I love stuff on the internet.

I find things no self-respecting newspaper would touch.

That of course, leaves out the British tabloids, but they are more focused on the Royals.

Maybe the TV news would, but if there’s no video they’re stuck.

I learned more than I ever wanted to about cow farts.

Sorry, flatulence.
I realize there may be people with sensitivities reading this stuff.

But sharing what we learn is important to a civilized society – so here it comes…

The scientific side of my brain was thrilled to learn the average cow poofs out enough methane in one day to run a refrigerator for 24 hours.

How great is that to know?

You now have a conversation starter at your next cocktail party.

People will look at you in amazement.
One way or the other.

There’s a bunch of scientists in Argentina who stuffed tubes up the rear ends of some cows to collect the gas and put in tanks.

Can you imagine what led up to this wonderful experiment?

“Hey Carlos, I have a cow outside and some leftover tubing. Let’s see what we can do with it.”

Anyway, they say they found a way to change cow poofs into fuel.

This is bordering on the magical.

This is a well-known scientific process because they used things like valves and pumps to collect this stuff and put it in some tanks.

I remember when we were doing scientific stuff in engineering school before I took a side trip into the wonderful and glamorous world of radio and TV.

We would pour different kinds of stuff into beakers and watch it foam up or turn color.

This was before someone discovered what happens when you put Mentos into coke bottles, so it wasn’t much fun.

Since I got tired of turning pink stuff into blue stuff I decided to change my education to something that used valves and pumps because I could use hammers and screwdrivers.

Back to their experiment…

Of course there’s a downside.

They say, “As an energy source it is not very practical at the moment.”

Scientists are realistic.

As an expert in valves and pumps, I can say with scientific certainty it wouldn’t be easy to strap a cow on the back of your car, feed it a bunch of beans, open some valves and chug off to the mall.

And what about all that other stuff that comes out that end while you’re parked in front of Macys?

There are a million failed experiments for every success.

That’s why many old scientists are grumpy.

Guys see no sense in going to the doctor unless they think they’re dying.

Actually, guys don’t have much sense when it comes to health – regardless of their age.

When they’re young they think nothing can kill them.

When they’re old they’re too tired to leave the house.

We figure we can beat anything with a nap on the couch and a cold beer.

The wife thinks chicken noodle soup cures all.
I humor her and drink it.

A couple of nights ago the wife made a run to the local plate lunch joint.

Dinner is served at stately Harrington manor.

Or Casa del Harrington if you pressed 1 for Spanish.

The next morning I’m barfing away.

So as she heads to work the wife says, “You going to the doctor?”

“Why would I do that?”

And she’s gone.

Seeing the doc, who’s really a wonderful person, involves a 90 minute round trip and a couple of hours playing games on my iphone in the waiting room.

Since the chairs are no good for napping, beer is not allowed and there’s no place to barf except on the person next to me who probably has some contagious disease, why would I want to go there?

If I did go, here’s what would have happened…

The doc, lovely lady she is, would come flying through the door, grab a quick hug and, “What’s up?”

“I’m running at both ends. Something the wife fed me.”

“Sounds like you got a bug. Here, get this at the pharmacy.”

Quick hug and swoosh – she’s gone in a puff of smoke.

Total time – maybe 30 seconds.

I love her.
I really do.

As much as I can love anyone I see only when life sucks and I’m grumpy.

I get about the same amount of time as I do with the wife between her girlfriend phone calls and cruising Facebook.

At least the wife feeds me.
Even if I can keep it down for just a little while.

The wife rarely calls me.

Instant Message is her communication of choice, even if we’re in the same house.

“What do you want for dinner?”

That’s her secret code for, “I’m not cooking so either you cook or tell me what plate lunch your want for me to pick up on the way home.”

Since she isn’t particularity delighted with my gourmet macaroni and cheese with hot dogs, we’re talking Zippys.

The woman’s a saint to make sure I’m fed.

And it makes her day when I say Chef Salad.

Zippys is her most favorite place in the whole world next to Macys and Las Vegas.

The place stirs the soul of us local folks.

She says it’s good for me when I eat stuff that has lots of different colors and keeps you regular, not that I’ve ever had any problem in that area.

I like it because it has lots of other stuff like cheese and ham and whatever else there is that hides the fact I’m paying $8.40 for 75-cents worth of lettuce.

Guys like bargains too.

The problem is… Zippys is cutting back.

The wife brought home this Chef Salad the other night that was maybe a third smaller than the ones I used to get from the home of the Zip Pack.

It sure didn’t look like anything I’ve had before – or that menu picture above, either.

Probably 50-cents worth of lettuce that was hidden by less stuff than before.

A menu item has become a side dish.

I don’t think Zippy’s gets it.

Sure, it’s raising its prices because the cost of that lettuce and other itsy-bitsy stuff is going up.

I can decide if it’s worth it to buy that now-overly expensive salad.

But to raise the price and then cut back on what you get kinda makes the decision easy.

Nope.
It would leave a rabbit hungry.

At the rate that thing is downsizing and up-pricing, I’d be on a super-model diet for $10 in no time.

I’d probably look a lot better.

And also a lot grumpier from being hungry and irregular.