The New York Post, which is pretty much the worst newspaper in the world, recently “broke” a story about Osama bin Laden’s plot to negotiate “ten’s of millions of dollars in coke purchases” from a Columbian drug cartel. The story (and I’m referring to it as a story for a reason) included his plan to then lace the cocaine he acquired with poison and distribute it to unsuspecting coke-heads in America. And while the DEA has already publicly denied the investigation the Post reports they’re in the midst of, let’s, for a moment, pretend they got the story right.

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Rabbi Mike says: “Hugh Bris? Not a bad name for a mohel.”

February 19, 2004 – Lake Tahoe, CA

Definition: Noun. excessive pride or self-confidence; overbearing pride or presumption; arrogance

Usage: Some people feel technology will continue to make our lives easier. Others feel our hubris towards technological advancement will be our downfall. Except for Fork and Salt Shaker of course…

March 23, 2004 – Canyonlands National Park, UT

Centreville, VA – So I was visiting some friends in Northern Virginia, and we decide to go to a bar. Nobody feels like driving, so our only option is a place called O’Toole’s, just down the street. If you haven’t noticed the little tidbit about me in the “Where’s Sev?” photos, I have dreadlocks. I know, I know, they’re very subtle. Anyway, as it happens, my hair accessory of choice is a bandana. That’s all the background you need on me.

We head down to O’Toole’s on foot. When we arrive, there is a bouncer working the door. He lets my two friends pass, but stops me. “I’m sorry, no bandanas.”

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February 17, 2004 – Yosemite National Park, CA

Note: I’ve been getting some questions about this photo. This is actually a reflection of the ridge you see in a puddle on the ground. There was no digital manipulation of this photo (with the exception of turning it upside down), this is exactly as I saw it in nature.

Anyone out there who’s ever worked in a restaurant knows that the worst thing about getting a new job is trailing. For those of you who don’t know, a trail is a training session. It’s called a trail because you’re forced to follow (or trail) someone who actually knows what they’re doing all night like some pathetic, ball-less helper monkey. But these trails aren’t just painful for the neutered helper monkey. No, they’re hellish for the trainer and provide plenty of awkward moments for the guests as well. So, I was thinking, what if trails weren’t limited to the restaurant business? What if people had to trail for all vocations? I think a mafia trail might go a little something like this:

Joey the Pig and Jimmy the Gangster enter a small office occupied by Mr. Swindle and Mr. Misappropriation. They are dressed in suits and approach the two men in a threatening manner.

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February 21, 2004 – Redwood National Park, CA

Sadly, friends, tonight I ceased to be a thinking beast. It would seem that whenever one learns something by rote they have a tendency to continue doing whatever it is they learned by rote, by rote. Soon the very human element of allowing a conscious thought process to govern our routine tasks slips away. This is what happened to me tonight. A coworker asked me if I were in fact a robot. Well…no, I’m not. However, sometimes I think things might be a great deal easier if I happened to be a robot.

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