My brother is Robin Hood

I’m not saying he steals from the rich and gives to the poor, or is a thorn in the side to the corrupt sheriff of Nottingham, or prancing and drinking about the forest with a band of other tights wearing merry men –but he might.  I mean, I’m not with the guy 24/7.  So it is possible.  He is merry.  And he does drink a lot of beer.  Hmmmm.  I shall have to look into that part further.

I should say he’s not actually my brother either, but my brother-in-law.  He is a very cool guy, however, he does score us the best cigarz, and I’ve never actually seen him in tights.  So I promoted him.

But I digress.  The point is he hit this shot:

Amongst archers (and tights wearing forest dwelling merry drunkards) that’s called a Robin Hood.  And he hit it so hard it drove the first arrow in another six inches.  Gotta be pretty tough on the arrow; shot through the air against it’s will at what, 200+ mph, slamming headfirst into a target, dizzy (and doubtless concussed) but after a few seconds of peace thinking it “at least it’s over” then suddenly rear-ended at the same speed so brutally it not only splits your ass like a banana peel, but the guy’s entire head is embedded with a few inches to spare.  Good thing it’s not actually sentient.  He’d be in arrow therapy forever.

In case you’re wondering; this is not a staged photo, nor is it photoshopped.  Any experienced archer will tell you that this can and does happen, but it’s rare.  It’s analogous to golf’s hole in one; rare but it happens.  I’ve done a Robin Hood shot in darts, but that’s kind of like saying you got a hole in one in miniature golf.  It will not be on the evening news.

But this was not the sissified version of anything.  This was archery and he nailed it.
Congratulations on an amazing shot my brother.

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Bigger Boobs the natural way

I see I’ve got your attention.  Although there is no proven natural way to up your cup under the <ahem> current administration, if I were god there would be.



Kourtney Kardashian would have only

needed the Miami sun to grow her bags
o' fun.



I’m not talking about some special lotion that you can rub in and hope for the best.  None have ever proven effective.  I am however an eternal optimist; and if you are too I’m willing to help you give it a try.  Submit a full length pic of yourself, and photo ID with year of birth clearly visible- 18 and over only, (except Mississippi 16 and over) and after seeing how pretty in need you are I might be able to help you.  If I rub one of these unproven lotions onto your nascent breasts long enough there's a good chance something will get larger.  ;op

Private arrangements notwithstanding, let's get back to the big IF;



Some time in her native Barbadian sun

would have given Rihanna the same

healthy lungs to go along with her

great pipes.



A man unsatisfied with the size of his chest can work his way to a more impressive and attractive size on his own.  All he has to do is a few weeks of bench presses for his body to respond and start to show an improvement the whole world can see.  It’s his to earn and enjoy –and looks totally natural because it is.  But if a man can change his physique without surgery and look great, why can’t a woman?  Not very fair, is it?

It seems only right that women be afforded the same option and opportunity.  If I were god I would give women the same fair shot at self improvement that men have.  Yes, you could size your own breasts; I would make it possible, but not through workouts.  That’s only good for muscles.  The breasts are not meant to be hard or strong.  They’re there for beauty’s sake.  Like flowers.  And like flowers you should be able to make your blossoms go into full bloom.  And while we’re at it, why not let it work the same way?  

Not much sun in England, but plenty
of rain.  Posh can afford to jet to Rio
anytime she wants anyway.



BE RIGHT
THERE MA'M!

I would have sunlight and watering be all a woman would need to coax her little unopened buds into bodacious blossoms.  That’s right; you’ve got to show ‘em to grow ‘em.  See, now I’m making the whole world beautiful!  Overnight gardening would become the both the worlds most popular hobby as well as spectator sport.

Not to mention the explosion of 'volunteer watering can boy' as a vocation.

Of course very little would get done during 'the sunning' hours, providing a much needed break in this hustle and bustle world.  Gay men would gain newfound respect and appreciation as the only ones available to maintain vital emergency services during 'the sunning' as everyone else would either be sunning, watering or watching.  All would benefit.

After I installed this clearly needed change I would look down from on high across a veritable sea of freshly watered boobies glistening in the sun like so many nippled diamonds and I would see that it is good.  Ah, yes. 

Let beauty reign.

And it would be so, if I were god.

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An Odd Dilemma

I had never expected to be caught in a Mexican standoff with a dead moth over a few slices of pizza, yet there I was on Sunday night in the grips of an odd dilemma.  I blame my wife.  She hates when I swat flies or moths in the house, so in deference to her I withheld my righteous smiting of it when it was fluttering in front of the flat screen earlier and I had a clear shot.  Had I known it was no casual flyby but a casing of the joint I surely would have acted.

An hour after that I was ziplocking not one, not two, but three slices of my favorite pizza under the little overhead oven light when he made his move –a power dive for the closing bag.  Though I wasn’t expecting it and I’m sure lesser men would have quailed, I beat him to the punch with my finely honed catlike reflexes and got that bag zipped just as he came crashing into the seal.  Though the pizza was safe (thanks to my speed and courage under fire) the moth was right there, wiggling frantically just outside the seal.  Was he trying to burrow in?  I felt I had no choice; innocent slices were at risk and the crazed assailant was still attacking.  Invoking my right of domestic defense, I squished him.

[Before anybody protests, yes I know I very recently wrote "all god's creatures great and small... " but this moth was clearly a menace headed for a bad end.  I'm sure the mothian authorities would approve his removal from their gene pool ...if indeed there were... um... mothian authorities to ask.  Anyway...]

Moths, apparently, are made of dust and soot.  That’s what came out and spread across the outside seal of the ziplock.  So the immediate threat was gone, but the pizza was still trapped inside.  It being a standoff, I stared him down.  Stubbornly, the dead moth would not budge.  Diabolical.

Why had he done this?  Could a moth really share my love of ham and onion pizza from Stefano's?  Unlikely.  Was it a foreign moth, coming here to attack our way of life starting with our comfort foods?  No way to know, and I had a bigger problem to solve anyway.

Clearly action was needed but if I opened the bag to retrieve the trapped slices there was a high risk of mothdust contamination.  If I flushed the outer seal with water and even a drop got in the bag somehow, I would still lose the 3 souls trapped inside.  -As a firefighter one must think of rescues in this way.  And now that my mind was in this mode I ran through all the training, tools and techniques I had learned at the academy.



jaws of life



hydraulic ram





the Irons; ax and
halligan bar



   

It's not that I wasn't willing to go to the firehouse for any of that equipment, it's just that they didn't fit the job.  The risk of crushing the bag's occupants was too great.  The full gamut of rescue equipment was in this instance, nothing more than an expensive pile of false hope.  What now?  If the equipment couldn't help, would rescue theory?  I thought back, what had they said about being trapped in a room where the doors and windows could not be used, but you had to GET OUT? -Make an exit!  That's what my training said.  In a structure fire that meant using the irons to punch through an interior wall.  But in this case... my daughter's safety scissors used to cut a hole in the back of the bag and free the trapped occupants.   Success!

                                  Sometimes it's the simplest of tools that saves the day.

Moth: 0

Me:    1

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AT LEAST CLICK THE +1 AT THE BOTTOM ! (for judgement day xtra cred)

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If natural selection began in the womb

Oh, how easy every stage of life would be for the rest of us if only this were true.
Kindergartners would learn to read in a single year since they wouldn't be slowed down by the kid who eats crayons.
Fifth graders would be able to get through a whole Dr Suess book in one day since they wouldn't be slowed down by the six kids who still need ten minutes to sound out 'cat' and 'hat' every time.
High schoolers would be able to master world history and geography in one semester since they wouldn't be slowed down by the kids who point to Alabama when asked to find South America on a globe.
College sports teams would be able to field an entire team of student athletes who'd be qualified for white collar professions when their ball playing days are over.
Paris Hilton, Will Ferrel and K$sha would be unknowns with no fan base.
The only 'reality' tv anybody watched would be the news.
Fox News would not.
And George Bush, Sarah Palin and the Tea Party would've been the punchlines to jokes nobody ever heard.

This post is an homage to the work of Mike Stanfill, the creator of the FarLeftSide web comic, the Gary Larson inspired oasis of genius that inspired me to get back to comic drawing myself.  Making this one was fun; think I'll be doing more in the future.  Hope you liked it!

As always, If I Were God appreciates comments, ad-clicks and sharing of His articles. 

He sees all; disappoint Him not.

Wanna live forever?

Theoretically, it's within reach -well maybe not 'forever' but how about 1000? -or so scientist Aubrey de Grey claims.  Though I'm not sure I'm willing to trust the word of a man named Aubrey; in fact his whole name is a little suspicious.  Aubrey de Grey -sounds made up.  Like a Bond villain or something.

Setting those concerns aside for the moment, he of suspect name claims the first person to live to 150 has already been born.  Maybe it'll be my one year old. (I'll have to tell her to invest in long term treasuries)  Supporting the claim is that the average life expectancy is extending by 4 months every year.  So every four years you get an extra year; in forty an entire extra decade.  This is good news for me.  I'm 45 now, and my own expectancy is currently 75, BUT in forty years my expectancy will be 85 just in time for me to turn 85.


The new 'middle aged', outraged at finding the new minimum age for social security is 96

This is not a joke, there are a growing number of scientists who really believe that with a growing menu of cellular therapies they're close to 'curing' aging.  Not crankiness or stubbornness, just aging.
Not hearing loss, vision loss, memory loss, arthritis, or incontinency -just aging.
Yeah... not sure I want it.


80 is the new 'still got it'



As always, If I Were God appreciates comments, ad-clicks and sharing of His articles. 

He sees all; disappoint Him not.