Dave Fox's Outbursts!

'Tis the Season of the Lutefisk People

Man... write one tongue-in-cheek article about lutefisk and you end up all over the news. In addition to my aforementioned appearance today on the History Channel, I am also quoted in the Everett Herald this morning about Norway's biggest culinary catastrophe.

If you search for lutefisk on Google, my article is now the second page to come up, just below Wikipedia. And again this holiday season, I've received a slew of e-mails from the lutefisk people -- strangers who have found me on Google and have opinions to share.

Most of the lutefisk people are nice people. Many agree with my take on the evil fish. One troubled crank, however, wrote to me a couple of weeks ago that I have no right to call myself a Norwegian-American. "I'd have a book burning (of yours)" he wrote, "but that means I'd have to buy one."

Yowch! Get a grip, dude!

History Repeats Itself

In case you missed it when it first aired a couple of years ago, the History Channel is rerunning the holiday edition of the show, "Weird US," on which I was interviewed about the dubious Norwegian culinary concoction, lutefisk.

The show is scheduled to air on Christmas Eve at 11 a.m. and 5 p.m. (Though you might want to check your local listings for any time zone craziness.)

Best wishes for a lutefisk-free holiday, everybody!

How I Survived the Running of the Bulls

I have been keeping a secret.

My secret is that for many months, I have been making plans to do something very special this week. I have been making plans to participate in Pamplona, Spain’s legendary Running of the Bulls.

I decided to participate in the Running of the Bulls for personal reasons. I felt a need to challenge myself, to test my limits, and to fully taste how sweet and fragile life can be. I did not tell anyone I was participating in the event because, to be honest, I just didn’t want to deal with a lot of well-intended admonitions to “be careful.” I did not want to hear concerned but skeptical friends tell me I was not in good enough shape to participate in such an event.

So, secretly, I participated in yesterday’s Running of the Bulls.

Today, I am still alive, and unscarred.

At least seven people were gored yesterday. I am pleased to report that I was not one of them. I am fine.

The primary way I managed to keep myself safe during the event was that I took some basic safety precautions, the most important of which was that I participated in the Running of the Bulls by reading about it online from my hotel room here in Bergen, Norway. It is my understanding that some people actually go out into the streets of Pamplona -- while the bulls are running!! That is downright stupid. Those are some badass animals. No person in their right mind would tangle with them.

I was told that the main reason people participate in the Running of the Bulls is for the adrenaline rush. I felt that yesterday. My adrenaline was pumping after I looked at a picture of a medic trying to treat a gored runner. It was pumping because the medic had an expression on her face that was all, “Hey, this guy is, like, injured!” And I was thinking, “Duh! He stood in front of a bull! A bull with big-ass horns! That guy is a freaking idiot!”

I do not like idiots. They make me angry, and that gets my adrenaline pumping.

Last week, a group of Spanish women demanded that there should be a “Running of the Cows” for ladies and lady bovines. Yeah, okay, whatever. When I read about this proposal, I thought, “Maybe I will do that next year. Maybe I will participate in the Running of the Cows.” But apparently, the organizers want this to be a woman’s only event.

Okay, fine. I find your restrictions a bit ridiculous, but if you insist, I promise not to read the news that day.

Chocolate Easter Hostages

Iranian President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad has just announced he will release the 15 detained British sailors and marines who were captured in the Persian Gulf 12 days ago.

Ahmedinejad has said their release is a "gift" to the British people, in part because this Sunday is Easter, according to the Associated Press.

An Easter gift? How sweet. Maybe he'll throw in a chocolate bunny or some of those Cadbury Creme Eggs too.

Merry Christmas!

Breckenridge, Colorado

Yes, I realize the calendar says today is Groundhog’s Day; however I have finally made it to Colorado after the Evil Airline-Crippling Monster Blizzard of 2006 shut down Denver’s airport over Christmas.

Breckenridge is not experiencing a blizzard this week. It is, however, experiencing a high temperature today of two degrees Fahrenheit. That, you will be relieved to hear, is a balmy two degrees above zero.

For those of you who do not think in Fahrenheit, two degrees above zero Fahrenheit is equal to approximately 17 degrees below zero Kelvin. Add 30-mile-per-hour wind gusts into the equation, and you know what that means. It means sun or no sun, the groundhog is staying inside today and guzzling brandy. Colorado will therefore not experience spring until Mr. Groundhog sobers up, probably sometime in August.

In spite of the blowing snow, which seems to be specially programmed to blow in whatever direction I am facing, Breckenridge is having an international ice sculpture competition this week. The winner of the competition is a giant head –- a wrinkled old man, leaning his cheek against a curled fist. The name of the sculpture is “Old Man Winter.”

As I stood and admired the sculpture for a brief moment, I happened to notice one spot at the base that was not white like the rest of the carving. It was yellow. Somebody here is apparently not so happy with Old Man Winter.

An Important Holiday Safety Tip for Camel Owners

What happens if you bring a live camel to a Christmas party?

The camel's going to party!

(Duh!)

The staff at an equestrian school in Ireland decided their Christmas bash would not be complete without inviting Gus the Camel. Excellent plan! We all know you can't throw a holiday bash without a camel. But... oops... here's a helpful holiday tip for those of you who are thinking of inviting a camel to your festivities this holiday season: Do not leave your camel unattended.

Reuters reports that Gus got loose while the human attendees were all changing clothes, and he managed to scarf down 200 mince pies, plus a six-pack of Guinness, which he opened with his teeth. (I knew a guy in college who could do that.)

The problem: Gus is only 11 years old, which, even in Ireland, is not of legal drinking age.

On the Blog Again (With a Free Sneak Preview of My Book)

Wow... no blogging for three weeks. Why didnt somebody wake me up?

Having turned my book manuscript into my publisher, I decided I needed to go experience a foreign culture for a while. My book is about things that have gone awry in my foreign places. Most of the book takes place in Europe, which doesn't feel so foreign to me anymore, so I decided I needed to go have an intense anthropological experience in one of our planet's most bizarre cultures: Las Vegas.

That trip, plus some in-depth cultural experiences in doctors' offices (they say I am going to live) and the need to write absolutely nothing for a couple of weeks have led to a brief hiatus from blogging. I am back now, however. Stay tuned this weekend for a full report on Vegas, and the doctor's office.

This coming Wednesday, I am off to exotic Dayton, Ohio, for the Erma Bombeck Writers' Workshop, at which I intend to meekly stalk Dave Barry and whine that waking up for a 7:30 continental breakfast is extremely painful when you are on the east coast, but your brain is on west coast time.

Until I get my Vegas rants online, and in honor of St. Pat's Day today, I have just posted a sample chapter from my book on my main website about a close encounter with an Irish sheep. Enjoy!

And a reminder... you can still enter to win a free copy of my book when it comes out. I have extended the contest deadline to April 30 or the day the book goes on sale, whichever comes first. You'll find full details in my previous post.

Happy Nieuwejaar!

As I start writing this, it's 1:27 a.m. Pacific Time on January 1, 2006. I was supposed to be in bed 27 minutes ago. I am supposed to be awake in less than three hours.

My friend Marco is supposed to pick me up at 5 and drive me to the airport. I've been a believer in karma for a long time, and I'm not sure what I have done to deserve a friend who will drag is ass out of bed at 4:45 a.m. on January 1 to drive me to the airport. Whatever it was, I can't remember doing it. I must have been drunk.

My flight leaves Seatac Airport at 7:10 a.m. I change planes in Washington, DC, at Dulles Airport, where I was just five days ago, and arrive in Amsterdam at 6:55 a.m. January 2. It will be my first trip to Europe, purely for vacation purposes, in three years.

I was going to try to come up with witty banter about life in 2005, but that's been overdone on TV tonight. Plus, I really should go sleep for a few minutes, so I will spare you.

Happy New Year everybody!

Merry Christmas, Damn It!

I can't believe I am going to side with the so-called Religious Right on an issue, but I am going to.

If you are a regular reader of this blog, you know that I am an ultra-liberal commie scum. Furthermore, I am a big fan of cultural diversity, respecting each other, blah blah fucking blah.... In addition to that, on paper, I am hardly the sort of person who would campaign for a pro-Christian agenda. I was raised by a Lutheran mother and a Jewish father who compromised and took me and my brother to a Unitarian church on Sundays. For personal reasons, I stopped considering myself Unitarian in my late teens. Now I am Taoist -- a Chinese religion that does not celebrate Christmas, or Hannukah, or Kwanzaa, or Ramadan, or Divali, or Groundhog Day. We have nothing against the aforementioned holidays. We just don't celebrate them. At least not in a spiritual sense.

What Taoists do believe in, among other things, is that there are many different spiritual paths one can follow, and most of them are good. Each of us finds what works for us. If it makes us a better person, it's a good thing.

But in 2005, celebrating Christmas has become evil among a vocal group of touchy-feely do-gooders who think they are promoting cultural sensitivity by calling for an end to Christmas celebrations in public. What they really are calling for is a watering down of all cultures and all religions to the extent that nobody is free to express themselves anymore. We can't talk about Santa in public schools. We can't sing about Rudolph, lest we offend somebody whose religion does not believe in flying reindeer with fluorescent red noses.

Here's a newsflash, people: Santa Claus is not a religious leader! He is no more Christian than the Tooth Fairy! Singing songs about a guy with a beard who brings us presents is not favoring Christianity over Judiasm, Islam, or Taoism. It's Santa, damn it! I'm not Christian but I think Santa rocks! He brought me chocolate and some groovy David Sedaris audiobooks tonight! And you know what that proves? It proves that he loves me even though I am Taoist!

I feel genuinely sorry for people who have so much boredom in their lives that they have turned Christmas celebrations into something insensitive and evil. Christmas is a fun holiday to celebrate, regardless of whether you follow the religion behind the holiday. We get presents. We eat cookies. And I respect most of the world's religions, whether I agree with them or not, but I will say that anybody who is spiritually opposed to presents and cookies must be living a sad, sad life. The higher power I believe in wants us to be happy.

So Merry Christmas. And Happy Hannukah. And if you celebrate other religious holidays, may they too bring you the Peace you seek and deserve. As a non-Christian who just had a damn good Christmas Eve, I feel a need to stand up in support of public expression of this holiday.

If you agree with me, please send me presents.

How high can you jump when you’re lying down?

On the ms Amsterdam, en route from New Caledonia to Fiji

It’s Wednesday evening in Seattle, but on this side of the International Date Line, it’s already Thanksgiving afternoon.

The ship’s crew celebrated Thanksgiving with a fire drill. It was a crew-only drill. Passengers did not have to participate. This morning, Gary, the cruise director, made an announcement that we could ignore the alarm that was about to sound.

It was 10:30 a.m. local time – a reasonable enough hour for a fire drill, I suppose, but we had sailed across a time zone during the night. On my body’s clock, it was only 9:30, and, having stayed awake writing past 1 a.m., I was still in bed when the announcement roused me from my slumber.

I grumbled, rolled over in bed, and fell halfway back asleep.

What happened next was… well… let’s just say if there ever is a real fire on this ship, I don’t have to worry about sleeping through the alarm. A lot of passengers on board have reached an age where their hearing isn’t what it used to be, and the fire alarm volume is set accordingly. I’ve worried for years that I might have damaged my hearing as a teenager, mowing lawns and listening to my Walkman simultaneously, but apparently I didn’t damage my hearing enough. The next thing I knew, I was having to peel myself off the ceiling of my state room.

I’ve spent Thanksgiving still trying to wrap my brain around this Date Line thing. The mats in the ship's elevators actually show the day of the week so we don't get confused. I wrote last week that I was losing a Friday and gaining a Thursday on this trip… but that would have meant a double Thanksgiving. I was wrong. I’m actually gaining a Saturday instead, which sort of gives me an extra three-day weekend, except that I have been told, “Dave, we need you to lecture on the first November 26th.”

I’m just trying to figure out… now that airplanes can stay aloft for 24 hours at a time, what would happen if you just kept flying around the world eastbound with minimal fueling stops, gaining a day each 24 hours? Or for that matter, what if you just ran in circles, around and around the South Pole, crossing the International Date Line every few minutes? Could you have a 200-day-long Saturday?