I have been informed that today, 30 April, is National Honesty Day. Behave accordingly.

Oh, and do these jeans make me look fat?

“BERLIN (Reuters) – A pregnant cow being chased by police and fire fighters caused 25,000 euros ($33,900) of damage on a three-hour rampage through the German city of Hanover.”

I’m not even kidding. Hanover was terrorized for three hours by the Dairy Destroyer … the Bovine Bully … the Malevolent Moo.

I’m not even going to try a joke here; it’s humorous enough as it is.

The other night, I was (yet again) watching the NHL playoffs on CBC. There was a game I wanted to watch, but for some reason I can’t remember — either two games were on at the same time or they simply weren’t showing it in the east — I was unable to see it on our nearby CBC station; fortunately, CBC had been advertising the availability of live streaming game video on their site, so I thought I would keep an eye on the game through cbcsports.ca.

It was a great idea … until I tried to open the video. Instead of seeing a hockey game, I saw this:

We have had a bit of a mystery here at the Stronghold. My chair sits in one corner of the house, and nearly every evening for several weeks, there has been an odd scratching noise in this corner. We knew it had to be an animal, but until recently, we didn’t know what sort of animal or where it was — in the attic, in the wall, or outside on the deck.

The other evening, I was watching that bastion of great white sport, Hockey Night In Canada. (The availability of CBC is one of the blessings of living so close to Windsor.) In the middle of the broadcast, the odd scratching occurred yet again, but this time something different happened: the TV picture very briefly dropped out and returned. As I was hoping the picture would hold, I remembered that the antenna cable runs up the outside corner of the house, exactly where the scratching was occurring; thanks to that brief technical difficulty, it became clear the animal was outside the house.

When I came to that realization, I took a look out the bay window to see if I could spot the animal. And this time, I finally managed to see the source of the scratching: an apparently mischievous and obviously pudgy raccoon.

A few days later, the raccoon visited when it was light enough to get a picture, so I put my camera up to the (appropriately named) picture window and photographed the culprit.

We have no idea why this particular raccoon is so fond of that one particular spot on the house, but there must be something either intriguing or infuriating to him; he’s spent weeks scratching at the same corner. But we have no plans to engage him in conversation to learn his motivation.

A few weeks ago, official Mindreader historian Jenny sent me a link to a site called Teeter Talk.  The site, run by an Ann Arbor resident, consists of a number of interviews (95 of them, in fact); most interview subjects are from the Ann Arbor area, with a few from points beyond.  And far from being exclusive, he invites readers to suggest future interview subjects.  But the most appealing attribute of the site is apparent in its name: all interviews are conducted on a teeter totter in Dave Askins’ backyard.

Annette, loyal friend of the Mindreader, has discovered a disturbing piece of information concerning one of the staples of the American diet; out of concern for the health of the general public, the Mindreader feels compelled to disseminate this information.

Recently, Annette’s stomach initiated a fairly one-sided conversation, the full account of which has been provided to the Mindreader:

“I want food,” said the stomach.

“But–” protested Annette.

“I WANT FOOD,” said the stomach, in a tone reminiscent of Mr. T when foolish villains dared to threaten the A-Team van. Annette, having previously witnessed the fearsome wrath of B.A. Baracus, wisely avoided physical harm by not giving her stomach backtalk. (Sucka.)

This conversation compelled Annette to forage for food. Fortunately, like Hannibal Smith, she’s always handy with a plan, so it took her no time at all to find what she needed: a box of macaroni and cheese. Pleased by this discovery, she set out to make macaroni and cheese tasty like Howlin’ Mad Murdock made craziness fun.

Ah, but like an A-Team plot, it was not as simple as it should have been. Before she could start on her way to a great American meal, she was waylaid by that nefarious villain of scrumptiousness: the expiration date. In fact, her macaroni and cheese wasn’t just expired; it was a culinary antique: it expired in 2004. To be precise, it expired on 15 December 2004.

Still, this seemed like a minor barrier; pasta lasts a good long time, and the powdered cheese mix … well, that could survive a nuclear attack and greet the fallout with a smile and a hot meal, so surely it scoffs at the very mention of an expiration date. Right?

Not so right. Actually, wrong. After realizing that her macaroni and cheese expired when Snoop Dogg was dropping it like it was hot, Annette decided to inspect the contents of the box. And that was when she made her horrifying discovery: like the retiring Bob Barker, even powdered cheese is subject to the ravages of time.

When she opened the packet of cheese mix, the sad reality was readily apparent. Rather than seeing the pleasant golden powder just waiting to be combined with actual dairy products, she was confronted with a different substance. It was not a pleasant, welcoming yellow; instead, it was a darker shade of yellow, perhaps most accurately described as slightly foreboding. And its smell did not give a hint of cheesy goodness; instead, it could be described only as odd-smelling.

Annette, knowing she could not in good conscience suppress this information, immediately contacted the Mindreader. And that brings us back to the present, where, like Templeton Peck confronted by a failed con, a stunned world struggles to handle the revelation of the mortality of one of its mightiest foods.

This just in: the Mindreader reaches across political barriers to deliver … well, whatever it is the Mindreader delivers.

How do I know? Well, the Great Firewall of China swiftly and happily tests any URL to see if it is available in China. Because I know the Mindreader is crucial to the long-term health of China, and because I am an expert — or at least a highly-advanced novice — at using the internet for all sorts of frivolous purposes, I tested this URL. And, miracle of miracles, the Great Firewall told me something good.

(I found the Great Firewall link at CFR.)

The other day, I was tooling around facebook, and one of their advertisements caught my eye.

I know I always respond well to namecalling.