Cheating at the Pinewood Derby

The only things I really remember from my short time in Cub Scouts are dressing as a monkey for a play, answering “dandelion” when they asked for flower names (and getting laughed at), and the pinewood derby.

For the derby, you got a block of wood and some wheels to make a car and raced it downhill. My dad, still drinking back then, was very into it. One Saturday night, while I was watching SNL, he was in the basement melting lead fishing sinkers with a few beers. He drilled holes in the front of my car, poured in the molten lead to make it heavier, sealed the holes with wood putty, and painted them yellow like headlights. When that looked too obvious, he slathered the whole front of the car in thick yellow paint.

I got the date of the race wrong and missed it, which turned out to be a blessing. Another kid told me they weighed the cars, so my lead-filled masterpiece would’ve gotten me busted and humiliated.

Between that and “dandelion,” Cub Scouts was not my shining moment.

Fork Fangs

Cousin Ross taught me this at Long John Silvers in Fort Wayne, IN during the late 1970s and I've never forgotten it. Fork Fangs are an example Hoosier ingenuity at its best.

It's an easy way to entertain yourself and others in a public dining area for no extra cost while your parents are talking for hours. 

Directions:
1. Start with a standard disposable plastic fork.
2. Break off the handle and center prongs.
3. Flip it upside down.
4. Place it in your mouth, and....ta-daaaa - Vampire fangs.
5. Fun time!

Recreating the Fork Fangs experience as an adult..

Raymond is a Gangsta

In Anchorage, I was working with severe schizophrenics for awhile. They'd been released from the mental institution & were transitioning by living under supervision in a block of apartments with an adjoining staff area so they could have their living skills evaluated before being set out to fend for themselves in the community.

There was this guy, Raymond, who constantly had his coffee maker on. He just refused to shut it off. It started to melt-down & was determined a fire hazard by the staff, so they removed it. 

He was without coffee for a couple of days until, one day, I dropped by on my rounds & Raymond is sitting on his couch enjoying a hot cup of coffee like usual. 

Me: "Hey, they got you a new coffee maker"?

Raymond: "Nah, I've been making it in the dishwasher".

Me: "?????????????"

Upon checking the dishwasher, sure enough, he was tossing in a bunch of coffee grounds instead of soap, running a cycle, & stopping it before the water drained out. The entire bottom of the dishwasher was full of hot coffee. Then it was just a matter of dipping a cup in there.

And this is how Raymond came to be known as, "the Schizophrenic McGuyver."

- - - - - - 

The only other thing I know about Raymond is that he used to use pages from the Bible as rolling papers for cigarettes. I think he just did it to get people worked up.

He also is said to have purchased a new car with a briefcase full of cash at one point in the past, but that may or may not be just a story.

[Originally posted on I'm Nacho Steppinstone, Jan. 3, 2004]

111 for 1

Probably the only existing image of the short-lived, homemade, 
campground bar. Valdez, AK; Summer, 1991.

One fishless day in Valdez, when work was slow, a few campsite entrepreneurs decided to make the best of it. Using old pallets and scrap plywood, they threw together a makeshift bar.

They stocked up on cheap beer, a couple bottles of whiskey, and a big tin of loose-leaf tobacco. Then they spread the word around the campground—and to any passing tourists:

One beer, one shot, one cigarette — One Dollar!

What a deal! Everyone was thrilled.

There wasn’t a real shot glass to be found, so enormous pours were served in a plastic cap that might’ve come from a can of shaving cream or spray deodorant. Nobody minded. You had to roll your own cigarette, too, but at that price, nobody complained. Some folks skipped the cigarette altogether, figuring a beer and a shot for a buck was already a steal.

It was a great time while it lasted—just a few hours—until the police showed up and shut it down.

Afterward, we tore the bar apart and tossed it on the bonfire.
The photo above is probably the only proof it ever existed.

[Originally posted on I'm Nacho Steppinstone, Apr. 15, 2004]

Mr. VooDoo

In junior high, my friend Mark and I jotted off hundreds of voodoo curse notes and placed them all over the school. Our intent was to weird people out. The text of the notes read, "You is cursed, says Mr. VooDoo," and was accompanied by a badly drawn skull with a few feathers sticking out of it.

"You is cursed," says Mr. VooDoo.

We'd slip these notes into students' textbooks, teachers' grade books, people's lockers, under staff coffee cups, and inside teachers' office mailboxes. All over the place.

Luckily, our 8th-grade teacher found it amusing and gave us a special mention at graduation for making something entertaining out of nothing. She said she’d crack up whenever she opened a book and one of those notes fell out.