Dave Fox's Outbursts!

Pac Man Returns

Turner Broadcasting System has just announced it will release new downloadable versions of classic video games such as Pac Man.

The company, owned by millionaire Ted Turner, also operates Turner Classic Movies. TCM has colorized everything from vintage Porky Pig cartoons to legendary films like Casablanca and It's a Wonderful Life.

There's no word yet on whether they plan to colorize Asteroids and Pong.

Stop the Plane! I Want to Get Off!

The world's largest passenger jet made its maiden voyage today in France, and I'm scared. The new Airbus A380 has seats for 555 passengers. That's not counting screaming infants in their parents' laps.

I make a couple of trans-Atlantic round trips each year for work. If you're seated in the back rows, once you land after your 10-hour flight, you must wait approximately 10 more hours before you can leave the aircraft. How long is it going to take to board and deplane 555 passengers?

Engineer Fernando Alonso told CNN the ride was "extremely comfortable." He added, "I sincerely believe there's a hell of a lot of potential in this airplane."

Or the potential for a lot of hell. Of course Alonso said the plane was comfortable; he helped build it. He was one of only six passengers on board. I'd like to see him try another flight with the other 499 seats occupied.

If that doesn't scare you, this will: According to the Associated Press, a handrail leads from the cockpit to an emergency exit so the pilots can bail if they lose control. On the first flight, all six people on board were required to wear parachutes.

Airbus is bragging that its new double-decker jets will contain double beds, cocktail bars and massage parlors. Lovely. More business class amenities I can't afford. On a plane this size, you could open up a Walmart, but they'd drive the individual flight attendants out of business. 

Nerudawakening: The Art of Seduction Without Getting Slapped

I was having dinner recently at Olive You, a brilliant new Mediterranean cafe down the street from me. Timur, the owner, is from Istanbul. I taught English in Turkey many years ago, so he and I have become pals.

Timur asked me a couple of weeks ago if I was married. I told him no.

"You have to read poetry," he advised me. "Women love that. Memorize some poems by Pablo Neruda and recite them. They'll be all over you."

I have never read anything by Pablo Neruda. But just now, I spent approximately seven seconds on the Internet doing some in-depth research about him. Here is the first stanza from one of Neruda's poems, entitled, "Carnal apple, woman filled, burning moon":

Carnal apple, Woman filled, burning moon,
dark smell of seaweed, crush of mud and light,
what secret knowledge is clasped between your pillars?
What primal night does Man touch with his senses?

Okay, so I'm trying to imagine what it would be like to ask a woman, "What secret knowledge is clasped between your pillars?" I am picturing myself struggling to get the words out with a straight face. I am then picturing the woman's hand, slapping me hard across my straight face.

Here's the first stanza from another poem by Neruda:

Unclothed, you are true, like one of your hands,
lissome, terrestrial, slight, complete, translucent,
with curves of moon, and paths of apple-wood:
Unclothed you are as slender as a nude ear of corn.

Having recently been dumped by someone who told me she liked me but there "just wasn't a spark," I have to wonder, if I had told her she was as slender as a nude ear of corn, might that have made a difference?

So I'm taking a poll. Actually, two polls -- one for female readers and one for male readers. (These questions assume you have a romantic attraction to people of the opposite sex. If that's not your thing, answer whatever questions you want to answer, however they may apply. Or go watch Spongebob.)

Poll for Women:

1. If a man who you were not seriously involved with started reciting poetry by Pablo Neruda in an effort to win your affection, would you
   a) Swoon
   b) Break a rib from laughing so hard
   c) Slap him
   d) All of the above
2. Would it make a difference if the man was a charming Turk with a seductive accent, versus a dorkish humor writer with a passion for rubber duckies?

Poll for Men:

1. Have you ever recited poetry to a woman in an effort to win her affection?
2. How much did it hurt when she slapped you?
3. No, really. Drop the macho bullshit. How much did it hurt?

Please post your replies in the "comments" area below.

An Open Letter to my Next Door Neighbors

Dear SUV-driving scum who live in the building next door to me,

I try not to be judgemental about people who drive shiny new $30,000 vehicles that trash our environment. Just because I can't afford a gas guzzling monster like yours, who am I to judge? But if you have the money for such a shiny new set of wheels -- so new it still has temporary license tags -- do you really have to be so cheap as to steal flowers from my garden? Seriously... you could buy some flowers across the street for four dollars.

Then, when I chased you down yesterday to confront you about it, you replied with the most dumb-assed of responses: "Oh... are they your flowers?"

They sure as hell aren't on your property. Did the fence that divides my garden from your driveway, the fence you reached under to pick the flowers, not clue you into that?

Who were the flowers for? Your boyfriend? Yourself? Do they make you happy when you look at them now, knowing you yanked them out of someone else's yard?

Next time I need a new set of windshield wiper blades, I know where to find them.

Why I Never Read the Owner's Manual

Here are some extremely helpful, actual quotes from the owner's manual of my car:

• "If someone's neck, head, or hands gets caught in a closing window, it could result in a serious injury."
• "Keep the trunk lid closed while driving. This not only keeps the luggage from being thrown out, but also prevents exhaust gases from entering the vehicle."
• "When adjusting the seat, be careful that the seat does not hit a passenger or luggage."
• "After adjusting the seatback, exert body pressure to make sure it is locked in position."
• "Avoid inhaling the engine exhaust."
• "When jacking, be sure to observe the following to reduce the possibility of personal injury: Follow jacking instructions."
• "Be careful not to splash water or spill liquid on the floor. This may prevent the side airbags from activating correctly."
• "Be careful not to lock your keys in the vehicle."
• "Turn the 'TONE' knob to adjust the tone."
• "If the engine will not start, see 'If your vehicle will not start.'"
• "To turn on the flashers, push the switch."
• "To cool off your Toyota after it has been parked in the hot sun, drive with the windows open for a few minutes."

We're All Going to Die!

I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but we are all going to die. You. Me. The raccoon that keeps knocking over your garbage can. All of us.

I feel a need to clarify this reality because over and over, I keep reading news articles, such as this one from the Associated Press:

"Packing on the pounds is not nearly as deadly as the government thought, according to a new calculation from the CDC that found people who are modestly overweight actually have a lower risk of death than those of normal weight."

A lower risk of death? No. The risk of dying is the same for all of us. It's when it happens that varies.

Stop Killian the Band!

I went to see the Young Dubliners play Sunday night at Fadó, an Irish pub in Seattle. The Young Dubs are a high energy Celtic folk-rock band that mixes traditional Irish fiddling with screaming guitars and drums. When the band came on stage, they all came out with bottles of Killian's Irish Red beer.

"Why," I wondered, "would such a cool band drink such a lame beer?" Killian's is brewed by the American megabrewery, Coors, and tastes like the same watered down sewage as most mass-produced American beers.

I wasn't the only person who had this thought. Halfway through the set, another worried fan bought a pint of Guinness for lead singer Keith Roberts. That's when the truth came out. Roberts confessed that he is not allowed to drink anything but Killian's on stage because the band has a sponsorship agreement with Coors.

Beergate wasn't the only problem with the show. Fadó was a lousy venue. The room where Fadó has live music was a little too cozy. There is no stage, and nothing to seperate the band from rowdy fans like me. I was standing directly in front of the fiddle player, and practically had his bow up my left nostril. (I'm sure he was more traumatized than I was.) The room contains several fake trees. Or they might be real trees, but they're dead and laquered. One such tree was right in the middle of the makeshift "stage," making it impossible for the lead singer and guitarist to see the bass and fiddle players. No matter where you stood, even in the front row, there was an obstructed view.

"Why," I wondered, "would such a cool band play in such a cramped setting?"

I think my friend Dan figured it out on the drive home. He noted that Fadó, which is part of a chain of mass-produced Irish-style pubs across America, is one of the only Irish pubs that would stoop to the level of selling Killian's "Irish" red.

The show itself was brilliant, and the band dealt with their meager venue with their usual sense of Irish humo(u)r. And standing a mere 18 inches away from one of my favorite fiddle players while he performed was a treat. I was relieved to see, after the clandestine pint of Guinness sat untouched on the stone floor for most of the show, that Roberts discreetly chugged it near the end of his set. The band's got taste. They just need better sponsors.

Recommended CDs by the Young Dubliners:

• Red
• Absolutely
• Real World
• Breathe

Buy My Car Before I'm Famous!

It's the end of an era. I am selling my precious little 1992 Mazda 323.  It's an ultra-reliable car with a mere 75,000 miles on it, and it's been very well maintained.

The price is $2,200. If you live in the Seattle area and are interested, drop me an e-mail at and I'll fill you in on the details. (You can click the thumbnail to the right for a larger version of the photo.)

It's been a nifty little automobile, and once I become famous, it could quintuple in value. Who knows? Are you a writer needing inspiration? Buy this car! It has provided me fodder for two different humor articles:

• Attack of the Horny Goblins (The horn has since been fixed!)
• Driving Miss Crazy

Wasted Space

A three-man crew docked with the international space station this morning to relieve the two-man Russian and American team that's been living in space for the last six months.

Cosmonaut Salizhan Sharipov welcomed the new arrivals with a traditional Russian offering of bread and salt. The newcomers brought fresh vegetables from Earth for the two who have been working at the space station.

Okay, so let's get one thing straight: When I become the first travel writer in outer space, and I invite you to come visit me after six months, do not waste precious cargo space bringing me vegetables. I want a case of beer and some Gammel Dansk, or nobody's allowed to visit.

I'm Too Sexy for my Hair

This flagrantly egotistical photo of moi is here for the benefit of my friend Beth, president of the New York Chapter of the Dave the Fox Fan Club. Beth is too far away to see my spiffy new bleach job in person, which I swear is not the result of booze-influenced bad judgement.

No, really. I swear.

It is NOT!

Shut up!