Runcible Blog


Dear Fisher,

You've designed the famous Space Pen that can write upside-down, in zero gravity, on the surface of the sun, yet you include a slide-on clip?! I had the pen in my pocket, and the clip slid off. I wasted 15 minutes this morning trying to find it all over my room, to no avail. Now, the pen has no clip and just floats around in my pocket, waiting to get lost. All of a sudden, your wonderful pen has lost much of its utility for me. It was difficult enough to justify spending $15 for a pen; now I have to worry about it rolling out of my pocket into the great unknown.

Sure, I could order a new clip for $2, but why couldn't you design the pen with an attached clip? Does anyone use it sans-clip?

I'm very disappointed, Mr.Fisher, and I hope you get your R&D team working on this problem right away.

Sincerely Yours,
Dave St.Germain

greatest whistler


sitting in a darkened medford apartment alone, I hear the world's greatest whistler happily stroll by the window not once, but twice. he whistles a tune, possibly improvised, so bright and clear with perfect intonation and tone. the sound is powerful enough that I can't determine its direction. the merry whistling reverberates through the room, and I wonder, is this real?

enough already

Not to make light of a tragic situation, but I was thinking: it would be a whole lot easier on everyone if an asteroid dropped on Terri Schiavo.

At least then we wouldn't have to go through another week or two of constant death-watch news coverage. If an asteroid blew her to bits, the wacky fundamentalists who think that there's still a chance she'll recover (if only she lets JC into her heart) will be forced to return home, dejected.

Don't worry, though. Maybe when she dies the Bush brothers will encase her in carbonite like Han Solo and keep her propped up in the Oval Office as a monument to the Christian right. I'm sure Jeb will want to take the statue on the road during his 2008 presidential campaign.

desperate for inspections

Yesterday while I was pumping gas down the street the attendant asked me if I wanted to get my inspection done now. I had been holding off because I need to get a new sideview mirror (a victim of the Red Sox world series celebration). Here's the ensuing conversation:

attendant: Do you want to get your state inspection today?
me: No, I need to get a new mirror first.
attendant: *looks* Oh, ok...
[he walks inside and talks to his boss. a moment later, his boss comes running out...]
boss: You know, you don't need a sideview mirror to get an inspection!
me: really?
boss: No, it's fine. All you need is a rearview mirror. If you don't have sideview mirrors, that's ok as long as there aren't any sharp points.
me: oh, I didn't know that...
boss: Don't let anyone fool you! You don't need it to get an inspection!
me: Yeah, I can get an inspection, but will it pass? [thinking he's trying to trick me into a rejected inspection]
boss: NO! What did I just tell you?! It'll pass! You don't need the mirror!
me: ok
boss: So, do you want an inspection now? He can do it!
me: Yeah, sure.
boss: Ok. good!

So, my car passed (I don't know if the guy actually inspected anything), and I can postpone the search for an expensive mirror. Yay! Thank you, desperate foreign gas station workers!


i'm tired and irritated. lately i feel like driftwood. where am i going?