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The Electronics Cranny: Using the 2441 Dual Tetrode on 657 Mc.

July 2, 2014 Leave a comment
By Fritz Tennis Electronics Expert

By Fritz Tennis Electronics Expert

The fellow who wanted to put more than a couple of watts on 657 Mc. had little in the way of tubing choice until recently. There were only a few transmitting tubes on the market that could handle the job and prices for these began at around $89,000. That’s why introduction of the Type 2441 Dual Tetrode by the recently-founded RCS (Royer Communications Services) should help promote more use of the 657-Mc. band, as this new tube can be bought for considerably less than anything we’ve had available previously.

“I don’t know anything about that fucking shit,” said RCS founder Ric Royer, when we asked him about the 2441. He later apologized. “I’m in a bad mood fellows, I admit it,” he explained. We probed. “Well,” said Royer, holding back tears, “they recently issued a new porcelain illuminated snow village model and it sold out within seconds. I was too late to acquire it. I cried and screamed for two hours yesterday without satisfaction.” Royer began blubbering and we ended the interview prematurely.

The 2441 is designed especially for mobile service and is a natural for use in amateur work. “I installed the 2441 in my wireless set,” noted ham operator Jerry Rangos of the Lankville Eastern Forest Area. “I was able to receive a signal all the way from the Lankville Polar Regions– check it out!” Rangos attempted to reach the polar regions as we looked on but failed. We told him he was a liar and pushed over an oscillating fan in protest.

Still, there can be no doubt that the 2441 will efficiently boost operation on the 657-Mc. band. We will endeavor to show our readers how to install the new tube, allow for forced-air cooling and create proper shielding for the tube from harmful elements.

Getting Started

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Figure 1: Tetrodes Diagram.

First off, you will want to make sure that provision is made for complete enclosure of the tubes and circuits. This serves two purposes: it provides a path for circulation of cooling air and holds downward moving deep radiation from the tank circuits. If you are concerned about radiation, then this may not be the project for you– only true radio cowboys ride bareback, as the saying goes. Get yourself a little pink transistor and an umbrella and go sit on a little beach if you’re still scared.

You will now want to fit the main chassis with a bottom cover.  Use a flat plate of sheet aluminum, a perforated metal cover or just get some of those tomato cages from the backyard and bend them around the chassis.  The mounting screws should be held in place on the fittings with nuts and then other nuts on the outside of the chassis should hold the fittings into position (consult figure 1 for further details).

Drop in your new 2441 dual tetrode about 1 3/8 inch from the right nuts.  The tripler plate tuning capacitors should now began to hum and vibrate. Beware though: if the vibration is too intense (due to improper calibration), the tube will shimmy against the nuts and bust.  “Probably the most common error I’ve seen in installation of the 2441,” said electronics dealer Keith Hernandez, owner of K.H. Radio Supplies in Lankville City.  “Most people end up coming back for a second 2441 because they have get so excited about the tube that they don’t take the proper care necessary for calibration.  I can imagine it being very frustrating; fortunately, that has not happened to me because I knew that calibration would have to come first before the fun that I knew I’d have,” the sanctimonious Hernandez noted.

Putting the Rig on the Air

When all stages have been adjusted correctly, the plate voltage may be increased to 300 on all stages.  There is no great advantage to increasing to 350 or 400 as there is nothing to be gained from pushing your new tube excessively– allow it to warm up and adjust to your antenna system.  Once this occurs, announce loudly to your fellow hams that you have are on the air.  Consider adding a top-quality crystal microphone with a frequency response of 10,000 cycles.  It will completely drown out other hams who will subsequently be inspired to install their own 2441’s!  Add a bandswitching machine so nobody will know where you are!  Add a voice modulator so that you sound like a spooky ghost!

Most of all, just have fun!

Categories: Electronics Cranny Tags: ,

Funny Stories by Dick Oakes, Jr.: Murder on the Southern Limited

June 24, 2014 Leave a comment
By Dick Oakes, Jr.

By Dick Oakes, Jr.

 

I had won a little money at cards so I bought a sleeper car ticket on the Southern Limited.

It was a tiny fourth class room with a window and two cots. The guy opposite me was wearing a crumpled suit. I had had an awful lot of beer, so I kept having to get up during the night to piss. Every time I did, just as I was about to close the sliding door into the corridor, the guy ripped his pants off suddenly.

After a couple hours of this, I grew weary. I hesitated to get back into my cot, hesitated to touch anything. Around 3AM, the porter brought a bucket of small pizzas. He said, “Look, fellows. Small pizzas. They’re just like regular pizzas only smaller. They have all the rudimentary ingredients of a pizza, they are standard in every other conceivable way, it’s just that they are smaller. They are diminutive pizzas.” He paused and fingered the brass buttons of his uniform. “Please fill out the proper forms once you’ve finished.”

The Southern Limited.

The Southern Limited.

When he was finally gone, my bunkmate leaped onto the buckets and devoured the pizzas handily. I allowed it; I figured on it being his last meal. When he was almost done, he started to slowly unzip his pants. That’s when I brained him.

I crept out into the corridor and waited for the next stop. It was another empty station, another dimly-lit, dead mill town. There was a sign that said Welcome to Heaves and a smaller, faded sign for the Koala Bears and Walnuts Club. Eventually, I came upon a country line store. I fell asleep in a rocking chair on the porch.

I was nudged awake by a hairless man; he was seven foot tall if he was an inch. He told me that I had to buy something and he had the meat to back it up. It was then that I realized my wallet was gone.

He put me to work repairing the rusted corrugated shingles of the porch roof. He called me down for lunch and I ate some small pizzas out of a bucket in the merciless sun. I was so exhausted that I did not question the recent preponderance of small pizzas. It was late evening when he finally let me go. “In the name of all that is decent, you should be dead,” he said. He handed me a bottle and some highly-compressed hams in a paper bag and sent me on my way.

I wandered into town. There was another closed feed store but I stayed away from it. Went around back to sleep in the waving fields of alfalfa. It was there that I found Zelda and things changed forever.

Categories: Funny Stories by Dick Oakes, Jr. Tags: ,

Royer Changes Name to “Frater-Xerxes”

June 24, 2014 Leave a comment
By Larry "God" Peters

By Larry “God” Peters

 

 

Eccentric Lankville business magnate Ric Royer announced today that he has changed his name to “Frater-Xerxes”.

Frater Xerxes' ( Ric Royer's) most recent mental institution portrait.

Frater Xerxes’  (Ric Royer’s) most recent mental institution portrait.

“I’m set with Frater-Xerxes now,” announced Royer, from a rural mountain carnival somewhere in the Lankville Mountain District. “It’s a process guys, it’s a process.”

Royer was unsure of the historical origins of the name.  “It was given to me by a magical mountain sage who I met while buying a rubber raincoat.  When he came up to me, the raincoat burst spontaneously into flames,” noted the Frater.  “I knew then that I would follow him.”

The Frater is using the carnival as a test-run for his new pretzel and frosted nut kiosks, set to begin operation in Lankille-area malls during the winter.

“We’ll start up here, feeding people who don’t matter,” said the Frater, who was clad in a strange brown robe with a see-through outer jacket made of wire and trash bags. “I can test my machines easier here and if anything happens to any of these customers, then it’s just a matter of dragging their lifeless corposes into the woods. There’s not a lot of people horning around, asking troublesome questions here. The air is fresh and God-like and there is no burden. Seed spilled into the ground will turn into a mighty tree.”

The Frater was then asked about his controversial mall retail space/home.

“It’s glorious, full of wonders. We have been through a lot this year and…”

(The interview had to be ended when the uneven legs of the Frater’s picnic table caused an extra-large soda to spill on the ground. No one helped the Frater and there was an interminable period of deep confusion and darkness).

Categories: Lankville Action News: YES! Tags: ,

Funny Stories by Dick Oakes, Jr.: Third Class into the Western Sun

June 12, 2014 1 comment
By Dick Oakes, Jr.

By Dick Oakes, Jr.

 

I told the guy at the ticket office to get me on a car as soon as possible. He dallied a bit, played for a few minutes with a paddle-ball game, then shoved a third-class ticket on the Lankville Western Limited into my hand.  Departure time: 45 minutes.

I wandered into the station and picked out three nature photography magazines. Some tard came up and pressed a little cardboard box into my hand. It read, “FOR THE LARGE MAN”.

“What the hell is this?”
“Open it…jus’…open it up,” he said. He guffawed uncontrollably between the words.

It was a rubber that looked like it was made for a horse.

“Idn’t that…idn’t that real funny?” he said. He wandered off. I looked at the guy at the ticket office. He shrugged his shoulders.

We boarded an hour later. I noticed that the tard was in my car and this worried me. There was also a furtive Islander in a suit, this worried me further. I figured on getting off at the next stop.

Typical transload shed for humus and peat.

Typical transload shed for humus and peat.

It was a lonely country station and the sun was about to go down. It was just me and a cute piece of blonde trash that got off– the tard and the Islander stayed on. There was a guy sweeping the floor inside.

“Where’s there to go here?” I asked.

He thought a minute.
“There’s a transload shed for humus and peat down the road.”
“I don’t figure on them having a bed to sleep in, do you?”
“Naw. Guess not.”

Jackass I thought. I contemplated punching him suddenly in the gut but the piece of blonde trash was there and I didn’t want to cause a scene.

It was a dirt road that led into a tired old mill town. The piece of blonde trash followed about 50 yards behind me. I felt that we were both walking into a burning western sun and that neither of us would ever be forgiven. But when I next looked behind me, I saw that the piece of blonde trash was on a porch, far in the distance, being greeting lovingly by two elderly lesbians. Everybody has somebody but me I thought.

I walked back to the station and punched the attendant in the gut.

Then I felt a little better.

Categories: Funny Stories by Dick Oakes, Jr. Tags: ,

Belvedere Mauled by Bear

June 12, 2014 Leave a comment
By Grady Kitchens Senior Staff Writer

By Grady Kitchens
Senior Staff Writer

 

LANKVILLE ACTION NEWS, YES!

Lankville Daily News columnist Brock Belvedere, Jr. was badly mauled by a bear Wednesday evening in the cafeteria at the Lankville Memorial Discount Zoo in the Western Valley Area. Belvedere is currently in critical condition.

Zoo officials stated that the bear entered the cafeteria via an access doorway that was accidentally left ajar.  He immediately attacked the 52-year old journalist.

"Bundles", 2005-2014

“Bundles”, 2005-2014

“He [Mr. Belvedere] was eating alone and “Bundles” had somehow climbed out of our historical bear pit, went up a stairway into the cafeteria unnoticed and just got all up in Mr. Belvedere’s cranny,” noted zoo official Rance Keepers.  “Fortunately, pretty much all of our patrons were carrying guns and they shot Bundles dead.”

The Lankville Bureau of Probes has already opened an investigation.

“Obviously, we’ve had a number of problems with the Lankville Memorial Discount Zoo,” noted lead prober Detective Gee-Temple. “You have the President [Dr. Pondicherry] being eaten by a lion, you have the incident a few years back with Ric Royer getting his arm stuck in a trash receptacle shaped like a lion’s head, you have that terrible zoo peeper that used to hang from trees. Clearly, an investigation is warranted.”

Belvedere is being treated at Vitiello Decorative Hams hospital.

“We may have to do some surgery,” said Dr. Alvin Parrish, who was interviewed by telephone. “His head is basically off. I mean, it’s still on but really it’s about off. I think bears like to eat heads the best and that’s what we’re seeing here today, Grady.”

Belvedere has been a senior staff writer for the News since 1979.

Categories: Lankville Action News: YES! Tags: , ,

I Have Created a Members-Only Rare Sticker Database

June 11, 2014 3 comments
By John Chubbucks Sticker Expert

By John Chubbucks Sticker Expert

 

I have created a members-only rare sticker database.  It’s $39.99 a month to join.

What do you get for that money?  Only the single greatest rare sticker database in the world that has ever and will ever be created.

I have classified all rare stickers according to a lettering system of my own creation followed by binary code.  For example, the very rare 1975 Buntz Mallows’ Richard and the Postman set is known as PPHX-110001. Each individual sticker in the set (there are 12 known to exist) are thus identified as PPHX-110001-1, PPHX-110002 and so on and so forth.  I only identify those stickers adhering to the MINT IN WRAPPER Chubbucks condition rating.  Everything below that grade is crap.

Using this code, you will be able to find every rare sticker known to mankind as well as comprehensive data on the sticker’s production, release date, distribution details and a photo of front and back.  You will find AT MINIMUM three paragraphs on the type of adhesive used.  Exact measurements are included.  There is no greater resource in the known world.

I have been working on this database (in addition to my numerous other projects) since 1989 so you can be sure I have exhausted all known, secondary resources.  My bibliography is impeccable, beyond reproach.

You can pay by check by sending $39.99 each month to John Chubbucks, c/o Linda Chubbucks, 268 Spoons Road, Eastern Lankville or by PayBuddy at chubbucksstickergod.spummail.net.  Make checks out to CASH.

You won’t be disappointed.

Categories: Contests, Offers, Challenges Tags: ,

The Electronics Cranny: So You Want to Be a Ham

June 10, 2014 1 comment
By Fritz Tennis Electronics Expert

By Fritz Tennis Electronics Expert

Long ago, the only requirement for obtaining the lowest level amateur radio operator license (Ham Class) was being able to pass a five words-per-minute Morses Code Test. Still, many people failed even this. In fact, the code test kept many an aspiring Ham from ever even taking the test. Many died, lonely and fat, in dark, spare, curtain-less rooms, unable to even bring themselves to look out at the world which fully recognized their abject failure. It was a sad period.

But as time has marched on, it has become significantly easier. “It’s a reasonably simple test now,” noted Lankville Communications Commission (LCC) associate Lance Heath. “We dropped the code requirement and instituted the 35-question true/false written test. We also don’t really monitor the test very closely so there’s an awful lot of cheating. Probably something we should look into.” Heath yawned expansively and began staring mindlessly at a series of binders that lined his window ledge.

By means of helping the hopeful ham acquire his license (and also become familiar with some of the basic questions of operation), I will outline some of the most frequently asked questions below.

 

Q.  What is the best way to measure frequency drift on a transceiver?
A. The best way is with a small, low-cost frequency counter. Be sure not to limit to one band and be sure to extend your arms outwards far in front of you and from a high window if possible. Wave the counter up and down and then move it in circles. Make sure it’s daytime and some people are around, watching you as you hang out of the window with your counter– this will significantly help your readings.

Q. How can I get a more uniform response from a pair of magnetic headphones having a dc resistance of around 4000?

Figure One

Figure One

A. Common problem. Refer to figure one.  You’ll notice that Lamp No. 40 requires a miniature screw compared to a bayonet.  This is what we see happening time and again and there seems to be no end to it.  

Q.  How do you know if your cables are any good?
A. The best way is to buy a large, specialized device available by mail from the Electronics Cranny. It reads in the thousands of megaohms and will be able to tell immediately if you are working with faulty cables. If you want to be cut-rate about it, then use a scope. If a scope is not available or if someone crushed yours in a challenge, then a VTVM set at the highest range might work.

Q. What is a good study guide for the Ham license?
A. Ham License Guide Today is a very good reference marred only by the strange inclusion of a series of lewd photographs of the author. Fritz Tennis’ You Too Can Be a Ham Right Now, Everybody! is probably the most up-to-date publication on the subject as the author edits it continually late at night while his sexless wife snores loudly in the next room. Other manuals or guides may not be revised sufficiently to include the latest changes in the LLC exams.

Q. Once I get my license, will I be allowed to broadcast my own version of the news?
A. Absolutely not. The LCC strictly forbids you from communicating with anyone other than fellow hams. Broadcasting news, playing music, or cussing of any kind will cost you all of your ham equipment and likely a fine and some time in jail. “Yeah, we have a little van to go after those guys,” noted Heath, who had fallen asleep while staring at the binders. “Do that and it’s possible that we could show up at your door.”

Hopefully, this will help you on your way.  Good luck!

Categories: Electronics Cranny Tags: ,

A Review of New Soft Toys for Girls

June 6, 2014 1 comment
By Ida Rumpus

By Ida Rumpus

 

 

The summer soft toy season is upon us and Lankville-area retailers have seen an onslaught of new products. “We’ve been privy to a panoply of soft toys for girls arriving pretty much daily,” noted Dick Splace, owner of The Toy Recovery Bargain Center in Eastern Lankville.  “Sometimes, the trucks just back right into our loading bay in a sort of haphazard manner and just drop all the toys unpacked in a sort of sudden confusing eruption; a sort of salvo of soft toys,” added Splace.  “We have been very busy cleaning up these unregulated blasts of toy shots that just end up all over the parking lot and…in the grass…”  Splace suddenly became very hysterical and had to be led away.

Let’s have a look now at some of this summer’s best offerings.

CUDDLY PLAYTHINGS

"The Panda Creep"

“The Panda Creep” by Cuddly Playthings

The Cuddly Playthings Company is based in Northern Lankville and operates a 265-acre factory and warehouse producing 750,000 items daily.  “I’d say our best new offering is “The Panda Creep,” noted Founder and CEO Kevin Pans.  “Have a look at the strange expression on his face.  Might be friendly, might be sort of apathetic and then again, might be an absolute creep.  Who knows?  I don’t.”  “The idea behind the Panda Creep is mystery,” noted its creator Jenny Wockenfuss.  “You really can’t be sure what you’re getting.  Each expression is exactly identical.  I think it’s a good life lesson and parents seem to agree.” Indeed they do, as the Panda Creep has sold over 100,000 units in its first month alone.  “Ours ended up being a creep,” said a local mother who asked to remain anonymous.  “And then the second one we bought ended up being a creep too.  But the third one has been a real sweetheart and my daughter loves him.  It’s definitely her favorite toy of the year!”

SCHOENFELD HOUSE

The Large-Eyed Stuffed Owl by Schoenfeld House

The Large-Eyed Stuffed Owl by Schoenfeld House

The Schoenfeld House is one of Lankville’s oldest soft girl toy manufacturers, founded in 1897.  “Our original office was old Mr. Schoenfeld’s house in Southern Lankville,” stated CEO Barry Barrasso, aged 45.  “He made senseless wooden toys until 1899, then he switched over to soft and we’ve been riding that wave ever since.”  The Schoenfeld House now exclusively produces and markets large-eyed soft owls.  “Definitely a niche market but a good one,” Barrasso noted, after taking a short break to eat from a sopping, over-sauced container of ethnic food.  “You won’t find another maker of large-eyed soft owls in Lankville or anywhere else for that matter,” added Barrasso, who pushed a packet of papers in our direction for reasons unclear.

Gino Orr is the large-eyed soft owl’s current designer.  “I started out drawing owls on placemats which are a sort of laminated, rectangular flat object that you can place before you when you eat and which sort of absorbs a lot of the gobbing,” Orr informed.  “I think that Mr. Barrass [sic] saw my drawings and liked them and we met at a motel and really hashed out the whole idea of a more modern design for the large-eyed owl– a design that would be more updated for the current century.  So, that’s what you’re seeing today.”

The large-eyed soft owl has sold 45,000 units in May and June alone.

 

WORLDS OF ROYER

The "Fire Cat" by Worlds of Royer

The “Fire Cat” by Worlds of Royer

Even oft-incarcerated Lankville business magnate and sports team owner Ric Royer has cast his lot in with the girls soft toy craze this season, creating the “Worlds of Royer” company, a subsidiary of his many other endeavors.  Royer, who was interviewed in his shuttered mall retail space/home, outlined his headliner soft toy for the summer season.

“It’s called “The Fire Cat”.”  Royer screamed and then paused to allow us to take everything in.  “Look at it over there on my shelf.  It has its head tilted in that loving, deliciously cute manner but it’s also capable of existing easily, even flourishing within the terrible subterranean confines of Hell.”

Royer displayed “The Fire Cat’s” accessories, sold separately.

“You can buy a little soft food dish, a water bowl or these gigantic soft fires that represent the hideous conflagrations of Hell.”  Indeed, the plush fires come in sizes of five to ten feet.  “They should be mammoth,” Royer added.  “As vast and colossal as the raging flames of Hell.  But my advisers mentioned that it would be difficult to sell twenty or thirty foot tall stuffed flames.  So we made them more to scale.”

Royer, who suddenly became frightened of the stuffed flames and the Fire Cat, let roar an unstoppable scream and the interview had to be ended prematurely.

The “Fire Cat” has sold 22,000 units since late April.

 

With all these fantastic new soft girl toys for summer, we can only wait with baited breath for what Lankville’s toy concerns will be offering in the Fall.

Categories: Contests, Offers, Challenges Tags: , , ,

Royer’s Madcap Experiences: The Cannibal of Orion

June 5, 2014 1 comment
By Ric Royer

By Ric Royer

I sat in the Jew’s cluttered second-floor office above a furniture store. He threw a plane ticket at me.

“Go down to this place, Orion,” he said, as he sipped loudly from a desk-sized barrel of soda. “They got a lot of these big bovine girls down there. These big, dumb, cow-eyed girls that’ll do anything for a buck. Take a camera.”

I spit on his floor upon leaving. I knew the Jew hated that.

Orion International “Friends” Airport was a dot on the map. There was a little restaurant that served me an absolutely deplorable meal of boiled chicken, toast and a plate of mysterious peanuts. It was all they had.

I left no tip.

I drove on out to Dr. Coombs’ house where I’d be staying for a few weeks. He had a dilapidated mansion on the outskirts of town, encircled by a dense grove of dying fruit trees. There was an office on the first floor and a small waiting room. There was a secretary at a desk filling out forms.

I waited awhile. There were a couple of old magazines, a paperback called Demon Experiences of Many Lands and an asinine little book of proverbs. Finally, the frosted glass office door opened up and a man wearing a giant orthopedic shoe walked out. I laughed loudly, suddenly. The man sauntered off.

Dr. Coombs invited me into the office. It was paneled in ersatz wood.

Orion is known for its lovely park. But they also had a cannibal there.

Orion is known for its lovely park. But they also had a cannibal there.

“Would you like an examination for free?” he asked, strangely.

“Skip it.”

“What will you be doing here in our little town?” he asked, after offering me a chair.

“Just checking out the local talent. Maybe do a few spreads for a magazine up north.”

He leaned back reflectively. “We value our women here, Mr. Pantwheat (that was the fake name I had given him). I should warn you that there will be many an angry father, many an angry sensuous lover after you if you try to perpetrate such a scheme.”

“I’ll take my chances.” I almost added “asshole” at the end but decided against it.

“Alright. You’ve been warned.”

We were nearly to the office door (indeed, the doctor had turned the knob and cracked it slightly) when he suddenly closed it and led me over to the window. He looked about surreptitiously.

“I should tell you that there is a cannibal on the loose in Orion.”

“What?”

“There’s a cannibal loose. It’s kind of being kept a secret, however, so don’t say anything.”

And with that, I was ushered up to my room.

It was on the second floor and towards the back, overlooking part of the dying grove and part of an enclosed patio that appeared to have been sans rumpus for quite some time. The wood benches were shockingly grey with age and the small charcoal grill had been overturned and left to rust in a small chasm filled with impure rainwater.

I had only a moment then to take stock of the room. There was an unassuming bureau topped with a lace throw and a bed a little on the smallish side for my liking, particularly if I planned (as I did) on rumpling some local heinie. Then, suddenly, I had little time for such thoughts.

There was a disturbance below, then another. Then a deep concussion seemed to wallop the entire structure. I heard two distinct screams– one from Dr. Coombs and another, a female, possibly the secretary. Then there was the sound of something being splattered about followed by an ungodly howl. There was a brief moment of silence as I knelt beside the bed and then, the sound of a chainsaw started up.

I moved to the window but could not budge the ancient sash. The other window was stuck fast too. There were no other options. I tossed a small chair through one and the sound of shattering glass came at the exact moment of a lull in the noise of the chainsaw. I stepped out onto the roof to the sound of heavy footfall.

I dropped down the metal gutter, chocked with debris and took off towards the grove. I looked back once and it was then that I saw that eldritch presence looking through the broken window, the chainsaw by its side.

I knew then that if I didn’t make it out of Orion, I too would be eaten.

Categories: Royer's Madcap Experiences Tags: ,

Musings of a Decorative Ham Man

June 5, 2014 1 comment
Chris Vitiello

By Chris Vitiello

It is my custom to eat alone and quite late at night. I have a small kitchen table– enough room for only two (though it is only ever one) and it is here that I first prepare the custom Vitiello Decorative Ham for gazing purposes. This composition takes one hour.

When it is placed precisely at the corner and tilted at a 20-degree angle, I commence with cooking. I require only two pots but they are of the finest quality, imported directly from distant Lankvillian outposts. I make a spare meal of one slice of water-boiled specialized meat chuck, one LaRette potato (chosen for its silkiness) and one spoonful of field sprouts.

It was with these gastronomic endeavors that I was engaged when I suddenly heard the outer gate alarm ring. I glanced at the monitor. Indeed, it appeared that two prowlers had entered the confines. I lowered the flame on the pots and made my way quietly to the great room. I extinguished the dim lighting, made my way along the glass-encased decorative hams that adorn the outer wall and entered the study. Here, I selected two whips.

By now they were within the inner gate. I realized then that these two miscreants had made some sort of a deal with Hartenstein, the oafish night watchman.  He will be arrested I thought but not before he is whipped mercilessly.   And with that in mind, I selected a third whip– this with a quirt at the end of the romal.

The quirt at the end of the romal.

The quirt at the end of the romal.

By now, they had entered the lobby. “The hams are in the room on the left,” I heard Hartenstein whisper. A flashlight beam went close to me as I ducked behind a plush leather chair. “Are you sure they are worth anything?” one of the miscreants asked. “Are you kidding?” Hartenstein replied, no longer whispering. “Those are prototypes. They’re priceless.”

All three were now fumbling with the lock as per my design. It is an overly-complicated lock– I submitted the plans myself. I recall standing over the locksmith Backmiller, a doddering coot who operated a shop nearby. “I can’t figure it out at all,” he kept saying, as he stared hopelessly at my drawings. “That is precisely the point, Backmiller,” I replied, my hand on the very same whip that I would soon use on Hartenstein.

I now took pleasure in watching the trio of brainless buffoons fumble with my lock, all three whips at the ready, as I creeped along the carpet. “The glass, I can’t break it,” one of the miscreants said, as he hopelessly pounded on what was indeed, not glass at all, but a special transparent solid developed by mistake at the factory for the purpose of coating decorative hams. “We better get out of here,” the other said but Hartenstein demurred. “We gotta’ to be able to break this– it…it can’t be.”

“It can indeed, Hartenstein,” I said, calmly raising myself from the floor. “And now I would like you to tell these boys what will happen.”

I don’t recall the interval between the moment the heist was exposed and the moment the police arrived. It may have been five minutes, it may have been an hour. I do know that my dinner was perfectly cooked by the time I got back to it and that three lovely whips were broken in the process.

The next day, I dispensed with having a watchman and merely added a third and fourth exterior gate.

 

Chris Vitiello is the founder of Vitiello Decorative Hams.

Categories: Musings of a Decorative Ham Man Tags: ,

Funny Stories by Dick Oakes, Jr.

June 5, 2014 1 comment
Dick Oakes, Jr.

Dick Oakes, Jr.

Ended up at the Kent Motel in the middle of the night. Some glitzy city on the western coast of Lankville. The office door was locked so I went through the courtyard and snooped around. There was a pool there– somebody had left a couple of moist towels on the concrete and a little satchel of fried chicken on a table with some daisies around it.  I nabbed the chicken– wolfed it down in the darkness behind an ice machine.

After that, I spotted a fat guy sitting in an arm chair with a little dog. He was stroking its head and looking off towards the west. There was no sense to any of it.

I approached him. “You wanna’ quit fooling with that dog for a bit and rent me a room?”

“The only room left is on the top floor. Way back there on the left. Overlooking the street and the illuminated sign. We haven’t got around to putting curtains up.” His voice was effeminate.  “By the way, by removing that chicken from those surrounding daisies, you’ve ruined someone’s tableau.”

I couldn’t figure on any of it.  “Just rent me the room would you?”
vintage-motel-27

He took forever to get out of the chair and then made a big pretense of laying some padding out on a chaise-lounge for the dog. I’ve never seen shit like this I thought to myself but I decided to let it go.  I followed him to the office.

It was a spare place with bright overhead flourescents.  Gave me a sudden bitch of a headache.  I gave him my last two twenties and got only a couple of bucks in return.

“Everything’s higher in this town, idn’t it,” I said.

“In microeconomics, supply and demand is an economic model of price determination in a given market,” he started.  He pulled out a little chart.

“Skip it.  Just give me the god damn key would you?”

He handed it over.

 

It was a carpeted room with a couple of double beds draped in salmon-colored rib cord cotton bedspreads and a little TV on a desk.  I threw up suddenly into a blue plastic trash can that had a flower with a smiley face.  Fucking hell, Oakes, I thought to myself.  I couldn’t keep it up– I knew it.  I crawled to the bed and slept for I don’t know how long.

When I woke up, it was way after noon.  There were a couple of guys standing in the doorway and the little manager was standing behind them stroking that damn dog.  I sat up.

“Well..?” I said.

“You better come down with us,” one of the guys said.  I couldn’t figure him on a cop but this town seemed to have it all wrong anyway.

“He ate chicken that didn’t belong to him,” the manager said quietly.

“And ruined someone’s tableau,” the other guy added.  “We’ll take it from here.”

They let me get dressed and walk down the stairs on my own.  The sun was blinding.

“Where are we going?” I asked.

“Outside of town,” one guy said.  “There’s a little abandoned place, used to be a pancake house.  They got tall bushes out front that obscures the view to the street.”

“What’s gonna’ happen there?”

“We’ll beat the hell out of you.  Then bring you back.”

 

There was nothing I could say.  We got back by nightfall.

Categories: Funny Stories by Dick Oakes, Jr. Tags: , ,

The Electronics Cranny: Lankville Radio Programming for Tomorrow Morning

June 4, 2014 5 comments
By Neil Cuppy

By Neil Cuppy

 

 

 

Tomorrow morning’s radio programming has been announced for Lankville’s seven major stations, according to Communications Overseer Harry Rowley III in a report issued today. Transmission will be limited to the amplitude modulation (small) waves operating under the call names LTAB, LFRC, LFWI, LQRC, LWWY, LOTT and LPIP. “Anyone with any questions is free to write us from time to time,” stated Rowley, who was interviewed while inspecting some farm equipment. “We have a little mailbox and we can accept most things from postal carriers.” “When will the afternoon and evening programming be announced?” we asked. There was a long pause, silent as the grave followed by Rowley shaking his head slowly and spitting menacingly in the dirt. “We’ll let it go on an’ happen that way, then,” was the last thing we heard Rowley say before he moved slowly towards us.

The schedule below is taken directly from Rowley’s original dispatch.

6-7:00 A.M.

LTAB: Health Exercises and Entertainments
LQRC: Restrained Cheer Hour

7-8:00 A.M.

LTAB: Health Exercises and Entertainments
LFRC: Morning Encouragement
LFWI: Seals: What Are They?
LQRC: Early Bird Hour

8-9:00 A.M.

LTAB: Health Exercises and Entertainments
LFRC: Health Exercises
LFWI: Musical Breakfast
LQRC: Down Memory Lane with Oleg
LWWY: Home Life
LOTT: Health Exercises
LPIP: Popular Selections

9-10:00 A.M.

LTAB: Health Exercises Until 9:30 Followed by Dead Air
LFRC: Small Business Parade with Shelley Reports
LFWI: Restful Hour Sponsored by the El Arroyo Bank of Del Lankville
LQRC: Highlights, Weather, Deaths
LWWY: Regg’s Daily Chat (with William A. Hancock at the Piano)
LOTT: Health Exercises (with Breathing)
LPIP: Children’s Hour

10-11:00 A.M.

LTAB: Health Exercises
LFRC: Your Decorative Ham (with Chris Vitiello)
LFWI: Scripture, Instrumental Selections
LQRC: Dean T. Pibbs Takes Your Questions/Country Store
LWWY: No live broadcast. Distant string music will be played
LOTT: Johnny Ludlow, friend to boys
LPIP: Crop Report Sponsored by Chambers Company Hand Drills

11-12:00 P.M.

LTAB: Health Exercises, short break
LFRC: Farm Report/Time Signals from the Naval Observatory
LFWI: Concert Orchestra of the Cloud Motel (Hits of Today)
LQRC: Live coverage of the Lankville Commonwealth Luncheon from the Palace Auditorium
LWWY: Some trumpet sounds
LOTT: The Girl’s Half Hour with Ida Rumpus/Dead Air
LPIP: Birthday Celebration for Bill Connelly, Eastern Lankville

Categories: Electronics Cranny Tags: , ,

Funny Stories by Dick Oakes, Jr.

May 22, 2014 1 comment

By Dick Oakes, Jr.
Senior Staff Writer

Dick Oakes, Jr.

Dick Oakes, Jr.

They gave me twenty bucks and dropped me off downtown. “Walk four blocks that way and you’ll come to the Scenic Motel. They got a room for you there,” the bus driver said. I stood there in the blinding sun. “Go on, fuck off Oakes!” the bus driver yelled out, just as he closed the double doors. He pulled off in an engine burst of cloud and smoke.ut-salt-lake-city-scenic-motel-c1960

I walked down to the Scenic. There was nothing but closed storefronts and a couple of pool halls open. I didn’t want trouble like that, like before out in the Plains, so I kept to my destination.

The office was air-conditioned. The owner was a barrel-chested little guy with glasses. He wore a white collared shirt that was covered in sweat stains.

“So, how you figure on this place being scenic?” I asked.

“Look out back,” he said. He took a big bite out of a slice of watermelon. Beyond the brown curtains I could see to the backyard. There was a gigantic pile of dirt there. I lifted my shoulders slightly.

“Take it or leave it, buddy,” he said. “I ain’t running no god damn motherfucking piece of shit country club for assholes if you know what I’m talking about.”

I signed the book under a fake name and took the key.

It was Room Number 21, up on the second deck beyond a grove of dead trees. Bed with a red comforter, couple of chairs, a shower– it was nothing fancy. There was one of those cross-stitched things that some women make. It was hanging on the wall in a half-busted frame. It said, BE CAREFUL BECAUSE GOD WATCHES OVER THIS ROOM AND THE THINGS THAT HAPPEN IN IT ALL THE TIME, EVEN AT NIGHT. He ain’t gonna’ be happy about what I’m gonna’ do then I thought. Truthfully though, I had no idea what was next in this fuck-all town.

I took a nap and then went back down to the office. “Tell me about a place to eat,” I said. The guy looked up from his paperwork. “They got two places. One of ’em is fancy. Like the kind of place you’d take a woman as a precursor. Got wood paneling, got them hooked rugs on the floor. I get the feeling though that that ain’t the kind of place a guy like you would have the slightest interest in.”

I figured on him being right but I didn’t say anything.

“Well, about four blocks beyond that, they got one of those Boffo Periods night clubs. I’d stay outta’ that place though. Sure, you can eat a hot sandwich while looking at tits and ass but there’s a price you gotta’ pay for that shit.”

I nodded.

“Looks like you’re fucked buddy. It’ll have to be the machine out back.”

He gave me some change.

I got a candy bar and a danish out of the machine and sat in a rusted folding chair. The sun was going down a little and the giant pile of dirt was in full shade. You couldn’t hear a sound, nothing except a slight wind that cooled nothing. I studied a map the guy gave me. Nearest bus station was 25 miles. 25 mile walk through dirt and sand. I couldn’t think of anything else to do, so I bit into the danish. It tasted like dirt. I tossed it at the pile.

I went back up to my room. There was a note there from some official. They had a job for me at the bus station– the position requires squatting beneath benches to retrieve trash and removal of errant bodily fluids. There is no getting around this requirement. I tore it up.

Then I started walking.

Categories: Funny Stories by Dick Oakes, Jr. Tags: , ,

Royer’s Madcap Experiences: The Weird O’It

May 13, 2014 Leave a comment
By Ric Royer

By Ric Royer

There was a water fountain adjacent to the women’s lavatory– I liked to hang out there. I would take a gigantic water bottle and pretend to fill it but really I’d be waiting for someone to go in there so I could peep. There wasn’t much to see really, just a tiled wall and occasionally the sound of the paper towel dispenser, but I’d get wood anyway. And I would leer at the women as they came out.

One day, a redhead with swinging hips and a round gorgeous rump, waltzed in there and I just about followed her in. I could hear the sound of water running just as the door swung shut. And then, for the longest time, there was nothing.

A half-hour passed. I began to wonder what had happened to this redhead. I gently pushed open the door.

And I was face to face with the Weird O’It.

He was a gigantic green lumpen creature whose enormous height carried him all the way to the ceiling. He had a gaping, stretched mouth with one sharp brown tooth exposed– drool fell to the floor from this abominable orifice. His eyes were rolling, almost spinning in his slimy head and the smell was ungodly.

“Your peeping is very obvious to all those concerned,” he said suddenly in a clear, crisp, intelligent voice. Two arms appeared from the lump and wiped the drool clear to the wall.

“What happened to the redhead?” was all I could manage in response.

“We spoke for awhile– I explained my worldview, my take on things and she explained hers. There was a long moment of awkwardness and then she agreed that my opinion was within reason.”

“And then what?”

“She bared her ass for me.” The Weird O’It’s eyes suddenly stopped spinning and then began again. “It was great, man. Really great. Then, unfortunately, she expired. Everyone who views the Weird O’It dies. I am not from your dimension.”

That night, sleep would not come. I had no idea when or how I would die but the Weird O’It had convinced me of my ultimate demise. If only I had not peeped, had not lurked outside that lavatory, I thought. I would have survived. I would sleep a peaceful sleep.

But weeks passed and I felt no different. And then I saw the Weird O’It again.

I was crossing the street and he pulled up in a small rusted Island pickup. The cab could barely contain him– indeed, parts of his body spilled out the sides and oozed downwards towards the road. He waved and I walked over and leaned on the hood. He had the radio turned up real loud. The song Pirates Money was playing. It was a big hit.

“I’m not dead!” I announced gleefully. “What do you think of that?”

“Oh that,” he said, after a moment of confusion. He hadn’t remembered. “That was all horseshit. I just wanted you to stop peeping, that’s all. Nah, you can look at me all you want.”

The light turned green and he sped off.

And that was the last I heard of the Weird O’It.

Categories: Royer's Madcap Experiences Tags: , ,

Ramping it Up For Easter with BIG CHIPS

April 8, 2014 1 comment
By BIG CHIPS

By BIG CHIPS

Yo, for the first time in a long-ass time, I suggested to Pops that we get some Easter decorations.

“What do you have in mind Cur…I mean, Big Chips,” Pops said, as we were chilling around the table eating some take-out wings.

“There’s a spread a few blocks from here. Got a big inflatable Easter bunny, right in the front yard.” I sat back and let that hang for a minute.

“No. No, I’m afraid not, Big Chips,” Pops said after he wiped his mitts clean of BBQ sauce. “Those inflatable decorations are cheap and tend to deflate easily. I’m not sure that you’re ready for that kind of responsibility.”

“I guess not,” I agreed. “Yo, Pops, what if we just get a couple a’ baskets. Some of that yellow Easter grass. Be awesome, yo!”

Pops took out his wallet. “I tell you what, Big Chips. I’ll give you ten dollars. See what you can get with that.” Then he started reading his paper and I just ended up falling asleep on the couch in front of this flick about aliens that came down with all these bags full of packing peanuts.

I slept until about two in the afternoon and then I took the ten and headed down to The Dollar Bush on my bike.

“Yo, what you got for Easter?” I asked the brown girl behind the counter. She had some smokin’ blonde hair and big round glasses and, I won’t bullshit you, she was maximum busty. It was awesome. She pointed in the direction of the holiday aisle and went back to filing her nails.

Detail of typical Easter grass.

Detail of typical Easter grass.

Big Chips picked out a couple of baskets and got two bags of Easter grass (green and yellow). I ditched the pink on account of finances. The girl rang me up and it came to five cents shy of the ten.

“Yo, right on target,” I said. She bagged everything up. I thought about asking for her digits but she didn’t look Big Chips’ way. To hell with it, I thought. Look at this Easter shit. It was a god damn haul.

I set it up on the mantle. It was beautiful. I sat on the couch for three straight hours just waiting for Pops to come home.

When he walked in the door, I pointed at the mantle. “The Big Chips Easter Committee is donnnnnnneeee,” I said. Pops had a bunch of mail or papers or something in his hand and seemed distracted. “It’s real nice Cur…I mean, Big Chips. Real nice.”

He went up to his room to change. Another successful day in the books.

Cause when you’re ramping it up for Easter with BIG CHIPS, you don’t need a safety net.

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