself hasn’t been seen since Nixon and the Watergate thing happened but as he’d left the operating manual and full Power of Attorney to us to use the machine any way we deemed necessary, but only for good you understand, we hired a couple of burly college kids to haul the 4800 lb. machine out to where we could run an extension cord from the garage. Luckily we had a 20 amp wall plug-in our new quarters, so we would have plenty of power to get back to 1973 but more importantly to get back to today. Who wants to be stuck back in the 70’s, right?

One of the college kids, a burly but inquisitive youth named Todd, wanted to know what it was like to time travel, to go way back. In trying to describe the effect to him it became apparent to us that this WayBack machine, as handy as it was, had not been used or tested for a very long time. Like years. So we casually asked Todd if he would like to experience time travel himself. HIs answer was an enthusiastic “Yeah, but I got to be back for a math quiz this afternoon.” We assured him there was “No sweat. Time doesn’t count when you’re way back. It’ll seem like you didn’t even go.” We weren’t totally positive about that theory but it kind of made sense. So we quickly looked thru the manual one more time and did the check list countdown.

Sit in chair with back straight. Check.   Fasten seat belt. Check.   Do Not bring any food or drinks on trip. Check.   Keep all hands and feet and other extremities inside the launch area. Check.  Keep tray tables in their upright and locked position. Check.   Fill in time to go to and when to come back on GoBack panel. Check.   Hit button ,Yell Sayonara. Check.

Here’s where stuff kind of went off the rails. Todd the big lummox, kind of sprawled out to be more comfortable and sort of inadvertently stuck his foot out past the launch area and as soon as that big flash of light struck he was gone. Except for his foot. That big size 14 Birkenstock was still there filled with his foot up to the middle of his skull tattoo on his calf. The cut was surgically clean, no blood no gore, the cross-section as smooth as a piece of plastic. The toenails unclipped. It was Todd’s foot. His buddy, Evan, yelled something and came racing over to the WayBack machine and tripping over the extension cord yanked it out of the wall. There was a not good sounding electrical noise emitting from the GoBack panel and the machine went dark.

In looking through the operating manual under Trouble shooting Your WayBack machine there was a warning box that emphatically stated “Never Ever unplug the WayBack machine while in use. We mean it. Don’t do it.” It filled half the page. It went on to state if this happens the following parts must be replaced or retrieval of the traveler will be cancelled. Then there was a list of the parts needed. All would be readily available at your neighborhood RadioShack. We breathed a sigh of relief until someone mentioned “Didn’t they go out of business?” and it was like OMG! No freaking parts! Todd’s like almost legless stranded in the 70’s and we’re like S O L in doing anything to get him back. It was a dark moment when the implications began to set in.

This was bad, this was really bad. Evan was freaking out and was becoming totally  unglued until we told him “Hey, it was you that unplugged the machine. Everything would have been cool if you weren’t so clumsy. You’re the one probably going to the slammer so quit your whining.” Thinking it over he decided that probably Todd would get some good care there, right? and wasn’t that the time when you had all those drugs and free sex.” We said we weren’t sure as our memories of those times were a little hazy but that sounded about right. He then decided that he would just go then, he had some homework to do or something. But not before we made him shove the WayBack machine back into the Tuff shed and restack all those National Geographic’s around it.

That left us with the fact that we had no way now to learn anything more about the handsome but young and virile looking cowboy in the image above. But given all the hassle and crap that we just went through we decided to hell with it. It wasn’t that big a deal. It was probably just some dummy that wanted everybody to think he was a cowboy, when in fact he wasn’t. Not even close. End of story.

But wait! What about Todd’s foot? Thinking that someday RadioShack would make a comeback and we’d be able to get those needed parts, and retrieve old legless Todd, we packed it in dry ice in an old cooler and threw it back there where the now useless WayBack machine was stored to be dealt with at another time. So we guess it’s just a case of all’s well that ends well. Just out of curiosity does anyone who reads this have a grandfather named Todd, that tells weird stories about time travel and the seventies? If so it’s probably just crazy talk. Ignore it.

* Note: For those of you unfamiliar with The Institute and what it does, please see the page labeled The Institute on the Menu Bar above. That should explain everything. You shouldn’t have one single question remaining regarding The Institute after reading it. None. For those of you favored few who already know about the Institute, Nevermind. Return to your daily activities. Thank you for your support.

Greenery

2016-01-26Greenery1515

There have been cards and letters arriving daily from readers all over the place, but mostly from those that are buttocks deep in snow and cold. Some have been angry. “Do something about this weather you ….. ” Some have been sad. “Please I beg of you change the weather, please” this one had actual tear drops on the email. Some have been depressed. “I’ve been on hold for two and a half hours. Don’t they man these suicide hotlines anymore. Are you going to do anything about this weather, ok nevermind. I’ll take care of it.” We tried to reach this individual right away but his line was busy. If you ever feel this strongly about the weather immediately move to Belize or maybe Costa Rica. It doesn’t snow there, ever. It’s always nice and they have monkeys.

The reason we get these letters is because we have a weather modification machine  that we can use to create desirable weather for those people we like, but unfortunately the Tuff Shed we store it in was damaged by a wind-driven snow storm and one of the unbreakable panels fell on the machine and broke the rare European 12AT7/ECC81 Vacuum tube that sat on the top of the machine. Of course it is critical to its function and we can not change any weather without it. RadioShack is out of them and is waiting on a backorder. Apparently there has been a run on these tubes as others who have weather modification machines in their garage or wherever have suffered damage to their machines as well. The tubes are made by a small family run company in Czechoslovakia which we understand has been split into two countries, Left Czechoslovakia and Right Czechoslovakia, so we don’t even know where to send them our order. We apologize for any inconvenience but this how modern commerce works today. Don’t blame us, blame “Just in Time Inventory control” we have nothing to do with that.

A few of us were sitting around the small compact nuclear reactor that we use to power many of The Institutes needs, just pressing the bottoms of our feet against its sides where it is the warmest and talking about being warm. That little dark-haired woman we call SK was acting silly and pressing her butt up against the sides of the reactor on a dare and the conversation turned to what it was like when you were a kid and wanted comforting.

One of the PhD’s who was putting ointment on a particularly bad burn on the soles of his feet, who is old but can still remember stuff, talked about how he liked to crawl into someone’s lap when he was younger, preferably a bigger woman like his mom or an aunt, or the neighbor lady who liked to come over just because she liked him crawling into her lap. It was back in the days before PC or political correctness became the law and you could say big, or heavy, or even fat if you knew the person real good and she didn’t get mad at you for saying it. He said he liked the warmth and softness of them and how he could wiggle until he felt just right and sometimes he would even fall asleep.

None of us thought he was too weird but then Ethan, the new intern that we use to change the fuel rods in the reactor, said he would like to get naked and squidgle down into the leaves in the picture above. Wrap up in them and feel how warm they were. The sun would make them feel like big soft green marshmallows and it would feel so good that maybe he just wouldn’t be able to stand it. We all thought that Ethan should have a  short break from fuel rod duty, maybe get in to the clinic to see what could be done about all of his hair loss. After he wandered off to find his lead-lined gloves we all talked about the green in the picture. How it seemed like you could fall into the green and just roll around on it. It had to be warm, like human skin warm, to get that green.

It certainly is not the same as summer but gathering around the heat source of your choice and looking at pictures that warm your soul if not your body seems like a good way to spend your long winter day. We’d write more but Ethan just jerked open the reactor door to change one of the fuel rods so we had to go out and wait in the hall for him to finish. It seems like it is taking him longer and longer to complete what should be a simple chore. OK then, Stay warm.

If you insist on knowing more about our weather modification program perhaps the following posts may help you.

http://www.bigshotsnow.com/bad-weather-day/

http://www.bigshotsnow.com/thors-revenge/