1. Ratio of an igloo’s circumference to its diameter? = Eskimo Pi
2. 2000 pounds of Chinese soup? = Won ton
3. 1 millionth of a mouthwash? = 1 microscope
4. Time between slipping on a peel and smacking the pavement? = 1 bananosecond
5. Weight an evangelist carries with God? = 1 billigram
6. Time it takes to sail 220 yards at 1 nautical mile per hour? = Knotfurlong
7. 16.5 feet in the Twilight Zone? = 1 Rod Serling
8. Half of a large intestine? = 1 semicolon
9. 1,000,000 aches? = 1 megahurtz
10. Basic unit of laryngitis? = 1 hoarsepower
11. Shortest distance between two jokes? = A straight line
12. 453.6 graham crackers? = 1 pound cake
13. 1 million-million microphones? = 1 megaphone
14. 2 million bicycles? = 2 megacycles
15. 365.25 days? = 1 unicycle
16. 2000 mockingbirds? = 2 kilomockingbirds
17. 52 cards? = 1 decacards
18. 1 kilogram of falling figs? = 1 Fig Newton
19. 1000 milliliters of wet socks? = 1 literhosen
20. 1 millionth of a fish? = 1 microfiche
21. 1 trillion pins? = 1 terrapin
22. 10 rations? = 1 decoration
23. 100 rations? = 1 C-ration
24. 2 monograms? = 1 diagram
25. 4 nickels? = 2 paradigms
26. 2.4 statute miles of intravenous surgical tubing at Yale University Hospital? =1 IV League
27. 100 Senators? = Not 1 decision

CAPS!

well Feb 20th is not only my birthday but also sadly the day Hunter S Thompson killed himself. Ralph Steadman had some interesting words to say about everything.

[url]http://www.flyingdogblog.com/2009/02/20/ralph-steadman-and-george-stranahan-remember-hunter/[/url]

[IMG]http://www.flyingdogales.com/elist/assets/AOW20090220_ralphhunter.jpg[/IMG]

Remembering Hunter

Today marks the four-year anniversary of Hunter S. Thompson’s death. One of the most iconic figures from the last 50 years, Hunter S. Thompson is closely tied to Flying Dog Brewery. Of course, he convinced his friend and Gonzo co-conspirator Ralph Steadman to illustrate our labels. But he also gave us a quote that graces most every label of beer that we produce: Good people drink good beer.

Not a day goes by that we don’t think about Hunter and the indelible mark he left on society. And although it bums us out that he isn’t with us today, Hunter S. Thompson’s spirit lives on in the form of his writings and films. This week, during Conan O’Brien’s last shows in the “Late Night” time slot, Conan has been revisiting clips from the last fifteen years. Tuesday’s show featured a segment shot on location in Upstate New York with Hunter and Conan. Watch them drink whiskey and shoot guns, in typical Dr. Gonzo style:

As is the Flying Dog tradition on this day, we’ve asked those who knew him to write a little something about Dr. Gonzo. Flying Dog Brewery founder George Stranahan and Gonzo Artist Ralph Steadman sent in some stories about Hunter.

We encourage you to toast Hunter S. Thompson tonight with a glass of the beer that was inspired by him, Gonzo Imperial Porter. We certainly will be.

George Stranahan Remembers Hunter

It’s the beginning of my fifth year without Hunter, and I’m feeling like a five year old trying to understand the mysteries and predicaments of the human condition.

The peacock’s shriek was unmistakable. It came at first light and it was close, right over my head, on the roof. To call Hunter at first light was an adventure that had to be taken. He was awake and “still up,” drunk and crazed. “Goddamn birds got outta their cage last night.” He assigned some specific blame here, he himself was blameless. “Two of ‘em were found in Little Woody eaten by coyotes. That’s the last one you’ve got there, I’ll be right up.”

And he was. Shorts, sneakers, Tilly hat and with badminton net in hand. My house is two stories, so the peacock was twenty feet up and so was Hunter, hunched over, tiptoeing along the very edge and coaxing, “you wretched c… sucking bitch sit still for one more second…” I was terrified at his unsteadiness and wondered who do I call for a fallen and almost certainly dead Hunter found at first light on my porch?

With a lurch and a stagger Hunter tossed the badminton net right over the bird, clutched it to his breast and collapsed away from danger. I was learning that he had an extraordinary sense of his own capacities either drunk or sober.

[IMG]http://www.georgestranahan.com/[/IMG]

Ralph Steadman Remembers Hunter

Hunter began to speak of images that disturbed his peace of mind. ‘Ralph, I have this horrible image of me strapped inside a wheelchair- and I’m in an Old People’s Home. I look around the room and old people are looking straight at me from their own wheelchairs, lined up against the wall as though they are waiting their turn to go- or maybe to flee!  I scan the room dolefully- then- out of the corner of my eye I catch a glimpse of a wizened ole crone. She has an evil leer across her wrinkled face and she is crawling across the floor-slowly- towards me. She is cackling to herself and I know, Ralph, what she is going to do- and I am helpless! Yes, Ralph!  She is going to fondle my balls!!’

He told me that story just like that as an example of why he was suffering ‘the Death of FUN’. Unimaginable torture!!

What I do every year is take a large sheet of paper, a bottle of ink and a brush, look up at the moon – even if there isn’t one – then I whack it with the biggest blot I can make, date it and time- and then I sign it and toast his memory in a bottle of beer. I find it the most satisfying thing to do and it frees the frustration and sense of loss.

Like you couldn’t look outside and tell yourself, but the February rodent weather prognosticators have weighed in and are predicting six more weeks of winter.

This morning we’ve heard from Nova Scotia’s Shubnedacadie Sam, who couldn’t help but notice his shadow, emerging from his pen at 7 a.m. to the sound of bagpipes and a town crier and hopes the groundhog would be a harbinger for warmer days. It was not to be.

“He saw his shadow and went back in,” said Jacqueline Parker, a spokesperson with the Nova Scotia provincial government. “It’s six more weeks of winter.

Then Punxsutawney Phil’s handlers dragged the groundhog meterologist out of his Pennsylvania burrow during a ceremony on Gobbler’s Knob, where he also saw more winter on the way.

Phil’s prediction was read by Mike Johnson, vice president of the town’s Inner Circle, from a scroll that said: “The bright sky above me shows my shadow before me, and six more weeks of winter it will be.”

Town authorities say Phil is always correct about the duration of winter but according to the U.S. National Climate Prediction Center, Phil and other U.S. and Canadian groundhogs get it right about 39% of the time

Ontario’s Wiarton Willie then weighed in: “The sun has peaked, my shadow I see, six more weeks of winter it will be.”

In New York City, another groundhog called Staten Island Chuck failed to see his shadow when he was lured from his cage by Mayor Michael Bloomberg, predicting that spring was near.

According to folklore, if a groundhog sees his shadow on Groundhog Day — Feb. 2, he’ll go back to his burrow, predicting six more weeks of winter. If he doesn’t, there will be an early spring.

The belief that hibernating creatures can predict the arrival of spring was brought to North America by German immigrants in the 18th century.

Some other furry forecasters include Saskatchewan’s Snewsie, who is not technically a groundhog, but a gopher from Moose Jaw, and Watson Willow from Watson, Sask. Other groundhog prognosticators include Balzac Billy in Balzac, Alta., and Manitoba’s Merv in Oak Hammond Marsh, Man.

Woodchucks, what do they know anyway?
– With files from Canwest News Service and Reuters

Photo: Official groundhog handlers Ben Hughes (L) and John Griffiths (R) look at weather prognosticating groundhog Punxsutawney Phil makes his annual prediction on Gobbler’s Knob in Punxsutawney, Pennsylvania, Feb. 2, 2009. Phil saw his shadow, predicting six more weeks of winter. (Reuters/Jason Cohn)

yup yup.

Damn Rights.

Would you get jumped by a motorbike driving home.