An Engineer's View of Santa Claus

By now you may have already seen this, as it's been making the email rounds for years. If so, disregard and read something newer and interestinger. If not, enjoy!

Santa Claus: An Engineer's View

There are approximately two billion children (persons under 18) in the world. However, since Santa does not visit children of Muslim, Hindu, Jewish or Buddhist (except maybe in Japan) religions, this reduces the workload for Christmas night to 15% of the total, or 378 million (according to the Population Reference Bureau). At an average (census) rate of 3.5 children per household, that comes to 108 million homes, presuming that there is at least one good child in each.

Santa has about 31 hours of Christmas to work with, thanks to the different time zones and the rotation of the earth, assuming he travels east to west (which seems logical). This works out to 967.7 visits per second. This is to say that for each Christian household with a good child, Santa has around 1/1000th of a second to park the sleigh, hop out, jump down the chimney, fill the stockings, distribute the remaining presents under the tree, eat whatever snacks have been left for him, get back up the chimney, jump into the sleigh and get on to the next house. Assuming that each of these 108 million stops is evenly distributed around the earth (which, of course, we know to be false, but will accept for the purposes of our calculations), we are now talking about 0.78 miles per household; a total trip of 75.5 million miles, not counting bathroom stops or breaks. This means Santa's sleigh is moving at 650 miles per second--3,000 times the speed of sound. For purposes of comparison, the fastest man-made vehicle, the Ulysses space probe, moves at a poky 27.4 miles per second, and a conventional reindeer can run (at best) 15 miles per hour.

The payload of the sleigh adds another interesting element. Assuming that each child gets nothing more than a medium sized Lego set (two pounds), the sleigh is carrying over 500 thousand tons, not counting Santa himself. On land, a conventional reindeer can pull no more than 300 pounds. Even granting that the "flying" reindeer could pull ten times the normal amount, the job can't be done with eight or even nine of them-Santa would need 360,000 of them. This increases the payload, not counting the weight of the sleigh, another 54,000 tons, or roughly seven times the weight of the Queen Elizabeth (the ship, not the monarch). 600,000 tons traveling at 650 miles per second creates enormous air resistance-this would eat up the reindeer in the same fashion as a spacecraft re-entering the earth's atmosphere. The lead pair of reindeer would absorb 14.3 quintillion joules of energy per second each. In short, they would burst into flames almost instantaneously, exposing the reindeer behind them and creating deafening sonic booms in their wake. The entire reindeer team would be vaporize within 4.26 thousandths of a second, or right about the time Santa reached the fifth house on his trip.

Not that it matters, however, since Santa, as a result of accelerating from a dead stop to 650 m.p.s. in .001 seconds, would be subjected to acceleration forces of 17,500 g's. A 250 pound Santa (which seems ludicrously slim) would be pinned to the back of the sleigh by 4,315,015 pounds of force, instantly crushing his bones and organs and reducing him to a quivering blob of pink goo.

Therefore, if Santa did exist, he's dead now.

Merry Christmas.


Helpful Hints for Women

Ah, the Good Old Days, when mention of the word "misogyny" would result in the question "who's she?"

It was a kinder, simpler time. If you were a man. If you were a woman, well, there were a few little rules to follow ...

Way to keep the allure there, Courtney Love. Of course, Walt here is not even trying to cover up the fact that he's totally peeking.

That's 'cause men don't want a bunch of girly make-up on their jismop.

If he can see your balls, you're sitting awkwardly.

When a man really wants to dance that badly, it's a good bet he'd rather be dancing with another man. No that there's anything wrong with that, of course.

Were these really huge problems? Did women walk around like Flopsie McJiggles often? And were stocking made of cotton? I'm confused.

Because, in those days, Men did not have jointed necks.

Wet Willies are especially forbidden.

Avoid topics like work, music, books, cinema, the '38 Phillies, his ED, and the fact that you're pregnant from your tryst with the Latino kid at the supermarket.

Why not? It's not like Dour Dan over there is providing a stimulus package.

Unless, of course, it's to say how great they'd look in a crumpled heap at the foot of his bed. Chicka-bow-wow.

Seriously? It's amazing anyone in that era ever got laid.

Exactly. Keep your drunken flirtations with a total stranger a secret. Remember, hidden cameras and YouTube are way, way off in the future.

Dear Diary, I'm totally gonna score tonight, once I can get her past Zorba.


Merry Christmas, Freckle-Boy!

This ad was pulled by Tesco because gingers got upset. Thank God it wasn't a Muslim kid.

It's a shame that we can't laugh without fear anymore.

Happy whatever the fuck you celebrate. Just please relax and don't get all shitty.

It's Christmas for those of us who celebrate life and love and caring about those around us. All of them, All of you. Put your religious anger aside and just fucking enjoy a good time. I know it hurts, but do it. Who knows, you might even like that pecan pie.

It's the one time of the year to care.

Don't fuck it up by being a jerk.

Happy Holidays.

I have no idea what this means.

But for God's sake, don't do this. Whatever it is.


Stuart's Holiday Gift Guide 2009

Every year right around this time, we're faced with the daunting task of picking out gifts for family, friends, co-workers, and other people we absolutely cannot stand. Often, we rely on pre-made lists (Billy wants World of Porncraft 3); tradition (yes, it's the 2009 commemorative Earnhart plate with oak-grain display stand); or advertising ("I think he got me the Dollop of Semen pendant!" "How do you know?" "He went to Jared." [giggles] )

Often we just give up and buy whatever the hell is on the endcap at Walgreen's. This year (2009), I offer you an alternative. This brief guide may or may not help you with truly heartfelt gifts lovingly made in Chinese sweatshops from the cheapest lead- and melamine- based materials in the world.

Happy ChristmaChannuKwanzaaKah!

The FillerBuster - A brilliant bit of software designed to work with iTunes and all other MP3 programs, FillerBuster automatically detects upcoming instrumental riffs and long, drawn-out stretches of music that serve no purpose other than to waste your valuable time and seamlessly skips past them to get you back to the good bits of the song that you actually want to hear. With FillerBuster, you can enjoy Freebird in just over 5 minutes, Iron Butterfly's Inna-Gadda-Da-Vida in under 4 minutes, and Cream's double album in just under 22 minutes! Those examples right there save approximately three days alone. Disclaimer: This product not intended for use by Phishheads.

Puking Dog Alarm Clock - For those of you who have ever owned a dog, you know that there is one sound and one sound only that will pull you from even the deepest delta stage and cause you to immediately rush for the back door with poor hunched-up Fido in tow, only to make it just to the edge of the carpet before the lava-flow of yellow slime erupts from the poor fellow. The Puking Dog Alarm Clock realistically emulates the deep, reverse-peristaltic "howoomp, howoomp!" sound that is the harbinger of having to clean up hork at 3 AM. Wake-up results guaranteed. Available in black and platinum.

Van Halen House Shoes - Walking around the house can be tricky, especially if you have hardwood floors or live in a rainy climate. With Van Halen house shoes, your walking safety is assured. Made with supple calfskin uppers and ultra-sticky treaded soles, these shoes will make sure that you'll never, ever slip. Instead, you'll jump. Go ahead and jump. I get up, and nothing gets me down. You got it tough, I seen the toughest around. And I know, baby just how you feel. You got to ro-o-oll with the punches, and get to what's real. Like these house shoes.

Toilet Tray - Another great product that saves valuable time, the Toilet Tray is a sturdy platform that attaches to the wall with a locking articulating arm, allowing one to enjoy a hearty breakfast (the most important meal of the day!) while taking a shit. Great for the still-employed Yuppie in your life.

Canned Haggis - Designed for the Scotsman on the go, this is a complete haggis sealed in a can filled with a gelatinous substance that is slightly less repulsive than the actual haggis. Best enjoyed while either stoned or Scottish, or preferably both. Not for the squeamish. Phishheads may enjoy it.

Falcon Flight Weather Balloon - I really don't need to explain this, do I? Just remember to teach your kid the importance of lying to the authorities.

Bacon-Scented Feminine Wash - Ah, two of man's favorite things combined. You want nom-nom in the hinter regions? This will do it. Also handy for lonely women with dogs. Certain uses may or may not be endorsed by this blog. For those guys who prefer dong to cooter, this product may also be used as Weenie Wash.

Cheese Beer - The best of two worlds in one mug. Kind of like that viral video, but with less poo. This is high-quality handcrafted beer made with only the best hops and grains and generously infused with real California cheese for an experience that's truly satisfying, refreshing, and binding. Choose from Cheddar Pale, Emmentaler Pilsner, Honey Wheat Bleu, Camembert Winter Ale, and for those with simpler tastes, Cheez-Wiz Lite Lager. Crackers sold separately.

Or, you could just get them some fine art:
No underwear was harmed in the making of this ... thing.


"That was a lovely service. Did you pick up the ashes or are they AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA


Color me old-fashioned, but I'd rather remember a loved one by looking at a nice vase or even a wooden box rather than a full-sized or even a 1/4-scale sized replica head with a flip-open top like Ray Liotta had in Hannibal. But then that's just me.

I'd never get past the fact that it's staring at me.

Kinda like this, only way fucking creepier and not nearly as cool.


Letter Rip

We use letters every day to create words and acronyms and all sorts of other things that are comprised of letters. Sometimes we use these letters on their own to identify a location, a grouping, or a quality grade. Even sometimeser we use these in product names, descriptions, and myriad other pop culture references. That's where this list comes in.

The following are words or designations that fit with a specific letter of the alphabet. Some match with more than one, but that other one is wrong. See if you can match 'em all. They are in no particular order, unless you count totally random as an order.

Special thanks goes to Kari, who helped me with that particular last one which eluded me to the ... well, a lot.

Oh, and by the way ... each letter is used only once. So this is kinda like Sudoku or whatever. Hence the 26 clue-thingys.

__ Crew
__-51 Mustang
Special __
Compound __
__th Degree
Mister __
Preparation __
Generation __

Have fun. You will be graded.

Handy reference guide.


The season of love, caring, generosity, and really hideous sweaters is nigh upon us like a fruitcake from the Heavens.

Yep, it's that time of year to break out the sweaters-turned-holiday dioramas and the stirrup pants. Ladies, this goes for you too. Personally, I hate sweaters. Always have. Even back in the day when I rawked the sweater-mullet and fuzzstache, I just couldn't quite warm up to the sweater. Unless, of course, it looked awesome in its horridness.

Here's a fun little place where you can design your dream sweater. I had some fun with this last year. Here are some samples:

Ho Ho Ho, yo.

Sweaters make the man.



I tried to make this thing look cool, but wound up fucking up the whole template and in doing so lost many of my widgets.

Can't seem to get 'em back without manual labor, and as a white American, that's not an option.

I wear glasses. I should know this stuff.

Or so I'm told.



Phrases that just plain piss me off.

Ever hear a phrase that just makes you cringe at its complete moronity? (it's a word) No? Well then, stop reading because this doesn't apply to you. You'll be cruisin' for a bruisin'. See what I mean? You just winced a bit, didn't you?

Me? I was hurtin' for certain. Jesus, this actually hurts to type.

A lot of these phrases are used in advertising: "Fun in the Sun!" "Season for Pleasin'!" "Sell like Hell!" Most are simply used by cretins and are often employed as feeble threats, such as: "Zip your lip!" or the aforementioned two. One that holds a particularly warm spot in Hell for me is "I'm in it to win it!", because it's just so fucking stupid. Never has anyone uttered the phrase, "I'm in it to place a solid third."

Perhaps the worst thing is when someone (usually a male who finds Hooters pretty upscale) either makes one up on the spot: "I'm jonesin' for a bonesin'!", or uses one that's been around since the invention of air and tries to pass it off as an original: "You got it made in the shade!"

Are there any particular ones that grate on you? Please ... dare to share.

At least this one makes sense.

What Birds Really Think of Us.

Figured as much.

Original story found here, which begs the question "what the hell is a twitcher?"


YGBFKM of the Day

I tried to copy and paste the text, but the formatting went all wonky, so instead you can read the story here.

In a nutshell, a couple in Pennsylvania got arrested for not tipping after receiving lousy service at a bar/restaurant.


No really, wow.

Artist's interpretation.


A feast fit for a king. A king with several tapeworms, some killer weed and a severe eating disorder, I mean.

It started out as just a turkey. Then it became deep-fried turkey. Then someone had the brilliant idea of putting a chicken in a turkey, then a duck in the chicken, and calling it a turducken. Clever, no?

Well, screw that noise. This year it's gonna be big. I mean huge.

An ostrich. Stuffed with an emu. Stuffed with a goose wrapped around a turkey enveloping a chicken fitted over a duck swallowing a quail surrounding a pigeon draped over a parakeet containing a finch lovingly ensconcing a hummingbird. With a raisin inside.

I call it an Ostemugooturchiduquapigakeetfinhumsin. It takes 19 hours to cook at 350 degrees. Sounds delicious, doesn't it?

I'll save you a mound.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Actually, I think this is the After picture. I mean like four hours after. After being eaten, I mean. And partially digested.


Attention Holiday Travelers

Don't do this.

Found at xkcd. Happy Thanksgiving!

How to fuck with the kid in the car next to you at a stoplight.

Keep a TV remote in your glove box. When the little towhead next to you looks, smile knowingly and keep an eye on the cross-street lights. Pick up the remote and press a button when the light turns green. He will think you are the coolest person on Earth as you zoom through the intersection. His parents will never, ever, compare, no matter how many times they tell him he's wrong about what he saw.

It feels good to help a child expand his or her horizons.

Nothing at home will ever compare to the awesomeness at 43rd and Spruce.


Vista Update

Okay, it seems that for the moment I can post on other blogs. Yippee. As far as I can figure, this BlogLock has to do with either my Google Chrome settings (that I cannot adjust) or perhaps Blogger hates me and wants me to stay up late in order to comment. Or simply that Vista hates anyone who uses a browser not sanctioned by Microsoft (read: any one that works).

In any case, I blame Vista. And Al Gore. Except Vista didn't cause the ice caps to melt.

I never had these types of problems with XP, which of course is why I was forced into using Vista.

Have I made it clear that I am not a fan of Vista? No? Probably because it won't fucking let me. I think that anytime I use the words "fucking" and "Vista" in the same sentence, some slightly pudgy Seattle-based guy in a white short-sleeved shirt and Dad's tie is sitting there sipping on a caramel raisin chai half-caf lattefrappachocomochaccino and chuckling quietly to himself while suppressing the memory of the ridicule and slug-bugs he got back in high school.

I hate that guy.

And the sad part is I never even got to beat him up.

So here, in all its glory, is how I feel. Courtesy of Samsmama, who sent me this. She rawks.


We're germin' ... I wanna germ it wit you ...

In honor of Flu Season™, here's a lovely little display of the evacuation of bodily fluids. Yeah baby.

Get your minds out of the gutters.



I hate Vista. That, and I think I hate Google Chrome. That, and I hate Norton. Ever since my last Windows Fuckupdate, I am having problems commenting on other blogs. And by that I mean I can't. I'm sure this is for my protection.

What pisses me off is that I had both clever comments and useful advice. Not really, but it still pisses me off that I can't comment.

I'm getting a Mac. That's all there is to it.

Why darling, you're hard as a rock!

"Yes, I certainly am, dear. In fact, you could say that I'm ...

It would explain the smile. The creepy, WTF smile. Seriously, what is this?


And now, for your viewing pleasure ...

Guinea Pigs in Costumes. Yep.

Tastes like chicken.


Monday WTF of the ... Whatever

Happy Monday! Let's Yoga!

But please, dear God, not like this. Please.


Veteran's Day, 2009

Go find a veteran and thank him or her. Seriously.


My Office

Okay, that's a total lie right there. This is what my office was supposed to look like. Didn't take.

My shithole lies below ...


It's still the same CrapCam picture as before, but there's my temporary office. What you can't see are all of the file folders that I've shoved off of the table and onto the head of a very tolerant cat. I promise to provide better pictures when I can afford another $12,000 battery for my camera.

Just kidding. That battery is actually on sale at Fry's for only $9,995.

If you look closely, you can see Vista locking up.


This just had awesome written all over it.

Shatner? check

Beat Poetry Setting? check

Palin-related Tweets? check

Commence launch to Planet Fuckyeah:


Because I have nothing to talk about ...

and because this is just awesome enough to buy me some more time to find something to talk about.

Creamy goodness from the mall. Oh yeah.

I met this guy at a Jason Mraz concert.


Awesome News Headline of the Nocturne

Drunken Pair Floored by Men in Drag After Squaring Up to Spider-Man.

The video, sadly, does not quite live up to the overwhelming awesomeness of the title and the whole story, really.

Still, it's pretty good.

Don't fuck with these chicks. They're GUYS, dammit.


State of Mind Update

This has been your State of Mind Update.


In Honor of the Return of Samsmama

And of course, to all the lovely ladies out there ... you know who you are.

There is no correlation here whatsoever. Total coincidence.


Because I'm a geek, that's why!

Admit it - you woulda done the same, right? Right?



It used to be a word that only a handful of Americans knew the meaning of. Now we call it the Internet.

This poor gal is famous now. For a good solid fifteen minutes.

Her phone is totally busy right now.


PS - She may no longer be engaged. Maybe.


Answers to the Movie Quiz ...

have been posted in the Comments Section. If you still wanna play that quiz, post your answers in one of the other quiz comments sections. Or here. Or anywhere, for that matter. Who the hell said you have to color inside the lines? This is a free country, dammit!

See that ice? That's chunks of frozen FREEDOM, baby.


Album Titles as Literalized by a Pretentious Asshole

Same as before, only different. Kinda.


Corporeal Tagging

Magenta Precipitation

Loose Clamor and Melodic Drone

Adhesive Phalanges


Merely a Male Child

Aphotic Lunar Portion

Genetically Predisposed to Scamper


1.1829411825 Liters to Liberty

Melee of the City of Angels

Standard Commercial Activity

Nocturnal Motions

Internally Initiated Conflagration

Esurience for Chaotic Disassembly

AntologĂ­a Blanca

More Formidable than Tanned Bovine Skin

One Style of Prestidigitation

Beneath the Plateau and Musing

Yeah, they bang chicks. Why do you ask?


Filler Quiz - Movie Victims Reheated

Yeah, I'ma reuse this one whilst I create a new quiz (it's gonna be a toughie, I hope).

Some of you are just too fucking smart and I must challenge you severely for that. So grab your Comfy Chair and prepare to be taunted.

Meanwhile ... name the movies that these victims are from. This is a rehash from July and some have already seen it, but now that I have, like, two new readers ... this Bud's fer you. Name that movie. (Sorry, Cary - I had to)

Bring out your dead!

Laura Palmer

Amanda Hunsaker

Fredrica Bimmel

Benjamin Raspail

Uncle Owen, Aunt Beru

Ben Parker

Dr. Malcolm Crowe

Helen Kimble

Marion Crane

Sam Wheat

Bernie Lomax

Mister Boddy

Pfc. William Santiago

Goose (two-pointer here)

Dennis Vinyard

Joe Takagi

Fawn Liebowitz


Miles Dyson

Eric Draven

Catherine Shelby

Jessie Rockatansky

Not a Prius.


Quiz Update

There will be more coming henceforth and hitherto. Whatever the McFuck that means. Stay tuned; I'm hard at work creating ...


You can't tell, but I have an erection that reaches the very bottom of this board.


Band Names as Literalized by a Pretentious Asshole

In the spirit of the last quiz (see below), here's yet another annoying collage of verbal spew which takes the names of bands and takes them to literal roots. Bear in mind that the actual spellings don't count, because as we all know, rockers are stupid people.

If in doubt, blurt it out, just like Grandpa used to say before shitting himself.


Guided Dirigible

Visually Impaired Casaba

Phat Large Spotted Feline

Panel Truck Frozen Rain Occurrence

Definite Article Definite Article

German Minimalist Design School

Definite Article Query of Identification

Bob Seger

Royal Monarch Magenta

Disparate Types of Electrical Transfer

Handheld Weapons and Pricey Blooms

Female Royal Monarch

Ferrous Lass

Female Royal Monarchs of the Paleolithic

Saturated Chroma Holy Day

24th Letter of the Alphabet

Verdant Diurnal Course

Definite Article Tumbling Pebbles

Child Ore

Female Figure of Christianity that Often Appears in Toast

Vehicular Safety Testing Mannequins

Monarchic Son

Oyster Irritant Marmalade

Deceased Lactate Purveyors

Not Memorex

High Altitude Reconnaissance Craft

Architect of Monticello Flying Machine

These assholes have gotten enough attention, don'tcha think?



Well-Known Lyrics as Interpreted by a Pretentious Asshole

Ever listen to a song and think "By Golly, those are some fascinating lyrics, but what do they truly mean? Maybe I should have my 12th Grade English teacher translate them!"

Of course you don't. That would be asinine. Which is why I did this - so you wouldn't have to.

Don't thank me.

Just de-translate these lyrics back into their originally intended forms. I know you can.

The ambient temperature in this location is elevating, so disrobe completely.
(My core temperature is increasing alarmingly, I will remove all of my garments)

There is a female who is confident that all objects capable of reflecting and refracting light are composed of precious metal
And she is purchasing a graded incline with which to reach an ethereal realm of bliss

All things considered, leaping is a viable option
Proceed to leap

A darkened interior environment is less perilous*
We are currently in your presence, provide us with mirth

I have traversed the vacant arid landscape on an anonymous equine
It brings me solace to be away from the precipitation

Merely a young female who hailed from a diminutive community, existing in a paradigm of solitude
She chose to embark upon a locomotive departing at the nocturnal meridian apex and with no particular destination

I am a singular Homo Ovus
I am a singular Homo Ovus
I am a singular Odobenus Rosmarus
(often misspelled nonsensical words)

The female was a mechanical construct created for rapid movement and maintained the tidiness of her propulsion unit
She was the ultimate maledicted female in my history of observation

This remains my personal celebratory congregation and I reserve the right to express sorrow should I see fit to do so

You are bequeathed with the necessity of engaging in combat in order to preserve your inherent freedom to engage in social revelry

All people desire an unspecified quantity greater than one
I desire that as well

My desire is to engage in a raucous form of music for the nocturnal duration
And mingle socially on a diurnal basis

Kind acceptance to the public lodging comprising a large majority of the US Pacific coast
Quite the handsome premises, quite the winsome countenance

That'll do, Pig. That'll do.

Sure, but can you make a Margarita?

* - edited to fix an incorrect lyric. Bad Google! Bad!