01/29/04’s illustrious band:

Black Velvet

Brought to you by Sister-san and Chef Jeff. Sister-san supplies the following trip down Memory Lane, inspired by Chef Jeff.

“Remember ‘air bands’? In the early '80s, how else could teenaged boys emulate their favorite rock and punk stars? They didn't have the money for fancy electric guitars and expensive amplifiers, so they made their own equipment -- basements and garages were filled with cardboard guitars and cymbals with the details drawn on in Magic Marker, white paper-covered boxes stacked up as speakers and amps, empty upside-down buckets strapped together for drums, and of course the requisite paper banner tacked up to announce the name of the rocking-est band ever! In an air band, everyone could be a star -- the music was always as great as it sounded in your head. Every concert was amazing! Like the title of the favorite tune in their repertoire, every member could pretend, for that endless summer, that he was a "Jukebox Hero."

Over the past several years, Jeff has spent many fine evenings recounting the glory days of the air band to his friends who weren't there to live it. His stories of the legendary Black Velvet get bigger and better as the years pass (as any good story should), but his parents will be glad to verify that the band did earn a feature article and photo in the local paper. These guys were one mere leap away from stardom! Rockin' the free world! The memories are untouchable, too, because of course there are no scratchy recordings to rewind and make us wince.

One of Jeff's favorite Christmas presents this year was a framed photo of Black Velvet that his mom had resurrected. He can now prove to his friends that the stories were all true. He will always be a rock star!”

Sister-san included a copy of the photo. It won’t show up on the Blogspot home site, but hopefully I can e-mail it to you all. Rock on!

Today around the world: January 29 is Martyrs’ Memorial Day in Nepal, which contains eight of the world’s 10 highest peaks, including Mt. Everest.

E-mail the Media Sensation: BandNameoftheDay@hotmail.com

Visit the BND archives at http://jugglernaut.blogspot.com.

01/28/04’s illustrious band:

System Backup

Brought to you by the joys and sorrows of homeownership.

Only dealing with the phone company could make sewer repairs seem like a pleasure by comparison.

Friday morning, I noticed that the tub drained somewhat slowly after my shower. “Have to keep an eye on that,” I thought. Saturday I indulged in a bubble bath following a long but pleasant day of attending martial arts classes and music performances. This time the tub drained with excruciating slowness, even after I dumped in a few gallons of Drano. Same thing on Sunday morning, plus the garbage disposal backed up into the tub, spewing month-old potato chowder in a two-foot radius. My thoughts changed to prayers: “Please, God, keep my toilet safe. Deliver me from having to call a plumber on a Sunday.”

Well, the Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away. My toilet continued to flush, but my Internet connection was possessed by demons on Sunday and would not function. That’s a fair trade in my book, but I still hoped to get both situations rectified quickly.

On Monday morning, I called the sewer repair place first thing. They promised to dispatch their best guy, who happens to be my next door neighbor Al, the following day at noon. I could eat a leisurely lunch at Sensational Acres while Al power-snaked my pipes. Problem #1 was on the way to solution.

To address Problem #2, I called Qwest, the phone company that provides my high-speed Internet connection. A voice menu shunted me into the “hold” queue for five minutes. Then a live person came on and asked me to repeat all the information I had just entered via the numeric keypad. I complied and explained my troubles. She shunted me into the next holding pattern, where I remained for 15 minutes. When someone finally came on the line, he crisply informed me that my problem could not possibly be Qwest’s fault and I really needed to call MSN, my ISP. Bye!

You can already see where this is leading, right?

So I went home at lunch on Tuesday, welcomed Al and his power snake, and figured I’d quickly call MSN while he roto-rooted away.

112 minutes, 37 seconds later

The problem is Qwest’s fault. The MSN tech support guy stayed on the line with me through great noise and consternation, patiently trying dozens of fancy tricks to revive my Internet service. None of them worked. He consulted with someone even more knowledgeable than himself, which makes the second guy pretty danged smart. And they found that there was a glitch in the Qwest connectivity hardware somewhere. Not my fault. Qwest’s fault. MSN has notified Qwest of the problem, which should be fixed by Thursday night, and MSN apologizes sincerely for the inconvenience.

To reiterate: Qwest caused the problem, blew me off, and passed the buck. MSN diagnosed the problem, initiated a solution, and issued an apology. Yet Qwest gets 87% of the money I pay for their joint services each month. And that, my friends, is why Qwest and other legal monopolies are at the top of my fecal roster today.

I got off the phone with MSN just as Al was finally winding up his snake to go home. It was a tough job, as the clog was far from the house, but he completed it with good humor. He was pleased to inform me that there would be no need to dig up the front lawn to access the pipes, as he had originally feared. The power-snaking cost me $X; the dig would have cost me $20X. So Al is my sewer savior. Thanks be to Al.

Everything else is going well, although it’s wicked cold around here. We’re very busy at Award-Winning Magazine HQ, which is why I haven’t had brainpower to spare for blogging in the past few days. But don’t think I’ve forgotten you, loyal readers! Oh no. You’re not getting off that easily.

Today around the world: January 28 is Democracy Day in Rwanda.

E-mail the Media Sensation: BandNameoftheDay@hotmail.com

Visit the BND archives at http://jugglernaut.blogspot.com.

01/21/04’s illustrious band:

Don’t Eat Lotion

Brought to you by Strong Lisa.

It’s been too busy a day for me to blog much, but I can offer you this piece of vital advice: don’t eat lotion. No matter how tempting the ingredients that provide the fragrance, don't eat it. Last night, Lisa somehow talked me into licking a dollop of orange/chocolate/mint-scented moisturizer off my arm, and I regretted it for the next three hours. The aftertaste was too much like soap.

Today around the world: January 21 is Errol Barrow Day in Barbados. I’m not familiar with Errol, but I have met his brother Wheel a couple times.

E-mail the Media Sensation: BandNameoftheDay@hotmail.com

Visit the BND archives at http://jugglernaut.blogspot.com.

01/20/04’s illustrious band:

Extreme Comb Over

Brought to you by my new favorite web site, www.totallyabsurd.com.

Ever wondered whether anyone has ever patented a method for combing your hair to cover a bald spot? See http://totallyabsurd.com/extremecombover.htm. Curious about new methods for keeping your poodle’s ears clean? Click on http://totallyabsurd.com/eartubes.htm. Looking for a way to introduce subliminal messages into your brain through your eyewear? Check http://totallyabsurd.com/thisweek.htm.

Totallyabsurd.com is a site that links to America’s goofiest patents. Such as the Johnny Light, which turns an ordinary toilet bowl into a glowing toilet bowl. I’ll say no more so that you can spend your valuable time surfing the site in person rather than just reading about it. Nothing I can say will compare with the wonders that await you at www.totallyabsurd.com.

Today around the world: January 20 is the Day of the Martyrs (Day of Sorrow) in Azerbaijan. Is it any coincidence that it’s also Inauguration Day in this country?

E-mail the Media Sensation: BandNameoftheDay@hotmail.com

Visit the BND archives at http://jugglernaut.blogspot.com.

01/19/04’s illustrious band:

Sucking Piercing Mouthparts

Brought to you by Master Amy. Well, soon-to-be Master Amy, who learned this delightful term in a Master Gardener class this past weekend.

Bugs were a hot topic at the most recent MG class. Amy and her classmates -- one of whom shuddered every time an image of a bug appeared on the screen -- learned that some bugs have biting, chewing mouthparts and some have sucking, piercing mouthparts. I’ll spare you the gruesome illustrations, but suffice it to say they were frightening.

And little did she know that the lesson would crop up in real life so quickly. Just this afternoon, one of her treasured desktop plants was consigned to the trash because it was infested with sucking piercing mouthpart bugs. She felt bad about dumping it (actually, having someone else do the dirty deed for her) but is obliged to consider the welfare of the rest of the desktop plant community.

In other news, I haven’t heard back from my long-lost grad school classmate Giles yet. It occurred to me, after I posted Friday’s blog, that I had sent my e-mail to his work address on a Friday evening and he was not likely to see it until Monday -- or Tuesday if his company observes the Martin Luther King Jr. Day holiday. I should have taken the initiative and called him on the weekend as invited. Well, maybe tomorrow.

Today around the world: Today is Martin Luther King Jr. Day in the U.S. and elsewhere. Go out and commit an act of civil disobedience in his honor.

E-mail the Media Sensation: BandNameoftheDay@hotmail.com

Visit the BND archives at http://jugglernaut.blogspot.com.

01/16/04’s illustrious band:

Peanutbutter Sandals

Brought to you by Harry Norton, who was about 4 years old at the time.

Once upon a time in grad school, I knew a jolly Brit named Giles Norton. Giles was funny, outspoken, wicked smart, a good teacher, a terrific writer, a marathon runner, and the proud father of Harry and his little sister Georgina. He regaled us weekly with stories of the cute things his children had said and done.

The utterance of Harry's that stuck most in my mind was his name for Birkenstocks. He called them hand-knitted peanut butter sandals. That's as good as El Queso Grande's son crying, when he cut his knee, that his crust was broken.

Recalling the remark about the sandals reminded me of Giles and our grad school days, and I wondered whatever had become of him. A quick Google gave me some ideas. One site it led me to was a class-reunion-type page. It was for students of an English boarding school whose ages appeared to be a match for my old friend's. The Giles who posted notes on that site talked about running, which strengthened the resemblance.

Another link took me to the website of an important-looking company having something to do with timekeeping devices for races. The sports tie-in fit, even if the corporateness didn't, and the director of corporate communications was one Giles Norton. But I couldn't find a way to send a message directly to him.

So I went back to the school reunion site and dashed off a brief note to the host, Angus, explaining why I was looking for his chum Giles Norton. Then I went away and thought little more about it.

Three hours later I checked my e-mail again -- and there were notes from both Angus and Giles! Angus said he was sure we knew the same Giles and that he had forwarded my note to him. And Giles, having received the note, sent me one immediately.

How fantastic is that?

So I wrote back to Giles to tell him what I've been up to for the past 12+ years and to ask how he's been. I'm also curious to know whether he's in touch with any of our other classmates, for despite some efforts on my part, I am not. I'm eagerly awaiting his response. We might even talk on the phone, which I'm sure would be a hoot. I'll keep you posted.

Today around the world: January 16 is Religious Freedom Day in the United States of America. Amen!

E-mail the Media Sensation: BandNameoftheDay@hotmail.com

Visit the BND archives at http://jugglernaut.blogspot.com.

01/15/04’s illustrious band:

Gimme Some Sugar

Brought to you by boxing legend Sugar Ray Leonard.

8:10 a.m. Driving to work on Wednesday, I hear a radio ad announcing that Sugar Ray Leonard will be at the Mall of America that night to sign autographs and promote a local boxing match. I think of how my martial arts/boxing instructor admires the greats of the sport, and of how much he enjoyed the Jack LaLanne autograph I got him. I consider attending the event to get him a Leonard signature.

4:30 p.m. I decide to go autograph hunting for sure. I consider stopping at home, only blocks away from the Darth Mall, to change out of my high-heeled shoes. I decide against it; this is a major sports figure, and the line is sure to be long. I’ll go straight from work.

5:15 p.m. The line is not long. Although Sugar Ray is supposed to start signing at 6:00, there are only about a dozen people in the serpentine queue. I have time to duck into the nearest bookstore to look for a book about the man so he can sign it.

5:30 p.m. The bookstore seems as unenthused about this event as the general public is. Not only do they have no Leonard biographies on special display, they have only a handful of boxing books altogether, hitting only the high and low points: Ali and Tyson. Nothing about Sugar Ray. However, I pick up a book about the 12 best boxing rounds of all time. Leonard’s 1981 welterweight championship bout with Tommy Hearns appears on page 181, so I’ll ask him to sign his chapter. I join the line as patron #30 or so.

5:45 p.m. I’m stuck in the middle of the largest shopping center in the country with nothing to do, so I chat with my linemates. Ahead of me is a sports memorabilia collector from St. Paul, a short guy about my age. He smirks at the people carrying Leonard photos just purchased from Field of Dreams, a few stores away, for $7.00. He can get the same shot for $5.00 on eBay, including shipping and a protective plastic sleeve.

Behind me is a kickboxer from an unnamed town three hours away from the Cities. He’s shorter and skinnier than the collector and horrified by metro traffic. Thanks to his prominent pentagram necklace, he gets into a debate with a teenage Amazon who’s here to get something for a celebrity auction for scholarships to her school. The fact that it’s both a private school (“Damn rich kids!”) and a Lutheran one destroys any sympathy the kickboxer may have had for its students.

5:55 p.m. A toddler named Matthew! Matthew! completes his 800th lap around the long table set up on the stage. His father sternly counts One! . . . Two! . . . for the sixth time since I got here. This results in Matthew! Matthew! dragging his feet to his father’s side for a brief admonishment, then clambering back up onto the stage to resume running laps. No one knows what will happen if Dad ever makes it to three -- including, from the looks of things, Dad himself.

Others are getting restless as well. We’re all assuming Leonard will be late, because celebrities are always fashionably late and because, with the exception of the kickboxer from out of town, we know what rush-hour traffic is like around here. The kickboxer and the collector contemplate marking their places with the boxing gloves they’ve bought for signing and scurrying over to Starbucks for a cup of coffee. Yes, there really is a Starbucks at every bend in the road, even when the road is indoors.

6:10 p.m. We are still Sugarless. A young man from the radio station hosting the event picks up a cordless microphone and tells us that the guest of honor is stuck in accident-related traffic on 35W. But he’ll be here ASAP, and he thanks us for coming out to support the cause (the Juvenile Diabetes Research Foundation), and he cares about us all very deeply.

The kickboxer scoffs at the idea of someone caring about people he’s never met. He later reveals that he routinely spars without headgear.

6:30 p.m. I really wish I had stopped at home to change shoes after all. It’s been at least eight months since I wore heels to work. Why did I have to choose today? I also wish I had left my parka in the trunk of the car. And that I had gotten --

He’s here! Sugar Ray Leonard has arrived! The crowd, now about 100 strong, applauds politely, Minnesota fashion, rather than raising the roof. The mall cops stand a little straighter. Leonard is dressed all in black, from his funky sneakers to the Everlast boxing gear baseball cap on his head. From the front row (we’re all in the front row) 20 feet away, I can almost count the links in his chunky silver bracelet. He’s traveling with a minimal entourage -- I only saw one person with him, in fact. He’s no taller or heavier than I am, but still looks quite keen enough to casually wipe the floor with anyone stupid enough to challenge him.

After the introductions, which everyone ignores, Sugar Ray speaks briefly but eloquently about winning the fight against diabetes. Then the autographing begins.

6:45 p.m. The line snakes forward quickly. Nervous now, the collector and the kickboxer speculate on the likelihood of people on the upper levels of the mall hawking loogies on our heads. They also balk at the suggested donation amount, $40. As I write my check, the kickboxer says maybe he’ll follow me closely and claim that I’m his mom or something. I tell him to try again. Maybe I look intimidating in the high heels; he shuts up.

Music from the hosting radio station plays from speakers flanking the stage. One of the speakers makes a popping sound. The mall cops swivel in place, hands on nightsticks. They don’t look alert and ready for action; they look scared.

I willingly pony up a donation for what I think is a very worthy cause and mount the steps to the long table (which Matthew! Matthew! stopped orbiting once his father got a glove signed). I wish I had a friend with a camera behind me; Leonard has been posing for photos with those who want them. Instead, I open my book to p. 181. The champ scans the title, gazes bemusedly at a shot of himself victorious in the ring 23 years ago, and signs. I whisk a color photo -- actually, a color printout of a computer image -- from a stack on the table and get that signed, too.

6:48 p.m. And I’m out. The balls of my feet ache as I trek back through the mall to my car. All in all, a good evening’s work. When am I ever going to meet another professional boxer? And when is he ever going to meet another Media Sensation?

Today around the world: January 15 is Fiesta del Nino Perdido en Huancavelica in Peru and John Chilembwe Day in Malawi.

E-mail the Media Sensation: BandNameoftheDay@hotmail.com

Visit the BND archives at http://jugglernaut.blogspot.com.

01/14/04’s illustrious band:

Haunted Hairpiece

Brought to you by USA Today columnist Wendy Matheson in today’s column, which you can find at http://www.usatoday.com/life/columnist/popcandy/2004-01-13-pop-candy_x.htm.

It’s a story on the history of toupees. Boy, and you thought I wrote about silly stuff! The photo of Donald Trump is worth the click.

My second great find of the day, discovered while I was searching for pictures of French things for a Francophile friend’s birthday (happy birthday, Jen!), is the Star Spangled Ice Cream Company at www.starspangledicecream.com. First, they bill their wares as “ice cream with a conservative flavor;” some of the offerings include Gun Nut, Smaller GovernMint, I Hate the French Vanilla, Nutty Environmentalist and Iraqi Road.

Second, they’ll personalize an ice cream container if you send them a photo, and you get to name the flavor. So I could send in a portrait of moi and christen a quart of mint chocolate chip ice cream Media Sensation. Or whatever. The promo says this is “perfect for group events, corporate gifts and special occasions with family and friends!” I’d like to test the theory. Anybody hungry?

My third great find actually arrived first, and I didn’t find it, Sister-san did. Actually, her friend Giovanna did. Gio (“Jo”), a native of Italy, spent her senior year of high school in our hometown and became good friends with Sister-san, hosting her for a post-graduation visit in Italy and serving as a bridesmaid in her wedding.

Being European, Gio knows a lot more Swiss people than I do. So when Sister-san asked her about that Swiss holiday Silversterchläuse, she was able to get some actual information. Gio writes:

“Well, I asked to the Swiss people who work with me about this holiday, but nobody knows it. I found that it is a holiday celebrated only in Appenzellen, that is one of the internal regions of Switzerland. My friend Lorenzo heard on Swiss German TV that that celebration is about winter, and it's a very very old and traditional holiday, very important in Appenzellen, but he told me he did not listen with too much attention, and he does not know anything else...
Here in Tessin (that is the Italian Switzerland) we worked as usual...”

Well, that’s more than we knew before. And the messages made it halfway around the world and back in about 12 hours. I still think that’s pretty cool.

Today around the world: January 14 is Ratification Day in the U.S.A. I’m not sure exactly what got ratified -- possibly the Constitution and Bill of Rights -- but here in the Thriving Metropolis, we worked as usual…

E-mail the Media Sensation: BandNameoftheDay@hotmail.com

Visit the BND archives at http://jugglernaut.blogspot.com.

01/13/04’s illustrious band:

Dufourspitze

Brought to you by Switzerland. Dufourspitze is this mountainous nation’s highest point, at 4,634 meters above sea level. That’s 15,203.4 feet, or 2.87943 miles.

I’m talking about high points today because I’m having one, but not having one. What I mean is, I’m feeling good, but really tired, because I donated blood this morning. Since actual thinking seems like too much work, here’s a little round-the-world tour of great elevations, chosen almost entirely at random by my wandering eye. Enjoy the trivia -- and enjoy saying Dufourspitze. Has anybody ever been to any of these places?

Argentina: Cerro Aconcagua, 6,960 m (22,834.6 feet/4.32474 miles)

Australia: Mount Kosciuszko, 2,229 m (7,312.99 feet/1.38504 miles)

Canada: Mount Logan, 5,959 m (19,550.5 feet/3.70275 miles)

Great Britain: Ben Nevis, 1,343 m (4,406.17 feet/0.834502 miles)

Iceland: Hvannadalshnukur, 2,119 m (at Vatnajokull glacier) (6,952.1 feet/1.31669 miles)

India: Kanchenjunga, 8,598 m (28,208.7 feet/5.34255 miles)

Iraq: unnamed peak, 3,611 m; (note -- this peak is not Gundah Zhur 3,607 m or Kuh-e Hajji-Ebrahim 3,595 m) (11,847.1 feet/2.24377 miles)

Jamaica: Blue Mountain Peak, 2,256 m (7,401.57 feet/1.40181 miles)

Japan: Mount Fuji, 3,776 m (12,388.5 feet/2.3463 miles)

Nepal: Mt. Everest, Mount Everest, 8,850 m (29,035.4 feet/5.49914 miles)

United States: Mt. McKinley, 6,194 m (20,321.5 feet/3.84877 miles)

Zimbabwe: Inyangani, 2,592 m (8,503.94 feet/1.61059 miles)


Today around the world: January 13 is Silversterchläuse in Switzerland. I tried for half an hour to find out what that means, but couldn’t. Does anyone else know?

E-mail the Media Sensation: BandNameoftheDay@hotmail.com

Visit the BND archives at http://jugglernaut.blogspot.com.

01/12/04’s illustrious band:

Stendhal's Syndrome

Brought to you by French novelist Stendhal, a.k.a. Marie-Henri Beyle.

Stendhal visited Florence in 1817 and soon found himself overwhelmed by the city's intensely rich legacy of art and history. When he visited Santa Croce (the cathedral where the likes of Machiavelli, Michelangelo and Galileo are buried) and saw Giotto's famous ceiling frescoes for the first time, he was overcome with emotion.

In 1970, Dr. Graziella Magherini, at the time the chief of psychiatry at Florence's Santa Maria Nuova Hospital, gave the name Stendhal’s Syndrome to the phenomenon of experiencing anything from panic attacks to bouts of outright madness in the presence of art. Others speculate that in addition to the emotional impact of the artwork, a patron suffering from “museum fatigue” may also be pushing his or her physical limits, walking great distances or for long periods without rest, food or water.

Or you could just call it an art attack. But really! If I ever see art that makes me faint or drives me mad . . . well, I just hope somebody has a camcorder at the ready -- trained on the art, not on me, so I can sort it out later.

Today around the world: January 12 is National Pharmacist Day in the USA, which I note in honor of my late Dad, who practiced that most respected profession for more than 35 years. We’ve been missing him sorely for the past three. He’s probably advising St. Peter on his blood pressure meds right now.

E-mail the Media Sensation: BandNameoftheDay@hotmail.com

Visit the BND archives at http://jugglernaut.blogspot.com.

01/08/04’s illustrious band:

Tiger Wings

Brought to you by Sifu Ray.

My T’ai Chi instructor Ray complimented someone’s appearance recently, saying that a new adornment had added wings to the tiger. I thought that was a great way to describe adding an excellent feature to an already excellent creature.

Speaking of excellent creatures:

Today around the world: January 8 is the birthday of the King of Rock & Roll, Elvis Aron Presley (www.elvis.com). Long live the King!

It’s also National Takai Day in Niue, a Polynesian island in the South Pacific and one of the world’s largest coral islands. The first part of January is dedicated to Prayer week. Also during that week is the annual “Takai,” meaning “going around.” Each village organizes a mass drive-by, a social event in which villagers drive elaborately decorated vehicles around the island.

E-mail the Media Sensation: BandNameoftheDay@hotmail.com

Visit the BND archives at http://jugglernaut.blogspot.com.

01/07/04’s illustrious band:

Baptismal Boil

Brought to you by today’s guest blogger, Senor Editor. Hola, Senor!

One upon a time, in another life far, far away, I earned my keep as an audio-visual technician. And though I oftentimes had the tasks of setting up for real professional traveling shows (like The Rolling Stones’ “Steel Wheels” tour), I also pimped out my services to other smaller and shall we say, less well known, endeavors.

One such event -- one which I was talked into by a community theater friend -- involved providing lighting design and control for an ultra-religious Christian-type church during its Easter Cantata. (For those of you not familiar with an event of this nature, picture a large group of well-meaning, yet horribly inept “performers” singing and acting their way through the New Testament. It makes you wish that Jesus Christ had multiplied earplugs instead of loaves and fishes.)

The climax of this very campy (though heartfelt in a sad, right-wing Christian kind of way) was the miraculous rolling back of the cardboard “stone” that blocked the entrance to the 2x4-and-velvet-draped “tomb.” Christ would triumphantly stroll out looking decidedly undecayed whilst wisps of fog and other miracle-induced vapors swirled about his feet.

To create the fog, two of the congregation had gone out and purchased dry ice, which they intended to immerse in a small vat of water. But apparently you can’t buy dry ice in small quantities in Southern Ohio, and the Dynamic Duo showed up on show day (Easter Sunday) with an entire chest cooler filled with the stuff. The show started, the “rock” rolled back, they ladled a small quantity of water over the dry ice and created the appropriate amount of miracle mist. Then the fun began…

The Dynamic Duo were at a loss as to how to dispose of the 75-lb. block of dry ice once they were finished with the resurrection scene. They couldn’t just leave it be, as some unsuspecting churchgoer could accidentally brush their hand over the ice and freeze themselves to the block -- yes, boys and girls, you CAN instantly freeze body parts to dry ice, but I don’t recommend it. Being the inventive type, the duo glanced about the curtained off church sanctuary for an appropriate disposal place, only to have their eyes fall on the 6-ft.-deep, full-immersion baptismal pool.

You could almost hear the wheels turning: “Well, if a little water dissolves dry ice a little, then a LOT of water should dissolve it a LOT.” The two grabbed the ice chest, toted it to the pool and dumped the contents into the water. A few seconds after I had heard a very loud splash over my headset came a rather quiet, “Oops…”

The baptismal pool began to boil like something unholy had just taken a header into it and the curtained-off sanctuary completely filled with dry-ice-induced fog faster than you can say, “Father, forgive them, for they knew not what they did.” And as the big, final song number reached its climax on the other side of the curtain, the fog let loose, dropped beneath the curtain’s edge and rapidly rolled out and down the sanctuary steps as if Beelzebub himself had taken over.

The look of fear on the churchgoers’ faces made you think the Rapture had come, and all those pious people just knew they were going to Heaven without the benefit of wearing clean underwear. It took a good 15 minutes for the fog to dissipate, and as the crowd filed out of the fog-filled church, I quipped to one shocked viewer, “That’s probably the most action that baptismal has seen in years, huh?” I really need to learn to keep my mouth shut sometimes…

---

Glad he didn’t keep quiet this time. Excellent story! Anybody else been playing with dry ice?

Today around the world: January 7 is Christmas in the Orthodox Church. In Cambodia, they’re celebrating Victory Day Over the Genocidal Regime.

E-mail the Media Sensation: BandNameoftheDay@hotmail.com

Visit the BND archives at http://jugglernaut.blogspot.com.

01/06/04’s illustrious band:

Only an Egg

Brought to you by Robert Heinlein again.

This time I’m quoting from Stranger in a Strange Land, which I reread over the holidays. If you can get past the preachy editorializing to the characters and action of the book, it’s pretty good. It’s about a human being, Valentine Michael Smith, who was born on Mars and raised by Martians, then returned to Earth as an adult to learn the ways of humanity.

Smith is a complete novice at being a human being, what his Martian brethren call “only an egg,” or just a child. He’s a tabula rasa, what Taoists call an uncarved block of wood, or, as Winnie the Pooh describes himself, “a bear of little brain.” He possesses that most desired state of consciousness, the beginner mind, empty of assumptions and prejudices. Having never learned otherwise, he’s free to see the best in people, as well as in himself.

It’s good to enter a new year as only an egg, I think. Start fresh and take things as they come. My friend Magic gave a speech about this very thing last weekend, saying in essence that if you can clear your mind of preconceived notions, you’ll find a lot more -- of everything -- available to you than you thought. And if you think of yourself as a student, a learner, all your life, your opportunities are endless.

So that’s my challenge to all you good eggs as we kick off 2004: Get in touch with your inner Mr. Clean and see what you can see.

Editorial note: Being a bear of little brain myself, I loaned my Pride and Prejudice DVD set to somebody a few months ago, but I can’t remember who. If you have it, please let me know so I can quit maundering about it. Thanks.

Today around the world: January 6 marks the Feast of the Epiphany or Three Kings Day in Christian communities. It’s also Children’s Day in Uruguay -- a perfect day for being only an egg.

E-mail the Media Sensation: BandNameoftheDay@hotmail.com

Visit the BND archives at http://jugglernaut.blogspot.com.