Sep 202011

I got this by email this morning, and it’s too funny not to share. I laughed. I cried. Mostly, I laughed….


Pocket Tazer Stun Gun, a great gift for the wife… A guy who purchased his lovely wife a pocket Tazer for their anniversary submitted this:

Last weekend I saw something at Larry’s Pistol & Pawn Shop that sparked my interest…

The occasion was our 15th anniversary and I was looking for a little something extra for my wife Julie. What I came across was a 100,000-volt, pocket/purse- sized tazer. The effects of the tazer were supposed to be short lived, with no long-term adverse affect on your assailant, allowing her adequate time to retreat to safety….??

WAY TOO COOL! Long story short, I bought the device and brought it home, loaded two AAA batteries in the darn thing and pushed the button. Nothing! I was disappointed. I learned, however, that if I pushed the button and pressed it against a metal surface at the same time, I’d get the blue arc of electricity darting back and forth between the prongs.


Unfortunately, I have yet to explain to Julie what that burn spot is on the face of her microwave.

Okay, so I was home alone with this new toy, thinking to myself that it couldn’t be all that bad with only two AAA batteries, right? There I sat in my recliner, my cat Gracie looking on intently (trusting little soul) while I was reading the directions and thinking that I really needed to try this thing out on a flesh & blood moving target.

I must admit I thought about zapping Gracie (for a fraction of a second) and then thought better of it. She is such a sweet cat. But, if I was going to give this thing to my wife to protect herself against a mugger, I did want some assurance that it would work as advertised. Am I wrong?

So, there I sat in a pair of shorts and a tank top with my reading glasses perched delicately on the bridge of my nose, directions in one hand, and tazer in another. The directions said that a one-second burst would shock and disorient your assailant; a two-second burst was supposed to cause muscle spasms and a major loss of bodily control; and a three-second burst would purportedly make your assailant flop on the ground like a fish out of water. Any burst longer than three seconds would be wasting the batteries.

All the while I’m looking at this little device measuring about 5″ long, less than 3/4 inch in circumference (loaded with two itsy, bitsy AAA batteries); pretty cute really, and thinking to myself, ‘no possible way!’ What happened next is almost beyond description, but I’ll do my best …

I’m sitting there alone, Gracie looking on with her head cocked to one side so as to say, ‘Don’t do it stupid,’ reasoning that a one second burst from such a tiny li’l ole thing couldn’t hurt all that bad. I decided to give myself a one second burst just for heck of it. I touched the prongs to my naked thigh, pushed the button, and …


I’m pretty sure Hulk Hogan ran in through the side door, picked me up in the recliner, then body slammed us both on the carpet, over and over and over again. I vaguely recall waking up on my side in the fetal position, with tears in my eyes, body soaking wet, both nipples on fire, testicles nowhere to be found, with my left arm tucked under my body in the oddest position, and tingling in my legs!

The cat was making meowing sounds I had never heard before, clinging to a picture frame hanging above the fireplace, obviously in an attempt to avoid getting slammed by my body flopping all over the living room.

Note: If you ever feel compelled to ‘mug’ yourself with a tazer, one note of caution: there is NO such thing as a one second burst when you zap yourself! You will not let go of that thing until it is dislodged from your hand by a violent thrashing about on the floor! A three second burst would be considered conservative!

A minute or so later (I can’t be sure, as time was a relative thing at that point), I collected my wits (what little I had left), sat up and surveyed the landscape. My bent reading glasses were on the mantel of the fireplace. The recliner was upside down and about 8 feet or so from where it originally was. My triceps, right thigh and both nipples were still twitching. My face felt like it had been shot up with Novocain, and my bottom lip weighed 88 lbs.. I had no control over the drooling.

Apparently I had crapped in my shorts, but was too numb to know for sure, and my sense of smell was gone. I saw a faint smoke cloud above my head, which I believe came from my hair. I’m still looking for my testicles and I’m offering a significant reward for their safe return!

P.s… My wife can’t stop laughing about my experience, loved the gift and now regularly threatens me with it!

Jul 112011

Once upon a time when wishing still helped and when kings and queens still mattered, there lived a great and terrible monster. He was green and furry and ferocious and he lived under a bridge and would sometimes eat people who tried to cross.

Telford is in no way related to that monster.

Telford was born into a small family of monsters living in a small log cabin on a small street in lower Manhattan. The small part of it. His father drove the short bus and his mother took in a little washing to help make ends meet. Most people thought a monster from that part of town would never amount to much, but Telford was never one to think small.

Telford dreamed of one day leaving Manhattan and setting out for the city. The big city. It wasn’t that he wasn’t fond of his rural roots or the pastoral setting in which he grew up… he just dreamed of something more. But he knew he would have to have a way to get there, and so he saved up his allowance and bought a bicycle.

He could never have dreamed how far that bicycle would carry him.

One day while out riding his bicycle, he met a fellow cyclist with whom he became fast friends. This other cyclist was to have a major impact on the young Telford’s life, because it was none other than Bob Roll, famed bicycle racer and power player on the international racing scene. Under Bob’s capable tutelage, Telford soon found himself at the front of the pro peloton and became the first monster to win the Tour de France (Muppet Division) on a bicycle with training wheels.

Though Telford found himself at the top of the game, he decided to leave professional racing. Those were dark days for cycling; the Count von Count doping scandal* [“Von! Von vunderful injection! Tvoo! Tvoo vunderful injections! Ha-ha-ha-ha!”] was casting a shadow over bicycle racing and transforming it into an environment that had no appeal to young Telford.

Telford made the decision to leave that life behind him. He enrolled in the prestigious Sesame Street School of Art, Business, and the Number Three where he majored in Theater Arts and had a minor in the letter O.

College was a special time for Telford. He met his first true love, Cameron Diaz, while they were both theater students. Though their romance was short lived, it was filled with passion and to this day Diaz will tell you that she has never met a finer monster. **

After college, Telford returned briefly to his parents homestead. The old log cabin seemed somehow smaller. The bus his father drove seemed even shorter. But most of all, old Manhattan itself seemed somehow to have shrunk. Telford decided it was time to move on.

Packing his few belongings and kissing his mother goodbye, Telford left Manhattan forever and set out for a new life and a new adventure in the bustling metropolis of Kansas City.

Today, Telford pursues a vigorous work schedule packed with speaking engagements, storytellings, lectures, product endorsements, and the occasional acting gig. Though busy, Telford wouldn’t trade his life for anything.

* Count von Count was of course later cleared of all alleged wrongdoing when it was proven than French racing officials were deliberately tampering with testing samples in an effort to besmirch the good name of such a prominent and non-French competitor.
** The two remain friends today and will frequently get together for dinner or drinks when they find themselves working on a project in the same city.