A Job Saved

I know Mondays are usually reserved for Tracy Farr's nonsense, but I couldn't resist putting this one up early. Enjoy.....

Links fixed

In last week's Stinky Creek Newsletter, none of the links worked because of the downturn in our economy. We instituted a new process for linking which had a few bugs. But NOW, hopefully, all those bugs are fixed. Here's the story that started it all:

Economic stimulus package saves job at Daily Spittoon

For awhile it looked like The Daily Spittoon was going to take a hit from the downturn in the economy, but not anymore.

The recent multi-billion dollar stimulus package has made it possible for Joel Ramón, the Spittoon's Link Manager for 20 years, to keep his job instead of being laid off.

"This is a happy day for me," Ramón said. "I just knew I was going to be the next victim of this economy, but I guess I got lucky."

Ramón came to the Spittoon in 1989, at a time when "links" on web pages were painted by hand. Each link was painted in three different colors and had to work independently of all the other links.

"It was a very technical process," Ramón said. "There had to be a color for a link that hadn't been opened, an underlying color that showed up when a user's cursor hovered above it, then the third color to show that the link had been opened. And this all had to be done by hand -- with oil-based paint and brush. It was a demanding job, but very satisfying."

Things changed for Ramón when the economy took a turn for the worse. Costs had to be cut, and it made more sense to paint links with a computer application than by hand.

"It seemed like overnight I was out of a job," Ramón said. "One day I was happily painting links, and the next thing I know some college kid with a degree is doing it all on computer -- without even getting paint on his fingers. I guess I could have learned how to do it digitally, but I refused. Painting links is an art form in and of itself. You can do it on computer, but it's just not the same."

Luckily for Joel Ramón, the stimulus package came just in time to save his job.

"I am now the Spittoon's District Paint Application Manager," Ramón said. "I make sure the walls are painted, the trim is decorative, and keep tabs on any touchups that need to be made. Not only that, but twice a year I get to pick a wall and paint a mural on it.

"When one door closes, another door opens," Ramón added. "I'm now having the best time of my life."

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The Daily Spittoon - – Sometimes progress sucks.

Liar, Liar, Pants on fire...

Here's another guest blog from my funny friend Tracy Farr. If he ever stops writing these, I will be in trouble when I don't have anything to blog about.


I hate to admit it, but I’m a liar. I would say I’m a big, fat liar, but that would also be a lie. I’m more of a short and chunky liar – not that there’s much difference.

What have a lied about recently? Well, it’s possible that a couple of weeks ago I implied that I might have taken down my Christmas tree, packed it away, never to be seen again until Christmas ’09, and I did it during halftime of the Super Bowl. Well, I didn’t actually watch the Super Bowl, and I didn’t actually take down my tree.

Actually, there’s no “actually” about it. I didn’t do either.

You see, when you’re such a cheapskate like I am – a cheapskate who refuses to shell out big bucks for cable or satellite, just to watch a whole lot of nothing on a 25-year-old analog TV that’s about to die a digital death, and you’re to cheap to buy a “new and improved” TV that will probably only last a couple of years because they don’t make ‘em like they used to – well, people think you’re nuts. And then when you add to the mix not watching the Super Bowl, they KNOW you’re nuts and seem to steer clear of you whenever you’re around.

There’s only one more thing a person needs in order to be eligible for a one-way ticket to the Funny Farm: being the only person alive on the planet who still has their Christmas tree up – in February. So, I lied about it – which makes it all downright pathetic.

And I know exactly what you’re thinking right now. You’re thinking, “I don’t know how his family puts up with that.” “Do you think his kids know they have a nut job for a father?” “It can’t be hereditary because his parents are good people who have cable and have all their Christmas stuff up in the attic.” “I’ve always wondered why Robert’s girlfriend, Rachel, never stops by to visit – and now I know.” “You don’t think it’s catching, do you?” “Most likely not, but I’d wash my hands if I were you.”

Well, you probably won’t believe me (and I don’t blame you), but I spent this past Saturday taking down the Christmas tree – ornaments and all. I’d show you a picture to prove it, but you’d probably think I doctored it somehow.

Anyways, I know this is a lousy excuse for a story, but I’ve heard confession is good for the soul. And now that I’ve confessed, I feel a lot better! Don’t you?

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The Daily Spittoon -- Done completely by hand!

Guest Blog

Another guest blog from my friend, Tracy Farr. This guy needs to do stand-up comedy.

Why all the fuss?

Would somebody please tell me why it is necessary to wash off the dishes before you put them in the dishwasher to be washed? You save all your life for that wonderful house full of modern appliances that are supposed to make your life easier, but you still have to scrub the dishes before you put them in the dishwasher. At least, that’s how it is in my house. And frankly, I think it’s a bit insane.

When I ask my wife why we have to do something so redundant, she gives me that you're-just-a-guy look and points her finger in the “get out of my kitchen” direction. But I think it's a legitimate question.

Do people warm up their leftover casserole in the oven before they heat it up in the microwave? I think not! Do people put their ice trays in the refrigerator to cool the water off before they put it in the freezer to make ice? Hardly! Is there a person alive who holds a piece of bread over an open flame to pre-toast the bread before they put it in the toaster? You’ve got to be kidding! So why do we have to pre-wash the dishes before sticking them in a machine that’s supposed to wash them?

There is no reason why a dishwasher should not be able to do the job it was meant do, unless it's not a dishwasher problem, but instead – dare I say it – it’s a WOMAN problem.

WARNING: The following drivel is pure, 100 percent, male sexist propaganda that may cause my untimely death; but hey, you only live once!

Is it possible that we pre-wash dishes because women feel guilty about having a convenience that their mothers and grandmothers didn't have? Is it possible that women don't trust the dishwasher to get their dishes squeaky clean because it was invented by a man who probably never washed a dish in his life? Or is it possible that women just worry too much about little things like bits of dried food on a supposedly clean dish?

I think all you women folk out there should lighten up and wash the dishes the “I’m Just A Guy” way. Just throw those dishes in the machine, watch some NASCAR or change the oil in your car while you wait. Then when the dishes are done, toss those suckers into the cabinet. And if there is a bit of dried pork chops left on the plate, don't worry about it! Just cover it up with a big spoonful of casserole at your next meal. Nobody will know the difference.

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The Daily Spittoon -- Done completely by hand!

Better to Laugh Than Cry

Here's another bit of humor from my friend, Tracy Farr.....

It's more than just a haircut

Our country is going through some dire times. Banks are collapsing, the American auto industry is hitting speed bumps, and people are just not buying executive jets like they used to. So, it is up to us -- you and me -- to get this economy going again, and that's why I did my patriotic duty this weekend and got a haircut.

Tim is my barber. He's been cutting my hair for almost 15 years. He knows exactly how I like it cut without me having to tell him. And if Tim's barbershop goes under, so goes the country.

It's a known fact that my money ($10 plus a dollar tip) helps to keep Tim and many others in business. When I pay Tim for my haircut, he spends it on things like rent, shaving cream and magazine subscriptions. His landlord is happy to be able to keep landlording, the shaving cream company is happy to continue delivering Tim's favorite shaving cream, and the magazines are happy because they are assured they can print next month's edition.

Tim takes a portion of that $10 as his salary and spends it at Wal-Mart, thus guaranteeing job security for the Associates. The Associates use their 10 percent discount to buy T-shirts and Jessica Simpson posters, thus guaranteeing that the T-shirt companies and Jessica Simpson stay in business. The T-shirt companies and Jessica Simpson are so happy to be making money that they decide to work together and make a Jessica Simpson T-shirt, which the Wal-Mart Associates buy in bulk and wear on their days off.

Since Jessica reaps the benefits of being worn all over the place, she takes her cut of the profits and produces a Christmas special, thus employing a bunch of Hollywood types who know just how to make a cheesy TV program but wouldn't be caught dead wearing a Jessica Simpson T-shirt. These Hollywood types produce "The Jessica Simpson Wish You Were Here Holiday Christmas Sing-A-Long Special" and make millions on advertising by airing it on prime time TV, thus causing simple folk like you and me to say, “How can they get away with putting this goat poop on television?” at which time we turn off the TV and get down on the floor to play games with our kids.

Because of my little $10 haircut, hundreds of people are employed, millions of dollars exchange hands, thousands of bottles of hand sanitizer are emptied trying to keep all those germs at bay, families all over this great nation are doing something family-ish, and I feel like I've done my part in bringing this country back from the brink of disaster.

So what are you waiting for? Our country needs us! Go get a haircut, and together we shall save the world!

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The Daily Spittoon -- Almost worth a shave and a haircut!

Something to Lighten Your Day

Since I have been so busy this week I thought I would have a guest bring you a bit of humor. Here is another offering from Tracy Farr, a very funny man who also plays a mean banjo.

A rose by any other name...

I don't know how you feel about the matter, but it makes me proud to live in a country where being elected to the highest office in the land does not depend upon the color of your skin, your religion, your sex or having a weird name like Barack.

Millions of people, good, honest, hard-working Americans, live their lives ashamed of having names like Garvin, Earl, Clementine, or Gertrude. Guys try with all their might to hide the fact they have girl names like Carol and Hollie. At the same time, Gals are constantly having to explain that their real name is Samantha, even though they go by Sam.

But now, with a president named Barack, we of unusual names can stand a little taller -- at least, I know I will.

I asked my parents why they named me Tracy, and they said at the time I was born, it was a common boy name. But I have my own thoughts. I think my parents were deep in debt with a bookie, and they agreed to give their first-born son a "girlie" name in exchange for not having their fingers cut off. I believe this because every time I go to the old neighborhood, I always run into an old man wearing a pinstriped suit and wing tip shoes who just points at me and laughs.

I remember when I was a young boy, with my friends over for supper, my mother gave me a package that had come in the mail. I opened it up (even though it was addressed to Ms. Tracy Farr) and read the letter: "Dear Ms. Farr, now that you are becoming a young lady, we would like to...." And then the sample feminine hygiene product fell into my lap.

One "friend" said, "Tracy, is there something you're not telling us?"

Another said, "So what's it like become a young lady?"

Finally, the last one said, "Hey, if you show me yours, I'll show you mine."

Now, with the election of Barack Obama, those of us with non-traditional names can walk the streets with our heads a little higher, and be proud of the names our parents dropped upon us. No longer does an American president have to be named George, Bill or Jimmy. He (or she) can be named Barack, Hillary, Jethro, or Daisy Mae.

And if that doesn’t prove change is in the air, nothing will.

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The Daily Spittoon -- Always proud of our name