While discussing campmaster weekends, Nick Lutz pulled out his phone and the table went silent.  It was huge.  After several “that’s what she said” joke we began beating on his massive phone.  The phone was larger than the three other phones at the table combined and was subject to the following insults.

  • Your phone is coal powered.
  • Is there a small man in there that runs back and forth around a mini-print shop pulling up letters and putting them on the screen?
  • Do you clear the screen by lifting it and shaking it like an Etch-A-Sketch?
  • The Soviets called, they want their first phone back.
  • It’s not actually a phone, it’s a small factory that generates one-time-use smaller phones.
  • What do you do when the nuclear pile inside goes critical?
  • Have you ever hid inside of your phone to avoid danger?
  • Have you ever had your phone seized at an airport as a weapon?
  • Does your phone get power from eating smaller phones?
  • Have you ever used it as a surf-board.
  • Does your phone have a seperate upper-case and lower case keyboard?
  • That phone’s hideous, it’s like having a baby with 60 toes.
  • That phone contains a stenographer that writes down everything he says and a small printer to produce the text.
  • I picture your phone serving as the Grand Marshall of a Gay Pride Parade, top hat, baton and all.

Did I miss any?

The first two weeks of camp have gone stupidly well.  So profoundly smooth that I waiting for a meteorite impact, Biblical-scale flood or the discovery of an burial ground to ruin the fun.  Normally, we spend a bunch time fixing stuff each week and with so few hiccups we’ve had this time to improve camp.  One commissioner proposed having more clocks in camp.  So, we made him the camp’s official time keeper and equipped him with a Spongebob Squarepants analog clock so he roam the camp as the Mr. Rogers version of Flavor Flav with equally byzantine usage rules.  Today, we had the first test of our time keeper.

Administrator: What time is it?
Commissioner: 10:35 AM.
Administrator: You’re not saying it right.
Commissioner: Sigh… Spongebob says it 10:35 AM.
Administrator: Thank you.

The first two weeks of camp have gone stupidly well.  So profoundly smooth that I waiting for a meteorite impact, Biblical-scale flood or the discovery of an burial ground to ruin the fun.  Normally, we spend a bunch time fixing stuff each week and with so few hiccups we’ve had this time to improve camp.  One commissioner proposed having more clocks in camp.  So, we made him the camp’s official time keeper and equipped him with a Spongebob Squarepants analog clock so he roam the camp as the Mr. Rogers version of Flavor Flav with equally byzantine usage rules.  Today, we had the first test of our time keeper.

Administrator: What time is it?
Commissioner: 10:35 AM.
Administrator: You’re not saying it right.
Commissioner: Sigh… Spongebob says it 10:35 AM.
Administrator: Thank you.

If you’ve driven in a car with me over the past year I’ve taken to driving with a glass of water or diet soda in my non-wheel hand and tonight, as I was driving Nick to the Lodge Executive Board meeting we came upon a police vehicle that looked like it was periodically stopping people.  As we inched closer, I thought I might have a problem in that I was drinking a dark colored beverage out of a Samuel Adams Glass, in a car with a youth both in the Boy Scout Uniform, in a car with series of dents in it and the back filled with empty beer cans and bottles for recycling that I had forgotten to put at the curb.  As we approached the cop, I was relieved to realize it was only a 3 car accident at a cross street at the cop had to park off to the side due to all the emergency rescue vehicles.