Seems lately there isn’t much to write about here about me. I could go on and on about how happy I am, how busy I am, how [insert perpetually repeated item off blog here]. It’s getting a bit repetitive and it’s getting a bit old.

So instead, I’m going to blow the dust off a time-honored tradition of unleashing the snark on a news item from today’s paper.

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Yesterday, there was a big “OMG SCARE!!!1!!!one!!” at the Minneapolis/St. Paul Airport because someone found the “makings of a bomb” in a returned rental car on Sunday morning. A quote:

The device, which was loose in the compartment, included tubes, wires and shrapnel, airport officials said.

“It had the makings of a bomb” but didn’t include explosives, said Pat Hogan, airport spokesman.

OMGWTFBBQFTW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

So, really, anything in the world could be construed as the “makings of a bomb”. Hell, MacGuyver made a bomb out of a hair tie, a rusty can of Tab and some duct tape. And what constitutes “shrapnel” anyway? Loose bits of anything? So the debris of gum wrappers and lip balm that litter the bottom of my purse could be used as a “making of a bomb”?!? Dear god!

The best part is the follow up to that story, in today’s paper.

Apparently, the “makings of a bomb” were a forgetful scientist’s equipment. Another quote:

[The scientist] had picked up the device, called the Stowaway Tidbit Temp Loggers, from the St. Anthony Falls Lab along the Mississippi River on Wednesday. The equipment includes several lengths of 1-inch plastic pipe filled with gravel, all linked to 15 flashing electronic monitors. She stowed it in the tire compartment to keep the gravel from showering all over the trunk.

Of course she forgot about it and the bomb squad blew up the $1500 worth of equipment. Nevermind the fact that all the data she’s collected since June has been lost.

It was gravel – in a tube. Apparently river rock is considered “shrapnel” now. Do they hire idiots for our security?!

Seriously.

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There’s an attorney on my floor with the last name of Perryman. Every time I walk by their office the following lyric from the Chris de Berg hit runs through my head:

Don’t pay the ferryman,
Don’t even fix a price,
Don’t pay the ferryman,
Until he gets you to the other side

Except substitute “ferryman” for the attorney’s name. I’ve done it EVERY SINGLE DAY that I’ve worked here.

At least it’s not the theme to “Green Acres”…