by Joe Shaboo

I’ve been reflecting this month, wondering if my own life compares to the heroic achievements of others who have lived on Planet Earth. I do my best, and continue to care about humanity, for example, by remembering to return my shopping cart to the parking lot’s “carriage corral” when I’m done with my food shopping. Yet, I still find myself searching and seeking the answers to life’s quintessential questions, and because this requires more time and energy than I had originally planned, it is with great regret and disappointment that I announce the withdrawal of my name as a candidate for the 2008 Nobel Peace Prize.

I am withdrawing my name from next year’s contest simply because I do not have the energy to campaign for the award. If you feel that I have “given up” or am “not trying hard enough,” or even the fact that I may be a “ridiculous, self-appointed candidate” then I apologize in advance for the reasons that may be responsible for your thoughts. If you’d like to write a letter to the editor of this publication to express your sentiment, of course you’re encouraged to do so, however the entire experience and process of finally declaring myself ineligible for the Nobel Prize has taught me a secret lesson that may be of some benefit to us all: “The best way to deal with stress is by simply not dealing with it at all.”

I’ve taken a close look at the resume of a Nobel Peace Prize winner and I can understand why “Mr. Smooth” (Al Gore) walked away with last year’s first place medal. Mr. Gore was a Vice President of the United States, a runner up to being elected to the United States Presidency, a globe-trotting-international-spokesman for a planet-saving environmental crusade, the creator and writer of an Academy-Award winning film, and he is currently a special “senior” consultant to Google®. I mean let’s be realistic. Anybody can lose the presidency, make a movie, or be asked by his buddy to be a vice-president, but not everybody is smart enough to work for those guys over at Google® who, at anytime, could cash in their chips and have enough money to buy the entire country of Vietnam.

I don’t even know what a “URL” or an “HTTP” stands for and I certainly don’t know why it’s so important for every website in the world to have one. I’m the kind of guy who often looks down at his ankles and sees one brown sock and one blue sock. I don’t even have time to cook a 3-minue egg never mind run for the Nobel Prize, and, more importantly, I just don’t think I’m the guy they’re looking for anyway. So, instead of trying to win the medal in 2008, I’m going to take a year off and focus on simpler things like trying to solve the Sudoku in the daily newspaper. That way, I can just crumple up my worries, throw them away in the garbage after dinner, and look forward to solving whatever puzzle presents itself in tomorrow’s paper.

Let’s face it, there’s so much information we’re supposed to know “out there” and most of us still don’t even know how to gut a fish (including me.) I also don’t know what is meant by people when they say, “It’s all about zeroes and ones.” I think I have a slight idea what they’re talking about, but I really don’t have any idea what they’re talking about and I’m not so sure that they do either. I’m also a little foggy about some other things in life, like how pickles are vacuum packed, Pringles® are neatly stacked and who was the first person who actually invented the snow globe.

In this “Instant Information Age” we are constantly bombarded with details about “nothing in particular” and we crave to know more about it simply because information is flying around us faster than it is happening. For example, I just Googled the phrase “inventor snow globe” and instantly I was able to learn quite a bit about the paperweight’s history. I learned that two guys, Mr. Nesbit and Mr. Swensen, received credit for “inventing” the snow globe in 1998 and that they both share the rights to the U.S. Patent number 5711099 for their design efforts. The U.S. Patent Office website clearly states that snow globes are now the patented property rights of Mr. Nesbit and Mr. Swensen and any snow globe manufactured in the world can only be produced with the written permission of both men.

I could tell you more about the snow globe, like how it was actually invented in 1889 in France, but I won’t bother you with any further historical details readily available on the Internet. I never knew one day I would be a snow globe historian, but I did learn one bizarre fact about the peculiar paperweight. There has only been one escapee from a snow globe in recorded history and that was Winnie The Pooh in 1992, the same year that he himself was a contender for the Nobel Peace Prize. He managed to disqualify himself by slathering himself in honey then slipping through the glass of a snow globe on display in a Walt Disney store.

Now authorities are searching for the furry bear because they want to put him on display in the National Petting Zoo so children can feed him handfuls of M&M’s through a chain link fence. You may wonder or ask yourself, where did I acquire this information? Let’s just say I’m sure Al Gore and his Internet buddies would love to know. After all, a good writer is trained to keep his sources confidential… especially when there’s a jar full of honey involved.

Lately, I’ve been thinking about writing a will and buying some life insurance. I don’t normally do this sort of thing since the only cash I currently have are the three lucky pennies stuck to the bottom of my car’s ashtray.

The concept of being physically wiped off the planet by a mythical giant eraser brings to mind the little things I’ll miss when I am actually dead and gone. ” Playing the “Million Dollar” Monopoly game will be surely missed, as well as the pleasure of dieting on McChicken sandwiches with “no mayonnaise.” Unfortunately, last month I didn’t win anything at the restaurant playing the game, but I did peel-off two tiny game pieces for “Connecticut Avenue” and “Park Place.” I estimate the pieces were just two of the 532 billion pieces involved in the game.

Then it dawned on me. “Wait a minute…I have Park Place?” Could it be true? Now, all I had to do was order a credit card’s worth of french fries and large sodas over the next couple of weeks to increase the chances of getting the elusive “Boardwalk” piece. “...nevertheless, I do enjoy
my head smelling like a fruity,
umbrella drink while on my
way to work.” Somehow, the guy on fries was unknowingly affecting my destiny as an unsuspecting, pseudo-blackjack dealer, and all I could do was watch as he salted the fries, seemingly in slow motion, using that giant, metallic, McDonald’s industrial-sized salt shaker. Then I had to wait, each time with anticipation, as he plucked the large, cardboard fry carton from the top of the stack. I could only hope my “Boardwalk” piece was attached to the carefully constructed, cardboard cutout.

The other day, after watching the man deal out the fries, I finally felt like my lucky day had arrived. Just after the man salted the freshly cooked fries, I asked him, “Could you please use a fry carton from a new stack?” The guy had trouble understanding my strange request, but I had a hunch that “Boardwalk” was on top of the unopened sleeve. The million-dollar prize was soon to be mine, and, hell, since I already had one of the winning pieces worth a cool million, and it took two pieces to win the million dollars, I already owned 50% of the winning combination! Needless to say, I didn’t get “Boardwalk” (I got dealt “St. James Place” instead) and I’ve had an upset stomach ever since. Currently, I’m attending meetings for Monopoly Anonymous and thinking about a healthier approach towards making a million dollars before my life insurance is actually cashed in and my death certificate indirectly becomes the winning ticket for my wife and two kids.

The other thing I’m going to miss when I’m dead is reading the newspaper. Like most people, I love to read the paper in the bathroom and this certainly may be where you are right now at this very moment. This originates from the natural sensation and sudden urgency within humans causing them to read ANY form of literature when sitting on the throne inside of the pleasure palace. Understandably, it therefore makes sense that if schools included more fiber in their school lunch programs then children would be in the bathroom all day reading their way to success.

The bathroom is where most people, young and old, crack a book and, now that I think about it, I should actually stockpile more books on top of my own toilet tank. Recently, the only new words I’ve learned have been all written in small print on the sides of toothpaste tubes and old shampoo bottles. My current favorite word is “Antigingivitis.” It has a nice ring to it as well as any hair conditioner containing the words “Pineapple” or “Coconut.” I don’t think the hair conditioner in my shower has any actual pineapple or coconut pieces inside, but, nevertheless, I do enjoy my head smelling like a fruity, umbrella drink while on my way to work.

If the last thing I remember is based on what I’ve read the most, then at the end of my life I’ll tell you that there is .24% of sodium fluoride inside a tube of toothpaste. I may not remember who was president in 2007, nor may I recollect the names of my beloved wife and children, however, when I do pass away and somebody tries to chisel the pennies from the bottom of ashtray, please remember my one request: please wash my hair until it smells like a piña colada. Oh, and I almost forgot…don’t forget to check my pockets. I wouldn’t want to accidentally take the other half of my million-dollar hand to the grave.