By Tim Colin
Last summer I decided to go over to the town on Frankfort which is located on Lake Michigan. The problem is that when I got to Lake Michigan I found that it was almost gone. Lake Michigan had been reduced to just a hole that was less than a hundred yards across. I could see Utah. If I could get a valid Visa I would have swam over there to see my Mormon cousins. I love to travel to foreign countries.
Looking at Lake Michigan I could tell something was wrong. I have a scientific background (I took a geosciences class in 10Th grade). I kept looking at looking at Lake Michigan and it suddenly struck me that if this great lake had almost no water left in it then, the question should be “where did all the water go?’.
I started to remember that there was some guy named Al Gorekon, or Gornon or Gorman or something who said that the world was getting warmer. I wondered if maybe the world had gotten so warm that the water had boiled away out of Lake Michigan. All this thinking was giving me a real headache. After all, I only wanted to go fishing that day so, I decided to head over to the nearest pizza/bar and eat/drink my headache away.
After about a half hour at the pizza/bar, I started to feel comfortable talking to the strangers who sat around me. I said that it looks like Lake Michigan is boiling away. Two people got up and left the bar. The bartender then told me that if I didn’t shut up about global warming he’d kick my commie ass out the door. I decided to move to a private table. I ordered a pitcher of beer and went over to a table that was in a remote corner of the bar/pizza establishment.
I did not sit there for long before a scruffy, bearded old guy from the bar came over to my table and sat down with his mug of beer. I immediately thought that this guy is either gay or he wants me to share my pitcher of beer with him. In either case the answer would be “no”. The bearded, weirdo then said to me that he knew where there was a secret hole. He said I needed to come with him and he would show it to me.
“Now why would I want to go see your hole? I asked.
“Because I’m telling you I’m a scientist. I know why Lake Michigan is drying up.”
After I finished off my pitcher of beer I was pretty much game for anything so, I agreed to go and look at the scruffy mans old hole. I told him that looking was all I would do. I was emphatic that I would never climb down into it. I said that ever since I was a teenager I was very afraid of cold, dark places.
The old guy and I walked down to Lake Michigan. True to his word he showed me this deep hole which seemed to be sucking everything into it. I was truly amazed. It was like nothing I had ever seen before. Lake Michigan was gurgling down into an abyss. It was not global warming that was destroying Lake Michigan. Instead, it was some sort of large hole that seemed to be sucking Lake Michigan water into some sort of alternate dimension. But, where is the water ending up. If I had my brother with me I would have sent him into the hole to find out. For now, it must remain a great mystery. The water might be flowing into an alternate universe or, it might be getting sucked up by the bottled water plant down the road.
Sunday, August 14, 2011
Thursday, August 11, 2011
BACKWOODS KNERDS (NERDS)
By Mike Colin
Everyone knows what a nerd is. In cities and towns nerds are those whiz kids that are great with math and science and often times go on to become engineers and teachers. I never worried about being called a nerd although once when I was in high school I did have to sit at the nerd table at lunch time. All the nerds seemed to want to talk about was how they had solved some math equation on a calculus quiz or about some chemistry lab stuff. I didn’t understand anything they were saying. After all, I took mostly physical education classes and the only class I took where I even had to count was marching band. It’s hard to make those formations if you don’t count the right number of steps you need to make. My brother Tim got kicked out of the band because he kept ending up in the stands instead of in formation on the football field.
Now because I couldn’t really contribute to the conversation at the nerd table, I tried to change the subject to sports by showing them the scar I had on my foot from playing lawn jarts. They just told me I was really gross although they did seem to admire the webbing I have between my toes. I also showed them the gills I have at the base of my neck and I heard one of the nerds actually say the word “awesome”. I still was not accepted as one of them but after that day the nerds all called me “Fish Boy”. “Hi Fish Boy,” they would say when they passed me in the halls. Even though I still didn’t understand what they were talking about when it came to their nerdy math and science classes, I kind of felt like an honorary member of their group.
Now out in the backwoods my family has their own version of nerds. They are kids born with special talents for handling backwoods engineering projects like making lean-to’s strong enough to survive the heavy snows or, building machines that will split a tree all the way up the trunk before you cut it down.
My backwoods family calls these really smart kids knerds with a silent “k”. I think that the old timers who came up with the spelling must have been thinking of words like “knight” or “knock” when they first wrote down the word “knerd” to describe my family’s wunderkind. Of course these kids have no formal education since they are deemed too valuable by the people living in the hills, hollers and, swamps to waste their time and talents learning in the public schools. After all, everything anyone needs to know to survive in the wilds they can learn best by staying home with their folks.
My cousin Deuce was perhaps the smartest of any knerds ever born in the backwoods. His engineering prowess was especially sought after by the backwoods people since he was an expert at building stills. He could take the parts of any kind of abandoned vehicle and use them to make stills that produced the most refined and potent whisky in just a few hours. Deuce even had several genuine legal distilleries trying to sign him up to build stills for commercial production.
My cousin Deuce even invented a combination wood chipper/still. It was a marvel for all to see. The first whiskey that Deuce produced in his new invention he decided to sample himself. Deuce took a big swig of his homemade brew and said with a big smile on his face “Wow! That’s the stuff,” then he then passed out.
Deuce just celebrated his third year after inventing his wood chipper/still machine. It’s just too bad that he is still in a comma after sampling his product. He still has a big smile on his face but the doctors say he has absolutely no higher level brain activity. Deuce has been diagnosed with BDD (Brain Dead Drunk). It’s really too bad that Deuce didn’t have a little more formal education in the field of chemistry. It seems wood chips do not make very good drinking whiskey but, they sure make a really clean burning fuel for gas burning combustion engines.
Everyone knows what a nerd is. In cities and towns nerds are those whiz kids that are great with math and science and often times go on to become engineers and teachers. I never worried about being called a nerd although once when I was in high school I did have to sit at the nerd table at lunch time. All the nerds seemed to want to talk about was how they had solved some math equation on a calculus quiz or about some chemistry lab stuff. I didn’t understand anything they were saying. After all, I took mostly physical education classes and the only class I took where I even had to count was marching band. It’s hard to make those formations if you don’t count the right number of steps you need to make. My brother Tim got kicked out of the band because he kept ending up in the stands instead of in formation on the football field.
Now because I couldn’t really contribute to the conversation at the nerd table, I tried to change the subject to sports by showing them the scar I had on my foot from playing lawn jarts. They just told me I was really gross although they did seem to admire the webbing I have between my toes. I also showed them the gills I have at the base of my neck and I heard one of the nerds actually say the word “awesome”. I still was not accepted as one of them but after that day the nerds all called me “Fish Boy”. “Hi Fish Boy,” they would say when they passed me in the halls. Even though I still didn’t understand what they were talking about when it came to their nerdy math and science classes, I kind of felt like an honorary member of their group.
Now out in the backwoods my family has their own version of nerds. They are kids born with special talents for handling backwoods engineering projects like making lean-to’s strong enough to survive the heavy snows or, building machines that will split a tree all the way up the trunk before you cut it down.
My backwoods family calls these really smart kids knerds with a silent “k”. I think that the old timers who came up with the spelling must have been thinking of words like “knight” or “knock” when they first wrote down the word “knerd” to describe my family’s wunderkind. Of course these kids have no formal education since they are deemed too valuable by the people living in the hills, hollers and, swamps to waste their time and talents learning in the public schools. After all, everything anyone needs to know to survive in the wilds they can learn best by staying home with their folks.
My cousin Deuce was perhaps the smartest of any knerds ever born in the backwoods. His engineering prowess was especially sought after by the backwoods people since he was an expert at building stills. He could take the parts of any kind of abandoned vehicle and use them to make stills that produced the most refined and potent whisky in just a few hours. Deuce even had several genuine legal distilleries trying to sign him up to build stills for commercial production.
My cousin Deuce even invented a combination wood chipper/still. It was a marvel for all to see. The first whiskey that Deuce produced in his new invention he decided to sample himself. Deuce took a big swig of his homemade brew and said with a big smile on his face “Wow! That’s the stuff,” then he then passed out.
Deuce just celebrated his third year after inventing his wood chipper/still machine. It’s just too bad that he is still in a comma after sampling his product. He still has a big smile on his face but the doctors say he has absolutely no higher level brain activity. Deuce has been diagnosed with BDD (Brain Dead Drunk). It’s really too bad that Deuce didn’t have a little more formal education in the field of chemistry. It seems wood chips do not make very good drinking whiskey but, they sure make a really clean burning fuel for gas burning combustion engines.
Thursday, July 7, 2011
NORTHERN MICHIGAN INTERNATIONAL CRICKET CHAMPIONSHIP
By Ted Colin
Each year the Northern Michigan International Cricket Championship draws people from all over the world. We have people come from places as far away as Grawn, Fife Lake and, Mancelona. Many of the people who show up each year speak different languages and have very different customs. For instance, many people who attend these games can’t understand why we have pay toilets when the competition takes place in the woods. Personally, I really can’t understand the pay toilet deal myself. Especially, since the pay toilets only take $5.00 bills. I put in a $10.00 bill and I didn’t get any change back. I guess I won’t be buying any more pop from the concessions stands since it costs more for the pop going out than going in.
Well, although there are many differences between the teams and spectators at this year’s cricket event there is one overriding factor that brings everyone together: we all love watching those little critters duke it out in the ring. The main ring this year is an old hula hoop I found out behind one of the pay toilets. It looks like a car ran over it but, it is still holding together well enough to be used as the main ring. The other rings are just drawn in the sand.
Now before you can compete in a cricket match you have to find a cricket. The best way to find a cricket is to leave your front door wide open for a couple of days. Sooner or later out of all of the bugs, animals or looters that comes into your house there is bound to be at least one cricket. Of course getting a cricket into your house is just the first step in catching one.
In order to catch a cricket you have to stay up real late and get really, really tired. Then, when you turn off the lights and try to go to bed the cricket will start chirping so loud that you will rise up like a zombie from the dead but, instead of yearning to eat brains like a zombie the only thing you will yearn to do is get a hold of that cricket. Of course the cricket creature itself has the ability of a ventriloquist in that it can throw its voice to any place in the entire house. It is almost like the cricket just sits and watches you as you look all around under furniture and in closets, in the close hamper and behind the washer and dryer. Sometimes you just want to yank out the gas stove even though it has a gas line hooked to it. You are so tired and desperate for sleep you just don’t care anymore. After a while you can almost hear him laughing when he sees you about to find his hiding spot and then the cricket suddenly stops chirping. Then, you just stand there waiting for the creature to start chirping again hoping beyond all hope that you can find the little monster and get him to stop his hideous sounds so you can finally get some sleep. Of course he doesn’t start up again until you’ve turned off the lights and climbed back into bed.
Eventually, the cricket will make a mistake and you will catch him mulling around in the shower or just outside of the refrigerator. Now although the temptation to get revenge upon the cricket for keeping you up all night is strong, it is important that you keep a cool head about you and try to capture the little beast without harming it. After all, a squished bug is not going to win the cricket boxing tournament for you. And, if you accidentally rip off its forearms then he will be disqualified because the bug will no longer be able to wear the tiny boxing gloves that are mandatory in the sport of competitive cricket.
Now, once you have your cricket you have to put him through a vigorous training program which includes getting your bug to bulk up. Lots of sugar water is a good start to any weight gaining strategy whether it is for humans or bugs. Most people train their crickets to box by at first placing a tiny little mirror in front of the bug in order to get his competitive juices flowing. Then, placing live crickets with your potential champion in a confined area like a shoe box will be all you need to do to hone those talents that are the stuff that all champion bugs have pent up deep within their souls. By the time of the big match-up your bug will be in complete harmony with the universe and he will have the loving spirit of a dolly lamb. At that moment your cricket will be able to rip the exoskeleton off his competition and eat the blue-green guts out all the way up to the eyeballs.
This years champion was named “Killer Bug”. Now Killer B. was not the actual last bug left with its insides in tacked. The last bug left was Spider Snyder but Spider S. was disqualified when the officials realized the he really was a spider and therefore was not really eligible to compete against crickets. The rules might have been bent a little if Spider Snyder happened to be a grasshopper or even a fly but, spiders are not even insects; they are arachnids. The officials just decided that an arachnid fighting an insect just was not a fair fight so Killer B. won this years championship posthumously since Spider Snyder had already devoured all of Killer B’s soft tissues. Hopefully next year the officials will be more on the ball and disqualify non-species entries before they are allowed to compete in the cricket matches.
Each year the Northern Michigan International Cricket Championship draws people from all over the world. We have people come from places as far away as Grawn, Fife Lake and, Mancelona. Many of the people who show up each year speak different languages and have very different customs. For instance, many people who attend these games can’t understand why we have pay toilets when the competition takes place in the woods. Personally, I really can’t understand the pay toilet deal myself. Especially, since the pay toilets only take $5.00 bills. I put in a $10.00 bill and I didn’t get any change back. I guess I won’t be buying any more pop from the concessions stands since it costs more for the pop going out than going in.
Well, although there are many differences between the teams and spectators at this year’s cricket event there is one overriding factor that brings everyone together: we all love watching those little critters duke it out in the ring. The main ring this year is an old hula hoop I found out behind one of the pay toilets. It looks like a car ran over it but, it is still holding together well enough to be used as the main ring. The other rings are just drawn in the sand.
Now before you can compete in a cricket match you have to find a cricket. The best way to find a cricket is to leave your front door wide open for a couple of days. Sooner or later out of all of the bugs, animals or looters that comes into your house there is bound to be at least one cricket. Of course getting a cricket into your house is just the first step in catching one.
In order to catch a cricket you have to stay up real late and get really, really tired. Then, when you turn off the lights and try to go to bed the cricket will start chirping so loud that you will rise up like a zombie from the dead but, instead of yearning to eat brains like a zombie the only thing you will yearn to do is get a hold of that cricket. Of course the cricket creature itself has the ability of a ventriloquist in that it can throw its voice to any place in the entire house. It is almost like the cricket just sits and watches you as you look all around under furniture and in closets, in the close hamper and behind the washer and dryer. Sometimes you just want to yank out the gas stove even though it has a gas line hooked to it. You are so tired and desperate for sleep you just don’t care anymore. After a while you can almost hear him laughing when he sees you about to find his hiding spot and then the cricket suddenly stops chirping. Then, you just stand there waiting for the creature to start chirping again hoping beyond all hope that you can find the little monster and get him to stop his hideous sounds so you can finally get some sleep. Of course he doesn’t start up again until you’ve turned off the lights and climbed back into bed.
Eventually, the cricket will make a mistake and you will catch him mulling around in the shower or just outside of the refrigerator. Now although the temptation to get revenge upon the cricket for keeping you up all night is strong, it is important that you keep a cool head about you and try to capture the little beast without harming it. After all, a squished bug is not going to win the cricket boxing tournament for you. And, if you accidentally rip off its forearms then he will be disqualified because the bug will no longer be able to wear the tiny boxing gloves that are mandatory in the sport of competitive cricket.
Now, once you have your cricket you have to put him through a vigorous training program which includes getting your bug to bulk up. Lots of sugar water is a good start to any weight gaining strategy whether it is for humans or bugs. Most people train their crickets to box by at first placing a tiny little mirror in front of the bug in order to get his competitive juices flowing. Then, placing live crickets with your potential champion in a confined area like a shoe box will be all you need to do to hone those talents that are the stuff that all champion bugs have pent up deep within their souls. By the time of the big match-up your bug will be in complete harmony with the universe and he will have the loving spirit of a dolly lamb. At that moment your cricket will be able to rip the exoskeleton off his competition and eat the blue-green guts out all the way up to the eyeballs.
This years champion was named “Killer Bug”. Now Killer B. was not the actual last bug left with its insides in tacked. The last bug left was Spider Snyder but Spider S. was disqualified when the officials realized the he really was a spider and therefore was not really eligible to compete against crickets. The rules might have been bent a little if Spider Snyder happened to be a grasshopper or even a fly but, spiders are not even insects; they are arachnids. The officials just decided that an arachnid fighting an insect just was not a fair fight so Killer B. won this years championship posthumously since Spider Snyder had already devoured all of Killer B’s soft tissues. Hopefully next year the officials will be more on the ball and disqualify non-species entries before they are allowed to compete in the cricket matches.
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