* Welcome to The Big Jewel, where we prefer to avoid direct conflict at any cost. Oddly enough, this is one trait that master chef Elizabeth Bastos shares with us.

The Passive-Aggressive Recipe

By: Elizabeth Bastos

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Ingredients:

For Meyer Lemon cake:

3 cups cake flour, double sifted through fine mesh (pretend like you even care).
2 cups granulated sugar
The juice and rind of 3 Meyer lemons
Whatever milk you have on hand, in whatever amount
Whatever

For Lavender cream:

3 ½ cups heavy whipping cream
½ cup crushed organic lavender buds, from the garden
What? Everybody has an organic herb garden. Your neighbors Brad and Nancy have one. And they’re very busy, successful cardiologists.

Equipment: One 8-inch springform pan
But if you have a 7-inch or a 9-inch, things might still be possible.
Sure, if you clap your hands and believe in fairies.

Garnish: confectioner’s sugar, but really, the whole idea of garnishing anything is exhausting.

Method:

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Butter and flour the springform pan.

Double sifting is just a suggestion. I’m sorry I asked, actually.

I just wanted your “Light Meyer Lemon Cake” to be the best, and I made the mistake of thinking that you did too.

I guess you’re not really a serious a home baker, though I’ve heard you many times at cocktail parties bragging about your “canapés.”

When you say there were no Meyer lemons at the green market and have substituted regular lemons, I say that your social anxiety got the better of you. Meyer lemons are available to those who have courage.

Eleanor Roosevelt would have come home with the right kind of lemons, I’m just saying. You have several magnets with quotes from her on your fridge; I incorrectly assumed she was some kind of hero to you.

Use the balloon whisk on them. BEAT THEM. What you’re doing looks more like coddling the eggs.

I’m sorry. You’re overworked as it is; with the kids…do what you want with the eggs. Don’t even bother separating them, if it’s too much work: you have congenitally thin, delicate wrists.

Since when were delicate wrists a medical condition? If you don’t separate the eggs, you bring shame to your grandmother’s apron and to Ruth Reichl. You called her “goddess” on your infrequently updated little food blog. It had a really cute little name, Sugar Buns? No. Baby Cakes? That wasn’t it? No?

I specifically called for parchment paper and you don’t have parchment paper, let me ask you something: is everything all right in your marriage?

Oh, my goodness, I’m sorry. I was way too personal. I got worked up about the parchment paper and it was thoughtless of me. You of all people don’t need the stress of specialty baking items: you’ve achieved this much without many of the most important ones.

There, there. Why don’t you just bag cooking from scratch? Go take a nice hot bath.

Relax.

Idiot! Idiot! Idiot! Like there isn’t much difference between fresh homemade cake and the frozen square of Pepperidge Farm, shipped in from North Jersey, with lots of preservatives that might give your kids tumors. What kind of mother are you? Get yourself together and get in the kitchen.

But when I say scant teaspoon of vanilla, what I mean is we’re friends, right? No hard feelings: you go ahead and decide how much vanilla, sweetie.

Serves: 1-18, depending on how you slice it.

* Welcome to The Big Jewel, where fun is more than a way of life, it's an unfunded mandate! This week our good friend Trevor Macomber tells a sobering story (we hope he's sober now) about a theme park facing tough times.

Welcome To Grizzly World

By: Trevor Macomber

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I’d like to thank the board of directors here at Grizzly World for giving me the opportunity to speak to you today in order to review some key points after our soft opening last weekend. With a few minor tweaks here and there, I have no doubt that we can put many of these incidents — and, in all likelihood, lawsuits — behind us and focus on making Grizzly World the most successful live grizzly-themed amusement park in the entire western United States.

Now, first of all, I know that some of you are wondering how a former Arabian horse breeder — well, okay, assistant breeder — came to be the CEO of a Fortune 500-owned establishment like Grizzly World, but let’s not forget our corporate philosophy: Always Look Forward. On a related note, to whoever added the phrase “(especially if you’re running for your life)” to the company-wide email distributed this morning, let the record show: I am not amused.

Moving on, I know how difficult it is to succeed in the highly competitive field of interactive carnivorous petting zoos. In fact, I was as surprised as anyone when I came up with the idea. I guess there’s just something about a fully shaved silvertip in a flowing pink ball gown that appeals to the little kid in me. I mean, think of the photo opportunities! Unfortunately, as I will readily concede, my penchant for the big picture occasionally causes me to overlook some of the finer details that create the foundation for any successful venture. For example, the fact that “carnivorous” means “meat eating.”

Of course, it’d be easy to stand here and point fingers (sorry Susan, bad choice of words — just try to keep pressure on it) as we attempt to determine who, for example, was responsible for the opening day promotion distributing genuine salmon hats to our first 100 visitors, but at least now we can finally put to rest our previous debate about whether the traditional methods of animal-human segregation like fences, ditches, etc., can ever truly be replaced by more progressive techniques like the honor system. (The answer, by the way, is “No.”) In a similar vein, I’m certain that whoever green-lighted the “Swimming with Grizzlies” wave pool is probably having second thoughts right about now. (Those waves were a little high, Frank.) But surely we can all admit that “Bear Bodies” was a brilliant name for the water park itself? And that “The Right to Bear Arms” souvenir stand probably would have become a real money-maker if only we’d remembered to store the inventory downwind from our free-roaming attractions?

— Yes, Susan, you have a question?

— Right, sorry. No, please keep it elevated. I’ll work around you.

As I was saying, the bottom line is that, no matter how you slice it, we got at least as much right as we got wrong. Of course, with their juvenile “if it bleeds, it leads” mentality, not a single media outlet is bothering to report that particular factoid. Honestly, can you name any other theme park in the world with enough chutzpah to completely reverse the age-old custom of humans dressing up as animal mascots? I don’t know about you, but before yesterday, I’d certainly never seen a bear in overalls driving a threshing machine. Of course, accidentally decimate one Girl Scout troop, and suddenly grizzlies driving diesel-powered farm equipment isn’t so much visionary as — and I’m quoting here — “astonishingly and unequivocally insane.”

Nonetheless, despite these and other setbacks, I’m certain that, had they survived the proof-of-concept phase of our collaboration, my late business partners would echo me in saying that the overall premise behind Grizzly World is still sound. If not for a few unforeseeable missteps, I’m positive that we would be well within our acceptable casualty limit. As it stands, the only thing preventing us from being the best Grizzly World we can be is our own fear of success. And, temporarily, a large number of disgruntled grizzly bears currently surrounding the building. In any case, I’m sure Animal Control will be here shortly with their promised supply of tranquilizer darts, so if anyone has any questions before we can attempt to flee the conference room, I’ll be happy to take them.

— Yes, Susan?

* Welcome to The Big Jewel, which is sort of like an indie rock band, except that none of us sings or plays an instrument. Wait -- that is exactly like an indie rock band! At least according to Samantha O'Brien...

I Want You To Join My Indie Rock Band

By: Samantha O'Brien

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Greetings, first chair musicians. I know what you’re thinking: “Why would a Julliard recruiter slip a note in my locker requesting to meet ‘without parents present’ in someone’s basement? Why does it look like said recruiter lives in said basement?” So maybe I’m not a recruiter from Julliard. But before you try the door — which is unlocked — rest assured I’m not after your pure bodies. I’m after your pure talent. I’ve been scouting you for some time. Recitals, halftime shows, marching competitions…I even took a job at Denny’s to watch you more closely and develop accurate character assessments. You should be flattered you’ve made it this far.

As frontman of Rochester’s fastest-rising indie rock band, I’m offering you the opportunity of a lifetime. You see, to have any semblance of street cred, an indie band must have several songs containing epic string or horn sections. Since I can’t afford professional backing musicians, I’ve turned to you, the all-stars of the high school’s orchestra and marching band.

Some of you may know me as the brooding twenty-something who takes your late-night omelet orders and reads tattered copies of Sartre on his smoke breaks, but I’m also an accomplished troubadour in the areas of baroque pop, art punk, and freak folk. No, I did not make those up. There’s a big world out there, a world beyond your Bachs and Sousas. I went to the Wind Ensemble’s Annual Snow Show last week and, frankly, I found it unimaginative and trite. You can do better.

And to show you how, I made everyone a copy of my band’s EP. The only way to truly enjoy it would be on vinyl, but my dad had these CD-R’s lying around the house. I’ll play the first track, an exploration of mortality and the loss of innocence set to the contrapuntal combination of 80s pop drumbeats, mandolin, and my keyboard on its glockenspiel setting.

It appears that several of you are having an immediate — and, in some cases, physical – reaction to my trademark, angst-ridden wail. Good. Like all complex art, my vocals aim not to please but to provoke. If you want to write fun, catchy songs and record them in such pat acoustic milieu as “studios,” then get out of my parents’ house. But if you want to compose 18-minute folk-prog-metal sagas based on ancient Celtic legends and refuse to record them anywhere but barns or defunct churches, we could have a beautiful partnership.

Join me and together we will craft the kind of hyper-literate anthems best delivered with a slew of anachronistic instruments and rousing vocal harmonies. Sure, some folks, like the school security guard or my two bandmates, don’t understand how fruitful our collaboration could be, but we’ll prove them wrong. With your ripe adolescent anguish, startling expertise in history and fantasy, and access to the ethnomusicology class supply closet, you’re exactly what the band needs.

If the experience I’ve described isn’t enticing enough, I can offer some rewards to sweeten the pot. None involve money, so any sellouts can just leave now. Sit down, Teddy, and at least hear what I have to offer.

THERE WILL BE DECADENCE!
All musicians have go-to indulgences. I noticed you all enjoy post-recital trips to Friendly’s. I promise to take you out for a sundae of your choice following at least one concert a month. Think about it. Play a few notes at the climax of a song or two and you’ve got yourself a free Conehead! Note: this offer excludes giant varieties like a Jim Dandy, which is way out of my price range.

THERE WILL BE STARDOM!
You guys won’t always play backup. I will occasionally step aside and let YOU SHINE. I’m seeing nodding from the more attention-starved members of the group. That’s good. For instance, Simon and Renu, I would trust your mad cello and oboe skills to lead on “Curs’d Apothecary (The Pangs).” It’s a punchy romp in B minor I wrote for our upcoming theme album about teenage lovers torn apart by the Black Plague. I’d back you with guitar licks that sound like people wailing about their pus-filled buboes — you know, real David Gilmour-type stuff.

THERE WILL BE ROMANCE!
Guys, I noticed how you were all competing for the affections of that mezzo-soprano at the cast-and-crew party for Hello, Dolly! That’ll be the last time you fight over a girl! There’s plenty to go around when you have a drunken audience of lonely post-grads, especially the alternative chicks who’ll go after the brass section just to be different. BTW, word at Denny’s is that the mezzo-soprano has mono, so keep your distance.

THERE WILL BE ROCKING!
You didn’t think it would be possible with a French horn, Jenny, but it is! Gone are the days of playing for unappreciative jocks and parents who are just being supportive. Our concerts will become legendary. We will melt hipster faces with our operatic grandeur. We will sweat a lot and not brush our brows because we are too busy being intense. We will move the crowd to pump their fists like so many restless Judd Nelsons. And with that, we will first conquer the lofts, then the warehouses, and finally — the holy grail of indie domination — the festivals.

Yes, this is what cult followings, rave reviews, and iPod commercials — a.k.a. “dreams” — are made of. Mull it over and get back to me after school tomorrow. I’ll be at Denny’s.

* Welcome to The Big Jewel, where we used to have a secret family recipe. It's not a secret any more, thanks to Becky Cardwell, whose gift for translating bad Japanese into even worse English is something to behold.

Iron Chef Japan Judges Critique Dishes Prepared By A Soccer Mom Using Peanut Butter As Theme Ingredient

By: Becky Cardwell

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Appetizer: Pascal Celery Stalks Covered in Aromatic Peanut Paste and Sprinkled With Organic Dehydrated Grapes

Judge #1 — Superb fusion of ingredient.

Judge #2 — Attractively refreshing, but sadly texture of parched grape seems to lose authority in velvet of pasted peanut. I would have felt greater affection for more corpulent combustion of flavor.

Judge #3 — Elegantly presented, so succulent to my eye. They should name this delight “Small insects resting on a piece of lumber.”

Main Course: Sweet Plantains and Dry Roasted Nut Spread Served Amid Two Slices of Leavened Rye

Judge #1 — I am appreciative of the presentation, however I feel as though an excessiveness of the exotic fruit would have made this more likable to my oral cavity.

Judge #2 — The taste is lethargic and left my mouth lonely. I hate being angry but I don’t think I enjoy this.

Judge #3 — Sadly, my palate has become jaded from the charm of the first dish.

Dessert: Crisp Pomaceous Fruit Wedges Dipped in A Creamy Peanut Coulis

Judge #1 — Although the arrangement is not overly jovial, I was immediately given intense satisfaction when I laid this ambrosia upon my taste buds. Where can I go to eat more of this delight?

Judge #2 — My mass could be greatly compromised were I to indulge in this mouth-watering pleasantness on all of the days. I am grateful for the machine which allows me to exert energy after.

Judge #3 — Delicious! This dish makes me feel rich. I am bestowing upon this opulence two opposable fingers up.

* Welcome to The Big Jewel, where we enjoy a quantum paradox now and then. We believe it is possible to simultaneously read and not read the following piece by Jeff Dutre. But we'd rather you just read it and stop screwing around.

An Interview With Schrödinger’s Cat

By: Jeff Dutre

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With the release this summer of Schrödinger’s Cat’s memoirs (Schrödinger’s Cat: My Life Out Of The Box) the famous feline has come out of retirement and is busier than ever. Although he is older, heavier and a bit grayer around the whiskers, he still resembles the youthful, courageous animal who climbed into Erwin Schrödinger’s steel chamber in 1935 and changed the course of quantum theory forever.

We caught up with him in his publicist’s office for a saucer of raw milk and this candid conversation:

Q: How did you first become involved with Schrödinger?

A: I didn’t know any better! [LAUGHS] Actually, my living arrangement at the time was less than satisfactory.

Q: I read somewhere that you were homeless?

A: No, I was never a stray cat. I was living with an elderly woman and her eight-year-old grandson. She wasn’t a bad lady, but I found her grandson to be a rather disagreeable child, a budding sadist, if you will. He was forever confining me in small containers. I suspect he was hoping I wouldn’t survive confinement, but I always disappointed him. After waiting several hours, he’d open the container, expecting to find my dead carcass, but instead I’d leap out and use his head as a springboard to reach the top of a cupboard where the old woman kept a bottle of schnapps. I was drinking in those days.

Q: Sounds like a dysfunctional environment.

A: The old lady was drunk most afternoons, often forgetting to fill my food dish, and the boy’s behavior grew more sadistic, with longer and longer confinements. I knew I had to better myself and become self-supporting.

Q: Did you have a plan?

A: I looked at myself in the mirror one day and asked my reflection “What are my strengths? What is it I love to do, that I can turn into a vocation?” And my reply was “Well, I enjoy sitting motionless for long periods of time. I enjoy reading books about quantum systems and pondering the observer’s paradox. I enjoy licking myself.” And so, I started finding work where I could utilize my skills. At first, I posed for photographers and artists.

Q: In your book, there are several photos from that period. Specifically, cat calendars.

A: I was making decent money doing the calendars, although I’m not proud of some of the explicit stuff, like the “Cats Licking Themselves” calendar. If I hadn’t been so desperate, then perhaps I wouldn’t have accepted such an assignment.

Q: How did you finally meet Schrödinger?

A: Did you read my book, or did you just look at the calendar shots? To make a long story short, I answered an ad in Naturwissenschaften (Natural Sciences): “Cat wanted for scientific experiment. Good pay. Easy work. No treadmills or electrodes involved.”

Q: Did you know what you were getting into?

A: Well, if I’d known I’d be locked in a box with hydrocyanic acid, I wouldn’t have called Schrödinger! He never mentioned that part until much later! All I knew was I would get paid for sitting quietly in a locked container. I told him about my experiences with the boy, and that’s when Schrödinger said I was perfect for the job. The next day I was on a boat to Austria.

Q: You have been compared to Ham the Astrochimp, the first chimp in space, for your bravery and pioneering spirit in the service of Science.

A: Frankly, I’ve never welcomed the comparison. I met Ham in the early sixties, when we were on a lecture tour of elementary schools, and I found him less of a scientist and more of a glorified stunt pilot. He didn’t seem to care about the larger issues of the universe and our place in it. Instead, he was all about “Look at me and my shiny spacesuit!”

Q: Did you enjoy lecturing?

A: The children weren’t as excited with me as they were with Ham. I can’t blame them, really. He was much more of a showman. He handed out lollipops and sang patriotic songs. How do you compete with that? I’m proud to say I never pandered. I’d show up with my prepared material and a professional attitude. Maybe my slide show was a bit dry. I always did my best to get the kids interested in the quantum theory of superposition, but most of them just wanted to pet me.

Q: What was Schrödinger like?

A: Very serious. He never wanted to play. I’d drop a catnip mouse in front of him, hoping he’d toss it for me to chase, but he was too wrapped up in his work and his letters to Einstein.

Q: How did your relationship with Schrödinger end?

A: Late one night, after we’d returned from a cocktail party, we were enjoying a few highballs in his kitchen before bed. “Erwin,” I asked him. “Why a cat? Why not a hamster, or a mouse, or a small dog? Why did you choose a cat for your famous thought experiment?” He looked straight at me, and I’ll never forget this, he looked straight at me and replied “Because I don’t like cats.”

Q: Wow.

A: I got up off his kitchen table, walked out of his apartment, and never saw him again.

Q: One more question: What was it like being both dead and alive simultaneously?

A: I would describe it as Verschrankung. I was conscious, but only vaguely aware of the passing of time. I wasn’t at all concerned about the Geiger counter, the hammer, or the hydrocyanic acid. Without an outside observer, all possible outcomes had occurred, so why worry? I remember licking myself. That, I remember clearly.

Q: What’s next for you? How do you top Schrödinger’s famous thought experiment?

A: I’m going to leap off this table and use your head as a springboard to reach the top of that cupboard where my publicist keeps a bottle of schnapps. This book tour has been exceedingly stressful.

Q: What? Is this some sort of OUCH! Oh my God, I’m bleeding!

A: [FROM THE CUPBOARD] Not until I actually observe you bleeding!

* Welcome to The Big Jewel, where we are still awaiting news that Jaws 5 is going into production. Until then, be satisfied with this piece by Richard Turck, his first for us.

Surviving A Shark Attack

By: Richard Turck

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One of our greatest fears is being attacked by a shark. Whenever we hear about them on the news or read about them in the paper we can’t help but shudder. Clearly, there is good reason for this. Getting attacked by a shark is absolutely devastating. Sharks are basically living submarines with razor sharp teeth and a hunger for warm blood. Because of the amount of fear that is associated with such an attack, I’ve decided to go through some of the ways I would try and survive the ordeal, because let’s face it, most people who are attacked by a shark are never attacked again, because they’re dead. I want to try and change that.

Before I talk about how I would survive a shark attack I first want to talk about how I can reduce my chances of being on the menu to begin with. One of the more obvious things I can do is stay out of the water. It has been statistically proven that you are 35 percent less likely to be attacked by a shark while in your home than in the ocean. That’s a significant decrease and should be taken seriously. If I do decide to go into the ocean I just have to be sure to play it safe. That means no swimming too far off shore, no eating raw hamburger, and no pretending to be a seal. I also want to steer away from any activity that could potentially cause myself to bleed, like slitting my wrists. Sure, it can be fun, but how will I feel if I accidentally kill myself and then get attacked by a shark? There’s absolutely no way I can survive this attack if I’m already dead, and that’s my objective, to survive a shark attack.

Now that I’ve gone through some of the obvious ways to avoid an attack, I want to get to the heart of the matter, having a shark encounter and living to tell about it. In order to accomplish this I need to hone my threat detection skills. I need to be able to look at a shark and know it’s a shark without even asking. This means utilizing all of my senses. If I see a gray triangle pop out of the water from afar, for instance, the best thing I can do is swim over and touch it. Is it smooth? Is it leathery? Is it eating me? All of these characteristics point toward shark.

Once I’ve determined that it is indeed a shark, it’s time to survive. One important thing I have to remember is to remain calm. Sharks are very outgoing and are attracted to commotion and excitement. If I want to survive I have to keep a low profile and avoid being the center of attention. This means no splashing, no screaming, and no dancing. I may even want to try discussing politics to really bore the shark into finding more interesting prey.

If this works and the shark swims away, great, but if it doesn’t then I have to continue to remain completely motionless until I’m absolutely certain the shark is chewing on me. At this point, once my leg is good and mangled, I have to keep one thing in mind: sharks are meat eaters. This is important because I’m going to contort my mangled leg to look like a piece of broccoli. With any luck the shark will take one look and be completely turned off.

If for some reason this doesn’t work, the only thing I can do is hold my breath, close my eyes, and hope the shark thinks I’m dead. Then, when it comes back around to finish eating me, I’ll suddenly open my eyes and it just might think I’m a zombie. The one thing I have working for me here is that 85 percent of sharks don’t know what a zombie even is. Most things won’t eat what they can’t recognize. This is survival. Anything is worth a shot, even head games.

If I remain calm and use these survival tricks I can significantly increase my likelihood of staying alive. I just have to keep in mind that sharks aren’t much different than you and me. They too need to eat, breathe, and are wary of zombies. With all of these facts at my disposal, I wouldn’t be surprised to find myself not only coming out of a shark attack alive, but with a story to tell.

* Welcome to The Big Jewel, where every day's a holiday. If you're at work, take some time off right now to read this week's piece by a man who has obviously taken a holiday from reason. NOTE: One of our contributors, Eric Metaxas, has written a stunning new biography of the German martyr Dietrich Bonhoeffer, the pastor who took part in the attempted assassination of Hitler and paid for it with his own life. The link to the Amazon page for the book is in our Blogroll to the right.

Happy Holidays

By: David Martin

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MEMO – December 15, 2009 – Christmas holidays
To: Brad Richards
Regional Director

From: Dave Martin
Sales Coordinator

As I’m sure you’re aware, the holiday season is upon us. Like most of our workforce, I will be celebrating Christmas and therefore would like to take holidays for the period between Christmas and New Year’s. As a practicing Christian, this would allow me to celebrate the birth of our Lord with my loving family.

MEMO – March 15, 2010 – Jewish holidays
Thank you very much for approving annual leave for Good Friday (April 1st) and Easter Monday (April 5th). My family appreciates your generosity in allowing me to join them in celebrating these important Christian holidays. While I will be joining my family in these celebrations, I have personally converted to Judaism and therefore would request that, in accordance with paragraph 6.02.07(b) of our company’s human resources policy manual, I also be given the entire week of March 30th off, which, of course, is Passover, one of the most important holidays for my newly chosen people.

MEMO – September 1, 2010 – Muslim Holidays
Thank you for granting me time off for Rosh Hashanah on September 9th and 10th and also Friday September 17th to allow me to prepare for Yom Kippur on September 18th. As I told the mediator at the time, I felt it was important to fully explore my new cultural roots. As it turns out, however, my Jewish studies have led me to adopt another Abrahamaic faith, namely Islam. I will therefore be fasting for Ramadan and would greatly appreciate a couple of days off before the important feast of Eid al-Fitr on the 9th.

MEMO – November 3, 2010 – Baha’i Holidays
I was as surprised as you that the Baha’i faith would be for me. But it really is and it turns out that November is the perfect month to celebrate that new faith as there are three separate holidays. If you could see fit to grant me time off for the Birth of Baha’u’llah (November 12th), the Day of the Covenant (November 26th) and the Ascension of ‘Abdul-Baha (November 28th), it would be much appreciated and would almost certainly avoid the necessity of what I am sure you would agree would be prolonged and unwanted litigation.

MEMO – January 15, 2011 – Buddhist holidays
The secret of happiness lies in the mind’s release from worldly ties. I do not know if you are a follower of the Buddha. If you are, you will know the peace of mind that can come from a study of his great wisdom. And if you are, you will also know that February 3rd is the Chinese New Year and February 8th is Nirvana Day. I trust that I will be granted the time off to pursue my new faith. You are, of course, welcome to join me on my spiritual quest for those two important days. Given the obvious stress you have been under lately, it might do you a world of good.

MEMO – February 15, 2011 – Hindu holidays
I’m sorry for the short notice but I’m going to need to take time off on March 1st and 3rd which, no doubt, you are aware mark Hola Mohalla and Maha Shivratri. I’m sure I’m not the first person to pursue Eastern religions and make that easy spiritual step from Buddhism to Hinduism. It seems so natural and right and these two days of reflection and devotion will undoubtedly help to clarify my new revelations.

MEMO – March 8, 2011 – Scientology holiday
Thanks so much for the Hindu holidays or as my people say: “Namasté.” Or at least that’s what my people would have said before I saw the interstellar light and converted to Scientology. Did you know that L. Ron Hubbard’s birthday is March 13th? Well, it is and I’d really appreciate a day off to fully partake in the special celebrations. This may necessitate another reduction in my workload but, as before, I’m sure we can solve this problem together if we really try.

MEMO – March 9, 2011
To: Dave Martin
Sales Coordinator

From: Brad Richards
Regional Director

Re: Upcoming Holidays

Dave, take all the religious holidays you want. You’re fired.

* Welcome to The Big Jewel. We are committed to providing a decent job for every American -- so long as that job consists of reading the material on our site every week and sending us money via PayPal. Just wanted to be clear on that. And now, this word from new contributor Jeff Dutre...

Jobs! Jobs! Jobs!

By: Jeff Dutre

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Looking for a job? Looking for a career? The Department of Labor wants to help. Our “Dictionary of Occupational Titles” describes every job in the world, so you know just what you’re getting into before you apply. Here’s a few samples:

525.687-078 POULTRY HANGER
Shackles and suspends live or slaughtered poultry from conveyor for killing, scalding, removal of feathers or cleaning. Removes live poultry from shipping crates, or picks up slaughtered birds from platforms and chilling vats and hangs them by feet, neck, or wings on shackles of conveyor. Has frequent, shrieking nightmares that startle other residents of small apartment complex. Keeps to himself. Changes the subject if conversation turns to job, animal cruelty, or chickens. Eats only beef and fish. Unsuccessfully answers craigslist “women seeking men” listings in search of activity partner and/or life mate.

920.687-098 HANDKERCHIEF FOLDER (garment)
Folds handkerchiefs prior to packaging. May fold fancy handkerchiefs, such as men’s dress handkerchiefs, into specified shapes and place handkerchiefs in cellophane envelopes. Rents old movies from the ’30s and ’40s, taking special interest in those scenes where men remove their handkerchiefs with a flourish from their suit pockets to wipe the perspiration from their foreheads, and where women use their handkerchiefs to wave goodbye from departing trains. Laments the fact that no one really uses handkerchiefs anymore. Notices that many of his coworkers in the folding department have opted for early retirement. Hears rumors of layoffs. Wonders if it would be prudent to switch careers; to something perhaps involving suspenders and/or bowties.

920.387-194 VACUUM TESTER, CANS
Taps lids of cans or jars with stick as they pass on conveyor to determine if container is vacuum-sealed. Removes defective containers for reprocessing. Angrily tells his friends that no, it is NOT true that “anyone with half a brain” could do his job. Reminds them that not everyone can tell if a container is vacuum-sealed by means of a simple tap. Challenges them to try it themselves. Makes the dubious claim that this is a specialized skill, no, an art, dating back to the ancient Romans. Keeps a hand-tooled mahogany rack to hold a variety of sticks of varying lengths and thicknesses, for the purpose of tapping. Writes a regular column for the trade publication Vacuum Tester Monthly.

553.382-022 VARNISH MAKER
Controls equipment to melt, cook and mix ingredients, such as gums, oils, turpentine, and naptha, for use in manufacture of varnishes. Complains to wife every evening about frequent, debilitating headaches; tries a variety of pain relievers, starting with aspirin, then moving on to greater strengths of tylenol, motrin, and other over-the-counter medicines before begging his physician for a prescription, any prescription, to make the skull-splitting agony go away.

589.686-034 PACKAGE CRIMPER (textile)
Feeds machine that rounds edges of thread packages so that dye will penetrate thread uniformly. Complains endlessly about bass player in his band; how bass player is consistently late for practice, or doesn’t show up at all. Moans about long hours of package crimping job that interfere with the business of songwriting, song recording, and sending demos to talent agents and music industry representatives. Disparages other, more successful musicians. Experiments with a variety of hairstyles: short on top, long in back, or long on top and short in back. Calls in sick every other Monday.

049.364-010 FEED RESEARCH AIDE (agriculture)
Feeds rations of experimental feeds to animals such as dogs, mice and cows, and compiles data on growth, productivity, and health of animals. Tells no one about horse-sized mouse she has smuggled home with the help of a sympathetic, kind-hearted janitor. She knows her boss will kill and dissect the mouse, and this she finds unacceptable. Instead, she has set up a comfortable straw bed in her garage, and brings the mouse stolen bags of experimental feed. She brushes its fur and lets it listen to classical music while she is at work.

920.687-105 LABEL APPLIER (beverage)
Applies labels to whiskey bottles. Does the best he can, but his hands shake, and so he sometimes damages labels. Licks his lips and thinks about the last time he had a drink: four months, two weeks, three days, six hours and fifteen minutes ago. Feels nothing but contempt for inebriated co-workers. They are weak, and he is strong.

920.687-106 LABEL REMOVER (beverage)
Removes damaged labels from whiskey bottles. Places bottles on conveyor for relabeling. Receives stern warning from boss about being intoxicated on the job. Is accused by LABEL APPLIER (920.687-105) of purposely damaging labels. Raises himself to full height, shakes his fist and denies this vehemently before falling over onto conveyor and opening a nasty gash on nose.

649.686-014 CARD DECORATOR (print & pub.)
Tends machine that automatically glues decorative sparkle dust to greeting cards. Feeds greeting cards into machine. Refills hoppers of machine with glue and sparkle dust. Shakes sparkle dust out of hair and clothes onto bedroom floor, to the annoyance of his spouse. Showers frequently, leaving a ring of sparkle dust on shower floor. Awakens frequently during the night because of itching. Coughs up clouds of sparkle dust. Chest x-ray reveals heavy coating of sparkle dust on lungs. Ignores doctor’s advice to find a different occupation. Says, “My father was a card decorator. My grandfather was a card decorator. It’s in my blood,” “Yes it is,” his doctor replies. “Literally.”

* Welcome to The Big Jewel. Won't you please donate to our fictional charity? If not, please consider reading the following piece by Pete Reynolds in lieu of a donation.

I Wish You Weren’t Pro-Breast Cancer

By: Pete Reynolds

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To: DC OFFICE — ALL
From: Grider, Michael
Subject: MOSEY FOR BREAST CANCER 2010!!!

Greetings, co-workers. As many of you may have noticed from my previous emails, the posters in the break room, and/or the friendly reminders that I glued to your computer screens, I’ll be participating in the very charitable, very real, Mosey for Breast Cancer 2010. The Mosey supports breast cancer research in the DC area, is a great way to get involved in the community, and is in no way made up. I’m really looking forward to presenting my pledge sheet to the organizers, who are also real and distinct from me, so they can see how hard I worked (and how much I spent on glue) on behalf of this worthy cause.

There is, however, one small problem: you are not supporting my efforts. It’s been a week, and the only entries on my pledge sheet are a currency-free “Not a real charity!” from Mary in Accounts Receivable, a valueless “This is a scam” from Ted in the mail room, and an equally bankrupt pledge “to help Michael be less of a doushebag [sic]” from one “Ash Holman,” which I can only assume is fraudulent (and not particularly funny). Also, someone tacked up a copy of the company’s employee conduct policy on charitable solicitations (like that’s going to help cure cancer!). Given your poor performance in support of the Mosey, the realness of which cannot be questioned, I have no choice but to conclude that each of you is, in fact, pro-breast cancer.

An unfair critique, you say? I’m not so sure. After all, I couldn’t help but notice that Jeff from Sales isn’t having any trouble raising money for his drive (“Beat Multiple Sclerosis!”). Even if we were to assume that Jeff’s drive was authentic and not a front for the pro-breast cancer lobby, since when is there a limit on charity? You know what they say: “No act of kindness, no matter how small, is ever wasted.” Or maybe you don’t know what they say. Maybe when they said it you were off injecting people with particularly virulent strains of breast cancer. Or maybe, just maybe, you were too busy being a bunch of selfish jerks who wouldn’t know a real charity if it jumped up and glued its very official-looking flier to your computer screen.

I suppose you’d all be chomping at the proverbial bit if I told you that some very famous celebrities also support the Mosey. Hey, maybe if you stopped worshipping celebrities for two seconds, you’d know that the Mosey does, in fact, profess to count several super-famous and super-non-fake human beings among its backers. I can’t name their very genuine names, of course, but I can promise you that your failure to donate isn’t making it any less likely that those same very important celebrities will die — not of breast cancer, but of broken hearts — upon bearing witness to your complete philanthropic neglect of the Mosey.

So let’s just call a spade a cancer-endorsing spade and admit that you love breast cancer so much that, if given the choice, you would marry it. If breast cancer were on Facebook, you would become Facebook friends with it. If breast cancer were a professional sports team, you would root for it. You would buy season tickets, a replica jersey that says “Breast Cancers” in cursive on the front, and a giant, novelty foam finger, which you would then use to heartlessly point out people with breast cancer. This is not my opinion. It’s what you would do.

If I had a wish for you, it would be that you’d get off your high horse and back down onto a normal-sized horse and stop loving breast cancer so much, horse-face.

Right now, as I write this, you are thumbing your breast cancer-free noses at my efforts, which are not in any way ignoble, and funneling your donations to Jeff’s sham MS operation, or, perhaps, a terrorist organization (these are not mutually exclusive, by the way). If you can justify your actions with your god, then so be it.

I hate you all,

Michael Grider

P.S. Because of your collective failure so far, the organizers have graciously suspended the deadline for pledges indefinitely. I hope you’re happy with yourselves.

* Welcome to The Big Jewel, the second most awesome site in the universe. The first most awesome site is 1000 Awesome Things, by Big Jewel co-founder Neil Pasricha. How awesome is his site? Well, it won won two Webby Awards in 2009: Best Blog - Culture / Personal, as well as Best Blog - People's Voice Award. It has garnered more than 11 million hits. Now it has also become a book, The Book of Awesome, published this week by Amy Einhorn Books / Putnam. This week we are proud to present an excerpt from the blog and the book. When you are done perusing it, we strongly recommend you check out the links on the right-hand side of the this page. The one called 1000 Awesome Things will take you to the blog; the one called The Book of Awesome will take you to the Amazon page about the book. Celebrate the awesomeness of 1000 Awesome Things!

Awesome Thing #997: Locking People Out Of The Car And Pretending To Drive Away

By: Neil Pasricha

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There are so many different levels to this classic gag.

There’s Version 1.0 which involves a car full of people, a gas station bathroom break, the locked door, and the slow rolling drive away while the victim knocks on the window and pretends not to care. This version is Locking People Out Of The Car And Pretending To Drive Away Lite, a tame version of the gag intended to induce a few giggles without any tense moments. Just some G-rated comic relief for the long drive home. Version 1.0 is the most commonly practiced version out there and is the officially sponsored and recommended version by 1000 Awesome Things.

Next up is a version that’s a bit more advanced than Version 1.0 but not quite at the level of Version 2.0. We’ll call it Version 1.5, also known as The Big Tease. The Big Tease works as long as the victim leaves their car door open. That open door is critical to pull it off. To execute, the driver simply waits until the victim is approaching the car and then drives away slowly with the door hanging wide open like a big tease. The Big Tease works fine on small or large cars, but is especially effective in vans with sliding doors. You’ve got that big van door just sitting there wide open and the victim may figure it’s worth running and jumping for it. There’s really no telling what could happen in this situation. Just remember to be safe out there.

Next comes Version 2.0 which involves a car full of people, a gas station bathroom break, the locked door, and a complete drive away, lap of the gas station, and return after a minute or two. Big difference here is that Version 2.0 dials up the fear notch a little, instills a tiny bit of boot-shake in our helpless victim. When the car comes back some name-calling goes down, but nothing too serious. Still — this one’s not recommended for children twelve and under. Let’s call it Rated T for Teen.

And then finally there’s the granddaddy of them all, the one and only Version 3.0. A real cooker, Version 3.0 involves a car full of people, a gas station bathroom break, the locked door, and a full-out drive away into the sunset, without any eventual return. The victim is left curbside, casually spooning up a McFlurry as they walk around for a couple minutes, expecting the car to come sweeping around the corner any second. But no…the car never comes back. Unless practiced in walking distance of the victim’s house, Version 3.0 can be devastating. And it’s rarely executed and not recommended for obvious reasons: its potential to destroy relationships…to destroy relationships…forever.

AWESOME!