The Supreme Aglet

The End

2005-05-24T19:41:00.000-07:00

The Supreme Aglet here. Yes it is me. Please stay in your chair and do not bow down or otherwise interrupt me with your expressions of love and adoration.

I have something very important to tell you; but before I do, I want to thank Ballio for taking care of things, Dr. Gupta for making this message possible, and all of you for your concern.

Although I've been able to correct the problem that left my previous transmission partially encrypted, I'm afraid I've just about run out of time to correct the problem with the reverse polarity module prior to the closing of the temporal pathway.

What this means, my fellow Agleteers, is that I will not be able to speak with you again until you yourselves arrive in your own distant future. Some of you will not live long enough to see that day, and the rest of you will be well advanced in years before you hear from me again.

While this news is good for neither of us, I can tell you with certainty that the future in which you and/or your children will someday live is a wonderful place, full of promise, full of adventure, and full of wonder.

Since you now know this, I would encourage you to get an early start. Begin now, making your own way and boldly starting down that path. You can plot your course and head that direction even without knowing what will come next, with full confidence.

Fix your eyes on the bright place in the distance where you will make your destination, and deal with challenges as they come. You cannot know them all before you begin, but you can trust your abilities to deal with anything that will confront you. When things get difficult, you will find the help you need from the loved ones next to you and the power above you.

I know your future just as plainly as you know your past. Agleteeria, the world of the Supreme Aglet, is your destiny, and you will surely reach it. When you get here, you'll find that the world is once again and will always be in perfect balance.

THE END

Letter from Agleteeria

2005-05-23T07:46:00.000-07:00

Ballio here.

Well, it was a pretty eventful weekend. Having made contact with the Supreme Aglet, Dr. Gupta has been working around the clock to see if he can establish some sort of regular communication and find out exactly where TSA is and how to get him back.

Or, more accurately, trying to find out when he is. What we've been able to figure on so far is that all of the gadgetry and computer programming is all some sort of time travel device.

...yes, a time travel device. I know what you're thinking: that scene in Napolean Dynamite. But don't laugh--apparently, the thing works. At least well enough to have transported TSA somewhere, although I don't know if we can get him back.

Late last night for a few short minutes, something kept coming through to one of the computer screens. At first, it was completely garbled and we couldn't make heads or tails of it. Finally, just before the connection died, we got the following partially garbled message:


Dr. Gupta, please read%?ssage and forward it t%Ballio and my?eaders. I'm not sur%?able to get anoth%? one off. 

I am writin%?world that exists afte%?last Agleteer becomes an Agleteer%?eautiful world, now known as "Agleteeria". I cannot po%?ibly convey how beautiful and wonderf%?this world is.

%?of the first places%?ent to upon arriving%?leteeria was the local McDonald's, and I %?pleased. Big Macs%?fat-free and low-carb in Agleteeria, %?animals who provided their meat are reconstituted after the fact so that all vegetarians%?happy%?not setting SUV's on fire.

Speaking of SUV's, they%?bundant in Agleteeria, and they run on a single cup of water for a year's use. As one might expe%?also have no wheels and emit no noxious gasses and produce no other harmful%?issions.

Agleteeria %?not without its misfits. Upo%?rriving, I went to a library (all books float%?air in Agleteeria--no more need for those pesky shelves) to use a computer (they are slightly larger and narrower%?toothpick in the future) so that I could read The Supreme Ag%?. While surfing the Web (in virtual reali%?3D), I ran across a knock-off %?The Supreme Aglet called "The Very Good Aglet".

After some investigation, it turns out%?this Web site was created by some subersive French guy who, at one point, had taken offense to one of my admonitions, (something about using%?word "Soccer" without regard for the fact that Europeans refe%?the sport, incorrectly of course, as "Football%

But apart from that, people were generally kind an%?ongenial. I was particularly appreciative of all the statues th%?built in my honor.

I am left wit%?one sorrowful thought: that I may never see you or any%?aithful Agleteers again. I'm afraid that the reverse polarity module, which I had put in place to retur%?to your present, is not functionin%?

...and that's it. Dr. Gupta hasn't given up and he's still got a brave smile on his face, but I can tell that the news isn't good. I'm glad TSA is okay, but considering that he might be gone forever, I have a twisted feeling in my stomach.

If we get any more messages from TSA, I'll post them here.

Signed,
Ballio

Day 5: The Day We Made Contact

2005-05-20T07:38:00.000-07:00

There were astonished cries of "It's him! It's him!", and the cheers went up. I was there when it happened!

But the question remains: where is he? Where?!

Dr. Gupta is going to catch up on some well-deserved rest this weekend, but let's continue to hope for TSA's safe and quick return. At least we know he's okay, wherever he is. Hopefully, we'll know more on Monday.

Signed,
Ballio

Day 4: "All Hope is Lost"

2005-05-19T07:39:00.000-07:00

Ballio here.

I assume you've heard the news by now, as it's all over the headlines, but if you haven't, you can listen to Chuck Weaver's report here.

I have no appetite. I can't think. I can't funtion. During those moments when I'm feeling pessimistic, it makes me ill to think about what might have happened to TSA.

Since Dr. Gupta's grim announcement, I've called him to get more detail on what he's found out--any little ray of hope I can grasp at. The poor guy has been going non-stop and says he won't give up trying to reverse-engineer TSA's computer programs and gadgetry to figure out what he was up to with all that stuff, the theory being that the last thing he was doing before he disappeared was tinkering with his equipment. Gupta says he'll keep working at it either until he figures it out or drops dead. What a trooper.

"All hope is lost": those are not the words I wanted to hear. TSA, if you're out there, give us a sign. Help us out.

Signed,
Ballio

Day 3: TSA Update/Agleteer Dave's Slide Room

2005-05-18T07:32:00.000-07:00

Ballio here.

I don't have any news today on the disappearance of TSA, except to say that a research team, headed by the renowned Dr. David Gupta, will be combing through the Supreme Aglet's lair tomorrow searching for clues.

Be sure to tune in your radio (or visit here) to hear Chuck Weaver's live coverage of Dr. Gupta's progress. And keep your fingers crossed.

If TSA is out there reading this somehow, I know he'd want us to press on during this difficult time. So with that said, I'm going to turn over today's Supreme Aglet post to Agleteer Dave, who kindly provided the following in answer to TSA's first memory assignment:


My earliest memory is around 1968, I was born in 1967 so logic tells me that I was about a year old. I’ve also verified this story with my mother so all facts are true, only the names have been withheld to protect the innocent.

As a child my father was in the military, an officer in the USAF, and as an officer he and my mother would attend various military events. On these occasions the children (myself being one) would be dropped off at a military base "day care" of sorts. 

There was a room that is very predominant in my mind and is the center piece of this memory. We’ll call it the "slide room".

The slide room was just that, a large room with a concert floor and a large slide standing in the middle. This was no indoor slide – this slide was the big metal kind you would see outside in a playground of the 60’s. It had metal steps with hand rails and a long, straight piece of shiny metal with short sides that made up the "sliding" portion. (These kind of slides would be banned nowadays to "protect" children from injury and to eliminate an influx of "got a boo-boo" law suits.) I also seem to recall hoppity-hops scattered about the room, but the slide was the thing that impressed me the most.

My older sister, who also remembers the slide room, recently made friends with someone many years and states removed from the slide room. They were talking about the military both having that in common with parents. It just so happens that this woman had been stationed at the same base as a child and she also remembers the slide room. As wee tots they may have actually played in the slide room together.

I don’t know what it was about that slide room but for some reason it left a memory burned into the psyche of any child that encountered it. Maybe when you’re only 2 to 3 feet tall it just seems so impressive to enter a room with nothing but a slide in the middle.

With all that, the funny thing is...I can’t ever remember going down the slide. Go figure.

Wow. Everyone seems to remember the slide room. I remember the slide room and I wasn't even there! (I hope that's funny. I'm trying to write stuff that TSA would write in response to the letter above. I'm not funny, huh.)

Signed,
Ballio

Day 2: More Witnesses to TSA's Disappearance

2005-05-17T19:40:00.000-07:00

Ballio here. I wanted to thank you guys for sending in your tips. Really, even if they're just minor observations, every little bit helps.

One of the tips sent in by Agleteers has already led to finding more witnesses to TSA's disappearance, (listen to Chuck Weaver's latest report here).

I'm going to try my best to maintain a "business as usual" atmosphere, which I think will help us all deal with this emotionally. Tomorrow, barring any major developments, I'm going to press on with TSA's regular Fan Mail featurette, as some of you have submitted your "first memory" assignments.

I wonder where he is right at this moment. I hope he's ok.

Signed,
Ballio

The Supreme Aglet Disappears!

2005-05-16T07:41:00.000-07:00

Ballio here. Perhaps you've heard the news, (listen to Chuck Weaver's report here).

I'm freaked out. I first realized something was wrong when TSA (his friends call him "TSA") didn't show up for our monthly Bunco last night. He's never missed one, and even if he was going to bail on us, he would have at least called, e-mailed, or sent a singing telegram like he did last Tuesday when he couldn't make it for Canasta.

This is not good. PLEASE keep an eye out for anything that will help us find out what happened to the Supreme Aglet. If you have any tips, please e-mail them to me at iamballio@hotmail.com and I will make sure they get to the proper authorities asap.

I'll keep you posted.

Signed,
Ballio

Weekend Edition: Sipping Formula, Circa 1969

2005-05-13T07:30:00.000-07:00

A first memory is not something that you stop and think about in order to recall. Rather, it is recalled when some external event triggers that memory, and then you have the presence of mind to file it away under "my first memory". Perhaps you've already filed away your cherished first memory, or maybe you need to sit in a chair all weekend thinking about licked vs. adhesive stamps until something jogs that memory.

...which brings us to the thought to ponder for the weekend:

What is your first memory?

The Supreme Aglet wishes to solicit his readers for their first memories, and then to choose from among the most interesting responses for future Fan Mail Friday on Tuesday, Wednesday Editions.

My first memory was one that caused some distress. I'd say I was barely two years old (if that), and I remember being in a bed next to my older brother, who I will refer to as Brother Aglet, or BA for short.

At that moment, we were both sipping formula from baby bottles, and after a few sips, he would wave his bottle in the air and loudly repeat over and over "I want more! I want more! I want more!..."

I remember taking all of my cues from BA, doing whatever he was doing, so I would also wave my bottle in the air and start calling out for more whenever he did.

I remember taking special notice of my brother's bottle, which had a 3D clown face on it, while my bottle was plain. This caused some distress, as I badly wanted a bottle like the one he had, but did not know how to express that desire. It also resulted in what was perhaps my first neural connection to the concept of heirarchy, which would later be reinforced frequently at the end of BA's swinging fist.

Nonetheless, the memory is generally a pleasant one. It is in the context of a world in which I was always seemingly cozied up in a bed and pampered by my mom.

Now that I'm bigger, although still less buff than BA, I have ways of side-stepping the heiarchical order that was literally pounded into me during my early years.

For example, I can go out and buy my own baby bottle with a clown face on it. Eat your heart out BA, and the world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.

Speaking of Mud-Slinging

2005-05-12T08:23:00.000-07:00

The malaise that has characterized the Essay Contest Presidential Election recalls in me bad memories of the contentious and divisive 2004 election. I had a preference for one of the candidates over the other (Mrs. Supreme Aglet and I proudly cast our ballots fo[Microsoft ODBC - call failed. Please contact the system administrator. @101#]owever, I didn't think either candidate was half bad, and certainly not all that different from each other in the scheme of things. Actually, I really liked the guy I didn't vote for; I just liked him second-best, and the meanies at the poll station only gave me one ballot card.

Of course, there are those who--at election time, or whenever they otherwise have run out of people to blame for their own shortcomings--will refer to one or the other as being "worse than [insert really bad person's name], whose leadership will certainly, undoubtedly, assuredly, without question, mean nothing less than the literal destruction of the United States of America".

Inevitably, the politician in question is either revered or forgotten years after s/he supposedly brought on all that destruction and horrific consequence.

Don't get me wrong; there is no shortage of politicians, past or present, who deserve to be assailed. But realistically, the worst you could say about the majority of candidates who have run for President of the United States (excluding the fringe kooks who purchase live cockroach traps) is that they're political opportunists. Imagine that. A politician being political.

As contentious as the 2004 election was, an audio book I've been enjoying while commuting in my fabulous sports sedan reminds me of several historical references I've picked up over the years in which a presidential election descended into deep division and brought out the freaks, in angry mob form. Many of these elections--and I'm not just talking about Civil War era elections where Americans were unusually urinated at each other--made 2004 look like a love fest.

To wit, in trashing our Presidents and other politicians, people often like to invoke the founding fathers in the context of current issues. "George Washington and Thomas Jefferson must surely be turning over in their graves because of those terrible things that [insert politician's name] is doing".

Bull. For one thing, it's problematic to imply that George Washington and Thomas Jefferson would agree on anything. Washington was a Federalist, Jefferson was a Democratic-Republican (the forerunner to the Democratic party). Or, to put it loosely in modern terms, Washington was politically more akin to a big-government elitist while Jefferson was more akin to a small-government populist. The analogy isn't exactly fitting (Washington was hardly an elitist in the negative sense of that term), but it gives you an idea of how far apart they were in the same sense that Howard Dean and Rush Limbaugh aren't quite soul mates.

"He is a liar and a dictator" may sound like the tripe we heard about George W. Bush last year, but this was said of George Washington (yes, that George Washington) and printed in newspapers bankrolled by Thomas Jefferson.

Or how about, "he fools around with women who work for him"? Democrats should embrace this accusation when hurled at Bill Clinton, as this clearly demonstrates something that President Clinton and President Jefferson had in common, (yes, that President Jefferson).

Heck, Presidents who in their day were impugned as war-mongering buffoons (sound familiar?) usually end up in the tiny ranks of Unofficial President All-Stars. Abraham Lincoln comes to mind as one who was regarded by many of his contemporaries as an uncultured backwoodsman, a "gorilla" and a "baboon", (yes, that Abraham Lincoln).

John Adams and FDR also fall into the category of accused war-mongering incompetents. Of course, we now take it for granted that Roosevelt's willingness to take on Germany after being attacked by Japan led to the end of Nazism before it became a global threat. John Adams never even went to war.

I'm old enough to remember how the world literally wasn't going to survive the 1980's because of the war-mongering buffoon who occupied the White House during that stretch. Doomsday scenarios resulting from superpower arrogance were favorite Hollywood themes. The six o-clock news was rife with images of protests in Europe, complete with flag-burning and all kinds of expressions which indicated that maybe, just maybe, they don't like us anymore.

Luckily, I escaped the nuclear bombs. But I lost all those really tight European friends.

Now, this guy Reagan--who I remember vividly as having been accused of being Hitler reincarnate--is today oft-quoted by politicians who wish to advance their career, even Democratic politicians (Reagan was a Republican). JFK, a Democrat and quasi-Bill Clinton of his day, is often a favorite quote medium for Republican politicians whenever s/he wants to score political points, (as I just did by referring to both genders).

Oh my, look at the time. I have to hurry to work and get a report done before certain destruction befalls our nation, and the world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.

Fan Mail Friday on Tuesday, Wednesday Edition

2005-05-11T07:34:00.000-07:00

Having moved the Fan Mail Friday on Tuesday featurette to Wednesday, The Supreme Aglet submits the following missive from one of his foreign readers:


Supreme Aglet, very wise you are. Join me you must, for a Jedi you must be, and fulfill your destiny you must.

Yoda

Agleteer Yoda,

Backwards talk I can also. Amazing it's the human brain how could understand saying what I am though even backward doing it. Example for, readers mine probably are following along with problem little. Perhaps more even interesting is that choose they keep to reading though sense even this makes none, yet brains ours is stimulated this by, we hence reading keep.

Long how reading keep will they? Far so, real point none have I made. Have they don't better anything to do read this than? Work they late aren't for? Go feed to need the dog don't they?

Mackerel Holy! The this is paragraph third nonsense this of, and reading they are still. Loser what a!

Address your concern to regarding Jedi joining must I, all say that I have that is I full have my hands with saving planet mine. Example for, yesterday had to my planet save from an asteroid oncoming, disposed of which I did my bare hands with, (actually, gloves I wore).

So, luck good on the Empire defeating, but pass I'll have to on your offer, and world the Supreme Aglet in perfect balance once again is.

Essay Contest Presidential Debate

2005-05-10T19:43:00.000-07:00

As I feared, the mud-slinging has begun.

I am just about at my wit's end with this situation. I have spent a lot of time personally with the primary agitators in this conflict with little progress. I have no further recourse but to allow it to play out.

So be it: let the campaigning begin, let the mud fly, let the rain shower, let the rose flower, and the world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.

The Supreme Aglet Makes Program Changes

2005-05-09T06:58:00.000-07:00

The Supreme Aglet would like to announce some changes in programming:

The Weekend Edition will be moved from Saturday to Friday, providing one extra day for Agleteers to ponder the thought for the weekend, and perhaps give you enough time to alter your weekend plans based on some profound thing I said

The Fan Mail Friday featurette is now moved permanently to the Fan Mail Friday on Tuesday featurette slot

The Fan Mail Friday on Tuesday featurette will be moved to Wednesday, and renamed to Fan Mail Friday on Tuesday, Wednesday Edition

The Wednesday Essay Contest, currently interrupted by the Wednesday Essay Contest controversy, will be moved to Tuesday unless there is no resolution to the controversy, in which case the Wednesday Essay Contest featurette will be indefinitely postponed

These changes are effective immediately. Oh yeah, and the world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.

Weekend Edition: Anatomy of a (Dead) Pest

2005-05-07T09:50:00.000-07:00

The Supreme Aglet will continue to combine the Saturday and Sunday editions of The Supreme Aglet into a single weekend edition with a weekend-filling thought to ponder.

The thought for this week:

Why are there such things as live rat traps?

The recent tangle with rats in my garage, along with the various strategies employed to ending their presence there, has given me pause to think about the whole concept of live rat traps.

Rats are pests, just like cockroaches are pests. Rats are arguably more dangerous than other kinds of pests because of the diseases they can carry, the fact that they have teeth, and because of the damage they can cause to your property.

So why live rat traps? If you're of the persuasion that prefers to address a rat problem by procuring live traps, then would you just as easily purchase live cockroach traps if such things existed?

(A quick Google search reveals that you can actually buy such a thing; but I'm talking about the existence of goods outside of those intended to profit from fringe kooks. If I have offended anyone who actually does buy live cockroach traps, then I apologize for you being a kook.)

Walk in to a Home Depot, ask one of the friendly folks where they keep their humane cockroach traps, and you'll likely be directed to the aisle with the flying pigs.

The notion of catch-and-release cockroach traps is ludicrous, yet the same Home Depot store will likely stock more catch-and-release rat and mouse traps than boxes of rat poison.

Why do you suppose this is? Would it be different if cockroaches were cute? Perhaps if Hollywood would just give us a movie like An American Tail--replacing the cute little rodent with a cuddly little cockroach who gets separated from his family--maybe then the idea of live cockroach traps will make its way from the kook fringe to the mainstream. Yeah, there's some money there.

Fellow Agleteers, I'm as much an animal lover as the next guy, but sparing the life of a rat is not a fair exchange for the prospect of bringing disease into my house or damaging my property. Especially my cars. Kill the rats. Save my cars. Hug a cockroach, and the world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.

Today is Fan Mail Friday #12

2005-05-06T07:01:00.000-07:00

If you are not familiar with our "Fan Mail Friday #n" featurette, please familiarize yourself by reading this entry before proceeding, or your home may be uprooted by the well-preserved mammoth living below your foundation as it suddenly comes to life.

This week's fan mail comes from Agleteer Andy, (The Supreme Aglet will not reveal the full identity of fan mail contributors unless specifically requested):


Like you, I have been distressed by all the controversy that has resulted from the Wednesday Essay contest. I can't sleep, and I've dropped 10 pounds. Please tell me that it will all be over soon.

Buck up, Agleteer Andy, as every cloud has a silver lining, (to coin a phrase). With Summer approaching, you can use this time to continue starving yourself in order to to have a Speedo-friendly figure.

With all the flailing around and wailing that's going on, perhaps all Agleteers should regard the Wednesday Essay Contest controversy as sort of a body-building program--as a means toward unlocking that babe-trapper form inside the otherwise drab and formless frame that passes for your body.

Heck, work on those abs for a bit, throw on some red tights, and you could have that true Supreme Aglet look.

Hang on for a second while I go look in the mirror...Oh yeah. Baby. Mmmm mmmm.

If you're looking for a workout video and fitness program that will encapsulate your tantrums within a productive workout structure, please visit The Supreme Aglet's souvenir Web site. While you're there, remember to pick up a Ballio Stress Ball and a few Perfect Balance(tm) brand frozen dinners to keep you in shape. This will contribute to your fitness and my bank account, and the world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.

A.G.L.E.T.

2005-05-05T07:15:00.000-07:00

Today, I shall endeavor to make the word "aglet" even more meaningful by proposing several ways to acronymize the word:

Aglets
Give
Laces an
Easier way to
Tug

Angles are something I learned in
Geometry, although I didn't listen well in class.
Luckily, I have yet to require
Euclid's
Theorems for daily living.

Ants
Get
Less
E-Mail,
Tony.

A
Gold-plated
Llama
Eats no
Tin

Ain't
Gonna
Leave ya'. Gonna love ya' forever and
Ever,
Till the sun don't shine no more.

Awfully
Good
Lentil soup.
Eat some,
Tony.

Anytime you need to
Get in to
Larry's house,
Enter
Through the front door rather than the chimney.

All
Great
Letters must
End,
Tony

And the world of the Supreme AGLet is oncE again in perfecT balance.

The First Fourteen Years

2005-05-04T05:40:00.000-07:00

Marriages don't last anymore. The whole concept of marriage seems to have fallen victim to the same sort of cheapening that afflicts a lot of other things.

Marriages were once put together like my 1964 Cadillac Coupe de Ville: solid, dignified, carefully constructed. These days, marriages more closely resemble my 2002 Saturn; they can last forever if you make it a high priority to take good care of them, but they lack the inherent longevity that comes with taking your craft seriously and creating something from the very beginning that is designed to endure unforeseen hardships.

On May 4, 1991, Mrs. Supreme Aglet and I endeavored to create the marital equivalent of a 1964 Cadillac Coupe de Ville. I'm very fortunate and blessed that she was--and is--an unusually skilled engineer. Somehow, this marriage has overcome my serious character flaws and has developed into something that is far, far more than the sum of its parts.

On reflection, it's difficult for me to think of any serious conflict over those fourteen years. I know we've had arguments, and I'm pretty sure I've been angry with my wife just as I have caused her to be angry with me from time to time. But I can honestly say that there has never been one moment of regret for the commitment that was made fourteen years ago today. Not one moment.

I don't know for sure if Mrs. Supreme Aglet can say the same thing; but if she can, then blame me. I can be a real butthole. Likewise, even if the thought ever has crossed her mind, I give her a great deal of credit for not following it to its logical conclusion. Doing so comes with a great deal of societal support, an abundance of choices for an affordable and enthusiastic attorney, and the prospect of finding a more sensitive and caring partner who can properly express himself without putting on his red tights and assuming his blog identity.

This marriage has produced two economy-sized versions of ourselves, (for those who are analogistically challenged, that is a reference to our two children). Despite my misgivings about the prospect of taking on such a difficult, consuming, and often heart-breaking responsibility as rearing children, I can't imagine life without these two little people. (The Supreme Aglet reserves the right to amend the foregoing once the children morph into pot-smoking parent-hating teenagers; but they're perfect right now, and I'm certain that I'll love them no less even after they're properly instructed by Hollywood and the music industry to despise Mrs. Supreme Aglet and me.)

To celebrate the occasion, I will be taking Mrs. Supreme Aglet out for a quiet dinner away from the responsibilities of home and mother. Okay, maybe I'll also pick up a card--but what else could she want? I wrote this nice blog piece, didn't I?

Happy 14th anniversary, Mrs. Supreme Aglet, and the world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.

Today is Fan Mail Friday on Tuesday #10

2005-05-03T07:55:00.000-07:00

Having extended our "Fan Mail Friday #n" featurette to Tuesday, The Supreme Aglet enthusiastically submits this beautifully thought-out letter from Agleteer David:


Due to your superior intellect and view on things, I was wondering your opinion on the following: Why do the sausage links in an Aunt Jemima Great Starts breakfast look like "dried turds"? I’ve never encountered this phenomenon with any other breakfast meat but with the Aunt Jemima meat--the appearance is so close to that of "dried turds" that I hesitate to eat it. Can you explain this?

Agleteer David, I feel compelled to admit that I replaced your Aunt Jemima Great Starts breakfast package contents with dried bird droppings. I don't know what drove me to do this, as you are a good friend and faithful Agleteer; but I am truly sorry, and hope you enjoyed them anyway.

If it's any consolation, I sent a Sun-Maid Raisins box full of rabbit pellets to Richard T. from Verizon, and the world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.

Die Rat! Die!

2005-05-02T07:32:00.000-07:00

After three weeks in a row of sweeping out rat crap, I'm done with the humane approach of trying to capture the rodent alive and send it on its merry way to the neighbor's house. Today, a rat will die.

The final straw occurred after spending an entire Sunday trying to draw the rat into a cardboard box, only to watch my plan crumble at the very moment of triumph.

The key to capturing the booger was to get it back into its home from its daily mission of searching for food and dumping stool all over my garage. As you might recall, it had made its home in the hood of my car, so once I could get the rat back in it, I could lift the hood and effectively trap it inside.

I succeeded in that much, having drawn the rat back into the hood and trapping it within. The only way out of the hood was through the end of it facing the front of the car; and with the hood open, there was no way the rat would attempt to crawl out and fall to its death or risk severe injury. Rats are very risk-averse, which is why you don't see them bungee-jumping.

Using the ingenuity that I possess in spades, I grabbed a cardboard box full of car wash towels and removed its contents. I then ran inside to grab a dollup of peanut butter, which I placed on one of the box flaps. I placed the box in the car's engine compartment just under the opening in the hood representing the rat's only escape route. I lowered the hood on top of the box and raised the peanut-buttered flap so that it looked like a surface area upon which the rat could safely walk onto.

I fastened a bent paper clip from the corner of the flap to a small opening in the hood, which kept the flap up close to the exit hole, but held it loosely enough so that any weight placed upon it would cause the flap to collapse.

I went back into the house for a beverage and to watch SpongeBob. Afterward, I thought I'd go check on my trap to see if had ceased being rat-challenged. Upon stepping into the garage, I discovered that the trap was in progress at that very moment.

Yes, the timing was perfect! I stood there and watched the rat crawl out of the hood and onto the box flap with the peanut butter on it. He stopped to glare at me from across the garage midway through his journey out of the hole, as if to say, "hey, I found some peanut butter and I'm gonna eat it; what are you gonna do 'bout it?"

Finally, the full weight of the animal was on the flap--BAMMO! It fell right into the box. BWA-HA-HA-HAA!

It was a moment of severe excitement for me. I had lived the whole day--if not the previous three weeks--for that very moment, and reveled in my achievement. I ran back in the house and called for Mrs. Supreme Aglet, who promptly met me back in the garage to observe our prisoner in its menagerie.

Of course, the combination of curiosity and the perceived award of being able to see the animal up close and appreciate how cute and cuddly it was bound to be drove Mrs. Supreme Aglet straight to the box in which the rat was captured. With a warm smile on her face, she peered inside to look at the little darling. Unfortunately, it was bigger than she imagined, and she reflexively pushed the box away as she backed off from it.

This caused the box to tumble part-way into an open area of the engine compartment, leaving it tipped just enough to allow the rat to make it's way out. I ran to right the box, but the rat jumped out just as I grabbed the box and untilted it. The little creep jumped back into the engine compartment, once again becoming impossible to find.

After a day and a half of obsessively chasing the little snot, not to mention three wasted weekends clearing out our sizable garage and sweeping out rat poop, it was time to exercise my advantage of being at the top of the food chain and use my superior intellect to defeat the rodent. I'm all for giving an animal a sporting chance, but this one really ticked me off. The sentence: death by rat poison.

So, I have done it. For her punishment in aiding and abetting the escape of my prize, Mrs. Supreme Aglet was sentenced to the nearest Home Depot to fetch some rat poison. She kindly completed this task, I have since placed two boxes of the delicious pellets of death in key areas of the garage where the little crapper likes to concentrate his or her stool, (note the use of both genders when referring to a rodent who produces large quantities of stool, indicating the progressive individual that The Supreme Aglet truly is).

Feast, my pretty, for tomorrow you die, and the world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.

Weekend Edition: Proper Pronunciation of "Coupon"

2005-04-30T10:39:00.000-07:00

"koo'-pon": This is the correct pronunciation, for I have deemed it so.

"kyoo'-pon": This pronunciation annoys me. Do not use it. I have deemed it so.

Don't let me catch you passing a "kyoo'pon" during our next happenstance encounter at the grocery store, and the world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.

Today is Fan Mail Friday #11

2005-04-29T07:47:00.000-07:00

If you are not familiar with our "Fan Mail Friday #n" featurette, please familiarize yourself by reading this entry before proceeding, or you may suddenly find all of your canned goods without labels.

This week's fan mail comes from Agleteer Paul, (The Supreme Aglet will not reveal the full identity of fan mail contributors unless specifically requested):


Why do you always end your posts with "the world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance"?

An excellent question, Agleteer Paul.

I once considered ending posts with "...and squirting orange juice in one's eye causes a stinging sensation", but then I thought twice about the indirect commercial nod to large corporate orange growers. I am not a communist, but I don't give away free advertising either.

So, the only other obvious choice was "...and the world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance", and the world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.

The Supreme Aglet tells Knock-Knock Jokes

2005-04-28T07:52:00.000-07:00

Knock Knock.

Who's there?

Aggie.

Aggie who?

Aggie-let.

...

Knock Knock.

Who's there?

Fannie.

Fannie who?

Fanni-mail Friday.

...

Knock Knock.

Who's there?

Baha.

Baha who?

Baha-llio.

...

Knock Knock.

Who's there?

Verizon.

Verizon sucks?

Right.

...

Knock Knock.

Who's there?

This dress.

This dress who?

This dress caused some distress.

...

Knock Knock.

Who's there?

He and She

He and She who?

Note the use of both genders in this knock-knock joke...

...

Knock Knock.

Who's there?

Indy.

Indy who

...Indy-cating the sort of progessive individual that The Supreme Aglet truly is.

...

Knock Knock.

Who's there?

Chicken soup

Chicken soup who?

Chicken soup-reme Aglet.

...

Knock Knock.

Who's there?

Yoo-Ann

Yoo-Ann who?

Just me.

...

Knock Knock.

Who's there?

The world.

The world who?

The world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.

Wednesday Essay Contest Presidential Candidates

2005-04-27T07:40:00.000-07:00

If you haven't been following the controversy surrounding the Wednesday Essay Contest, then you are inferior and should be grazing among the bleating sheep in the fields.

Two candidates have now emerged, each representing the two camps in this controversy. I'm afraid my meeting with these individuals and other concerned Agleteers last week yielded little progress, and I fear that it will only get worse.

I'd like to believe that we Agleteers regard each other as being cut from the same cloth, even when we have disagreements, and excepting the obvious fact that I am better than of all of you.

We share so much in common, and this division should serve to illuminate that what we have in common is far greater than what we don't have in common.

I'm afraid I have no choice but to allow this unfortunate disagreement to work itself out to its logical conclusion. Hopefully, once the dust settles and one side is acknowledged as having triumphed over the other, the more passionate among you will have gotten this out of his or her system (note the use of both genders, indicating...you know the drill), and the world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.

Today is Fan Mail Friday on Tuesday #9

2005-04-26T06:38:00.000-07:00

Having extended our "Fan Mail Friday #n" featurette to Tuesday, The Supreme Aglet enthusiastically submits this beautifully thought-out letter from Agleteer Roger regarding the ongoing discussion about stinky titan, (who we're referring to by the code name "Verizon"):


It is true, Mr. Supreme Aglet, that Verizon services work for many people including, most likely, your contributor Richard T. However, a percentage of subscribers (that's an important word, I'll return to that issue in a moment) have one or more minor nuisance problems with their service(s) at any given time. Some have substantially degraded service. 

Verizon has been rated by various groups, including Consumer Union (Consumer Reports' publisher) and ePinions as having the best cellular signal rate in Los Angeles while simultaneously having the worst customer service of any carrier. Thus the paradox: does one choose to use a company with poor service in the hopes of obtaining better
service? So long as a person is in the 85% (my guess) of users who have no substantial technical problem, Verizon's services are good...

I'm going to assume you left out the decimal, i.e that the number of users for whom Verizon's services work satisfactorily is something on the order of 8.5%--you know, with the decimal.


...If one falls into the 15% of users who have a problem, one has just fallen into the Verizon Abyss.

To correct your math, 100% minus the corrected 8.5% number equals 91.5% of customers who have problems with Verizon services and who should therefore switch services right this very minute. I have commanded it.


Verizon's reputation as a provider of poor customer service also comes atop a reputation of being a leader in the promotion of obtuse subscription models intended to mask the true costs of its services and deny consumers the ability to directly compare prices. Most cellular providers have followed suit. 

According to Scott Adams, the creator of Dilbert, Verizon is a classic confusopoly. Further, Verizon and other cellular providers require a subscription to its service. Thus, a user in the abyss is unable to fix the problem owing to Verizon's poor customer service and is unable to extricate him/herself from the contract, compounding the frustration and expense. 

This is anti-democratic, and I too am not a communist. For there is no good reason for the subscription. Once the phone is paid for, the expense to the cellular company is incurred only as you use its service. Just as with the water pumped to your home or electricity, no expense is borne by a company if you place no calls. Thus, you should be free to initiate and cancel the service at any time; but because the confusopolies are also an oligopoly, their wishes prevail over that of the marketplace as your choices are limited. This is also undemocratic. And consumers have not pressured their representatives to pass legislation making contract cancellation (without oppressive termination charges) easier once technical problems can be demonstrated (similar to the fair credit reporting act) thereby denying themselves the tool of democracy to bring about positive change; thus, cellular users who are happy with their service provider are also undemocratic. And these communist-leaning peoples are among us; they might even be your neighbor.

Well then, I think I'll go have a word with my neighbor.

Agleteer Roger, I couldn't have said it better myself, (well, maybe I could, for I am Supreme). If you, or any of my readership, would like to take the time to compose a sample letter than can be written to each Agleteer's local congressman specifically addressing the issue of cancellation fees (preferably a class fee refund of the retroactive persuasion), I will publish it here along with links to obtaining contact information and other advice.

I should mention at this point that, because I am not a communist, the thought of asking our government representatives to regulate the behavior of a particular business in this way bothers me intrinsically.

On the other hand, I'm so urinated off at Verizon that I'm ready to swing the hammer and sickle in the direction their sorry sitting surfaces, and the world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.

Rats in the Hood

2005-04-25T07:32:00.000-07:00

There are rats in the hood.

No, really; there are rats in my hood.

I spent last weekend cleaning rat poop out of our sizable garage, coming to the obvious conclusion that a family of rats is living somewhere in the garage area. I was unable to determine precisely where they made their home, unfortunately, so I decided to purchase some rat termination equipment.

Mrs. Supreme Aglet insisted that we purchase the sort of traps which preserve the productive lives of rodents who crap all over our garage and present the prospect of tracking stool into our home. So, I purchased a pair of inexpensive live traps from the local Home Depot, (which I amusingly refer to as "Home Despot" in normal conversation).

These traps are simple in operation: they are small, long boxes just large enough for the animal to crawl in and take bait from the rear of the box. They have a small fulcrum point in the middle, so that they tip slightly when the animal enters the box, and the tipping causes a door to close and lock behind it.

Mrs. Supreme Aglet set one of the traps in the garage Sunday evening. Just a few minutes later, I went into the garage on another pretext and immediately noticed that the trap was gone.

It was a Tom and Jerry moment. As I was staring at the empty spot where the trap once was, my mind replayed a scene of the cat Tom putting out a hair-trigger mouse trap for Jerry with a big piece of cheese on the trigger, only to watch Jerry drag the trap by its cheese into his little hole in the wall without incident, and then happily consume the cheese right off the trap, bite by bite. Of course, Tom reaches in the mouse hole to grab the trap and the slightest touch results in snapping the trap on his fingers. Poor Tom.

I called for Mrs. Supreme Aglet to join me in the garage. "Uh, didn't you just place a trap right there?", I asked.

She acknowledged that she had done so, and I know I saw it there after it was set. Perplexed, we both began to wade through our vehicles, bicycles, and other garage fodder in search of the trap.

"Shhh", Mrs. Supreme Aglet said, as she held up her hand to indicate that we should freeze and listen.

I heard it too: something was scurrying among something else somewhere in our immediate vicinity. It sounded like little tiny claws scratching against the metal on a 1960's-era automobile, and since the only such object in our immediate vicinity was my 1964 Cadillac Coupe de Ville, it became the logical conclusion that one or more rats was somewhere in the vehicle's front end. It sounded specifically like it was in the hood.

"In the hood?", I hear many of you ask.

Perhaps I should point out something before we proceed: automobiles were once very substantial things. A hood wasn't just a flat sheet of metal, it was a 3-dimensional structure. The underside of the hood on this particular vehicle reveals openings into long and narrow support structures--just large enough, apparently, for a rodent to crawl into and make a home if s/he were so inclined. (Note the use of both genders even when referring to rodents, indicating the progressive individual that The Supreme Aglet truly is.)

Upon opening the hood, I heard the little booger slide down the inside of the hood.

Unfortunately, it was fairly late in the evening and neither Mrs. Supreme Aglet nor I were inclined to develop some ingenious way of locating the specific area of the rat or rats and removing him or her, so we left it/them there, hopefully to eventually venture out for food and find the larger trap we had purchased from Home Despot.

Before leaving the garage, I closed the hood, which was likely very unpleasant for little rat ears. Closing the hood on that vehicle produces a cacophony of thunder that is unpleasant even for human ears, prompting Mother Goose to change her famous rhyme to "Three Deaf Mice", ("Three Deaf Rats", whatever) and the world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.

Weekend Edition: Eating Ice Cream with a Fork

2005-04-23T13:14:00.000-07:00

The Supreme Aglet will continue to combine the Saturday and Sunday editions of The Supreme Aglet into a single weekend edition with a weekend-filling thought to ponder.

The thought for this week:

Is Eating Ice Cream with a Fork So Peculiar?

The Supreme Aglet finds himself perplexed over the behavior of the majority of people he encounters who question his preference for eating ice cream with a fork.

As the textbook out-of-the-box thinker, it should come as no surprise that I have certain habits that may be out of the mainstream, but that are nonetheless examples of a superior approach to accomplishing tasks that are regarded to have established mechanics.

Even so, I must admit to being more than a little annoyed when the lady or gentleman behind the counter at Coldstone or 31 Flavors stares at me in confusion as a result of asking if they happen to have forks, (note the reference to both genders in the foregoing sentence, indicating the sort of progessive individual that The Supreme Aglet truly is). Almost invariably, once the individual manages to utter a response, it is in the form of, "uhhh, no, but we have spoons".

I allow for the fact that the individual in question may rarely get a request for forks at an ice cream establishment, but the implication that I'm some sort of freak, along with the brain-dead response citing the obvious fact that "we have spoons", combine to cause some minor distress.

Every once in awhile, I encounter someone--either behind the ice cream counter or waiting in line--who relates to my desire to eat ice cream with a fork. Those moments are therapeutic, similar to the feelings people encounter in support group meetings dealing with unique shared experiences.

Some who I encounter will query me as to the reasoning behind using a fork to eat ice cream, as if I am obligated to explain this culinary abberation. It is difficult to explain: in short, it is easier for a pair of lips to form around the flat surface of a fork rather than a curved surface of a spoon, and it is therefore more comfortable. In addition, a spoon leaves more ice cream behind, as one's lips cannot scrape the ice cream off of a spoon as cleanly as off of a fork.

It also makes sense when approaching the question from a purely logical standpoint: a spoon is designed to contain liquidic food; a fork is designed to contain and manage more solid foods. Ice cream falls into the solids category until melted, after which I frankly find it gross to eat.

So, next time you encounter someone who prefers to eat ice cream with a fork, your first reaction should not be that this individual is a freak, but that s/he possesses superior intellect, and the world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.

Today is Fan Mail Friday #10

2005-04-22T07:27:00.000-07:00

If you are not familiar with our "Fan Mail Friday #n" featurette, please familiarize yourself by reading this entry before proceeding, or you may discover that all of your jeans no longer fit.

This week's fan mail comes from Agleteer Roger, (The Supreme Aglet will not reveal the full identity of fan mail contributors unless specifically requested), in response to hearing (by way of imagination) my rendition of The Song of Crimino:


It would be nice if Crimino got 10 years. As best I can tell, he didn't do any time or certainly less than 12 months.

Sir, you speak as if Crimino is a real entity--as if he is some sort of analogy for some real individual involved in some sort of real occurrence in my own life, such as a disagreement over some sort of property triggered by the loss of an investment that itself possibly resulted from the influence of shady characters. Perhaps I should remind you that Crimino is nothing more than a character from a fairy tale, and that any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is unintentional and purely coincidental.

Besides, Crimino's case is on appeal, so even if he actually existed, he wouldn't yet have been sentenced assuming he loses the appeal.

On the other hand, if you are the sort who is given to believe in the existence of Alice in Wonderland or Peter Pan, I apologize if I have offended your sensibilities, and the world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.

Here's the Door, Stinky

2005-04-21T06:57:00.000-07:00

On April 20, 2005, 8:54pm, I called Verizon to cancel cell phone service, having acquired new service from Cingular.

Of course, there is no way the drone who took the call could understand the impact of that moment, for Verizon does not officially know me as The Supreme Aglet, but rather by my alias of[Microsoft ODBC - call failed. Please contact the system administrator. @101#]erefore does not realize who it is they have squandered away as a customer.

Because the cellular contract under which Mrs. Supreme Aglet was obligated has not yet expired, I will be receiving a bill for a rape fee in the mail from Verizon for about $175. I have been able to demonstrate to the customer tormenting manager that Verizon calls regularly drop if attempted or received from the area in which I live, which obligates Verizon to waive the fee. Being properly trained, their response to this demonstration is that my service works fine. You know, because they say so.

Cingular kindly covered most of the rape fee, and my readers should know that Cingular is willing to do this if you too feel shackled by the destructive antics of the Titan.

That's one service down, two to go. Replacing DSL and phone service will prove to be more challenging, but being motivated by rage tends to make one pretty creative, and the world of the Supreme Aglet is once again perfect balance.

Update on Wednesday Essay Contest Controversy

2005-04-20T07:21:00.000-07:00

I am disappointed to report that the Wednesday Essay Contest controversy has become quite contentious.

On behalf of my beloved Agleteers, who number in the millions and who honor me regularly by hanging a Supreme Aglet action figure from their car mirror, I met with the leader of each group (the Essaycrats and Agleteericans). They have taken their positions very seriously and each is vying for control of the Wednesday edition of The Supreme Aglet.

This meeting was reported in several national news sources, but the gist of it is that the rift between Essaycrats and Agleteericans is very real and causes me distress. It is quite a shame considering that these are all quite accomplished individuals--as is the case with all Supreme Aglet readers--and that what they share in common far exceeds their petty disagreements.

In any case, it is my hope that you will all conduct yourselves congenially as we work through this contentious time. If any of you are experiencing an unusual amount of distress, please feel free to purchase a Supreme Aglet stress ball from the Web site. I have marked them up $3 a piece in order to profit from this delicate situation, but I am also including self-adhesive stamps (used) on the box in which the item(s) are delivered to your home, and the world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.

Today is Fan Mail Friday on Tuesday #8

2005-04-19T07:30:00.000-07:00

Having extended our "Fan Mail Friday #n" featurette to Tuesday, The Supreme Aglet humbly submits a letter from one who identifies himself as "Richard T." It seems that the ongoing discussion about stinky titan, (who we're referring to by the code name "Verizon"), has attracted controversy on both sides:


Mr. Supreme Aglet, this crusade you're on about Verizon is really getting on my nerves. I hope you balance your complaints by printing my message, and it is this: like you, I have several Verizon services. I've never had any major problems with Verizon. My cell phone, home phone, and DSL work fine. Maybe it's something you're doing wrong, and you should think about that instead of blaming Verizon for your troubles.

Richard T., due to the vast resources available to me (a.k.a. Google), a quick search of your suspicious e-mail address reveals that you are actually a Verizon employee or contractor posing as a fake Agleteer. Interestingly, the acronym resulting from "Fake Agleteer Richard T." spells "F.A.R.T."

It is also clear that you are a Verizon employee because your reasoning is based on the fact that your Verizon services work for you, therefore my Verizon services work fine for me even when they don't.

Then again, I may be jumping to conclusions considering that you left out the twenty useless questions, but maybe you missed that day of training.

I suspect you can hear me now, and the world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.

How I Overcame Writer's Block

2005-04-18T07:22:00.000-07:00

You will likely not notice, but I am experiencing writer's block at this very moment. This may seem contradictory to the title of today's post, which indicates that I have overcome my writer's block.

This, of course, is just another of the amazing feats that The Supreme Aglet can pull off--right before your very eyes, I am overcoming my writer's block by simply talking about it. Dang I love me!!

Before I began working on today's post, I had no idea what to say. I still have no idea what to say, but you wouldn't know it unless I told you. I'm not sure I believe it myself, because here I am saying things when I thought that I'd have nothing to say.

There's a certain value to meaningless rambling after all. I'm just saying things and not really forming any new thoughts. Really, I'm just repeating the same ideas over and over. Really, I'm just repeating the same ideas over and over.

However, since the reader has been kind enough to drudge on with me all the way to this final paragraph, I shall introduce an entirely new thought for this post: the world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.

Weekend Edition: How to Assemble a Schmicknick

2005-04-16T08:07:00.000-07:00

The Supreme Aglet will continue to combine the Saturday and Sunday editions of The Supreme Aglet into a single weekend edition, and containing only a single thought to ponder.

The thought for this week:

How to Assemble a Schmicknick

The following is reprinted with permission from the Feldman and Sons Schmicknick manual:

1. Arrange the enclosed dinkums (3) in parallel, approximately 6 inches apart.

2. Affix the mushnoos to each dinkum, holding the blunt end of each mushnoo firmly against the mushnoo fooby on the other end. There are 4 mushnoos per dinkum.

3. Insert a flubbum for each set of mushnoos across the aligned dinkums.

4. Attach a fooby to the end of each flubbum to hold it in place.

5. With the dinkum assembly completed, carefully place and align the meenopple atop the dinkum assembly. Turn sideways and have an adult hold it upright.

6. Ensure that the meenopple wangschmeres penetrate all the way through the dinkums. Attach a fooby to the end of each meenopple wangschmere.

7. Your schmicknick is now ready to operate, and the world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.

Today is Fan Mail Friday #9

2005-04-15T07:35:00.000-07:00

If you are not familiar with our "Fan Mail Friday #n" featurette, please familiarize yourself by reading this entry before proceeding, or you may be secretly video-taped while showering.

This week's fan mail comes from Agleteer Ken, (The Supreme Aglet will not reveal the full identity of fan mail contributors unless specifically requested):


Mr. Supreme Aglet sir, I don't know how to say this, but I have a criticism.

I don't like where this going already.


Your new "Weekend Edition" featurette disturbs me.

You do seem to be a disturbed individual.


While I found it as entertaining as any of the others of your wonderful and spiritual writings,

Spiritual?


the joy of reading it was countered by having nothing new to read on Sunday morning. I can't live like this, Mr. Supreme Aglet. I can't. Sundays without The Supreme Aglet are like cereal without milk, toast without butter,

...stamps without some form of adhesive...


a book without pages, a piano with no keys. 

Can you help me, Mr. Supreme Aglet? Could you perhaps write a single word--any word--just to give me something to look forward to on Sunday morning. Even something as simple as "It's Sunday and the world of the Supreme Aglet is in perfect balance."

Perhaps a Bible sermon would be most appropriate for Sunday. Maybe some sort of virtual brunch. Maybe a parade.

Well Agleteer Ken, I was following you until that last paragraph where you sort of veered from the fringe into the abyss.

Rarely do I get mail that does something other than ask a question or praise me, so I found your mail particularly intriguing. Nonetheless, I am not able to address your Sunday morning void at this time, as the Weekend Edition Featurette will remain in place for the foreseeable future. I cannot ask millions of Agleteers the world over to accept the shock of such a rapid change in our featurette schedule in order to accommodate a single Agleteer. I'm sure you understand.

Might I suggest that, prior to reading The Supreme Aglet on Sunday mornings, try holding a powerful magnet close to the left side of your head for several seconds. This will erase all memory of the previous day (and perhaps your lifetime), and so reading The Supreme Aglet will be a new experience for you.

Of course, I would not recommend this unless I had first tried it and, uh, what were we talking about again? Something about the world of the Supreme Aglet being once again in perfect balance?

The Song of Crimino

2005-04-14T06:14:00.000-07:00

If you have not met Crimino, or if you have otherwise not been following the story of Ballio and the Great Wonder Wizard, then I will assume you have not been reading The Supreme Aglet faithfully, and that you are therefore a loser.

Today, I have composed a song inspired by Crimino's past. It is to be sung to the tune of AC/DC's Back in Black:

Back in jail
I hit the rail
I took the money and I thought I would sail

I got caught
Thanks a lot
I guess I thought the DOJ could be bought

I was clever you see
My lawyer working with me
A trail of money through an obfuscated sea

I got nine counts
But I'll bounce
I'll bamboozle you and then you'll be trounced

'cause I'm back!
Yes, I'm back!
Mama, I'm Back!
Yes, I'm back!
Well, I'm back, back.
Well, I'm back in jail, yes I'm back in jail!

Back in the pen
I'm doin' ten
I'll meet new friends and I'll get out and then

I'll find a schmuck
Who's outta' luck
I'll take his Wonder Dust and then he'll be stuck

With quite a mess
Here's my address:
Penitentiary in Los An-ge-les

You'll find me here
Steerin' clear
Of Bubba who's been starin' at my rear

'cause I'm back!
Yes, I'm back!
Well, I'm Back!
Yes, I'm back!
Well, I'm back, back.
Well, I'm back in jail, yes I'm back in jail!

(Crimino's cool guitar solo)

Well, I'm back, back,
Back, back, back, back,
Back in jail, yes, I'm back in jail

And so, having officially become hip and with it for writing lyrics to an AC/DC tune, the world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.

About the Wednesday Essay Contest Controversy

2005-04-13T06:59:00.000-07:00

Some Agleteers have been writing with strong feelings about out Wednesday Essay Contest featurette. Opinions fall into one of two categories: 1) put an end to the fledgling Wednesday Essay Contest featurette in order to free up an extra day for pure Supreme Aglet wisdom, or 2) this is the most valuable and worthy featurette among all featurettes because it contributes to the heralded expression of thought so well associated with Agleteers, and it must remain.

Perhaps you are familiar with this controversy, as it has spilled into the streets of large American cities in the form of contentious protests, and these protests have garnered the attention of national news outlets. It has split Agleteers into two parties: the Agleteericans and the Essaycrats.

I am distressed that this controversy has yielded such division, and I call on Agleteers everywhere to put their differences behind them as we work to remedy the disagreement behind the controversy.

I urge you to look to me as your father figure and as your example of how to approach disagreements congenially, and working toward a mutually beneficial outcome.

I am so confident that we will soon be able to come together and put this mess behind us that I have already purchased several gallons of lemonade for our 4th of July party, and the world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.

Today is Fan Mail Friday on Tuesday #7

2005-04-12T06:48:00.000-07:00

Having extended our "Fan Mail Friday #n" featurette to Tuesday, The Supreme Aglet humbly submits a letter from Agleteer David, (The Supreme Aglet will not reveal...blah blah blah). It seems that The Supreme Aglet isn't the only one who has been bitten in the asbestos suit by the stinky titan, (who we're referring to by the code name "Verizon"):


Alas, my poor friend, The Supreme Aglet, how well do I feel your pain. I too have experienced the gauntlet known as Verizon. Yet, I had to face the beast without the vast knowledge of binary coding and Windows XP such as you have.

Note from The Supreme Aglet: I actually know a lot more than that. I am Supreme. I am Aglet. Resuming...


As an innocent consumer I signed up for Verizon DSL just as you did. The first week was bliss-fast downloads, super speed (compared to dial-up), the web was my oyster.

Another note from The Supreme Aglet: Oysters are tasty. Resuming...


But, as you now know, the fun was short-lived. I experienced weeks that turned into months going through the 20 question routine and dealing with reps that had no knowledge or concerns of my previous cases. After hours of relentless trouble-shooting and doing my best to maintain my composure with the idiot on the other end of the phone-I was finally told that there was a major problem in several states, one of which was the great state of Texas, where I reside...

Everything is big in Texas. Resuming...


...and I do recall California being on the list. I was assured the problem would be remedied.
 
"Oh, stupid consumer, how well you follow like little lambs."
 
Needless to say the problem continued. The fiasco ended suddenly and abruptly one Saturday evening, I finally blew my top and yelled at the Verizon rep demanding that I speak to the "man in charge."  I'd had it, I wanted to cancel my service!
 
Spent, I slept well that evening.
 
I have new service now, I am content. I only wish the Supreme Aglet would have confided in an Agleteer for advice before making such a decision. It may have saved some heartache.

It may well have saved some heartache, but then, would I have material for The Supreme Aglet if not for buffoons like Verizon?

Agleteer David, stories like yours need to be shouted from the mountain-top, which is pretty much what one has to do when dealing with a telecommunications company that can't reliably provide more convenient vehicles of communication.

Sure, you and I represent only two individuals against the mammoth corporate sloth that is Verizon. However, Agleteers in general number into the millions, and our numbers can certainly bring down this putrid-smelling titan.

I therefore command all Agleteers who are currently taking any Verizon service(s) to discontinue all such services immediately, even if it means cutting off your phone and DSL line, (you can still receive The Supreme Aglet by smoke signal).

Having issued the command, Verizon will surely be out of business by the end of the week, and world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.

Ballio III: Marika Calls a Truce

2005-04-11T06:56:00.000-07:00

If you have not read the original Ballio tale or the exciting, edge-of-your-seat sequel, then you are either new to The Supreme Aglet or you are a loser. I will assume the latter.

In our last episode, Ballio and Boormund had found the magic scroll that granted the balls to Ballio, and a showdown was set for the armies of inerpreters of the law from the Great Wonder Wizard and Zorphine, matched against the mighty white-hearted Stelman.

The clash of these titans produced an awesome nuclear display. Stelman swiftly wielded the magic scroll, and many interpreters of the law fell. Many still stood, however, and the battle raged on.

Zorphine himself engaged in the battle, firing directly at Ballio from his magic mail cannon. Ursal also joined the battle on Zorphine's behalf, attempting to lure the warrior Suraija. Agleteer Thomas put a stop to that.

The fierce battle raged on, when from somewhere in the distance, a soft angelic voice was subtly heard, "Children..."

The battle wore on, with the thunderous noises drowning out the angelic voice.

"Children", came the voice again.

Ballio and Zorphine both heard the voice, and called off their warriors. All was quiet and still, as the interpreters of the law looked in the sky for the source of this angelic voice.

"Children, why do you fight?", came the voice again.

"Look! Over there!", said a warrior, pointing toward the sky where the goddess Marika was descending upon Playton.

The goddess spoke again, "Zorphine, Ballio, you must stop this nonsense."

"Must, stop?", Zorphine said, entranced.

Ballio did not speak, for he too was entranced by the beauty and splendor of the goddess Marika. He had encountered Marika before, and knew that she had much more to offer than Zorphine or the Great Wonder Wizard.

Boormund saw that Ballio was frozen by Marika's words, and tried to break him from his trance, "Ballio, stop! Awake!" It was to no avail.

The Great Wonder Wizard, who also was not affected by the overwhelming beauty of the goddess Marika, was intrigued, but saw no reason to interrupt her pleas. "If this goddess can persuade Ballio to call off Stelman", he thought, "perhaps Ballio and Zorphine can again work together to create wonder dust, which I shall share in."

"Children," continued Marika, "you must call off the interpreters of the law. You must combine your strengths and once again create beautiful balls for the villagers of Playton."

"But, he started it!", said Ballio.

"And he made it worse!", said Zorphine.

"This is lame.", said Boormund.

Marika interrupted, "Shhhh. You must put that behind you, now. I have spoken." And with that Marika ascended back into the heavens.

Zorphine and Ballio looked at each other from across the battlefield, and began walking toward the center. As they did, a banquet table appeared, and each took a seat at the ends of the table.

"I cannot turn away from the admonitions of Marika", said Ballio.

"Nor can I," said Zorphine. "I must also try to do the will of the Great Wonder Wizard."

"Then we must come to terms. We have no choice." said Ballio. "I shall draft a list of terms and send it to you by swift courier tomorrow."

"And I shall review and amend it." said Zorphine. "We will continue thusly until we have an agreement."

And indeed, the swift courier went back and forth the next day between Zorphine's fortress and Ballio's home with scroll after scroll after scroll.

Finally, an agreement was reached. Ballio gave up much, but also had much more than before, and was able to reward those who helped him in his struggle. His long friendship with Zorphine was intact, the Great Wonder Wizard was pleased, and Ballio could be confident that he would get some from Marika, and the world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.

Weekend Edition Featurette #1

2005-04-09T08:11:00.000-07:00

The Supreme Aglet will now proceed to combine the Saturday and Sunday editions of The Supreme Aglet into a single weekend edition, and containing only a single thought to ponder.

The thought for this week is this:

If I'm using shampoo that is orange and smells like tangerines, why does it lather up white?

If anyone has any problem with this new weekend format, please call (800) 567-6789. When you get someone on the line, say to him or her "your service sucks". I do not offer this remedy in jest; I am seriously asking you to call that number and utter those words.

Note the use of both genders in the preceding paragraph, indicating the sort of progressive individual that The Supreme Aglet truly is. Note also that the world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.

Today is Fan Mail Friday #8

2005-04-08T06:16:00.000-07:00

If you are not familiar with our "Fan Mail Friday #n" featurette, please familiarize yourself by reading this entry before proceeding, or that chicken you ate last night may come to life on its way out.

This week's fan mail comes from Agleteer Foster, (The Supreme Aglet will not reveal the full identity of fan mail contributors unless specifically requested):


i'm thinking of starting a country with my cousin. both of us like to call in to those commercials that sell things where you have to mail in a check, and we figure having our own country would save us money on stamps because we can have our own postal service for free. how do you start a country?

Agleteer Foster, this is America. In America, you are the country, (which causes me some distress in your case).

With that in mind, a more efficient way to solve your problem would be to become President of this country--or better yet, work around the clock and dedicate the rest of your life to making me President. If elected, I promise to put an end to this silly requirement of paying for postage stamps.

That's right! Simply make me President, and mailing in for those TV offers will be a snap! Get started right now, and you'll get this beautiful set of Ginsu knives!

No more licking. No more standing in line at the post office for questionably heavy items. No more trying to line up the stamp with the little box on the envelope!

Housewife: [surrounded with stacks of letters] I used to pay to send all these, and I had to mail them one at a time! But since I got this new and improved President, I just dial up his postal minions, and my letters are wisked away, just like that!

Young Man in a Ferrari: Before I got my new President, I was drowning in debt from paying for letter after letter. But now, I drive a Ferrari!

You too can benefit from free lifetime postage! Just make me President!

But wait, there's more!

If you elect me President, you'll also get an oval "I Voted" sticker just for voting! This rare sticker comes ensconched in a beautiful folding display case, and each comes with a certificate of authenticity on its backside confirming that it sticks.

You get it all: the knives, the free postage, the "I Voted" sticker, for the amazingly low price of one vote, and the world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.

The Supreme Aglet Reveals His Alias

2005-04-07T18:40:00.000-07:00

My vast readership is plainly aware of the fact that my true identity as The Supreme Aglet must be kept secret, and that I actually live my life under an alias name, participating as an ordinary citizen, wearing normal clothing rather than the blue and red tights I have on at the moment.

Many have asked me who my alias is. They wonder if they have met my alias self on the street somewhere, or perhaps at the gas station or Taco Bell.

Who is The Supreme Aglet's alias?

After giving it much thought, I have decided to publish my name and contact information, including my address, Social Security number, and a credit card number just to prove that I really am the person I claim to be. So, without further ado, my nam[Microsoft ODBC - call failed. Please contact the system administrator. @101#]orld of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.

Wednesday Essay Contest #1 Winners

2005-04-06T06:32:00.000-07:00

The Supreme Aglet is pleased at the response to my new Wednesday Essay Contest #n featurette. Although I would like to feature everyone's hard work and share the reward money with all who participated, I can only choose one winner for each side of the question. And even those winners aren't getting a dime.

To refresh your memory, the question posed for our first essay contest was:

Licked Stamps or Adhesive Stamps: Which do you Prefer?

The winner of the pro-lick persuasion of stamps was Agleteer David, (The Supreme Aglet will not reveal the full identity of fan mail contributors unless specifically requested), with this thoughtful entry:


At first, it seems quite obvious. Without a thought I would select pre-adhesive stamps. After all, pre-adhesive stamps are convenient, quick and don’t leave the horrible after taste in your mouth. But after further thought--I’m thinking I may withdraw my initial response. Let’s break down the thought process on this:

First, there is the pre-adhesive stamp. Sure it’s nice, neat and you can have food in your mouth while applying it, but what does it represent? It represents the age of convenience, the age of a rushed and hurried society, a time when people accept, without question, any change as long as it makes life faster. And, if you ever get to the post office to stand in line, these rushed and hurried people never take the time to say hi or even smile. They’re too busy closing the next business deal on their cell phone to bother with the trivial action of being a friendly neighbor.

On the other hand, we have the licked stamp adhesive. Although the taste my be unpleasant it takes you back to memories of the good 'ol days. I’m reminded of a small town, Moline, Kansas, where my grandparents retired. As a child you could walk downtown to deliver a letter for grandpa without the fear of any evil coming upon you. You could spend no more than a quarter to deliver a personal, hand written message to a loved one. The old timers would stand in line and talk about the catch of the day and everyone would greet you as you passed by. You had to hold the stamp in place until it dried but that was okay because life was slow. You enjoyed the moment and didn’t worry about rushing to the next item on your agenda.

Maybe it’s not as complicated as I’m making it. Maybe I’m being a little cynical, but then again, I must say, I miss the days of licking stamps.

Thank you David for your entry. And now, for your prize, take a deep breath...congratulations, you have just won a deep breath.

Next, taking a more broad point of view which permits all types of stamps to be preferred (and suggests that this individual couldn't make up his mind to save his life), I would like to recognize Agleteer Jim's essay on the subject:


Hands down the pre-applied adhesive stamps are the most convenient. One wonders why they weren't around years ago. A plus is that they do not stick to everything in your wallet when it rains!

Even more convenient than licked or adhesive stamps are the metered-mail machines (which were not included in you poll list). The negative features are the monotonous clack-clack of the unit and the jump in the electric bill.

The lick-licks were my favorite, as the taste always reminded me of my early school years, when I put my fingers into the paste jars. I think that the general public would appreciate their return if they came with assorted glue flavors, such as strawberry, scotch, banana, scotch, cherry, scotch, just to mention a few.

Agleteer Jim, for your prize, I would like you to find the nearest window and see what is parked in front of your residence...congratulations, you have just won the opportunity to stare at your car.

Thank you both for your reasoned and well-written entries. You are an inspiration to Aglteers the world over.

Next week's essay contest:

For our next essay contest, I should like Agleteers to submit an essay on the following topic:

Alternate Uses for my Mouse Pad

Submit your essay to thesupremeaglet@hotmail.com, and the world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.

Today is Fan Mail Friday on Tuesday #6

2005-04-05T05:12:00.000-07:00

Having extended our "Fan Mail Friday #n" featurette to Tuesday, The Supreme Aglet humbly submits this secret communication from Agleteer Thomas.


Dear Supreme Aglet,

Although I know that your wisdom is unparalleled, I thought nonetheless you might not be aware of recent developments in Playton. Namely,  Zorphine’s putrid and avaricious assistant Ursal has been sending messengers all over the land in an attempt to obtain the services of lesser ball makers. 

How do I know this? For a period of time Ballio had an apprentice named Suraija to help him with the many chores of making Wonder Balls. Suraija has since become a Master Ball Maker in her own right and has been hard at work producing a type of wonder ball for an entire village located across the great pond that borders Playton in the East. It is Suraija that received the message from the abominable Ursal. 

To her credit Suraija asked “Why are you asking an apprentice to do the work of a Master Ball Maker? “ When Ursal did not produce a satisfactory explanation Surija, who as Ballio’s former apprentice knew that Ballio loved nothing better than to make his Wonder Balls for Zorphine, politely declined Ursal’s request for her services.

Thomas, thank you for alerting The Supreme Aglet to this vital piece of information. I have forwarded your communication to Ballio, and he will work with Stelman--mighty interpreter of the law--to put an immediate stop to these shenanigans.

Involving Suraija is an obvious attempt to steal the cores that Ballio has established are his. If this were not so, the interpreters of the law who assist Zorphine and Ursal would have mounted a challenge to Stelman; for if they were in the right, the force of right would be enough to defeat even the mighty Stelman.

But they did not challenge Stelman, leaving Ursal to follow his natural shyster instinct.

Note to Ursal: the jig is up, and the world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.

Of Rubber Bands and Pancakes

2005-04-04T06:30:00.000-07:00

The title of today's post was intended to draw your interest, yet this particular post has nothing to do with rubber bands or pancakes. Rather, it is about pencils and ladybugs, although neither of these is the subject of today's post either.

Today, I have gathered Agleteers together to discuss something of great importance, and completely irrelevant: that is, we will not discuss the viscosity of ice cream, nor will we address any issues pertaining to boneless shrimp.

Yeah, you know what I'm talkin' about...

Sunglasses and soda pop
An elephant sundae with a cherry on top
The red light flashing says "hey man, stop!"
You wouldn't want a ticket from the cop
Just like a freaky turtle, you hop hop hop
Wasn't it Hanson that sang "Mmm Bop"?
And sent you off dancing with that mop?
Until you were noticed by your Pop?
Who said "kid, clean up that slop!"
So you worked until you dropped
But realized your room grew a crop
The whole thing seemed like a flop
...until you noticed that the world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.

The Supreme Aglet Speaks in Metaphors

2005-04-03T20:12:00.000-07:00

The world without The Supreme Aglet is like having the wheels, but no car.

The pontifications of The Supreme Aglet are like the fog that is exhaled on a cold day.

The Supreme Aglet is fleet of foot, like a bolt from the heavens, seen before the thunder is heard.

The impact of The Supreme Aglet's words are not the earthquake, but the aftershock.

To be like The Supreme Aglet is to be like the bloomed rose removed from her unbloomed sisters.

To be in the presence of The Supreme Aglet is to get wet with the fountain of erubidation

To erubidate is impossible, for there is no such word.

And lastly, I never metaphor that I didn't like, and the world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.

The Stinky Titan

2005-04-02T08:41:00.000-08:00

The Supreme Aglet finds himself forced to deal with incompetent people of the moronic persuasion from time to time. Ironically, these are people who somehow have been given the power to wreak total havoc on the lives of those who are actually paying them to bring order.

It is in this context that I convey to you this pathetic story of a complete breakdown that has created a great deal of distress and bitterness

Because this account represents only my side of the story, I don't think it is fair for me to reveal the name of the telecommunications company responsible for this outrage, except to say that they are one of the largest, if not the largest, [non-]service providers in existence, and that their name starts with a "V", as in "Verizon".

The story begins innocently enough with a response to a solicitation for VoIP telephone service. If you don't live on the cutting edge like I do, then you may not be familiar with VoIP. In short VoIP, or "Voice-over-IP", allows you to use the Internet as a phone service, bypassing much of the traditional telephone network to connect your calls, and therefore saving you a substantial amount of money in billing charges and socialist phone taxes. I am not a socialist.

The prospect of cutting my monthly telephone bill in half was attractive indeed. My concern, however, was that VoIP was self-defeating in that it needed a DSL line to work, which in turn meant that I still needed a phone line, which in turn meant that I would save no money, but actually pay more to have the service.

"Oh no", said the telecommunications company (hereforth referred to with the word "Verizon", just to use a made-up name). "Why, the whole point of VoIP is to save you money, Mr. Supreme Aglet. And anyway, if you're not completely satisfied, you can cancel at any time and go back to traditional phone service."

"But how can VoIP possibly work if I don't have a traditional phone line to carry my DSL service?", I asked.

"Oh, silly little man", replied Verizon, "we're a large telecommunications company. Don't confuse yourself with the technical details, that's our job. We will make it all work very nicely because we're a large and competent telecommunications company."

Now, at this point, I wouldn't blame my readership for ascribing a lack of judgement on my part for proceeding based on this assurance alone. However, hindsight is 20/20 (to coin a phrase), and the combination of hearing this from the horse's mouth (to coin another phrase), the assurance that I could go back to my standard phone service if it didn't work out, and the prospect of saving money all conspired to overcome my skepticism at that moment, and I proceeded.

Shortly afterward, we received the VoIP device in the mail. I set up the device, switched over our standard Verizon phone service to the Verizon VoIP service, and the new service worked satisfactorily.

A few days later, we began to notice problems with our internal network, mostly relating to our Verizon DSL connection. This caused some distress, as the living I earn is largely done out of my home office.

We contacted Verizon DSL, and they were unable to find any problem with our service in spite of the fact that it wasn't working reliably.

Soon, there was no DSL service at all. Another call to Verizon resulted in them telling us that the service works just fine in spite of the fact that it doesn't work.

Concurrently, our VoIP telephone service began to work unreliably. A call to Verizon's VoIP people resulted in them telling us that our VoIP service was working just fine in spite of the fact that it wasn't working just fine.

Soon, we found ourselves with no Internet communications ability and no telephone. The only way to communicate with the outside world was through our Verizon cell phones or via smoke signals, and The Supreme Aglet does not smoke.

Using our Verizon cell phone, we immediately contacted Verizon DSL to try to determine the root of the problem.

Of course, we would wait on hold with Verizon for an hour on our cell phones only to have the call drop after futile cries of "can you hear me now?", then blow another half-hour once we finally got through having each new technician ask the same stupid questions, and then insist that there is nothing wrong.

Getting nowhere with Verizon DSL, we turned to Verizon's VoIP people, who then directed us to the standard phone line people to see if there was a line problem, who then wondered why we were talking to them if we were using VoIP.

It occurred to us that addressing the problem in this way wasn't going to work since the various services at Verizon went completely brain-dead as soon as you mentioned another service. For instance, talking to Verizon DSL dead-ended as soon as you mentioned the word "VoIP". Talking to Verizon VoIP dead-ended as soon as you mentioned the word "DSL". Talking to the standard Verizon telephone service dead-ended as soon as you mentioned either "DSL" or "VoIP".

And, talking to Verizon cell phone service was useless because the calls kept dropping.

Mrs. Supreme Aglet and I determined that if you can't get something done, do it yourself (to coin another phrase), so we decided to start from scratch, cancel Verizon VoIP, and get a new standard line.

A week later, we had phone service again via standard phone line, (I suppose a one-hundred year-old technology like standard phone service reaches down far enough to the level of competence Verizon requires to provide service). Since the line used the same phone number as the previous line, we expected DSL to work. It didn't.

We called Verizon DSL (this time, we only had to wait an hour on hold rather than dropping the call several times on our Verizon cell phones before getting through). We went through the twenty stupid questions routine, after which they looked into the problem and insisted our DSL service was working even though it wasn't.

Now, after hours' and hours' worth of dealing with sheep-level Verizon service, we knew the game well enough to figure out how to get someone on the phone who was actually trained to do something other than ask twenty stupid questions and insist that there is nothing wrong. Once we got hold of this individual--and I'm convinced that there is only one that works at Verizon--we received an assurance that the problem would be investigated.

Oh joy.

A few days later, we were told that the problem could not be rectified, and that we would have to cancel and re-order our DSL. Why should we have to cancel our DSL service just to order the same service on the same phone line again? Because milk isn't carbonated.

Re-ordering our service, we were told, would take about a week. After being without service for so long and with my business suffering, we made it clear that this was unacceptable. Their solution was to give us a dial-up connection.

When I upload those 10MB upgrades and download those 30MB code libraries, I really need the convenience of and reliability of dial-up service. Likewise, whenever my house is burning down, I prefer to use Morse Code when talking to 911.

That week turned in to two weeks before service was finally restored. Einstein would have explained this phenomenom by insisting that the technicians at Verizon were actually traveling at the speed of light, so that our two weeks of waiting was actually only one Verizon week. I have to admit that I'm impressed at Verizon's technical acumen for having produced service vans that can time-travel, although it would be nice if they would apply some of that know-how to their little telecommunications subsidiary.

With phone service and DSL service restored, you would think that the world of the Supreme Aglet would once again be in perfect balance, but then the cell phone bills came in.

That's right, trudging through all those dropped calls and all those hours on the phone with Verizon's other services wasn't going to go unrewarded. For their outstanding contribution to the enrichment of our lives, we get to pay them another $300 in cell phone bills. Happiness, your name is Verizon!

Is this the real life?
Is it just fantasy?
Stuck with Verizon
They don't know my reality

Just close my eyes,
Drown in a Verizon sea

I'm just a poor boy
I need some sympathy
Because it's easy come, easy go
Hear me now? Hear you, no.

Any way the wind blows,
Just bring some service to me

To me.

...

Mama,
Just changed my phone
Got some voice over IP
Drowning in Verizon sea

Mama,
VoIP had just begun
But now they've thrown our service all away

Mama, ooooo,
Didn't want DSL to die
If it's not back again this time next year
Carry on...with dial-up
Because service doesn't matter

Too late
My phone is gone
There's nothing in the line
Twenty questions all the time

Good-bye everybody
I've got no phone
Gotta leave my work undone
And face the truth

Mama, ooooo
Don't want my phone to die
I sometimes wish Verizon wasn't born at all

...

I call a little techy for a little service
"Nothing wrong, nothing wrong, can I ask my 20 questions?"
DSL's not working, don't you go jerking me!

Galileo (Galileo) Galileo--Galileo Figaro! Lousy-oooooooo!

I'm just a customer, nobody loves me
"He's just a customer, wants a little service
"Swearing at us, we're a monstrosity!"

Easy come, easy go, will you give me phone?
"Of-course-not-NO! We will not give you phone
"Give him phone!
"Of-course-not-NO! We will not give you phone
"Give him phone!
"Will not give you phone!
"Give him phone!
"Will not give you phone!
("Will not never never...")Oh give me phooooooone

"NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO!"
Oh mamamia mamamia!
"Mamamia give him phone
Veriz-a-bub, will you ever get a phone for me...

For me...for me....

...

So you think you can drop me and screw up my line
So you take all my money and leave me to die
Oh, Verizon
Can't do this to me Verizon
Just gotta get out, just gotta get right outta here

...

Doesn't really matter
Anyone can see
Direcway and Cingular
Direcway and Cingular
For me...

Anyway, Verizon blows. (cymbal)

The world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.

Today is Fan Mail Friday #7

2005-04-01T05:09:00.000-08:00

If you are not familiar with our "Fan Mail Friday #n" featurette, please familiarize yourself by reading this entry before proceeding, or you may find yourself dreaming that you are a duck in love with a frog.

This week's fan mail comes from Agleteer Lynn, (The Supreme Aglet will not reveal the full identity of fan mail contributors unless specifically requested):


Although I have never seen you, I picture you as someone who would be a good stand-up comic. Have you ever considered that occupation?

Sure I considered that occupation; but then I figured stand-up comics have to travel everywhere and eat plane food.

Speaking of plane food, I mean, what's up with that? If they'd just let my microwave oven through security, I could bring seconds. Buddum-bum.

I was reading my e-mail the other day when this thing pops up on my screen with the word "VIRUS" in big red letters. Big red letters? What's up with that? If you're going to infect my computer, at least let me configure the bad news to pretty it up a bit.

But seriously folks, computer viruses are a major problem. I read in the paper the other day that terrorists are planning to bring down the Internet by sending a self-destruct virus through e-mail. The only problem they have is that they can't figure out how to strap explosives onto a worm. Ding ding! Ding ding!

Woo. Okay. You know, this business of writing Aglets isn't exactly a bowl of cherries no matter how much fame and glory go with it. The other day, some guy walks up to me and stares at me for a minute, then he finally says "Hey, aren't you...aren't you the Supreme Aglet?!". "Why, yes I am Mr. Bush", I replied. So, you know, I thought I'd hang with him a bit and swap war stories.

We ended up on Air Force One and had a delicious in-flight meal. I asked the President if I could have seconds. He says, "sure, did you get your microwave oven through security?". Rim shot, rim shot...someone give me a rim shot.

So Lynn, while it's true that I did indeed consider the occupation, I looked at my material and thought twice about it, and the world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.

The Colors of the Butterfly

2005-03-31T05:52:00.000-08:00

The rain fell from the sky for forty days and forty nights, the resulting deluge washing out the roads in our small town and raising beautiful patches of green vistas wherever one would look.

Days later, butterflies emerged from the fields in great numbers, filling the sky with a spectacular rainbow of butterfly colors. Emerald, garnet, fuschia--a visual treat rarely experienced by any breathing thing. This was our wonderland.

The butterflies kindly lent their colors not only to the horizon, but also to the windshield of my fabulous sports car as it sliced through the whispering wind, as well as the gliding butterflies. The impact exposed new colors of the butterflies not seen in their flying form.

The butterflies have since been reduced in number, either through migration or windshield attrition, but the memory lives forever, and the world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.

Wednesday Essay Contest #1, again

2005-03-30T05:00:00.000-08:00

If you are not familiar with our "Wednesday Essay Contest #n" featurette, please write an essay on why you didn't read and digest this post.

Last week's essay assignment was to write two or three paragraphs on the matter of licked stamp adhesives as compared with the pre-adhesive sort. Which do you prefer?

And the winner of history's first Supreme Aglet Essay Contest is...

...no one!

Listen Agleteers, you might think it's funny to submit responses like...


I don't lick stamps, I eat them. Ha ha.

...or...


Why did the colonists throw vegetables on the big envelope-shaped stage? Because they didn't want to see the Stamp Act!

...but this hardly expands your mind or otherwise makes you a better person.

Each of you who conspired to disrupt this important endeavor by submitting facetious entries for the Essay Contest will receive a referral notice indicating your misconduct.

I shall give you one more week to right this wrong, and write not wrong. <chortle!> So once again, licked or adhesive--choose and write, and the world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.

Today is Fan Mail Friday on Tuesday #5

2005-03-29T05:42:00.000-08:00

Having extended our "Fan Mail Friday #n" featurette to Tuesday, The Supreme Aglet humbly submits this observation from Agleteer Roger.


New computers are fun, but they don't save you any money on car insurance. Why haven't you called Geico?

Agleteer Roger, your question caused me to rethink a number of things. Thanks to your thoughtful query, I now dial my cell phone with my left hand, eat lunch a half hour earlier, and speak with an English accent.

This is a watershed moment in the life of The Supreme Aglet, and my readership is witnessing it unfold right before their very eyes. I am a caterpillar becoming a butterfly, a Cadillac at the end of the production line, pasta that has soaked eight minutes--I am al dente.

I suppose you're expecting some sort of reward for having initiated this important alteration in my life path, but you see, I am also now becoming much more frugal and have thus decided to withhold the $10,000 check I was about to send you, and the world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.

The Supreme Aglet Interviews Ballio and Boormund

2005-03-28T05:29:00.000-08:00

Those faithful readers who have been following the story of Ballio and his balls will be pleased to hear that I have been able to spend some time with Ballio and Boormund to learn more about the plight of these heroes.

This interview was conducted on March 25, 2005. Following is the transcript from the interview.

The Supreme Aglet: Hello gentlemen. Thank you for taking the time to discuss your dilemma.

Ballio: Sure. Thank you.

Boormund: Thank you. Thanks for having us.

The Supreme Aglet: My first question is one that is on the minds of all Agleteers, and it is this: how will this situation finally resolve itself?

Boormund: That's the question on our minds as well, of course. We believe we hold the legal advantage in that we have a solid claim of ownership to the balls. Ideally, though, we would like to work with the Great Wonder Wizard to our mutual benefit.

Ballio: And Zorphine of course, to the extent that he can benefit.

Boormund: Right. Our position is really one that seeks cooperation.

The Supreme Aglet: A reasonable position to take indeed. Given that your position is the one that suits the best interest of all parties, why do you suppose you are having such great difficulty persuading them to bring closure to this under the framework you have proposed?

Ballio: That's the [inaudible] of this whole situation in my opinion. I have to say that I'm really--that I'm a bit disappointed in how this has become a big grab for my balls. All I want is what's due to me. That's all. And I want everyone to derive some benefit from it.

Boormund: You have to understand that Ballio has had a long friendship with Zorphine, so he's being sincere when he says that he wants Zorphine to benefit even though they are taking somewhat adversarial positions.

Ballio: Right. But to clarify a bit, I don't just look at this as something that should benefit Zorphine because he's my friend, I--he's also the guy that had the idea to--the idea and the means to make balls with Wonder Dust.

The Supreme Aglet: You say Zorphine had the means. But without the Great Wonder Wizard, what means does Zorphine have?

Ballio: Exactly. When I say he had the means, I mean that he's someone who somehow gets access to people like the Great Wonder Wizard.

Boormund: Right. Zorphine has raised and squandered more Wonder Dust than anyone I personally know.

Ballio: Well, let's be fair. It isn't Zorphine who loses the Wonder Dust as much as it is the people who he sometimes finds himself partnering with.

The Supreme Aglet: You're not referring to yourself of course.

Ballio: [Laughs] No, I mean people like Crimino. I mean, how obvious is it that people like Crimino don't have your best interest in mind? The guy's a crook for gosh sakes.

Boormund: Right. Zorphine has this propensity to cede his judgement to some of the seediest people. I think our proposal represents a best defense against that happening again.

The Supreme Aglet: How did you two find Stelman?

Boormund: Stelman is actually a relative of Ballio's.

Ballio: [Chuckles] And as such, he's obviously an extremely talented individual...

The Supreme Aglet: [Laughs] That goes without saying.

Boormund: [Inaudible]

Ballio: [Inaudible], and it runs in the family.

The Supreme Aglet: So, even though neither of you seems willing to make any firm predictions about...

Ballio: We really can't...

The Supreme Aglet: ...predictions regarding the outcome...

Ballio: There are just too many variables at this point. It doesn't help that the lines of communication have been muddled a bit.

Boormund: Due to legal constraints, actual conversation is limited. The Great Wonder Wizard is also not as accessible as we'd like due to distance constraints and scheduling conflicts.

Ballio: Plus, I'm a full-time ball maker at the moment and Boormund has things he has to do, like getting his computer fixed.

Boormund: [Laughs] Let's not get into that.

Ballio: But in the end, we have a strong bargaining position. At least we should have based on the facts. We just need to be patient and allow these things to play out. That is, I need to be patient.

Boormund: At the same time, we need to be aggressive when the ball is in our court, we need...

Ballio: ..."Ball in our court", that's funny.

Boormund: [Laughs] Right. We need to be aggressive in asserting our position, but at the same time, we need to keep from reacting to every little thing or we don't look credible.

The Supreme Aglet: So I suppose we'll just have to wait, as you two don't seem to want to predict the outcome.

Boormund: We're not being coy or secretive. We just don't know. We're hoping for the best.

Ballio: Right. We're just hoping to get to the point where we can say confidently, "the world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance".

Festival of the Balloons

2005-03-27T07:41:00.000-08:00

Our two children have birthdays that are two weeks apart, (born in different years, however--i.e. they aren't twins in which one was delayed two weeks after the birth of the other, which would have really sucked for my wife).

Mrs. Supreme Aglet makes the childrens' birthdays an opportunity to turn their bedrooms into colorful wonderlands of inflated rubber. The trick every year, of course, is to get the birthday child in bed, hope that s/he is consistent with his or her tendancy to sleep deeply (or, sleeply deep), pump up balloons in the master closet that is not inhabited by our cats, then fill the birthday room two feet high with the balloons while the child slumbers. (Note the liberal use of both genders in the preceding paragraph, indicating the sort of progressive individual that The Supreme Aglet truly is).

One byproduct of this practice is that these balloons find their way everywhere, seemingly multiplying on their own like tribbles. The spatial relationship of number of balloons to each birthday room somehow seems undisturbed as new balloons appear in other rooms of the house, including a blue and purple one right here in The Supreme Aglet's office. I am keeping them apart to ensure they do not attempt to reproduce.

Of course, a simple solution to addressing this balloon invasion would be to exercise my advantage as being on top of the food chain and destroying these balloons faster than they can appear. The problem, as any parent would be able to figure out, is that each balloon attaches itself to one or both of the children's heart strings, so that destroying a single balloon is tantamount to killing a pet, or flushing a fish.

Although the mechanics of the child-balloon relationship make it difficult to carry out the task of ridding the house of these cretans, we are still left with the advantage of a child's inability to keep track of so many beloved items and their tendancy to become easily distracted in their emotional tie to an object when a new object is introduced in its place.

Another way of slowly detaching the children from their beloved balloons is to invent games that involve violent interaction with the balloons. One of our favorite games is "Balloon Manager", which involves three to four players. In this game, one person acts as the Balloon Manager, choosing one of several balloons at random and throwing it in the air, at which time each of the other players takes turn volleying the balloon and calling out its color. At any random moment, the Balloon Manager can choose a different balloon as the one to be volleyed. If a player allows the balloon to drop, fails to call out its color when striking it, or calls out the wrong color, s/he is out.

Incidentally, I was thinking of packaging and marketing this game, but thought it unworkable considering how big the box would have to be to fit all those inflated balloons.

These tactics seem to be somewhat effective in allowing us to slowly reduce the balloon population through attrition; and eventually, all of the balloons are removed. It is unfortunate that this occurs only a few days before the next round of birthdays, but we cherish those few days of balloon-free living, and the world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.

The Great Larry Norman

2005-03-26T08:35:00.000-08:00

Who is Larry Norman?

Whenever I hear that question after dropping the name, I feel the need to stick my finger down my throat and allow my dissatisfaction to pour out. There is something wrong with the universe when such an accomplished and significant individual is not known by everyone.

The name usually comes up when I talk about a wedding day in 1991, in which the world of The Supreme Aglet first came in to perfect balance. My new bride and I were honored, beyond our ability to express how honored we were, to have the great Larry Norman sing for us during the ceremony and at the reception.

While you could easily prance over to Larry Norman's Web site before reading today's Supreme Aglet, I would ask that you kindly allow me to introduce him, particularly in the spirit of chiding you for not knowing who he is in the first place.

Those who know The Supreme Aglet personally are familiar with my early career as a world famous rock star. Surely, it will come as a shock to my minions that my fame and success would never have materialized but for one man: Larry Norman.

Other bands, now exceedingly successful both in a commercial sense and in the sense of communicating Christian values and hope, owe their very existence to Larry Norman. But for Larry Norman, there would be no Audio Adrenaline, no Skillet... Or going back a bit, no Stryper, no Petra, no Steve Taylor...

The list of successful gospel rock bands and artists is very long, and Larry Norman practically invented the genre.

Even so--even with the avalanche of talent that has followed Larry Norman--there was, is, and will always be, only one Larry Norman. His body of work is unparalleled in any rock genre. From the disturbingly analogous Be Careful What You Sign, to the haunting I Wish We'd All Been Ready. From the unabashedly straightforward Why Don't You Look Into Jesus? to the one that first posed the question to the traditional Christian church and launched the contemporary Christian movement: Why Should the Devil Have All the Good Music?.

Larry acquitted himself well at our wedding. He was humble, soft-spoken, and generous. Most who were at the wedding knew who he was and the significance of his accomplishments, yet he treated Mrs. Supreme Aglet and me as if we were the rock stars. He did absolutely nothing to show his celebrity and instead allowed the focus of the ceremony to remain on the two for whom the ceremony was given, and he even availed himself to several of our guests after the reception, treating them to a movie.

Yet when called upon to perform at the reception, he spared nothing to give the crowd Larry Norman even though he was nursing a sore throat. More importantly, his performance of "The Tune" created the perfect setting from which an eternal partnership would be launched:

I was alone, and without love
Hope was fading fast
Slipping right on past
Then by some grand design
She came along, and heard my song
And sang the harmony
She was right on key
And she was right on time

And now I'm hers, She is mine
We sing together, now
She knows the words, somehow
And I love her true
And we sing the tune

Love is a song from heaven
She is the love that I've been given

I was alone, I was unsure
She reached out to me
And she helped me see
That I still had a chance
To open up, to come alive
And to love again
It was only then
That I joined in the dance

And now I'm hers, She is mine
We sing together, now
She knows the words, somehow
And I love her true
And we sing the tune

You may now introduce yourself to Larry Norman, and learn more about this refreshingly unique and widely loved human being, and the world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.

Today is Fan Mail Friday #6

2005-03-25T05:20:00.000-08:00

If you are not familiar with our "Fan Mail Friday #n" featurette, please familiarize yourself by reading this entry before proceeding, or you may receive that World War II draft notice that's been stuck in the mail all these years.

This week's fan mail comes from Agleteer Norman, (The Supreme Aglet will not reveal the full identity of fan mail contributors unless specifically requested):


I enjoy drinking coffee while reading your blog. Unfortunately, I looked all over your blog site and found now way to purchase Supreme Aglet mugs. How can I go about doing this?

Norman, if I had a nickle for every time someone asked me this question, I'd be five cents richer.

You must understand that, even though I am forced to acknowledge my celebrity and my important place in history, I must maintain the dignity of The Supreme Aglet by resisting the temptation to reduce this important work and all it stands for by engaging in petty commercialization.

However, Supreme Aglet squeeze balls and Ballio action figures will be available for $3.95 each at the next bi-weekly meeting of Agleteers, (please check your phone book to find your local chapter), and the world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.

Ballio II: Return of the Great Wonder Wizard

2005-03-24T05:38:00.000-08:00

In our last episode, Crimino had squandered the Wonder Dust, leaving Ballio to market his balls elsewhere, Zorphine to try to salvage what he had left to fulfill his dream of making Wonder Balls, and the Great Wonder Wizard rich with Wonder Dust, but with nothing upon which to sprinkle his treasure.

It wasn't long before Zorphine and the Great Wonder Wizard determined that they could do little without Ballio's balls, so each began to seek ways in which they could compel Ballio to give up his balls and claim them as their own.

Zorphine went to consult with Jinno, interpreter of the law, and they together concluded that the balls could be theirs by simply saying it was so.

At this, the Great Wonder Wizard consulted with his large army of interpreters of the law, and they had uncovered a magic scroll which granted to the Great Wonder Wizard the claim that the balls were his.

Upon hearing of this, Ballio contacted Boormund, known to all as the mysterious wise man in the cave. With the help of some of the villagers who sympathized with Ballio's plight, Ballio and Boormund uncovered another magic scroll, identical to that which the Great Wonder Wizard had, and began to study its secrets.

The magic scroll did indeed seem to grant the balls to the Great Wonder Wizard, and not to Zorphine or Ballio; but there was another secret that the magic scroll had yet to reveal--the Secret of the Code of Knowledge and Labor.

Only those with the purest of motives could see the Secret Code of Knowledge and Labor, and so it revealed itself to Ballio and Boormund. As it emerged from the scroll as handwriting that suspended itself in the air like a cloud, it slowly began to take shape...clearer...clearer...clearer.

It read:

Seek, seek, oh seekers
And soon you will find the door
For the balls indeed belong
To him that holds their core

At first, this was a puzzle. Ballio began to think about the balls and how they came to be, and therein the answer was hidden: while there were many balls and ball makers in all of Playton, only Ballio was a true core-maker. Balls could not exist without his core.

But more importantly, balls were never made until he first made cores. The cores were his, and his alone, for no one instructed him to create them. They were a product of his initiative and great love for Playton, along with his desire to enable balls of all kinds, some of which he had begun creating before Zorphine or the Great Wonder Wizard knew the value of balls with Wonder Dust.

So, Ballio and Boormund knew they could prevail, but knew just as well that Zorphine and the Great Wonder Wizard would not give up without a struggle. After all, Zorphine still had some Wonder Dust and balls in his possession, and the Great Wonder Wizard had his mighty army of interpreters of the law.

But again, Ballio had help from corners far and wide who knew that he was in the right. Among them was Stelman, mighty interpreter of the law--a giant who, by himself, was a formidable foe to the Great Wonder Wizard's mighty army of interpreters of the law. The people of Playton also agreed to help Ballio in his epic struggle, and the stage was set for the clash of these three titanic forces.

Now, faithful Agleteers, I must ask you to be patient as you await the next sequel to this story of war, peace, and intrigue, and the world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.

Wednesday Essay Contest #1

2005-03-23T05:32:00.000-08:00

In my never-ending endeavor to improve the intellectual disposition of my minions, I shall now introduce a new weekly featurette called "Wednesday Essay Contest #n", where n is the sequentially numbered essay contest featurette, beginning with the number 1.

This week, I am asking my vast readership to write two or three paragraphs on the matter of licked stamp adhesives as compared with the pre-adhesive sort. Which do you prefer?

Next Wednesday, I will announce the winner and post his or her entry. (Note the use of both genders in the previous sentence, not only indicating the sort of progressive individual that The Supreme Aglet truly is, but also setting an example for essay writers everywhere.)

Submit your essay to thesupremeaglet@hotmail.com, and the world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.

Today is Fan Mail Friday on Tuesday #4

2005-03-22T05:26:00.000-08:00

Having extended our "Fan Mail Friday #n" featurette to Tuesday, The Supreme Aglet humbly submits this reaction to the continuing Ballio fairy tale from Agleteer Jim.


Dear Supreme Aglet:
 
There is one particular message, namely the "Fairy Tale," that I keep returning to, hoping to find an answer to a question that has plagued me: "Where have I heard that plot before?"

I find that Ballio's use of "Wonder Dust" to enhance his balls, seems somewhat familiar with my own experience.

I can remember, as a small child, seeing my father greet the doctor as he came into town on a horse-drawn buggy. This "doctor"  sold bottles of elixir that would cure all sorts of ailments, as well as canisters of "Miracle Powder" that would soothe the body. My dad would buy a handful of these items.

I still have two of the canisters of powder in my possession, and find that a small amount of this dust applied after a shower can be quite soothing.

The only contraindications listed on the container is a possibility of dizziness, and a curling up of the toes for as long as four hours.

I have to admit that the only problem that I can associate with its use is that I have been pulled out of line at the airport terminal three times because of a weapon-sniffing dog.

Agleteer Jim, reading through your interesting account of obtaining this "Miracle Powder" causes me to wonder whether you are consuming a powder of a different kind. Nonetheless, I am encouraged that my ongoing fairy tale has some objective relevance in your life, which tells me that these may be more than fairy tales, which they are intended to be.

So Agleteer Jim, please continue to enjoy the soothing showers, but please refrain from sending any pictures of this activity, and the world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.

Rest in Peace, Mrs. Ingles. Belatedly.

2005-03-21T05:28:00.000-08:00

The other day, I went with my son on a nostalgiac tour of my childhood, visiting old schools, the house I lived in when I was very young, and topping off the evening by watching a movie at a drive-in theater in a 1960's-era automobile I own.

In addition to feeling the need to pass on these experiences to my son, the odyssey satisfied a long-held urge to revisit my childhood through my adult eyes. I was very pleased with what I saw and felt. I had a textbook perfect childhood, with caring and giving parents, a secure and care-free middle-class life in American suburbia, surrounded by good friends, dedicated teachers and pastors, and a solid ethic of setting lofty goals and working hard to achieve them.

Ruth Ingles was my fifth-grade teacher, and my brother's fifth-grade teacher a year earlier. She was a sweet and soft-spoken, yet stern and dignified older woman who had been teaching at Crescent Ave. Christian School long before I was born.

People tend to remember smiles from special people in their childhood, and hers is still vividly kept in my thoughts. When Mrs. Ingles would smile, usually as an exclamation point to completing a thought, it was as if her smile broke through an otherwise consistently sensible demeanor to reveal the beautiful vibrant human being that lived inside this elderly woman. Her smile was a prize to those on the receiving end of it, and she was gracious in giving them.

I also vividly remember Mrs. Ingles's way of speaking, stubbornly reflective of her generation. She used figures of speech and euphemisms that were alien to me, but were strangely soothing in their indirect representation of the kind of world Mrs. Ingles herself grew up in: a world that seemed simpler, kinder, driven by common sense and genuine compassion.

As I walked the main hallway of classrooms at Crescent Ave., I asked our host how long she had been working there, and if she had been there long enough to know Mrs. Ingles. I was told that Mrs. Ingles had passed on many years ago.

Although this came as no surprise, (Mrs. Ingles was already well advanced in age way back in the 1970's when I was her student), actually hearing it felt to me as if she died yesterday. I suppose somewhere in the back of my mind, I had hoped Mrs. Ingles was still somewhere to be found at Crescent Ave. so that I could give her a hug and thank her for enriching my perfect childhood.

That hug will have to wait until I see her again in Heaven, where I will no doubt find her enriching the lives of the angels, and the world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.

Nightmares in E

2005-03-20T07:44:00.000-08:00

I had a dream.

The western-style guitar that sits but a few feet away from this very computer convulsed. I looked to see what was causing it, and as I looked, the bottom E string snapped in slow motion.

Dreams, of course, are outlets of the subconscious. After struggling with keeping the E string intact on the instrument for days, it was inevitable that this pursuit would affect my slumber.

The guitar at issue once belonged to my father until he kindly gave it to me when I was but a child. That is, I assume he gave it to me, as I still have it. (Dad, if you're reading this, please replace every appearance of the word "guitar" with "poca-dot tie that I wasn't all that crazy about").

It had been in hiatus for a few years, its strings long-since removed until recently when my son began supplementing his enormous drumming talent with guitar lessons. For those lessons, I have loaned him my other poca-dot tie that I'm not all that crazy about for use in class and to practice at home. To play along with him, I resurrected the old western-style guitar by cleaning it up and buying a new set of strings for it.

Stringing the instrument is a straightforward task that I have done many times with many guitars. For some reason, however, this particular instrument rejected the E string almost immediately after it was attached, usually by allowing it to pop out from the peg which it is fastened to.

The fourth attempt to re-attach the E string seemed like a charm, as I took the extra step of tying the string around the peg before inserting it. The string stayed attached for several days, and several jam sessions with my son.

But a few days later while working in my office, I heard a snap from just a few feet away. As if to mock me, the string waited for me to be present before snapping from the peg again. This time, I ignored it, as if to let it know that I was not going to be shaken by its uncooperativeness.

The E string then proceeded to invade my slumber to ensure it remained the center of my attention. That very night, I had a dream in which that moment was re-lived; only this time, the string really played up the whole drama. The guitar convulsed violently, the other strings began to play in dissonant anti-harmony, and the E string ripped itself from the guitar in slow motion, shooting the peg out like a bullet.

I was visited each night by this dream until I once again re-fastened the string on to the guitar. It has been a week since I did this, and the E string has remained in its station.

I can only assume that the E string was crying our for attention--to be known as more than a mere participant of various chords and rifs. To ensure the E string that I honor its contribution to the beautiful melodies I produce with the poca-dot tie that my dad is not all that crazy about, I have composed an entire song that uses only the E string, and the world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.

The Supreme Aglet Answers his Critics

2005-03-19T08:16:00.000-08:00

Some Agleteers have been writing in complaint of The Supreme Aglet's recent brief post, in which I engaged in a moment of tearseness and clarity.

The complaints I received tend mostly to center around the smashing of expectations due to the lack of sufficient articulation of a struggle or other relevant topic of discussion.

If I want to be verbose, then I will do that which I have decided is the thing which I wish to do having expressed that wish and otherwise indicated my intention of doing the thing I said I would do; specifically, that it is my decision that I shall choose to be verbose when I feel I want to be regardless of the motivation and/or compulsion to verbosify and erubidate, acknowledging that there is no such word as "erubidate".

If I want to be tearse, then fine.

In the end, it matters only that I have fulfilled my obligation to express my thoughts and wishes to all you losers--er, to all of you nice people who take time out of their day to share life's daily struggles and triumphs, and the world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.

Today is Fan Mail Friday #5

2005-03-18T09:44:00.000-08:00

If you are not familiar with our "Fan Mail Friday #n" featurette, please familiarize yourself by reading this entry before proceeding, or you may be bottled and sold as human Pepsi on Mars.

This week's fan mail comes from Agleteer "Nickle the Pickle", (The Supreme Aglet will not reveal the full identity of fan mail contributors unless specifically requested):


You are of a strange nature. The scary part is that I am getting used to it.

Agleteer Nickle, I assure you that your acclamation to Agletism is not only normal, but healthy.

I picture a world--a veritable Utopia--in which all people, regardless of size, shape, color, or toothpaste preference, come around to my way of thinking and to my view of the world as a peaceful and congenial place where all are subject to my whim.

You are a proto-citizen of this future world. You are the beginning of the future, the seed, the singularity, the pioneer. You and others like you are paving the path to this perfect future. And on that day which the last person on Earth becomes an Agleteer, we will rename the planet "Agleteeria", and the world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.

The Supreme Aglet makes a Brief Statement

2005-03-17T09:38:00.000-08:00

Hi.

The world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.

The Supreme Aglet Waxes Poetic

2005-03-16T10:20:00.000-08:00

Now and then, I feel somewhat of a responsibility to ensure that my faithful and large group of readers are well taken-care of and that their lives are enriched. While the reader will be disappointed if he or she expects to receive a check in the mail, the more realistic individual will conclude that my reference to maintaining his or her well-being would have more to do with the verbally motivational rather than randomly doling out fiduciary rewards to this one or that one. (Note the use of of both genders in the previous sentence, twice, indicating the sort of progressive individual that The Supreme Aglet truly is).

With this in mind, The Supreme Aglet shall now endeavor to inspire and motivate the reader with his own uniquely creative brand of poetry.

I call this poem: For S/he Who Wishes S/he Were Me

For the she or the he who wishes s/he were me
To possess the Aglet's supreme-iality
To impart that for which all have long been awaiting
Man, something reeks. Is someone flatulating?

Now that I have left you with this valuable admonition to succeed in all that you endeavor, remember... I am Aglet, I am Supreme, I am clever, take care of your spleen; and the world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.

Today is Fan Mail Friday on Tuesday #3

2005-03-15T06:40:00.000-08:00

Having extended our "Fan Mail Friday #n" featurette to Tuesday, The Supreme Aglet humbly submits this interesting challenge presented by a faithful Agleteer.

This selection comes from Agleteer Venu (The Supreme Aglet will not reveal the full identity of fan mail contributors unless specifically requested):


Sir:

I am disturbed that I am among only 3 people in my place of work who "get" the Supreme Aglet. There are 10 of us altogether, and we are all very competent IT experts, so I was surprised when some who I invited into my cube to read your daily regimen of wisdom seemed to derive almost nothing from it.

How can I persuade them that they must read your posts in order for them to receive the kind of fulfillment that the rest of your faithful readers do?

Venu, as the old saying goes, "if you have to ask, then you won't understand", (I believe this phrase originated among the counter-culture movement in the 1960's, and I am not a communist).

On the other hand, considering that your friends are competent IT professionals, perhaps the problem simply amounts to not speaking their language.

Rather than attempting to appeal to their sense of self-gratification to persuade them that they should join the ranks of the Agleteers, perhaps you should appeal to them at the bits and bytes level, where nothing but pure logic exists. Specifically, try telling them this:


import com.wisdom.aglet.TheSupremeAglet;
import com.labor.workers.CoWorker;
import java.util.*;

boolean mustReadAglets = true;

if (mustReadAglets) {
   /* Get an instance of today's Supreme Aglet pearl of wisdom */
   TheSupremeAglet todaysAglet = new TheSupremeAglet(Calendar.getInstance());

   /* Get co-worker list */
   Vector coWorkerList = CoWorker.getList(CoWorker.MY_COMPANY);
   CoWorker nextCoWorker;

   /* Go through list and instruct each worker to read The Supreme Aglet */
   for (int i = 0; i < coWorkerList.get(i); ++i) { 
      /* Get the next co-worker */ 
      nextCoWorker = (CoWorker)coWorkerList.get(i); 

      /* Instruct co-worker to read and understand today's Aglet */ 
      nextCoWorker.read(todaysAglet); 
      nextCoWorker.parse(); 
   } 
}

Now, hit the compile button, and the world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.

The Singing Cat-Shaped Cookie Jar keeps Going Off

2005-03-14T07:55:00.000-08:00

As part of the festivities surrounding my birthday last year (that is, festivities among my family, as opposed to the festivities of The Supreme Aglet's birthday as a national holiday), my parents invited me, along with my wife and children, to a Stuart Anderson's for a lovely dinner. During the palatively stimulating meal, my mother handed me a birthday present.

The present was contained in a cat-shaped cookie jar that plays "What's New Pussy Cat?" or "Stray Cat Strut" when the head is opened. Being that Momma Supreme Aglet is a rather humorous and somewhat mischievous individual, she regarded it as a practical joke that I would have to open the cookie jar to see what the presents were inside, drawing all kinds of attention to me from strangers when the songs played.

Contained therein were a couple of generously portioned gift cards and candy, not to mention the sheer fun (at my expense) of the present-opening experience itself.

While the singing cat-shaped cookie jar served as a wonderful prop on that day, finding some use for it at home was a challenge. My wife, ever the collector of things into plastic bags, rounded up the singing cat-shaped cookie jar, along with some other items, and dutifully put them in a bag intended for storage.

At the time that the singing cat-shaped cookie jar was collected into the plastic bag, my wife was in the midst of several other home maintenance chores and decided that my office closet would be a sufficient temporarily storage place for the bag of items.

The specific area in the office closet so happens to block access to an important file cabinet drawer. Invariably, moving the bag with the cookie jar in it out of the way causes the cookie jar's head to move just enough to play "What's New Pussy Cat?" or "Stray Cat Strut". Replacing the bag where it was causes one of those songs to play again from inside the bag.

Naturally, a singing bag attracts the attention of 4-year-olds (it doesn't help that the bag has a big picture of a smiling Minnie Mouse on it), and my daughter is drawn into the office as if sucked in by some great force when the music begins to play. Of course, her investigation reveals other toys in the bag that are meant for storage, and she finds the need to remove and inspect each toy one-by-one for potential entertainment value.

With each venture, I am required to distract her in some way so that she leaves the office, after which I then replace all the toys meant for storage back in the bag.

This happened several times before I realized that I should perhaps find a new place for the bag, or break down and get a screwdriver to remove the batteries (there is no on/off switch), which is obviously too menial a task for The Supreme Aglet. My only other choices inside the closet would be to place the bag on top of other items I may need access to or on top of something which would cause the bag to be unwieldy and unstable.

I decided to forsake the prospect of storing the bag neatly out of the way by keeping it in the closet and instead moved it next to my vintage radio. Although this presents a new problem of office aesthetics, it seems to have quieted the cookie jar, and it has the practical advangage of forcing me to find a permanent place for it.

So, until I move it again, the cat-shaped cookie jar has been silenced, and the world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.

I Didn't Remember Playing the Trivia Game at Sears

2005-03-13T09:13:00.000-08:00

During a recent visit to my brother's house, we briefly undertook a nostalgiac discussion of our childhood and exchanged fond memories, wondering if the other remembered the fond memory exchanged by the originator of the first fond memory, and so forth.

Among the fond memories that were exchanged, my brother recalled going to Sears with our mother, going downstairs to the lower level, and working through a handful of quarters playing some sort of video arcade trivia game. This memory did not register at all with me.

My brother is nearly two years my senior (which is not to imply that he himself is a senior, only that he is older), so this particular memory may be more accessible to his brain simply because I was too young to retain memory very well. As I mentioned previously, my brother, who I do not consider an elderly gentleman, is two years my senior, though by "senior" I do not mean to imply "senior citizen".

My brother proceeded to broaden the visual in an attempt to jog my memory, indicating that one question in particular presented a Cadillac emblem, and offered four choices as to which brand of automobile the logo was associated with, and that I had answered correctly. This did not help.

He then tried to describe the bottom floor at the Sears department store in general, drawing attention to the fact that there was a candy counter, at which candy and other delicious confections so beloved by children were sold.

By mentioning the candy department, my memory was jogged sufficiently to vaguely picture the area in general. It was a good strategy given that memories from my younger self were more likely to be retained if they were associated with something of great interest at the time. Candy was of great interest, Cadillacs were not, (notably, both are very interesting to me at present).

It was not long before vague images of the electronic trivia machine began to be recalled, sufficiently enough to know what he was talking about and the world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.

I Finally Got Hold of Bob

2005-03-12T08:10:00.000-08:00

I haven't seen or heard from Bob in months, so I decided to call him. I left a message on his cell phone, but Bob did not call back within the requisite 24 hours.

I asked my wife to do me a favor and e-mail Christy, letting her know that I was trying to get hold of Bob. My wife heard back from Christy not long after that, and I was given an assurance that Bob would indeed give me a phone call.

Another day had passed, and still, I had not heard from Bob. This caused some distress, as it begged the question: am I being presumptuous about our long friendship, which dates back to 1992? Maybe I said something that offended Bob last time we met.

Having thought through these questions carefully, I realized that neither could be the case. Surely such an enduring friendship is as meaningful to Bob as it is to me, and I replayed the entire conversation from our last visit in my mind and found nothing offensive or extraordinary in any way. Bob must simply be too busy to call me back.

I thought perhaps that Bob needed a bit of prodding, so I called again and left another message on his cell phone, this time reminding him specifically that we had procured a new Foosball table.

This seems to have worked, as Bob called back the next morning. Unfortunately, my phone was off at the time and I was not able to take the call. Nonetheless, I am confident that this breaking of the cycle of silence all but guarentees that I will be talking to Bob on the phone in the very near future, and the world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.

Today is Fan Mail Friday #4

2005-03-11T07:04:00.000-08:00

If you are not familiar with our "Fan Mail Friday #n" featurette, please familiarize yourself by reading this entry before proceeding, or you may be drafted into the Carribean National Guard.

This week's fan mail comes from Agleteer Terry, (The Supreme Aglet will not reveal the full identity of fan mail contributors unless specifically requested):


Dear Supreme Aglet

I recently inadvertantly bought a Polaroid film cartridge for my digital camera while shopping for cleaning items at Wal-Mart. It occurred to me that the film cartridge was no longer needed once I went to insert it into my camera, forgetting that I had sold my Polaroid camera on eBay to help make up for the expense of my digital camera.

Since the package was already open and one cartridge removed and itself opened, I concluded that there would be no way to recover the $18 I paid for the box of six cartridges.

Having been inspired by your non-socialist perspective on things, I endeavored to turn lemons into lemon-aid by selling each of the remaining five cartridges independently on eBay for $2 a piece plus $6 shipping and handling.

As it costs less than $2 to mail each package, I have actually earned approximately $5 profit on each of the four cartridges I have sold thus far (taking eBay's nominal fee into account). Thus, I have earned about $20 so far, making myself whole and then some with a cartridge left to boot, plus the opened cartridge, which I plan to frame.

I wanted to let you know that I love America. I can't picture myself finding my way out of this sort of pickle in, say, Finland.

Agleteer Terry, you are a blessed individual with a gender-non-specific name. It is unfortunate that most Americans are unable to appreciate their station for having been born in this land of the free, home of the brave, and inventor of eBay; however, in rare and inspired cases such as yours, America will gently prod the hind-quarters of randomly selected individuals with her powerful sword to remind just enough of us that we must always protect her and love her.

So Terry, I encourage you to go hug a veteran, write a kind letter to a fighting man or woman, go help someone in need, and then salute our flag. I am not a socialist, and the world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.

The Supreme Aglet Prepares for St. Patrick's Day

2005-03-10T08:00:00.000-08:00

With St. Patrick's Day nearly upon us, I feel it is fitting that we acknowledge and celebrate the Irish people and their great accomplishments, especially Braveheart, McDonald's, and the Lucky Charms guy.

The Supreme Aglet is not Irish, but certainly feels one with the resilience, ingenuity, and heartiness of the Irish people.

In getting myself into the spirit of things, I have composed a limerick:

There once was a man from space
He loved to look at his face
But the mirror on his fedora
Obscured the oncoming Toyota
Now he's part of the uglian race

To receive your own copy of this limerick as a motivational poster, please provide your credit card number and other information needed to complete the transaction. Allow 4-6 years for delivery, and the world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.

Jorge Didn't Know what an Aglet Was

2005-03-09T08:05:00.000-08:00

There are few people in the world who I can represent as being quite as intelligent and wise as Jorge. Not only a man of intellect and discernment, but a leader and a patriot. Jorge is a man among men, a veritable juggernaut who is advancing the cause of goodness and righteousness for all of humanity and for all time.

You might imagine how shocked I was, then, when Jorge admitted to me that he did not know what an aglet was.

Jorge tramples over evil and ignorance every day so that our lives are that much more improved--does such trampling not require shoes?

When Jorge dons those shoes, does he not fasten them tightly so that his swiftness does not loose them from his agile feet?

When Jorge fastens them tightly, does he not grab each end of the shoe string with the mighty force of Hercules?

When Jorge grabs each end of the shoe string, does he not pause to thank providence that the ends of the string are not frayed?

I put these very questions (worded slightly differently) to Jorge upon his committing the uncharacteristic faux paux of suggesting that he is aglet-unaware.

But cut Jorge some slack. His shoes have velcro straps, and the world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.

Today is Fan Mail Friday on Tuesday #2

2005-03-08T06:57:00.000-08:00

Having extended our "Fan Mail Friday #n" featurette to Tuesday, The Supreme Aglet humbly submits this interesting discussion between an Agleteer and his aglets.

This selection comes from Agleteer Jim (The Supreme Aglet will not reveal the full identity of fan mail contributors unless specifically requested):


Dear Supreme Aglet:

With meekness, I submit my findings regarding my exploration into the creation of the "aglet" and some of its history. I must admit that I have but scratched the surface of this subject and that there is much more to be learned.

I came across some very old, frayed, retired aglets and they agreed to allow me to interview them about their pasts. None of them really knew anything about their creation, though one opted, "I think that from the beginning, there was Adden & Even, sitting on a two-holer, sharing a rope between them. They tied the knot, and the world hasn't been the same since."

...The Supreme Aglet must interrupt here for a moment to both enjoy the clever usage of puns in Jim's account and to ensure the reader is aware that I have no personal affiliation with this fellow.


Most of the aglets shared their conviction that human life was easier with them around, but it came at a cost. Many of the aglets confessed that they lived in fear, suffered anxieties and depressions from day to day. Here are a few personal examples:

Aglet "A" complained that his world was mostly black and brown. As years went by, the color barrier was broken with the influx of whites, blues, reds, greens, yellows, and the like. Worst of all was the unwanted intrusion of the pinks (not to be confused with the "Pinko" that was associated with "Commie Red.")

Aglet "B" had a fear of public restrooms. He also had nightmares of being caught up in the enormous jaws of the dreaded zipper.

"C" recalled the first encounter with a weird group that made strange noises. They called themselves the "Velcros," and fortunately stuck together by themselves.

And "D" sorrowly exclaimed that when he or his mate became old and worn out, and separated, that the lace that held them together could sometimes find another life. Some were used to tie bundles, bond keys together, or even placed on a human finger to remember something or other.

Which reminds me--I feel that I cannot continue this writing, as my anguish is building up to the point that I may flood my keyboard with a torrent of tears.

Being the extremely emotional person that I am, I must discontinue my writings for some period of time. Thank you for your patience.

Agleteer Jim, you have an unusually close and touching relationship with your worn aglets, (more unusual than close or touching). Most aglets go through life little noticed for the hard work they do and the years of service they provide, all on a shoestring budget.

I hope that you find the courage to pick up your pen, if you will, and resume your free expression as guaranteed by the Constitution of the United States of America. If, per chance, you do not live in America or any nation in which you are endowed with such rights, well, nya nya nya nyaaaa nya, and the world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.

I Didn't Know that John Deere Caps were Hip

2005-03-07T06:50:00.000-08:00

After visiting with Nicole, my wife (ever the friendly and sociable neighbor) came through the front door with a concerned and somewhat worrisome look on her face. It seems that she had noticed a group of bees beginning to congregate along the side of our house that faces Dan and Nicole's house, in a space that would be easily accessible to our attic by insects who chose to do so.

This caused some distress, as the thought of bees making their home in our attic conjured pictures of two different horror movies: one in which a happy suburban home is attacked by bees who have infiltrated their attic, and another of a bee keeper coming to clear the house of bees and then demanding an exhorbitant payment.

It was in the face of such danger that The Supreme Aglet boldly went to investigate the situation, planning to survey the situation and launch an assault designed to discourage the bees from making our home their home. Failing that, I had planned to attempt communication with the queen bee, hoping perhaps to persuade her to take her minions elsewhere, (Dan and Nicole's house was pretty close by).

You may have noted that The Supreme Aglet's tendancy in such cases is to try to avert violence through diplomatic means, though I am not a socialist.

When I arrived at the scene, I did indeed find several bees congregating, appearing to be in the early stages of scouting an area at which to settle. Ignoring my polite suggestions to leave the area, I armed myself with a garden hose, (yes, the same one that I had previously used my great ingenuity to repair), and the battle for conquest of the side of my house had begun in earnest.

Being completely outgunned and outclassed, the bees put up only brief and ineffective resistance.

The battle was won, and the action had attracted Dan's attention. He was curious as to why I was spraying water in the air with my recently repaired garden hose, not noticing the insects that I was engaged in battle with, (it must have been an unusual sight, although Dan has long since acclamated himself to the antics of The Supreme Aglet, so spraying water into the air using my repaired hose for no apparent reason was, perhaps, not all that unusual).

We met at the fence to engage in conversation, and I had recounted my victory to him. He then changed the subject, choosing to reintroduce a previous discussion about some plans I had for my back yard. In particular, he advocated leaving a particular tree in place which I had intended to remove.

During that discussion, I remarked about the cowboy hat he had donned at that moment, to which he replied with great excitement that he and his son had just procured John Deere caps.

I wondered of the significance of this development, and he proceeded to explain to me that authentic John Deere caps were highly sought-after items among those in the know.

Feining no suprise to hide the fact that I apparently had missed something about the "in the know" crowd (The Supreme Aglet is regarded as a leader of this distinguished group), I answered with some remark to the effect of "oh, yes, of course--I thought you were referring to John Beer".

Having been set straight on this lapse of hip, it is my intention to procure one of these John Deere caps to ensure that no one questions the well-accepted fact that The Supreme Aglet is the bee's knees, and the world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.

The Refridgerator Light is Still On

2005-03-06T09:21:00.000-08:00

Perhaps you can relate to the error of retrieving a pear from the refridgerator when you meant to retrieve an apple, or a carton of half-and-half when you meant to retrieve a carton of milk.

Perhaps you cannot relate to this, in which case you may also not be able to relate to the experience of running your fingers against a stucco wall with your eyes closed to see if you can discern a collection of bumps that are shaped like George Washington.

It is in the spirit of refridgerator retrieval mayhem that I convey my relief that our inoperable refredigerator light remained inoperable for but a few short hours. Typically, dead light bulbs in our house, whether on the range, in the bathroom, in the garage, etc., remain dead for several days. Sometimes, weeks.

It is one of those things where you galavant off to the local store remembering that you need cheese or eggs; but having no appetite for light bulbs, you arrive home to turn on the light and realize after several minutes that you are wandering in the dark.

Happily, my wife delivered same-day service in her quest to re-illuminate our glacial food storage apparatus, perhaps motivated by having inadvertantly spooning a dollup of mayonnaise rather than Cool Whip on her sundae. Given her propensity to procure every single household item from Trader Joe's--who, I believe, does not peddle light bulbs unless they are of the organic persuasion--I'm not exactly sure where she obtained the light bulb, and I don't feel like getting up from my swivel chair and asking.

Suffice to say that I can report 100% accuracy in retrieving each refridgerated food item I set my mind to retrieve, and the world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.

Today is Fan Mail Friday #3, Although it is Saturday

2005-03-05T12:38:00.000-08:00

If you are not familiar with our "Fan Mail Friday #n" featurette, please familiarize yourself by reading this entry before proceeding, or you may be the victim of spontaneous combustion.

Before proceeding, note that it hasn't escaped my notice that today is not Friday, but Saturday, which would seem to contradict the whole concept of the "Fan Mail Friday #n" featurette. Nonetheless, the complex logistical planning that goes on behind the scenes here at The Supreme Aglet sometimes requires us to make these minor changes in our programming. Please carry on. If you like, you may pause here and set your computer calendar date temporarily to yesterday, then resume reading.

This week's fan mail comes from Agleteer Ed, (The Supreme Aglet will not reveal the full identity of fan mail contributors unless specifically requested):


I found my Barry Manilow CD. I misplaced it about 3 years ago. Today, we traded our car in for a mini van, and as we were clearing it out, I found the CD in the pocket behind the driver's seat. I don't know why I never thought to look there, but I'm very happy that it has been recovered.

I just wanted to let you know, as I feel I know you, and that I can trust that you will keep my appreciation for Barry Manilow a secret.

...and indeed, no one but you and I, as well as my readership, will ever learn of your secret. Revealing such a secret would be tantamount to betrayal of all my readers and fans, which I refuse to do even under duress, and even though I secretly find it amusing that you are a Manilow fan.

Now, go forth, and be not ashamed of your appreciation of the music and the man. I went through that stage at one point as well when I first found myself enjoying Manilow's music, but I made it through the rain. I kept my world protected, I kept my point of view. In the end, I found myself respected by the others who got rained on too, and made it through. It's a miracle, a true-blue spectacle--yes, a miracle came true, and the world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.

Updation on the Urination

2005-03-04T06:00:00.000-08:00

Agleteers have been writing in droves asking whether or not our most recent attempt to defend our carpet against unprovoked soiling by one of our cats has proven successful.

I am delighted to report that sacrificing my cherished closet and confining the cats in it has proven effective in terms of preventing further soiling of the carpet next to the tub. Still, if my cat could talk (other than those times that she secretly confides in me when our Dachsund is not around), I suspect she would complain that her inalienable right to liberty and the pursuit of happiness has been infringed.

The closet has become somewhat of a jail to the problem cat. At night, you can hear her attempt to hurl her girth over the baby gate, and she actually succeeds every now and then, (fortunately, the impact on the ground shakes our bed sufficiently to awaken Mrs. Supreme Aglet or me, at which point we have an opportunity to replace the cat in the closet before she has a chance to urinate on the carpet). Interestingly, the other cat--who has not exhibited the tendenacy to urinate on the carpet--seems perfectly happy to be a cell mate, and makes no attempt to escape.

So, The Supreme Aglet is left with a conundrum: should I value my cat's liberty above my intolerance for soiled carpet and the persistent odor of cat urine? After all, I am not a socialist.

Yet, the closet in which the cats are confined is rather sizable, their food and water supply is maintained, the boxes are kept clean, and there is sufficient natural lighting.

And besides, the rights of my cat are not protected by the Constitution of the United States (which defines our inalienable rights), and I am certain that even the most skilled ACLU attorney would fail to win such a court case should s/he someday represent my cat.

So, for the time being, I will not let this dilemma overwhelm my practical side. I will not feel guilty about confining the cats in the closet so that my home remains a urine-free zone.

Oh nuts. I'm going to go let them out just for a little while, and the world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.

The Supreme Aglet tells a Fairy Tale

2005-03-03T08:53:00.000-08:00

Once upon a time in the land of Playton, there lived a humble ball maker named Ballio. The mesmerizing balls that Ballio could make were renowned throughout Playton, and it wasn't long before Ballio was being asked by all the villagers if he could make balls for them.

One villager named Zorphine, who was quite resourceful, saw an opportunity to extend Ballio's success and offer the most wonderous balls of all to the villagers.

"Ballio", said Zorphine, "I am one of the few people in all of Playton who can get an audience with the Great Wonder Wizard. Let me get some Wonder Dust from the Great Wonder Wizard, and we will turn your balls into Wonder Balls, and all the villagers will come to us for Wonder Balls and make us rich beyond our wildest dreams".

Ballio liked Zorphine, as they had shared many adventures together. Ballio loved the idea of making Wonder Balls from his regular balls, and the thought of being rich beyond his wildest dreams was interesting indeed. Ballio agreed to join Zorphine in his quest to make Wonder Balls.

"I will be back, you'll see!", said Zorphine. "I will talk to the Great Wonder Wizard and I will have lots of Wonder Dust to make many Wonder Balls!"

So, Zorphine went off to visit with the Great Wonder Wizard. Upon arriving at the wizard's lair, Zorphine called out, "oh Great Wonder Wizard, I come to you to ask for enough Wonder Dust to make Wonder Balls for all the villagers of Playton".

"Zorphine", replied the wizard from his perch, "if I grant you enough Wonder Dust to make Wonder Balls for all the villagers, you must promise that I will also share in the Wonder Balls, for I too want them".

"Of course, your highness", said Zorphine. "There will be Wonder Balls to fill Playton five feet high. Certainly, they will be abundant enough for all to share in their wonder".

At this, the Great Wonder Wizard waved his hands, and in front of Zorphine appeared a large bag of Wonder Dust. Zorphine threw the heavy bag over his back and started back to Playton.

But on the way, Zorphine was met by Crimino the Serpent. "Whatsssss that you have in the bag, Zzzzzorphine?", asked the sly Crimino.

"Why, it's Wonder Dust from the Great Wonder Wizard. I am taking it back to Ballio and we are going to make Wonder Balls".

Seeing an opportunity to steal the Wonder Dust, Crimino set out to persuade Zorphine that he could help them make even more Wonder Balls from the Wonder Dust. Zorphine could not resist Crimino's compelling words, and agreed to let Crimino join him.

Once they returned to Playton, Zorphine began to make his way back to Ballio's house to begin work on the Wonder Balls.

"Not sssssso fasssssst", said Crimino. "If we are going to make ssssssso many Wonder Balls, we musssssst firsssssst use the magic of the Wonder Dusssssst to make even more Wonder Dusssssst". Crimino began scooping Wonder Dust from the bag, and slowly began pouring it in the wind. The dust flowing in the wind made a most beautiful and colorful display, and Zorphine was entranced.

"Look", continued Crimino, "it is beautiful. Nothing was ever sssssso majessssstic".

At that moment, Ballio was passing by and saw Zorphine and the Wonder Dust. "Great!", exclaimed Ballio in excitement over seeing the Wonder Dust. "You got the Wonder Dust from the Great Wonder Wizard! Now we can make Wonder Balls!"

But as Zorphine continued to be occupied by each handful of dust being thrown to the wind, Crimino scooped a scoop with his other hand. "Here, take thissss", he said to Ballio. "Now go away and make your Wonder Balls. I have businessssss to transact."

Ballio took the lone scoop of Wonder Dust back to his house and began making a single Wonder Ball, for there was not enough to make many Wonder Balls.

It wasn't long before Crimino had scooped his last scoop of Wonder Dust from the bag, and Zorphine suddenly realized that there was none left. It was at that moment that Ballio went to the village square to show off the Wonder Ball.

"Look, I have a Wonder Ball, made from my ball and the Wonder Dust that Zorphine got from the Great Wonder Wizard!"

Crimino saw the beautiful Wonder Ball and ran to grab it. "It is mine!", he said as he put his hands on it, "for I helped Zorphine bring the Wonder Dust back to Playton!"

"No, it is mine!", shouted Zorphine, as he also grabbed for the Wonder Ball, "For it was my idea to make Wonder Balls in the first place, and to petition the Great Wonder Wizard for the Wonder Dust to make it!"

"No, it is mine!", thundered the voice of the Great Wonder Wizard as he descended upon them and also began grabbing at the ball. "For I gave the Wonder Dust only because I was told I would receive Wonder Balls of my own!"

Each continued to grab and tug at the Wonder Ball, stretching it every which way and arguing over who its owner was.

Finally, after too much grabbing, too much stretching, and too much tugging, the Wonder Ball exploded, sending all of its Wonder Dust into the wind.

"Hmph!", said the Great Wonder Wizard, "that's what you all get for your greed. I still have plenty of Wonder Dust of my own, but you each have none."

"Hmph!", said Zorphine, "I can make Wonder Balls without the help of the Great Wonder Wizard, and that I shall do! I am determined!"

"Hmph!", said Ballio, "I can always leave Playton and live in the land of Dubyun, where my balls are even more greatly loved, even with no Wonder Dust on them."

"Hmph!", said Crimino, "There are more ssssssuckers for me to ssssteal from. I will go back and wait along the ssssside of the road between Playton and the Great Wonder Wizard's lair."

The moral of the story: I have no idea what's going on, and the world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.

It's Been a Long Time Since We've Had Corn Chowder

2005-03-02T08:44:00.000-08:00

In late Summer of 1992, my wife and I went to Kevin and Charlotte's house for dinner. One of the food items featured that evening was corn chowder, which neither my wife nor I had ever had before.

It was a joy to our palates, as if there was a party in our mouths and everyone was invited, (the cultured reader will note that the previous sentence was inspired by Moe the bartender from The Simpsons).

While it is customary to ask a host for his or her recipe as sort of an indirect compliment on the food they prepared, we really meant it when we asked Charlotte, and she kindly wrote the recipe down on paper with neat hand-writing.

It wasn't long before my wife and I were reproducing the corn chowder at home, making use of it in versatile ways with other foods. One of our favorite ways of eating the corn chowder was to begin with a plate of Minute rice with butter, pat down neatly, then pour the corn chowder over the rice, just enough that the corn chowder begins to spill over the sides of the neatly pat-down rice.

Corn chowder became a staple dinner item before long, appearing as frequently as once a week.

As time passed, however, newer fancies began to crowd out our trusty corn chowder until it was largely forgotten. Newer and more innovative recipes, including some invented by The Supreme Aglet himself, became vogue. To be seen with corn chowder was so 1990's.

I had all but forgotten about our corn chowder experiences when my wife ran across a Web site with pictures of Kevin and Charlotte, whom we hadn't seen in a long time, (they live in Washington state, where we used to live before we moved, and they never moved, so they're still in Washington, not having moved). The pictures not only brought back wonderful memories of these two exceedingly nice people, but they also invoked the words "corn" and "chowder" (in that order) almost immediately, and I shared as much with my wife.

Nonetheless, the memory of corn chowder hasn't yet been translated into action. My wife is currently on a Trader Joe's binge, and we have yet to use up our supply of creatively packaged Trader Joe's foods before returning to the life-threatening non-organic foods that everyone else eats. I am confident, however, that corn chowder will stage a comeback in our house--the thought is enough to inspire me to carry on, and the world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.

Today is Fan Mail Friday on Tuesday #1

2005-03-01T07:36:00.000-08:00

The enormous popularity of The Supreme Aglet carries with it a price for its creator and overseer: the need to ensure that as many Agleteers as possible who come to The Supreme Aglet with their petitions and concerns are cared for properly.

As such, I have decided to extend the "Fan Mail Friday #n" featurette to an optional additional day. Since today is Tuesday, I shall establish Tuesdays as the second Fan Mail Friday #n day.

I was particularly motivated to post the selected fan mail piece for two reasons: firstly, because it is truly touching, and secondly, because it reinforces my own overinflated sense of importance.

This selection comes from Agleteer Jim (The Supreme Aglet will not reveal the full identity of fan mail contributors unless specifically requested):


It is with immense jubilation that we receive your morning transmission revealing your skillful solutions in handling daily problems. I am certain that throngs of people, myself included, think, "Why didn't I think of that?"

This writer very much enjoyed my initial cup of coffee, accompanied by a cigarette, upon rising in the morning. Since I quit smoking there has been a void in my life. That cavity has been filled ten-fold by the arrival of your daily life helps.

Agleteer Jim, I cannot express how gratifying it is to know that I am the filler in someone's cavity. I am especially pleased that The Supreme Aglet turns out to have been the key to overcoming your smoking habit.

I would recommend to any of my readers who are slaves to their cigarettes, or to anyone they know who may be clean lung-challenged, that s/he considers taking up the Supreme Aglet habit full time as a guaranteed method of quitting, (note the use of both genders in the previous sentence, indicating the sort of progressive individual that The Supreme Aglet truly is).

...Yes, I said "guaranteed". If reading The Supreme Aglet does not prove an effective solution in breaking the smoking habit of my readers, I will refund 100% of your Supreme Aglet membership fee, and the world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.

Never Before have I Extracted so much Toothpaste

2005-02-28T06:22:00.000-08:00

An event has transpired which marks a turning point for The Supreme Aglet. From this day on, life events will be separated into two categories: those which occurred before I achieved my greatest level of toothpaste extraction from a near-empty tube, and those that occurred after.

As I tossed the spent toothpaste tube into the trash can, it dawned on me that a new chapter in my life had been written. One for the ages. Never before had I been able to extract so much toothpaste from a single tube.

To preserve the dignity of the tube, I stopped short of cutting it open to see if there was even one spec of toothpaste remaining, but I am confident that if one were to go through that exercise, he or she would conclude that I have reason to claim the achievement which I am discussing here. (Note in the previous sentence the use of both genders, indicating the sort of progressive individual that The Supreme Aglet truly is.)

I will now take a moment to reveal my tube extraction method; please keep in mind that any such use of a toothpaste tube may be subject to copyright infringement, and any attempt to alter the following method of toothpaste extraction will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law:

While most people use the basic hand-squeeze method of extracting toothpaste from the tube, I employ a unique method which involves laying the tube on the bathroom counter and running my toothbrush handle from the bottom of the tube to the top, forcing every last remnant of toothpaste to relocate near the tube opening.

After I had finally squeezed the absolute last portion of toothpaste from the tube, I paused for a moment to consider my achievement. I wondered if there was any way to capitalize on the accomplishment, such as taking the tube on a national tour or otherwise showcasing it for profit, as I am not a socialist.

It then occurred to me that this noble tube had done half the work, and that it perhaps deserved a more dignified end to its existence. It also occurred to me that touring with an empty tube of toothpaste stood little chance of earning any real profit beyond what I might earn from my own family and friends out of pity.

So, in the end, it was a private moment that led to nothing notable beyond the accomplishment itself. I will always remember and cherish it, however, and the world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.

Roger's Perspective Skewed by Dictionary

2005-02-27T10:32:00.000-08:00

Agleteer Roger contacted The Supreme Aglet regarding a recent post, I Need to Answer that Note About the Refridgerator Recall, complaining that the word "refridgerator" has no "d" in it, insisting that the correct spelling is "refrigerator".

Of course, there is a certain charm in watching one attempt to point out an error in the work of The Supreme Aglet, not unlike watching my 4-year-old sternly giving me some sort of admonition about her little tea cup set. At the same time, I do not wish to discourage such liberal thought--that is, I do not wish to stifle anyone's free thinking, even if that free thinking leads to something as ridiculous as questioning the accuracy of The Supreme Aglet. (Note that I have no fear of the use of the term "liberal", though I am not a socialist.)

Obviously, Agleteer Roger's mistake is that he came to his conclusion as a result of consulting a dictionary, which I found rather quaint. It is as if the dictionary is the final wurd on speeling.

The word "refridgerator" has a "d" in it, indeed. The "d" was placed there by The Supreme Aglet, and I do not apologize for having altered that word forever as a result of my use of it in that way. If more refridgerators had d's in them, perhaps their days would be lengthened. Perhaps dinner would taste better. Perhaps Diet A&W Root Beer would be more prevalent. I could go on.

Suffice to say that Agleteer Roger's futile attempt to find an error in these important and highly accurate writings did not succeed, although he deserves points for trying, and the world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.

Nicole Speaks French, but She's Good at Foosball

2005-02-26T10:31:00.000-08:00

Last night, we were graced and charmed by our neighbors Dan and Nicole, who ventured out in the wonderful dark wilderness that is our humble homestead and scampered with a delightful promenade to our doorstep. La la la la la.

Regular readers of The Supreme Aglet--large in number and mighty in character--may be familiar with this pair. Nicole speaks French, but she is actually Belgian.

We learned last night that Nicole has another hidden talent beyond her ability to mangle words in a most artistic and pleasant way; specifically, she kicks donkey in Foosball.

We would not have known this had it not been for my excitable and jovial son suggesting a round of Foosball, confident that the training he and I have given each other would surely bring us victory. Nicole responded by touting her skill level in the sport, tempering her boasting by adding qualifiers such as "but that was a long time ago".

My son likely interpreted such vascillation the same way I did: all talkin' and no rockin'. To the activity room we went, prepared to demonstrate our physical superiority to our French-speaking guest.

Upon arriving at the activity room and studying our Foosball table, Nicole seemed to want to delay the inevitable by lecturing us on how a Foosball table should be properly set up, and that the quality of Foosball tables she had used in competition were far more worthy than the $60 example from Target that ours is. She further insisted that we alter our table to favor her strong hand. We complied, only because we felt she was likely crying out for a handicap.

My son and I played as a team against Nicole, who insisted on playing on her own. This was certainly permissable, as it only meant more points for us.

As the game began, we were somewhat impressed at Nicole's ability to keep up with our level of play, answering our goals with goals of her own, and sometimes even being ahead by a goal, (of course, we were letting it happen).

At about a 6-6 score, something kicked in. Something both terrifying and awe-inspiring. Nicole had finally put on her game face, and we would be her victims.

At this level of play, the numbers of little plastic men on her side became irrelevant, as she would use her goalie as essentially the only player she needed to bring shame on us. Our little plastic men became equally irrelevant as she used her goalie to both defend and score with impunity.

Of course, she was the guest, so we let it happen that way; but it reminded me of a recent basketball defeat against my sister-in-law Marion, who is older than I, no taller than I, and who insisted on playing in her sandals; but that's a story for another time.

In our hearts, my son and I know that we are Team Superior, turning little plastic men into icons of victory for all to see (except Nicole), and the world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.

Today is Fan Mail Friday #2

2005-02-25T10:39:00.000-08:00

If you are not familiar with our "Fan Mail Friday #n" featurette, please familiarize yourself by reading this entry before proceeding, or you may be the target of a government plot to assume your identity and create a life-like facsimile of your person.

This week's fan mail comes from Agleteer Jim, (The Supreme Aglet will not reveal the full identity of fan mail contributors unless specifically requested). It appears that Agleteer Jim needed to get something off of his chest upon reading through my observance of the 2-week-3-day anniversary of The Supreme Aglet.

To wit:

I am hesitant to affront your intelligence, but feel the need to point out an alarming corrigendum in your reference to the "Byzantine Tulip."
 
I was initially aroused at the very thought of this sumptuous flower, and then suffered immensely when you confessed your lampoon. Your blunder is stating "there are no such things as Byzantine Tulips".
 
To this day there are still a few very small gardens that grow the captivating, horticultural delights. At one time these gorgeous flowers were grown throughout Holland. Unfortunately, these gems would stain anything that touched them.
 
Their demise came about shortly after the Germans invaded Holland. As the Nazis settled in, setting up camps in the fields of flowers, they became aware of the colorful splotches that covered their uniforms. The stains also made public which people, mostly women, were sympathizers. That was the end of the famous tulip.

Jim, I find your story of the demise of the Byzantine Tulip highly relevant, and your charming use of cumbersome words are truly indicative of a well-adjusted Agleteer.

Nonetheless, relevance is not tantamount to accuracy, and I find your account of the Byzantine Tulip highly suspect. This is not to imply that you are intending to mislead The Supreme Aglet's sizable readership; Agleteers are not liars, (and I am not a socialist).

I must therefore conclude that you are simply the sort of idle individual who has nothing better to do than write non-sensical prose with the intention of seeing it published on the Internet. I must recommend that you seek professional help for this affliction, as those who use their literary gifts to engage in nonsense risk complete insanity. The electric thimble has no shoe, and the world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.

The Supreme Aglet gives a French Lesson

2005-02-24T07:30:00.000-08:00

Due to my international celebrity and frequent travel abroad, it is necessary for me to know a number of different languages in order to best communicate with the natives of each of my destinations.

French is among the most aesthetically appealing languages. Our neighbor Nicole, who is actually Belgian, likes to point out that the phrase "your lips look like a chicken's butt" sounds quite romantic when spoken in French.

Today, I will perform a public service and enrich your lives by teaching you French. I will be forced to limit my instruction somewhat since I only know one phrase in French, but this will not prevent me from imparting this knowledge upon my faithful minions.

Before proceeding with today's French lesson, I must insist that we refrain from making jokes at the expense of the French, as is fashionable to do these days. I would specifically like to address the stereotype of the French as cowards and defeatists. In fact, the French have a proud military history, as can easily be surmised by a quick Google search for "french military victories".

And now, our French lesson.

We will begin and end our class today by learning the phrase:


sont les mots qui vont tres bien ensemble

I learned this from a Beatles song. It means:


these are words that go together well

Now class, can anyone name which Beatles song that phrase is lifted from?...you in the back with the fuschia sweater...yes you...

...I'm sorry, it isn't Yellow Submarine. Anyone else?...anyone?...you in the middle with the beanie...

...No, that isn't right either. Actually, I don't think the Beatles ever did a cover for Dude Looks Like a Lady. Come on, class, this is an easy one. How about you in the corner with the sock on your shoulder...

...yes, you're right. It's Michelle, and the world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.

I Need to Answer that Note About the Refridgerator Recall

2005-02-23T07:12:00.000-08:00

Several months ago, I received a recall notice for the Norcold refridgerator unit that came with our Winnebago. Apparently, there is a potential problem with using the refridgerator when powered by propane as opposed to A/C power; namely, it might blow up.

This caused some distress, as the thought of our Winnebago blowing up during a camping trip is disconcerting, not to mention that such a thing would be highly inconvenient.

With all of the other daily responsibilities and obligations that The Supreme Aglet must deal with, taking time out to locate a repair facility, hauling the mammoth vehicle to that location, and waiting around while the repair is applied all represents something that makes it too easy to procrastinate.

Such procrastination has prompted a second notification from the makers of the Norcold refridgerator. The reminder letter is written in a somewhat ominous tone, leaving me with the impression that, once the refridgerator explodes, I will have no legal recourse for the carnage and damage that will result.

I believe, then, that it is high time I take action. I will therefore hand the letter to my wife and ask her if she will kindly take care of it. Given that Mrs. The Supreme Aglet is both a woman of kindness and a woman of action, I'm confident that we shall live through another camping trip, and the world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.

My Son's Spider Man DVD Has Been Located

2005-02-22T11:55:00.000-08:00

It was a difficult moment when my son and I together faced the realization that his beloved Spiderman DVD went missing, both because of the loss itself and because of my continual admonition that he always return his favorite DVD's and other items precisely to avoid this outcome.

We looked all around living room where the primary TV of the house is located, opening and emptying drawers, crawling behind the entertainment center, looking under the couch and love seat. Gone.

Surmising that he may have taken the DVD with him into his room to watch it on his computer, we looked under his desk, night table, dresser, in his closet, everywhere.

And this wasn't the sort of search where you merely rifle through the contents of a desk or dresser, or open and close a closet door with a quick but careful visual scan; we were removing drawers, moving large pieces of furniture, and even moving appliances that are intended to be stationary. Such was the significance of losing this particular DVD.

The search even continued at our next-door neighbor's house, where my son often spends his afternoons frolicking among the backdrop of his childhood odyssey. (Please feel free to include that last sentence in any work of poetry that the reader may be endeavoring to create.) That search also proved futile.

It became a foregone conclusion that the DVD would have to be replaced, although the urgency of replacing it was tempered by the fact that my son also possessed the Spiderman II DVD, which he received as a Christmas present.

A few weeks passed when, one evening, my son and I were comfortably seated in our living room enjoying a SpongeBob Squarepants episode, (he was kind enough to let me watch SpongeBob even though the Science Channel was showing one of his favorite episodes from Popular Mechanics for Kids). While watching, and enjoying tremendously, the SpongeBob Squarepants TV show, a strange urge came over me.

Inexplicably, I rose from the couch, walked over to the entertainment center, reached above it, (it is up on a platform and the Supreme Aglet is no basketball player), so reaching above it requires me to extend my arm fully and stretch a bit. Feeling around with my hand, I felt something smooth that didn't feel like the top of the furniture. I grabbed the object and, needless to say at this point, it was the missing Spiderman DVD.

Explaining how it got there turned out to be an easier task than initially thought. After getting over the shock of finding it so easily after many thorough search attempts had failed, my son recalled that he had climbed up on a step ladder and put it there months earlier, reacting to the threat of damage to the DVD by my daughter (his younger sister) in the midst of some squabble they were having.

A few laughs and a hug later, we resumed our lives, gleefully enjoying the rest of the SpongeBob Squarepants episode already in progress, and the world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.

Today is the 2-Week-3-Day Anniversary of The Supreme Aglet

2005-02-21T08:25:00.000-08:00

Today is the 2-Week-3-Day anniversary of The Supreme Aglet. I already said that in the title, but I have repeated it here for those who may be title-challenged.

On this special occasion, I would like to take a few moments to thank those who have made The Supreme Aglet one of the most often-imitated--but never duplicated--blogs on the Web. (Note that the phrase "blogs on the Web" is somewhat redundant, so please re-read the previous sentence, removing the words "on the Web". I have reported this error to myself and will ensure that I am properly disciplined for the lapse in quality.)

I am particularly appreciative of the Byzantine Tulip arrangement in the stunning red vase that I received from one of my many fans. The flowers sit on my desk as we speak, and they have become a major attraction at our home. The next Tulip Viewing Party is set for this coming Saturday, admission is $10, or $8 for seniors and children under 12.

But The Supreme Aglet cannot dedicate, cannot erubidate, the blogosphere in which we occupy. The many bloggers who have gone on before have erubidated it far beyond our poor power to add or detract. It is for us, the Agleteers, then, to complete that which they so nobly gave the last full measure of their sanity to erubidate.

I should point out at this juncture that there are no such things as "Byzantine Tulips", no such word as "erubidate", the Tulip Viewing Party has been cancelled, and the world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.

Our Anti-Cat Urination Defense has been Breached

2005-02-20T07:00:00.000-08:00

You may recall a recent post on The Supreme Aglet in which my wife had successfully constructed a barrier with the express purpose of preventing one of our elderly cats from urinating near the tub in the master bathroom.

This was a valiant and promising effort, but it proved insufficient to solve the problem completely. We had operated under the assumption that we could remove the baby gate at certain times of the day when we were in close proximity to the tub. After all, as shy and fearful as our cats are, they would surely not attempt to urinate in such an open space when there were people around.

This was an erroneous assumption, as the problem animal defiantly and shamelessly chose to deposit her waste near the tub within full view of The Supreme Aglet.

As previously mentioned, there is a short hallway connecting the master bedroom to the master bathroom, with one closet on each side of the hallway. As these closets are of the sizable walk-in persuasion, my wife--originator of the original anti-urination defense plan--suggested a new plan altogether.

Specifically, she suggested taking advantage of the fact that there is much more closet space than there are clothes and other closet-dwelling items. She suggested combining my closet with hers, moving the cat boxes from the master toilet room to my closet, and confining the cats to that area when not supervised. To provide lighting for the animals (who technically don't need it, but it is our custom to engage in anthropomorphism), we could leave the closet light on during the evening, and otherwise use the baby gate to block entry or exit from the closet during daylight hours or whenever necessary otherwise.

This plan not only seemed like a better way to confine the cats in closer proximity to their cat boxes (or, confine any accidents to a single space), but it had the added advantage of removing the cat boxes from the toilet room, effectively making that room more accessible for people who wish to use it. (To clarify, it was accessible with the cat boxes in it, but not a pleasant place to deposit one's waste.)

Thus far, this plan has worked well. All human-, animal-, and fish-residents at the home of The Supreme Aglet are functioning harmoniously with respect to waste deposits, and the world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.

We Finally Put our Christmas Storage Boxes back in the Attic

2005-02-19T07:35:00.000-08:00

If there is something I truly wish to avoid ever becoming, it's the proverbial neighbor who leaves his Christmas lights up all the way into July.

This year, it was mid-January before the Christmas lights came down, but not due to any sort of laziness or procrastination. It rained heavily for the first couple of weeks in January, and getting up on a ladder in the rain was not an appealing prospect. Besides, Randy and Diane's house still had their Christmas lights up into mid-January for the same reason, although Dan and Nicole managed to remove theirs immediately after Christmas day. But they don't have kids.

Having finally dispensed with the lights, we were left with several storage boxes containing our Christmas decorations and the aforementioned lights, not to mention our faux tree, (please be careful with whom you speak when discussing the manufactured nature of our Christmas tree).

The boxes needed to be replaced into our attic at some point, so until the opportunity arose to fulfill that task, they were left in the garage, between the main garage and the extension.

This created some distress, as putting the boxes in that position created an obstacle for getting out of the car parked in the extension, which I often make use of.

At first, I put up with this, sometimes finding it a difficult task to get out of my car after arriving home, (depending on whether the boxes had been moved so that occupants of the SUV parked on the other side of the boxes would have no difficulty getting out of that vehicle). One thing that contributed to having procrastinated was that the extensible ladder we normally use to reach the attic opening was dirty from outside use.

The ladder wasn't washed prior to bringing it in, so there was some distress bringing it inside once we were all but forced to either find another temporary home for the storage boxes or put them away like responsible storage box owners.

We boldly decided to bring the ladder into the house, knowing the potential consequence of dirtying the carpet and the need to vacuum clean the area afterward.

Ours was a team that functioned like a "well-oiled machine", to coin a phrase. My wife and daughter climbed into the attic to receive storage boxes that I would send up the ladder to them, while my son sat steadfast in his room, playing a video game on his computer and thus ensuring the computer was manned in case we would need some sophisticated calculation resolved as part of our labor.

Soon, the task was complete, including the cleaning of the area where the ladder was utilized. I can fully open my car door when parking in the extension, the storage boxes await the next Christmas season to be removed from the attic, and the world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.

Today is Fan Mail Friday #1

2005-02-18T07:38:00.000-08:00

In response to the overwhelming feedback The Supreme Aglet receives on a weekly basis, I have decided to create a regular weekly featurette which I like to call "Fan Mail Friday #n", where n equals the sequentially numbered Fan Mail Friday event.

The astute observer will note that the reference to the word "Friday" indicates that this featurette will appear on Fridays. If this is not clear, please consult your calendar.

This week's fan mail comes from Agleteer Mike, (The Supreme Aglet will not reveal the full identity of fan mail contributors unless specifically requested):

Dear Supreme Aglet,

I wanted to let you know that I have a mouse pad that has a picture of 3 of my nieces. I have other nieces and some nephews also, but this one was a gift from my sister, who has 3 daughters. My brother, who has 2 daughters and 2 sons hasn't given me a mouse pad.

Thanks.

No--thank you, Mike. Even though your mouse pad amounts only to a partial representation of the offspring of your brother and sister, I trust it provides sufficient grip to enable your mouse to work reliably.

And to the rest of The Supreme Aglet readers, please submit your questions or comments to The Supreme Aglet at thesupremeaglet@hotmail.com, and the world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.

My Daughter Still Plays with her Handless Doll

2005-02-17T22:45:00.000-08:00

If you have children, particularly children of the female persuasion, you may be familiar with the popular Princess Annaliese and Erika dolls from the Barbie "Princess and the Pauper" DVD. These dolls not only represent accurate re-creations of the characters from the movie, but they also sing together in harmony. It is quite lovely, and presently, the "Just Like You" song is playing repeatedly in my head and out of my control.

Although my daughter keeps her room surprisingly neat for such a young child (and in direct contrast to my son's difficulty with maintaining order in his room), she is still vulnerable to leaving toys lying around when more interesting events suddenly transpire, such as The Supreme Aglet coming home from work.

This causes some consternation around our home because our Dachsund is fond of the taste of plastic

It was inevitable that the animal's tendency would eventually prove harmful, and Erika would be her first victim.

Interestingly, it wasn't a maimed Erika that was first found, but rather, a chewed-up hand in the dog's possession. Because of this, it wasn't immediately realized that the doll had been damaged.

Upon finding the mangled hand, I set about looking for which toy among the many dolls and action figures the hand belonged to. This took a great deal of time, as I had made the erroneous assumption that the doll or action figure would be located among the other toys, as if our Dachsund attacked the toy, then put it away like a good dog.

Erika's blue dress caught my eye as I was passing through one of the entry-way rooms. She was on the floor, behind the big round chair. I picked her up and noted that she was in reasonably good shape, with the exception that she had no right hand.

This caused some distress, as I knew this was one of my daughter's most beloved dolls, and she is so young. I didn't know how she would take it.

To solve this problem, I gave the doll to my wife. After all, it was my wife who insisted on getting the Dachsund in the first place.

It wasn't long after that my wife reunited my daughter with Erika. I wasn't there to see it, but the story goes that my daughter at first did not notice Erika's handless arm. When it finally occured to her that something was wrong, and when she found out what had happened, there was apparently some mourning involved.

But it was short-lived. Erika remains one my daughter's favorite dolls, occupying a place of honor next to Princess Annaliese on my daughter's bed, and the world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.

We No Longer Hand-Wash the Cooking Set

2005-02-16T08:23:00.000-08:00

When we procured our newest cooking set about a year ago, I remember being somewhat disappointed at all of the warnings printed on the box about the possibility of damaging the pieces if washed in a dishwasher. This particular set cost somewhere in the neighborhood of $300, and for that amount, one would expect a reasonably durable set of pots and pans that could withstand getting wet.

Nonetheless, the threat of voiding the warranty--along with the illusion that these pots and pans must be something special if they are to be treated so gingerly--was sufficient incentive to heed the warning, and we complied.

This caused some mild distress now and then, as the excitement of using a new pot or pan was somewhat tempered by the prospect of having to wash it by hand after use. Being the resilient individuals that we are, we pressed on and boldly made use of the cookware, dutifully washing each piece by hand whenever one was used.

My son took over kitchen cleaning duties several months ago, and this eventually led to the turning point in the way our pots and pans are cleaned.

As part of his chore, he was tasked with rinsing pots, pans, dishes, glasses, and other items which accumulate in the sink, and put them in the dishwasher. Of course, he was told sternly not to put any pots and pans from the newest cookware set into same dishwasher.

In hindsight, it was inevitable that my son would eventually fail to properly distinguish between a new pot and an older one, and this inevitability revealed itself one day as I was emptying the dishwasher: there it was, a large pot from our newest cookware set. It had gone through the dishwasher.

Amazingly, the pot was still intact, showing no sign of damage at all. The predicted doom that would surely befall our home upon defying the warning did not come to pass.

I sat down with my wife to discuss the situation. Should we regard this as a lucky fluke and continue to heed the warning, or should we throw caution to the wind and continue allowing pots and pans from our newest cookware set to be subjected to the harsh environment of the dishwasher? Those who know The Supreme Aglet personally also know the answer to this question: we boldly concluded that fear of a warning on a box would not dictate our habits and desires.

Since then, the pots and pans from our newest cookware set have gone through the dishwasher several times. We are confident that our decision was just and right, and the world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.

My Son Found Some Old Yahoo Directions

2005-02-15T08:55:00.000-08:00

Ever the vigilant pincher of pennies, I stand watch over all useful sheets of paper as candidates for re-use. I am like a sentinal of scrap, keeping a watchful eye for any printed document or set of directions having one side completely free of the slightest stain.

It is therefore not unusual for the scrap paper drawer in my desk to contain sheets of paper which had once served as a guide to one of The Supreme Aglet's many adventures. My son--conditioned to seek out scrap paper before clean paper in any endeavor not leading to a finalized piece of work--randomly chose a sheet and began his work in earnest.

Upon completing the work he set out to do, (in this case, modeling a sea-going vessel he sought to construct with Legos), something on the reverse side of the sheet of paper caught his attention; specifically, a reference to the name of the street on which we used to live.

This was a set of Yahoo directions from our old house to some unknown destination. Where could it possibly lead to? My son's curiosity was a raging fire.

He approached me and queried, "Dear father of mine, who provides me with the very sustenance on which my young life depends, I beseech that you reveal to me the destination represented by this guilded map."

My son doesn't actually practice that sort of verbal prose, but he said something to that effect.

I studied the map and the verbal directions, noting the date as well as the destination. I remembered only one reason for needing to go to Burbank at that time: The Dennis Miller Show. I went with a friend on that day to watch the comedian conduct a taping of his highly entertaining television program, complete with his sharp wit and his take-no-prisoners/suffer-no-fools style of interview.

Seeing the map brought back pleasant memories of that hyper-enjoyable day, and the world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.

I Made a Big Lego

2005-02-14T11:31:00.000-08:00

Having been inspired by the incredibly elaborate Lego creations I saw on a recent trip to Southern California's Lego Land theme park, I was compelled to create a work of my own. I was joined in this endeavor by my son, who kindly graces me with his company whenever I play with my Legos.

I decided to make an 8:1 scale reproduction of a Lego brick; specifically, a 1-pegged blue brick.

There was a brief moment of distress in which I worried that there would not be enough blue Lego bricks to complete my project neatly, but this proved to be an unnecessary concern. With approximately 2,000 Lego pieces to work with, it almost seems ridiculous that this should have crossed my mind, but I pride myself in having the sort of foresight that takes these evantualities into account.

I fashioned the large reproduction brick such that it had a hole on the bottom that could accommodate another such creation created with the same size peg at the top. Even so, I currently have no plans to create a second large Lego brick.

Presently, the oversized Lego brick is on display on the coffee table in the living room, standing next to my son's reproduction of the Washington Monument, and the world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.

I Won $10 at our Monthly Bunco

2005-02-13T07:09:00.000-08:00

Our inaugural neighborhood Bunco game of the month was held at Dan and Nicole's house, which not only meant a short walk for my wife and me, but also that there would be wonderful Belgian treats. Although I was expecting hors d'ourves of the French persuasion, I found the meat balls and little weenies to be delicious substitutes.

Lady luck showed up early in the evening. At the very first table, I rolled ten 1's in a row, astonishing my neighbors and establishing me as the one beat for the night.

I held a seat at the main table for about five straight rounds, and several times otherwise. Yes, I was it, and a dollup of Cool Whip.

My streak began to falter somewhat in the last game, (there were a total of four), but the momentum had carried me far enough to show up at the end with a multi-holed index card in the win column, and two Buncos to boot.

Of course, the biggest prize goes to him who has the most Buncos, which somewhat mysteriously turned out to be the host. Hmmm. Not that I'm accusing him of anything. Hmmm.

I ended up with the most wins, however, which was good for a $30 prize. I had put in $20 for my wife and me, so a quick calculation shows a net win of $10. (Please feel free to use an electronic calculator or spreadsheet to double-check my math.)

I have not yet decided what to do with my $10, although I'm sure this will be a topic of intense discussion for many weeks to come in my house, and the world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.

The Pot Luck was a Success

2005-02-12T10:09:00.000-08:00

Because I work with people of varying ethnicities, and because I enjoy trying different kinds of food, particularly different kinds of free food, I take the initiative to plan and execute a pot luck lunch at work every other month or so.

These pot luck lunches have been increasingly more elaborate. It is my hope that one will someday be hosted at some sort of convention center with balloons and some famous performer, but that's a story for another time.

For this particular pot luck lunch, I had planned to introduce the custom of presenting a Top Ten list some time during the event. As you might suspect, I am referring to the sort of humorous Top Ten list made famous by late night variety show host David Letterman.

Although there is a slight feeling of anxiety in creating a Top Ten list for our Pot Luck resulting from the fear that Mr. Letterman will undertake some sort of legal action to prevent it, I nonetheless feel that bearing the risk is the mark of a true hero. I am that hero.

Seeking help in creating the list, and hoping to attract some heightened level of employee interaction, I solicited my fellow employees for ideas via an e-mail message, but to no avail. I even consulted personally with some of the more clever individuals for their contributions, and although I received many promises, no list ideas were received.

The deadline date was approaching. I had to act.

I took it upon myself to draw from whatever river of creativity might be flowing within and attempt the list on my own. (Note that the previous sentence is an excellent indicator of my poetic genius, matched only by my handsome countenance.)

I created the list and transformed it into a PowerPoint presentation. (Technically, it was an OpenOffice presentation. Free software is neat.)

On the day of the pot luck lunch, I arranged for an overhead projector that I could hook my laptop into. With the computer equipment set up, and with the contributions of cuisine from my fellow employees heated up and ready to serve, the pot luck lunch was officially underway.

Once some sort of critical eating mass had been met, I decided to present the top ten list. I read them one at a time as they appeared projected on the wall...10...9...8...all the way to 1.

The Top Ten list was well-received, and even moved our fearless CEO to say a few words of inspiration. After the pot luck lunch was over, several others approached me with offers to help create the list for the next pot luck lunch event. This particular pot luck lunch will indeed be remembered as one of entertainment, inspiration, and delicious cuisine, and the world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.

Today is the One-Week Anniversary of The Supreme Aglet

2005-02-11T10:30:00.000-08:00

As mentioned in the title above, today is the one-week anniversary of The Supreme Aglet, (if you did not have an opportunity to read the title, you may do so now).

I am pleased that The Supreme Aglet has been able thus far to address issues of the commonplace without sparking contentiousness among my readers. To this point, I have not received any personal threats or complaints relating to the sensitivity of the subject matter involved.

The reader can be certain that The Supreme Aglet will ensure these severely mundane issues will continue to be aired, no matter how difficult it is to face the realities that confront ordinary people, no matter how insecure I may feel about retribution for the stand that I take on these matters, I will press on. At least for one more week.

So, to my critics and friends alike, I vow more of the same, and the world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.

My Cat No Longer Urinates Near the Tub

2005-02-10T08:58:00.000-08:00

Ever since we got our puppy a few months ago, our two elderly cats rarely venture out of my closet, and the propensity of one of my cats to urinate somewhere other than her box--a habit which I hoped had abated after we moved last Summer--seems to have resurfaced.

Her favorite non-box urinating venue is an area in front of the tub in the master bedroom.

I should pause for a moment and describe the layout of the master bedroom and bathroom, as we risk the excitement of this story becoming diluted due to confusing the reader by not properly setting the stage:

The master bedroom in our house is connected to a master bathroom by a short hallway. Built into the wall on each side of the hall way is a closet, (mine is on the right heading toward the bathroom, Mrs. Supreme Aglet's closet is on the left). Before arriving at the main area of the master bathroom, there is a door on the left that opens to a small bathroom with only a toilet, (this is where the cat boxes are kept). Beyond that, it opens up to the full master bathroom with a sink area on both sides, and a tub on a platform straight ahead.

If you climbed on to the tub platform and continued to walk, you would run into the wall, so I would suggest not doing so in order to reduce the risk of injury.

Once we realized that the carpet was being soiled in that area, my wife and I discussed our options. I was more of a mind to allow our cat to become part of the circle of life, while my wife suggested a combination of using our puppy pads in that area and purchasing a carpet cleaner appliance to ensure any soiling is removed if and when any is deposited.

We proceeded with her plan, but the demands of properly keeping puppy pads in the same area that family members get into and out of the tub made it difficult to manage.

Ever the mind of genius, my wife set out to build a fortress that would protect the main master bathroom area from our cat using an extendable baby gate.

The baby gate would be positioned at the end of the hallway to block the entrance of the main master bathroom area from our cat. The weight and age of our cat ensured that jumping over the gate would be an insurmountable task.

The problem immediately encountered was that the baby gate could not extend far enough to reach both sides of the hallway. However, since it was being positioned at the end of the hall where the door leading to the toilet is located, and since that door opens outward, the baby gate could be set up so that it is held in place on one side by the wall and on the other side by the open door.

This proved successful. Any attempt by my cat to enter the main master bathroom area has been thwarted, and when guests come over, we can remove the baby gate and count on the cat's natural fear of everything to keep her in the closet or under the bed, and the world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.

I Can Now Procure my Favorite Brand of Soda Conveniently

2005-02-09T10:50:00.000-08:00

This is America. I should be able to procure my favorite brand of soda without great difficulty for several reasons, including the profit motive that compels the manufacturer to produce the soda and the supermarkets to sell the soda.

Somehow, the profit motive has often proven defective in being able to accomplish the task of procuring my favorite soda, Diet A&W Root Beer.

Demand for this particular brand of soda is very strong, as indicated by the empty space labeled "Diet A&W Root Beer" which is often occupied only by other brands that were pushed into the empty space.

For some reason, this problem does not afflict the Diet Barq's brand or the generic store brand, only my cherished Diet A&W Root Beer.

If the space that should contain Diet A&W Root Beer is almost always empty in any one of about five conveniently located supermarkets, then it suggests to me that this product is in very high demand, and that the producer of this product (7-Up), as well as the supermarkets, would have some incentive to re-stock more often. More Diet A&W Root Beer would surely be sold.

Every once in awhile, I would get lucky and find one or two Diet A&W Root Beer 12-packs in their designated location at a particular store, and I was in the habit of buying as many as they had while the opportunity was available. To facilitate the chance that I would be able to find at least one supermarket with the beverages in stock, I devised a clever route that took me past all five conveniently located supermarkets when I intended to go to any one of them. This helped only slightly, as it seemed that these supermarkets had conspired to deprive me of the one simple pleasure I demand.

Enough was enough. This is America, and I want my Diet A&W Root Beer without hassle! (Please excuse the tirade in the preceding sentence; I was having a fit of passion.)

I drove to the closest supermarket location, and the one which my family most often patronizes, and asked to speak to the store manager. It was a Stater Brothers market.

I waited an unusually long amount of time, but she finally appeared, attentive and visibly concerned and sympathetic to my plight. As you might suspect, the store was devoid of Diet A&W Root Beer at that time, so I was able to provide the visual of an empty space where the Diet A&W Root Beer should rightfully appear.

After listening to my complaint, she kindly explained the procurement process that she herself follows to ensure a healtly supply of all high-demand products, and that the problem with Diet A&W Root Beer was that re-stocking was completely in the purview of the supplier (7-Up), so the best she could do was keep me informed as to when new supplies arrived.

She provided me with the supplier's re-stocking schedule, and agreed not only to set aside several boxes of Diet A&W Root Beer after the next shipment, but to do this indefinitely for me. Needless to say, I was very impressed with Stater Brothers after that conversation.

As it turns out, empowering myself with the knowledge of the supplier schedule was enought to solve the problem permanently and effectively. I now procure 12-packs of Diet A&W Root Beer at will by simply appearing at the Stater Brothers the day after the 7-Up shipments have been received, and the world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.

All Three of my Calendars are up in my Cubicle

2005-02-08T10:18:00.000-08:00

When one has several family members, the statistical likelihood of receiving a calendar at Christmas from more than one of those family members is relatively high. That is, much higher than the probability of three members giving a pint of gasoline or a DMV gift card.

This came to pass recently, having received an I Love Lucy calendar, a Classic Car calendar, and an America the Beautiful calendar from three distinct individuals. I Love Lucy happens to be my favorite TV show, and I have stories relating to problems with the scheduling of that show in the morning being only a few minutes in conflict my schedule, but that will have wait for another time.

Out of deference and appreciation for the family members who thought of me at Christmas, I thought it fitting that I use the calendars so selflessly given to me by hanging them in my cubicle. At first, this was a relatively simple task of fashioning paper clips into hooks that were customized such that the calendar would be attached to one end, and the other end attached to any one of several shelf supports therein.

This was a satisfactory solution for two of the three calendars, which fit neatly into empty cubicle wall space. A problem arose, however, when attaching the third and final calendar (the America the Beautiful calendar) to a corner of my cubicle facing the exit. The shelf support upon which the calendar would be hanged was at the very end of the cubicle, so that the "custom paper clip hook" approach meant that the calendar end of the hook--attached to the center of the calendar--caused the calendar to protrude half way out of my cubicle.

In addition to the aesthetic disadvantage of having a calendar stick part way out of one's cubicle, it turned out to be somewhat of an obstacle for others passing by.

In order to maintain my commitment to honoring the gift givers behind these calendars, I had to come up with a way to hang the calendar from the corner shelf support without causing the calendar to protrude out of my cubicle.

After mentally conjuring a precise design of bent paper clip that would solve this problem, I began to work on the task of creating the specialized hook. This involved bending one end, as usual, so that it could hook into the shelf support. The other end was bent so that it first pointed back toward the inside of my cubicle, culminating into a hook shape to support the calendar.

I was gratified to find myself successful on my first attempt to hang the calendar on this specialized paper clip hook. The end of the calendar no longer protruded out of my cubicle, yet the calendar was still manageable. I set about returning to the work for which I am hired to do, and the world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.

My Garden Hose Still Leaks, But Not as Badly

2005-02-07T22:39:00.000-08:00

Apparently, my wife ran over the end of the hose that the spray nozzle screws onto. If you have ever had to deal with a hose that has been run over at that end, then you are no doubt able to relate to the difficulty of trying to pound it back into precisely the proper shape so that water doesn't like from the bottom of the screw-on nozzle.

The easiest solution, of course, would have been to run down to the nearest Wal-Mart and pick up a new hose. However, because I live in what most would term "the boonies", running down to the nearest Wal-Mart was not as viable an option as it may seem. Additionally, I felt compelled to fix the hose, as parting with $15 to replace an entire hose that could otherwise be repaired seemed indecent.

Arming myself with a hammer and needle-nose pliers, I set off on the task of bending and shaping the misshapen threads at the end of the hose, attempting to restore the sprinkler end of the hose back to its circular shape and with its threads properly aligned.

Following the famed trial-and-error method for a half-hour or so proved futile, and with the sun on its way below the mountains afar, I was faced with the stark reality that I might not be able to wash my car. (Incidentally, that last sentence rhymes. Please read it a second time.) At least not without consequence of severely wetting myself in the process.

Perhaps you have seen the movie Apollo 13, and recall the scene in that movie where the ground-based crew was given a table full of items known to be available in the Apollo spacecraft, and was tasked with fashioning a device that would save the space-borne crew using those parts. This is not unlike what transpired for me.

Rifling through my tool box, I came across a roll of electrical tape. Hastily grabbing the roll in my race against time, I darted out of the garage, grabbed the hose, and began to wrap a strip of tape tightly around the sprinkler end of the hose.

I then attached the spray nozzle over the taped end of the hose, which required an unusual amount of effort and strength, but I would not be denied this moment of victory.

Then came the critical moment. I turned on the spigot and waited for the air to be displaced from the hose. Moments passed. Finally, a small, but manageable stream of water began leaking from the connecting end of the spray nozzle.

I turned on the spray nozzle and water flowed with sufficient pressure to accomplish the task of washing my car, with only a small amount of water leaking, and the world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.

I Successfully Extracted the Spent Toilet Paper Roll from the Spindle

2005-02-06T09:03:00.000-08:00

I suspect that most people, myself included, rarely ponder quality control at facilities which manufacture toilet paper. Being somewhat ignorant of this process, I cannot explain how the cardboard center of a toilet paper roll can be cut longer than normal. I came across one of these abberations, and it caused a brief moment of distress while attempting to change rolls in one of our bathrooms.

Fortunately, at the time, I was not in immediate need of toilet paper. This particular occasion was in between trips to the bathroom. I was changing the roll only because it was nearly spent, anticipating that I, or others in my family, may require more paper than was left on the roll during his or her next trip to the bathroom.

Upon trying to remove the nearly-spent roll, I discovered immediately that I was unable to remove it from the spindle because the cardboard center was longer than normal, obscuring access to the spindle below it. (As any experienced individual knows, most toilet paper spindles require you to compress one or both sides of the spindle in order to remove it.)

Several attempts to reach the spindle with sufficient force and leverage to remove it had failed, so a more creative solution was called for.

It occurred to me that the cardboard center could be easily removed by finding the corner of the twisted piece that makes up the center, and then pull it. Doing so causes the cardboard center to "unroll" into one long piece of cardboard, not unlike opening a Pillsbury roll.

The drawback to this approach was that there was still toilet paper left on the roll. At this point, I had to make a value judgement as to which was more important at that moment: wasting what little paper was left on the roll vs. being able to accomplish the task I had set out to do.

Boldly, I decided to remove the remaining toilet paper, only I folded it neatly and left it on top of the counter.

I then put my plan into action, which resulted in successful extraction of the toilet paper center from the spindle. I then put the new roll on the spindle and replaced it into the spindle holder, and the world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.

My Son's Watch Now Shows the Correct Time

2005-02-05T11:58:00.000-08:00

My son has a multi-function watch that was purchased at Wal-Mart for $6.95 + tax. Using the manual as our guide, it was set to the proper time shortly after it was purchased. However, it was purchased during Daylight Savings Time, and has therefore been one hour off for quite awhile. This wasn't a problem since my son had not used the watch for many months, but he recently recovered it from a desk drawer. Noting that it was not set to the right time, and assuming that I know how to operate this timepiece, he handed it to me, requesting that I set it. I assured him that I would.

It is the design nature of these types of watches that pressing more than one button simultaneously will place you into a time- and date-setting mode. The challenge, of course, is to determine the correct combination of buttons (and in some cases, the correct sequence), that arrive at this mode.

With this in mind, I first tried simultaneously pressing both buttons on the right side, (as it happens, I have a watch that calls for these two buttons to be pushed in order to arrive at time-setting mode). The result was to turn on the alarm.

This created a new problem. Activating the watch alarm is tantamount to asking to be awoken in the middle of the night, as this is when inadvertantly-set watch alarms always go off. It is enough of a problem that several other electronic toys at home are somehow triggered to produce noise in the middle of the night.

Quickly, I repeated the process of pressing those two buttons specifically, and was relieved to see that the alarm indicator had disappeared.

Next, I tried pushing the upper-left and lower-right buttons, which arrived at the chronograph function. This was also somewhat disconcerting, because once you arrive at the chronograph function and begin pressing other buttons to undo the mistake, one often inadvertantly starts the timer without knowing how to stop it. This would be a harmless consequence except for the concern that allowing the chronograph to run might be unnecessarily exercising the battery.

I was fortunate once again in that I was able to exit the chronograph function without consequence.

Before continuing with further combinations of buttons, I decided to try simply holding down one button at a time to see if that would work.

Using the process of elimination, I was able to surmise that--if this were the correct way to arrive at time-setting mode--only three of the four buttons would be candidates. I eliminated the light button, thinking that the individual or individuals who designed the watch would not want to unnececssarily exercise battery power by forcing the user to hold down the light button for several seconds in order to arrive at a function that had nothing to do with illuminating the display.

With that in mind, I began with the upper-left-hand button. As luck would have it, I found myself in time-setting mode within three seconds or so.

Actually setting the time itself is a story that will have to wait for another time. Suffice to say, my son's watch now shows the correct time, and the world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.