Distractivision

Dear Friends,

The Hard Taco song for May is called, "Danny Devito." The music is based loosely on the Chopin sonata of the same name. If that doesn't entertain you enough, here are some games that might distract you from your job, just long enough to cause a major workplace accident.

WORD CLOUD PHRASE FIND

Instructions: This ghost is made out of the words from Hard Taco song titles. See if you can find and circle the following mash-ups.

Dance, Please, Big Bear Person

Big-calved Abominable One-legged Cranes

Rotisserie Cheese

Kid Rock

International wedding
Sea Life
Special American Troll

Indispensable Little Schneiderman

Grandfather Needs Diabetic Minstrel's Heart

Foolish Boy Feelings

One Wrong Part
Roughhousing Mama

Yer Love Man Saga

Ass Central
Hey, Dog

WORD FIND

THINGS THAT ALMOST RHYME WITH OBAMA

N I E S C I J T M P S D Y A B 

K D A N A U J I R A M H P L R 

B W A T A Y A I U A M A L L I 

C B C M G L M N P M J B N A T 

W I A F M A A A Z A H A A H I 

V R M H D A P O M B L W I F S 

K I E O A C H A K A S A G A H 

R W N P T M S U P L B K M F G 

I N Q J A A A M M A D F A E U 

A G M X V N I S B E I V D A I 

D O G M A P R O M I S E O N A 

C X V U L T I M O V R T N A N 

L W J O L W P U P C Z J N U A 

U I T P L I E C I F F O A G I 

T R Z S L N W W V C E C T I S 

Instructions: None of these words rhyme with the president's name. Can you find them anyway?
MADONNA
ALABAMA
SAUNA
VOMIT

ATOMIC

BAHAMAS
OFFICE

BRITISH GUIANA

DOGMA

IGUANA

IMPALA

KOALA

LAVA

ALLAH

MAMBA

MARIJUANA

MUHAMMAD

PAJAMAS

PAPA

PRIMA DONNA

PROMISE

SAGA

TIJUANA

CROSSWORD PUZZLE

ACROSS
3   ____ ground, to begin construction of a building
5   ____ down, to separate a chemical compound into its constituent molecules
7   Smash, split or divide
8   Act contrary to, as in a law
9   Fracture a bone of
10 ____ off, to stop suddenly
11 Overcome, as a cigarette habit
12 ____ down, to have a mental collapse

DOWN
1   A sudden dash, as toward something
2   An interruption of continuity
4   Don't do this to my heart
6   ____ into song
7   ____ in, to enter by force
8   Dump, with up with
9   ____ in, to initiate
10 ____ down, to become ineffective

With warmest regards,
Zach

Amazing Life Hacks

Dear Friends,

This month's Hard Taco song is a melancholy campfire jam called, "Namesake Chain." Let's push that one out of the nest and see if it flies or flops.

Meanwhile, here are:

10 Amazing Life Hacks That Will Make Each Moment Seem Richer.

With warmest regards,
Zach

As the Day You Were Born

Dear Friends,

The Hard Taco song for March is called, "Dang." When power chords are poetry, the lyrics don't have to be.

My Grandpa London became a widower around age 70, and spent the next 15 years traveling as much as he could. Grandpa was a true world explorer, but he had a particular affinity for the Caribbean. He preferred the French and Dutch islands over the U.S. or British ones. When I was 14, he took our family to Guadeloupe, and I learned why he felt this way.

It was the breasts.  The first time we walked to the ocean, I was struck by how many of them there were! Some of them were sunbathing, some of them were casually strolling down the beach, and some of them were floating in the waves.  I must have known that they weren't free-standing structures, that they existed in the context of a larger organism. Yet, this awareness didn't sink in until noises began to emanate from above them. Nasal, sanctimonious noises. Yep, these breasts were attached to French people!

That week in Guadeloupe was emotionally draining for my underdeveloped teenage brain. By the end of the trip, I told my parents that if I never saw another breast, it would be too soon.

I should point out that I do not hold to traditional gender norms regarding toplessness. Women and men should have the same right to show off or not show off their nipples in public. That is the very definition of social justice.

The funny thing is, I didn't go bare-chested in Guadeloupe at all. In fact, I refused to swim without a T-shirt on until I was almost 17. I think I was embarrassed about something, but I can't remember what it was. I wasn't chubby and I had a perfectly normal belly button. Maybe I didn't want the world to know that didn't have hair on my back yet? That would be ironic, because  when I turned 35, I resumed swimming with a T-shirt on, and for the exact opposite reason.

My whole life, I've been troubled by social circumstances that warrant any level of public nudity. Why did every men's locker room have a naked middle-aged guy parading around like he owned the place? What made these men so comfortable with their bodies, and why did so many of them look like Danny Devito?

I've been thinking about this again, because Lauren and I bought a family gym membership a couple weeks ago. Before joining, we took a tour of the facilities. One of the trainers brought me into the men's locker room, and sure enough, there was a middle-aged naked man walking from the sauna to the showers. Granted, it was a busy day, and there were plenty of clothed people, as well, so I didn't think anything of it.

So we joined, and I came in Monday before work. When I entered the locker room that morning, there were two people in there, and one of them was naked. On Tuesday morning, there was only an older gentleman standing naked in front of the mirror, spraying his armpits with aerosol deodorant. The next day, a different guy was showering with the curtain wide open.  I have now been to the gym seven times, and there is always ALWAYS a naked middle-aged man in the locker room, going about his business as if he were in his own bathroom. Actually,  that's not even fair, because nobody would need to spend that much time naked in their own bathroom. Five naked minutes? Ten naked minutes? What are they trying to accomplish? I timed it myself. To remove a towel and put on underwear should take no longer than six seconds, and that's with a pulled hamstring.

Six naked seconds is all you need, guys.

Last Saturday morning, I went to drop off my bag in the locker room and sure enough, there was naked man standing on the scale, staring at his feet. A half hour later, I came back to change into my bathing suit so I could meet the kids at the pool.  The man was gone. In fact, everyone was gone. For the first time since we joined, I had the entire locker room to myself!

Just as I stripped down to put on my bathing suit, one of the trainers walked in with a prospective member. "So here's the men's locker room," he said, and started explaining where to find towels.

I stood there, bathing suit in hand, and realized that I had completed my transformation. Less than two weeks of gym membership, and I was one of them. I nodded at the prospective member and gave him a sober stare, imbued with worldly wisdom.

I'm a naked middle-aged man, and I own this place.

With warmest regards,
Zach

Bet Your Bottom Loonie

Dear Friends,

I used to wonder if my life would have been easier if I had committed to writing one dirty limerick a month rather than one song a month. Probably not. Undoubtedly, life would have been more glamorous, but not easier. There are only so many stories one can tell about a man from Nantucket, and the pressure to come up with new variations that don't sound derivative would be overwhelming. I'll stick with songs for now.  The new one for this month is called, "Why Won't You Cry?"

Here's a brain teaser. Fill in the blank:

"The Sisterhood of the Traveling ____"

The correct answer is that there isn't a correct answer. It's a trick question. The sentence makes no sense, because the blank is in the wrong spot. It should be The Sister ____hood of the Traveling, and the answer is, "City Increases the Likeli."

Sorry. If it was easy, it wouldn't be a brain teaser.

Visiting a Sister City is like borrowing your best friend's shorts. (Yes, I said shorts, not pants. Why do you keep bringing up pants?) Ann Arbor has a half dozen, and each sister is more twisted than the last. I, for one, intend to sightsee the living hell out of all of them.

In recent years, I provided exhaustive stereotype-free travel guides for Hikone, Dakar, and Tübingen. Today, we stand parallel to the world map and crane our necks backwards to examine our Sister in the far North: Peterborough, Ontario.

Nestled on the Ontonabee River, Peterborough is a strikingly small city, appropriately named for handsome screen actor Peter Dinklage.

English is the first language of most residents, but their proximity to Quebec gives them ample opportunities to speak with hilarious French accents, much like the city's namesake, handsome screen actor Peter Sellers.

Known as the "Electric City," Peterborough was the first municipality in Ontario to install wall outlets in every residential home and commercial igloo. The coal-burning electric plants have led to an alarming rash of lung cancer, with a prevalence comparable to that of the city's namesake, handsome television news anchor Peter Jennings.

After AC and DC electricity, tourism is Peterborough's third largest industry. The array of museums, theaters, and cultural exhibitions never seems to grow old, much like the city's namesake, handsome musical cross-dresser Peter Pan.


Peterborough, Ontario - Quick Facts and Guesstimates
Population (February 2016): 80,000
Population (February 2017): Unknown millions, when 49% of the population of the United States fulfills their promise to move to Canada after someone they hate is elected president.
Most common occupations, age under 60: Lumberjack, fur trader, being a flying squirrel
Most common occupation, age over 60: Not being drafted in the Vietnam War
Namesake of City: Handsome singer-songwriter Peter Frampton
Most popular TV show: The Biggest Hoser
What to do if attacked by a grizzly bear: Act like a fish. Then it will hit your head against a rock to stun you before mauling you.
Most popular hate group: The Neo-NotZeds
Legendary hero: Some medieval knight who body-checked a dragon into the walls of a castle.
Other Popular Folk Tales: There are plenty of good ones. When it comes to Canadian mythos, this Digest is not my first beaver rodeo.
Motto: Always carry a camera, in case you need to prove you saw a Sasquatch secretly paying his respects at the grave of a deceased Mountie.
Namesake of City: "Pedro" from Napoleon Dynamite, who is muy guapo
Traditional prom corsage: A bouquet of Molson bottles taped to moose antlers
Driving time to Ann Arbor: 5h 23m by car, 20h 13m by dogsled, 132h 31m by Zamboni (because you have to go back and forth three times to cover the entire road.)
Favorite Judy Blume book: "Tales of a Grade Four Nothing."

With warmest regards,
Zach

2015: A Beard in Review

Dear Friends,

The inaugural Hard Taco Song for 2016 is called, "A Sexy Chord Progression." That's the only link on this page that will fully satisfy your curiosity. The rest of them will leave you wanting.

Exactly one year ago today, I asked myself, "Can you patent a beard?" The answer can be found on a nearby web page. You sure can.

Here's how it works. Anyone can register a unique beard with the U.S. Patent and Trademark Office. The Census Bureau tracks epidemiological trends in beard demographics, and distributes royalties to patent holders. These monies come from an excise tax on beard oils and waxes.

Many beard styles are now in the public domain, but a few facial hair pioneers have retained their claims. The descendants of Martin Van Buren and Ambrose Burnside each earn over $50,000 a year, thanks to the cult followings enjoyed by Side-whiskers and Friendly Muttonchops, respectively. Distributions from the Horseshoe Mustache have afforded Hulk Hogan the opportunity to retire from wrestling at the young age of 61.

Facial hair franchising is far from a sure investment. The returns depend on the popularity of the beard or mustache in question. That's why the Hitler family barely breaks even most years.

My New Year's resolution for 2015 was to develop and patent at least one popular new beard. I rented a Selfie-Stick for the year to document my campaign.


January 2015

5... 4... 3... 2... 1... Happy New Year!
I will stop shaving at precisely this moment. Let's break a champagne bottle across my jaw to celebrate my face's maiden voyage towards beardedness!



March 2015

Feeling optimistic. The facial hair may not be coming in as quickly or as symmetrically as I had hoped, but I'm in this for the long haul. I bought tubes of "beard balm" and "ruff wax" so I can tame the frizzy flyaways that are likely to develop in the coming weeks.

Possible names for this beard:

• Five-o-clock muff
• Imperial tomato fuzz
• The left cheek mustache

May 2015

I think my co-workers are starting to notice, but they haven't said anything yet. That's okay... you never want to ask a man if he's growing a beard until you are 100% sure. That is like asking a woman if she is pregnant or asking a different woman if she is choking.

Possible names for this beard:

• Mouth gauntlet
• The petite walrus
• The stubble helix

July 2015

Still haven't heard back from the Patent Office, but I'm moving forward with confidence! Lauren and I disagree about whether we should write "Patent Pending" on the photo that we submit with the application. I say yes! Neither of us is a patent attorney, per se, but I feel that I have a firmer grasp of what "pending" means. 

Possible names for this beard:

• Motown chops
• The jockstrap thatch
• Douchebag Royale

September 2015

Almost there! This beard feels surprisingly marketable, but I think a few more weeks of steady growth might turn it into something transcendent. I really hope the hipster revolution lasts that long!

Possible names for this beard:

• The chin valance
• Goat bristles
• The Jew Manchu

November 2015

There's a happy camper! It has taken over 10 tedious months, but I have finally achieved a face full of of downy, indulgent tufts. Never have my cheeks felt so luxurious, so fleecy, so self-aware.  I'm going to burn some vacation days this week so I can spend more time fluffing.

Possible names for this epic beard:

• Neckbeard supreme
• The Dwalin
• Z.L. Top

January 2016
This year is full of possibilities... for my investors! Realistically, my trademarked beards aren't going to dethrone the Soul Patch or the Goatee any time soon, but with a little venture capital, I bet we can overtake the Shenandoah and the Dali this year! Does anyone know how to use Kickstarter?

With warmest regards (and warmest jowls), 

Zach

Star Wars: What No One Else Has The Courage To Say About It

Dear Friends,

For the third consecutive month, the Hard Taco jingle focuses on levity and brevity rather than pensiveness and extensiveness. At 78 seconds, "Manchego" is so short, I will only need to spend $11.5 million dollars to play it over a blank screen during the Superbowl.

Two months ago, we treated you to an uncannily accurate prediction of the newest James Bond film. Today, I'm going to do that same breaststroke in a much more crowded pool, and offer heroic predictions about Star Wars Episode VII.

SPOILER ALERT: It's quite possible that I am going to tell it like it is, so read on only if you want the gospel truth and the no nonsense treatment.

What will happen now that Disney owns the rights to the Star Wars franchise?
As soon as The Force Awakens leaves theaters, Disney will make plans to re-release it in exactly 20 years. That's how long it will take for the technology to finally catch up with Walt Disney's original vision of the movie, in which a whistling Han Solo bobs up and down on his noodle-like legs and steers a steamboat.

Will the new Star Wars movie rely heavily on computer-generated graphics?
No. To appease the fan base, they will return to the tradition of implying awesome technology, rather than showing it. As in the original trilogy, characters will simply describe space vehicles as either "operational," "quite operational," or "fully operational," and let the audience imagine how cool they must be.

Why is Luke Skywalker not shown in the preview?
Some time in the last 30 years, Luke became a Sith. They can't show him in the preview without giving this away, because now he has one of the two stigmata of Sith-hood: Horns or a hoodie. (Also known as the "Sith Hood.")

If you watched the end of "Return of the Jedi," you may have had an inkling that Luke was destined for villainy. The most obvious clue is that he was unthinkably rude to his father's corpse. In one scene, he helped Vader remove his mask. In the next scene, he burned his father's remains, and the mask was back on! Let's not forget that removal of that mask was Anakin's dying wish. Luke waited until Anakin was dead, and then immediately put it back on his face! That's pretty damn disrespectful, if you ask me.

Imagine if a loved died after a prolonged ICU stay. Would you reattach the ventilator to the body and bring them both to the morgue to be cremated together?

That vent really helped Dad for a while, so I'm sure he'd prefer that its ashes be eternally intermingled with his own.  And while we're at it, let's take his walker and his dentures and toss those in the fire, too. They were really part of his look there, at the end.

Is Leia also a Sith?
I predict yes! But in name only.

A voice change is typical when someone turns to the Dark Side. When Anakin became Darth Vader, his voice became lower and richer. When Luke gave into his hate, perhaps he chose to mark his transformation with a saucy lisp. In Episode VII, when he sees Leia for the first time in years, he shouts, "Hey, Sith! Join me and carry on the workth of Darth Sidiuth!"

Will Luke Skywalker finally die in this movie?
Definitely. In the interest of time, let's hope he's one of the Jedi who inexplicably disappears when he dies, like Yoda or Obiwan, rather than one of the ones who has to be burned on a pyre, like Anakin or Qui Gon.

Who is the adorable little droid in the preview that rolls around the desert on some sort of gyro-sphere?
Its name is BB-8, and it was built over 50 years after R2D2. Apparently, that's still not enough time for robot manufacturers to develop a friendly sidekick droid that can handle stairs.

With warmest regards,
Zach

Halloween in Hawaii: The Legend of Sleepy Mahalo

Dear Friends,

Aloha from Oahu! It is November where you are, but here in Honolulu, it is still October 31, so I wish you a very happy Helewi! If you can't deduce the meaning of that word from context clues, just remember that Hawaiians treat their consonants like lazy teenagers: They never finish anything and aren't allowed to touch each other.

Goodnight Tushy
This month's Hard Taco song, "Can We Please Just Hang Out Now?" touches on the subject of Hawaii. Here's how it came to be:

Young Malcolm is a typical kid with a typical bedtime routine. He puts on pajamas, brushes his teeth, reads a story, and begs me to pile all of his stuffed animals in a different room because they are possessed by evil spirits. Then, I tuck him in, scratch his back, and turn the lights out. As I walk out of the room, I shake my butt like a Tahitian dancer, and he says, "Goodnight, Tushy." We have imparted a sense of finality to that statement. Once he utters those two words, the day is officially over and he is forbidden from getting out of bed until morning.

Not surprisingly, he has tried everything in his power to postpone saying goodnight to my butt.

"Daddy, I'm thirsty!" Sucks to be you.

"Daddy, I heard a creepy noise!" If you survive until morning, you can show me your scars during breakfast.

Then one day, he strung together a series of words that successfully deferred my rump-shaking. "Daddy, let's write a song together!"

Aw, how can I say no to that? The product of that procrastination session is this month's Hard Taco song, "Can We Please Just Hang Out Now?" Malcolm wanted to explore the subject of friendship. Specifically, the theme is the urgency of wanting to hang out with your friend immediately when he returns from vacation to Hawaii. Malcolm knew that we were planning this trip to the Aloha State, so perhaps he wanted to write a song that his friends could sing to him.

Get That Grizzly a Coconut Bra
This reminds me a comic strip I once read in the University of Wisconsin student-run newspaper, The Daily Cardinal. When I was a med student in Madison, The Cardinal was four pages long, and nearly 20% of its ink was wasted on feeble student-drawn comic strips. These strips consistently managed to be both disgusting and migraine-inducing, like a pile of poop in a strobe light. Here's an example:

Stick figure 1: Let's go to the mall.
Stick figure 2: Okay!

Stick figure 1: (Getting attacked by a bear) Aaaahhh!
Stick figure 2: I thought you said, "Let's go to M-A-U-L."

I remember reading this, and actually becoming angry at the young cartoonist who brought this strobe-lit dung into my life. The art, setup, and delivery were pathetic and the pun didn't even make grammatical sense.

But then, a miracle happened. A Labor Day Miracle, you could say, if we were to name miracles after the most proximate holiday.

With a few quick pencil strokes, the comic transformed into this:

Stick figure 1: Let's go to the mall.
Stick figure  2: Okay!

Stick figure  1: (Getting attacked by a bear in a grass skirt) Aaaahhh!
Stick figure 2: I thought you said, "Let's go to M-A-U-I."

Suddenly, this comic was ver funny. If it had been drawn this way in the first place, it may have been worth a chuckle. What made it sidesplittingly, life-alteringly hilarious was the net change in funniness, the humor delta, if you will. The transformation from a negative black hole of failure to something slightly whimsical was such an massive and dramatic shift, my system was unable to handle it.

I erupted in laughter, right in the middle of class. Pushing my lips together in hopes of suppressing the sound only led to mirthful, spasmodic snorting. I had never lost control of my diaphragm before, but I was out-of-control and I actually had to get up and leave the room because I was disrupting class.

In case you don't appreciate why this is funny, let me explain it to you: It is preposterous that someone would travel all the way to Hawaii because of a misunderstanding, only to be attacked by an animal that isn't indigenous to the area, but is trying to fit in by wearing the traditional costume of local... 

Sorry, I can't finish that sentence, because I'm snorting again and have to excuse myself from the computer room.

With warmest regards,
Zach

P.S. During this trip, I learned a traditional Hawaiian Halloween joke. I don't remember the setup, but the punch line is, "The SPOOK-ulele."