by TEJ | May 7, 2023 | Pop culture humor
This is perhaps the most iconic image ever taken of Bigfoot, from 1967. Is this really Bigfoot? If so, where was he going in such a hurry? Experts believe it was probably a male because it refused to ask for directions.
Now that I’m officially retired, I am filling my days with all sorts of leisure activities, like travel, playing racquetball, going to lunch with old friends, and binge-watching Season Three of Succession.
As a result of all the fun things we’ve been doing, I’ve noticed lately that our retirement savings are not quite where we’d like them to be. My wife had the craziest suggestion that perhaps her husband should return to work part-time. Isn’t she hilarious? (Although, if you ask me, I ‘d make a fabulous Walmart greeter.)
I did some rough calculations and determined that the statistical probability of my opting to return to work at this stage of my life is slightly lower than my chances of being selected in the first round of the next NFL Draft. So, how can I build up our nest egg again and have fun at the same time?
I think I’ve found the solution: Searching for Bigfoot. Hear me out. I read the other day that the state legislature of Oklahoma is offering a $3 million bounty for anyone who captures Bigfoot alive. If I can claim that prize, this reward would more than cover the cost of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream (my favorite) for the next twenty years – with money left over to buy the latest PlayStation 5. It just so happens I live in northwestern Washington state, pretty much Ground Zero for Bigfoot sightings over the past 50 years.
I almost feel sorry for all those poor misguided Oklahomans who have been searching all over the Sooner State for Bigfoot. They won’t find him. He’s not there. There hasn’t been a credible Bigfoot sighting in Oklahoma in over four months. I’m pretty sure he’s right here in Washington state, picking berries and chasing rabbits in some forest habitat – either that or dumpster diving for stale bananas behind a 7-Eleven along the Cascade Highway. Bigfoots aren’t exactly known for having haute cuisine tastes.
People have been looking for Bigfoot – or as we locals here in the Pacific Northwest prefer to call him, Sasquatch – since the 1800s. That’s when settlers in the northwestern United States began reporting sightings of a large, upright, apelike, hairy creature, sometimes estimated to be over eight feet tall, with a powerfully built frame. In other words, he probably looks eerily like my late Uncle Ralph – if you added three feet to Uncle Ralph’s height and made him slightly more attractive – and smarter.
Searching for Bigfoot will get me off the couch and out of the house, so I figure my wife will be all for my idea. Plus, I can set my own schedule. I won’t have to get up before 10am, which is ideal because from what I hear, Bigfoot’s not an early morning riser either.
When I start my search for Bigfoot, I think I’ll begin right here, at this Bigfoot Crossing sign. I think I’ll put out a trail of Reese’s Pieces to lure him to me, just like in ET – unless you think he’s more of an M&M’s fan.
Where I live is roughly halfway between Washington state’s two large mountain ranges, the Cascades and the Olympics, where most Bigfoot sightings have been reported. However, just last week an elderly woman claimed to have spotted Bigfoot hiding behind an ’87 Chevy Impala in a Walmart parking lot not far from my house. But it was later determined to be just an overweight stark naked extremely hairy old guy wearing only a MAGA hat and carrying a 12-pack of Miller Lite.
In preparing for this ambitious project, I’ve been doing some preliminary research on the equipment required. It turns out, there’s not much I’ll need to stock up on. All I’ll need initially is a powerful flashlight, a few boxes of batteries, maybe some waterproof hiking boots, and about 5,000 bear traps, strategically placed in areas Bigfoots like to explore, such as dense forests, caves, and drive-thru espresso stands.
I went to a gun store to purchase a rifle and a case of tranquilizer darts. I figured I might need them in case I spotted a Bigfoot charging at me. I’ve seen videos where these darts will take down a grizzly bear. I’m not the most accurate shot. But I figure, if I miss and accidentally take out a deer hunter, well, at least I’d have done my small part to reduce the world’s deer hunter population.
I will also need to buy a truckload of Red Vines, as I read somewhere that Bigfoots love Red Vines. I hope that’s accurate. I’d hate to lay down a couple grand on 400 boxes of Red Vines only to find out that the big guy is more of a Twizzlers afficionado. That would be embarrassing.
I have so many questions:
- How many Bigfoots are out there?
- What do they like to eat?
- Could they be taught to use cutlery?
- Do they make good pets?
- Could they be socialized enough to play linebacker for my Seattle Seahawks? (They’re in dire need of one.)
- Is the plural of Bigfoot Bigfeet?
As a soon-to-be nationally recognized expert on how to capture the elusive Bigfoot, please take my advice. If you spot him, don’t invite him to take a group family photo. From what I’ve learned, Bigfoot will most likely
attempt to sniff your child’s hair or – worse yet – try to mug for the camera.
I’m excited to get started. In fact, just last night, I thought I might have spotted Bigfoot in my backyard. Alas, it turned out to be our giant, way-too-big tuxedo kitty named Buddy, who had snuck out the back door again. Good thing my wife told me in the nick of time, as from my vantage point, I had a clear shot. Guess I should think twice about hunting for Bigfoot without my glasses.
I realize it’s a long shot that I’ll win Oklahoma’s $3 million grand prize. But if I bag Bigfoot, I know the perfect place in our house to display my taxidermized catch: in the main foyer. I think I’ll use him as a coat rack. My racquetball buddies will be so jealous.
That’s the view from the bleachers. Perhaps I’m off base.
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by TEJ | Feb 25, 2022 | In the News Humor, Pop culture humor
What exactly is cryptocurrency? And what’s a blockchain? A “digital wallet?” And what is Bitcoin mining? Is crypto risky? You sure do ask a lot of questions. Just pay me $1 million in Bitcoin, and I’ll tell you everything you need to know.
If you’re like me, you’re a 67-year-old man who doesn’t floss consistently, has an annoying bald spot, might be addicted to peanut butter, and has a mole on your back that is starting to cause you some concern. And, like me, you’re also probably wondering, “What exactly is this thing called cryptocurrency?” But first things first. You probably should get that mole checked out.
So, what is this confusing thing called cryptocurrency? Let me help you out with this simple explanation that any seven-year-old could understand (assuming that youngster is currently studying blockchain computer programming at Harvard).
Cryptocurrency is nothing more than a form of decentralized digital currency traded over the internet, utilizing a series of peer-to-peer networks of computers running open-source software, based on a complex series of logarithmic algorithms in which all transactions are vetted using a sophisticated technology called blockchain.
I know, I know. I hear your internal gears working: “Okay, but what is blockchain?” Glad to see you’re paying such close attention. It’s actually quite basic. A blockchain – or as my poker buddies call it, “Distributed Ledger Technology” (DLT) – is just a fancy term for a distributed database shared among digital nodes of a computer network in which the information is stored electronically, thereby enabling cryptocurrency systems to maintain a secure, decentralized record of transactions, without any governmental regulatory interference.
And this might surprise you, but a blockchain database collects information together in groups, known as blocks, that hold sets of information, and is closed and linked to previously filled blocks, forming a chain of data known as a blockchain. This is done using a process called a “Segregated Witness (or SEGWIT for short) that separates digital signature data from transaction data, thereby allowing a higher volume of transactions to fit onto one block.
One type of cryptocurrency is a “token.” Think of it as being kind of like a bus token – but only in the way it is spelled.
Now, wasn’t that simple? But what you might not know is that blockchain is used in a decentralized way so that no single person or group has control – other than Mark Zuckerberg, obviously. Decentralized blockchains are immutable, which means that the data entered is irreversible and therefore all transactions are permanently recorded – with backups stored in tough guy actor Danny Trejo’s basement for maximum security.
For the five readers who didn’t bail after I got to the part about “blockchain,” I just have to say, you clearly have a high pain tolerance for obscure technobabble. Why are you still reading this? Do you even have a life? I’ll bet you’re really into playing Magic: The Gathering with your friend Bert. How does your spouse put up with you? Get outside for once and try learning a sport. And no, Dungeons and Dragons is not a sport.
If you are still having difficulty understanding how BLOCKCHAIN works, perhaps this simple diagram will help.
What, you still want to learn more about crypto? Okay, don’t say you weren’t warned. You’ve probably heard of Bitcoin. It was the very first cryptocurrency, introduced way back in 2008. Since then, more than 16,000 other cryptocurrencies have been launched (and thousands of them have crashed and subsequently vanished).
I recently learned there was even a hot cryptocurrency called TimCoin. So, naturally, with a great name like that I decided I had to go all in. I was all set to cash in our entire IRA portfolio – until my wife read that it was just a scam. Apparently, all the initial investors lost everything when it was discovered that the CEO had used the funds to purchase “extremely rare seeds” and repair a hole in her kitchen due to a small fire. (True.) I guess I dodged a bullet there.
Okay, I have to confess. I’ve read articles and watched news stories intending to explain Crypto, digital tokens, blockchain, Binance Smart Chain networks, and something called “bitcoin mining.” And I still can’t grasp what any of it means. For this article I just Googled “what is cryptocurrency.” I have no idea what the words I have been writing even mean. I was just trying to impress you. Did it work? I didn’t think so.
If you’re still confused as to what all the hoopla is about crypto, you may be asking, “Is it risky?” It all comes down to your level of risk tolerance. If you’re the kind of person who gets a rush out of putting down $10,000 on 22 at the roulette table in Vegas, if you get an adrenaline high from trying to outrun the bulls in Pamplona, desperately hoping to avoid being gored to death, or if you’re a big fan of Ponzi schemes, then something tells me crypto just might be totally your kind of thing.
If on the other hand, you might like to retire someday with most of your 401K intact and still be able to take that Mediterranean cruise you’ve been dreaming about for years, then perhaps you might want to sit out the crypto craze. My wife explained to me that it’s the Wild West of investing, as it’s a virtually unregulated industry with huge, sudden market swings up and down – much like my daughter and her feelings about her latest boyfriend.
Incredibly, if you lose your crypto “wallet” password, you’re completely screwed. No bank or government agency will bail you out – not even Oprah, and she is extremely generous.
A couple of computer software engineering nerds went so far as to launch a satirical cryptocurrency they named Dogecoin, in order to make fun of Bitcoin. Elon Musk endorsed the new currency. Now Dogecoin has a market cap of $19 billion. That’s one hell of a prank.
A few years ago, there was a guy named Stefan Thomas who misplaced his Bitcoin password – never could remember it. As a result, he couldn’t access his Bitcoin account. His $250 million investment was literally locked in a cyberspace vault forever. Poor guy. He should have used an easier-to-remember password. Had he used my universal password (“PASSWORD123”), he’d be rich today.
My advice, if you’re contemplating getting into crypto: Do extensive research. Otherwise, you probably should avoid it altogether – unless you’re really good at remembering your password.
Invest in something less volatile. In fact, the other day, a buddy of mine told me about another hot new investment vehicle that sounds like a sure thing. It’s called Non-Fungible Tokens or NFTs for short.
I asked him what an NFT was and he said. “It’s a unique unit of data employing technology that allows digital content – from videos to songs to images – to become logged and authenticated on cryptocurrency blockchains like Ethereum so that you can easily own and sell digital content.”
Umm, I have absolutely no idea what the hell any of that means. But I do know one thing: I’d better get in on this NOW, before the buzz around NFTs start to cool off. Don’t tell my wife. I want to surprise her.
That’s the view from the bleachers. Perhaps I’m off base.
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© Tim Jones, View from the Bleachers 2022.
by TEJ | Dec 29, 2021 | All Blog Posts, In the News Humor, Pop culture humor
I’m excited to announce my latest career move: Replacing Judge Judy, who recently stepped down from The People’s Court. Pray to God you don’t have to appear before me. I’m a ruthless judge. I have a lot of scores to settle and a very long memory.
Recently, I decided to retire from my four-decades-long career in sales management. As you know, I’m not one to boast about my many lofty career achievements. but I humbly admit that I was extremely gifted at building and leading successful, high-performing sales organizations (if you ignore the input of my former bosses or any of my sales reps or HR Directors who had to deal with the litany of complaints they received from my sales reps and bosses).
I was preparing to retire to a simpler life of afternoon naps and watching reruns of Modern Family, when I read some shocking news. I learned that after 25 years and 12,500 episodes, Judge Judith Sheindlin, better known as Judge Judy, recently decided to call it quits. She would soon bang her last gavel on the long-running hit daytime show, The People’s Court.
I began to wonder anxiously: Who would fill the tremendous void left by Judge Judy’s departure? Would America start to descend into lawlessness, violence, and debauchery? More importantly, What would I do to fill my time between 4 and 5pm on weekdays?
Then it hit me. Of course! Call off the search for the next Judge Judy. Because there was one person uniquely qualified to take her place. And that person was staring back at me in the mirror. I would be the natural jurist to fill Judge Judy’s shoes (unless she wore high heels, in which case, having to wear pumps would be a deal breaker).
What are my credentials, you ask? Too many to count. I went to Ohio State University’s law school, where I finished in the top 99% of my class. I also took three years of Latin in high school, and I remembered that judges use tons of obscure Latin phrases in their decisions, like Quid Pro Quo and Res Judicata. I have no idea what either of these mean, but that’s never stopped me from using them in the past.
During law school, I had a part-time job as a conciliation mediator working for the Small Claims Court of the Franklin County, Ohio Municipal Court System and my job was to attempt to persuade complainants to settle their claims out of court. I did a phenomenal job. In fact, I had the highest case settlement record in the court’s history. And there is no way my supervisor would dispute my claim because that was 40 years ago, and I’m pretty sure he died a while back.
Another reason I’m the logical successor to JJ is because I was in my high school’s theatrical production of Inherit the Wind, a play about the famous Scopes Monkey Trial. I was cast in the role of Matthew Harrison Brady, the prosecutor in the trial.
Again, pardon me if I sound immodest, but my performance was Oscar-worthy. My drama teacher Art Green said about my performance, and I quote, “Tim’s performance was at times erratic, and I don’t think he quite grasped the motivation of his character. He felt the need to hog the spotlight every chance he got. Tim would be a natural, um…lighting crew assistant.”
Stop, Mr. Green. Stop! You’re giving me a swelled head! But perhaps most importantly, The People’s Court wouldn’t even have to buy me a judge’s robe, because I already have one (as proven by the photo above), which I bought for a Halloween party in 1994. It still fits me – if I don’t have a big meal before trial.
So, now that we’ve agreed I’m the obvious choice, you can start calling me Judge Tim – once my official judicial confirmation is approved by the U.S. Senate. I’ve got some, let’s just say, “embarrassing dirt” on Senate Majority Leader Schumer, so my confirmation is pretty much assured.
Here is a small sampling of the cases I plan to hear, as soon as I can locate my gavel (which I stole from the set of Inherit the Wind in high school, but please don’t tell the U.S. Senate Judiciary Committee):
The case against Mary Spivey, who, in my freshman year at UVa, agreed to go out on a date with me when we were matched by a computer date matching service, only to have our first (and last) date end after 30 minutes, when an irate guy interrupted our date to inform me that, unbeknownst to me, he and Mary were engaged (true). Judge Tim doesn’t get mad. He gets even. Mary, I’ve ordered UVa’s registrar to update your final college transcript and change your impressive 3.9 GPA to a shameful 1.9. And just like that, your grandkids will lose all respect for you.
Why am I so sure I’ll be selected as the next judge on The People’s Court? Because I played the prosecutor in my high school’s production of Inherit the Wind. That’s me on the right as Matthew Harrison Brady. At left, my classmate, Arman Williams, who bore a vague resemblance to Spencer Tracy. Amazing makeup jobs, if you ask me.
The case against my three college dormmates who pranked me one time by putting up deeply embarrassing posters of me all over campus. Sure, I laughed and pretended it was hilarious. Maybe you will all be in stitches when you see the punishment I’ll be doling out to you. Hope you like Mexican prisons.
The case against that Nazi storm trooper cop who issued me a ticket for going three miles an hour UNDER the speed limit. Kneel before me when you enter my courtroom, you pathetic little man, and hand me your badge.
The case against my neighbor for borrowing my weed whacker and never returning it. No wait, now I remember. Actually, I borrowed it from HIM, and then I lost it. Okay, I’ll go easy on him, I guess.
And finally, the case against Donald Trump for having taken years off my life, causing me to scream at my TV on a daily basis for the past six years, and raising my blood pressure to dangerous levels. Donald, Judge Tim would be happy to build that wall you keep ranting about, you petulant man child. But that won’t be necessary. I’ve already made all the arrangements. Your beautiful, insurmountable wall is waiting for you – at Sing Sing Correctional Facility.
It appears I’m going to have a full docket, I must say. I assure you, I will be a fair judge, committed to justice. And I will only accept cash bribes if I have a particularly large credit card bill coming due that month.
Wait a minute. I just read that Supreme Court Justice Stephen Breyer might step down in the upcoming year. Maybe I should turn down The People’s Court gig and put my name in for Breyer’s job. After all, these guys only work 26 weeks a year and they only hear cases on Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday mornings. Talk about a cushy gig. Yeah, given my marginal work ethic these days, that job sounds more up my alley.
Court adjourned!
That’s the view from the bleachers. Perhaps I’m off base.
PS: If you enjoyed this week’s post, let me know by posting a comment, giving it a Like or sharing this post on Facebook.
Subscribe to my new View from the Bleachers YouTube Channel and request notifications to see my latest videos.© Tim Jones, View from the Bleachers 2022
by TEJ | Aug 14, 2021 | In the News Humor, Pop culture humor
Millions of Americans are infuriated with each other. On one hand are people who believe COVID is a serious health threat and have chosen to get vaccinated and wear a mask to prevent others from getting infected. On the other hand (how can I put this as objectively and dispassionately as possible?) are IDIOTS.
Hello, Anti-Vaxxer person. Doctor Tim here, nationally recognized immunology expert, second cousin of Dr. Anthony Fauci, and author of the best-selling book about the pandemic called FREEDOM: How to Ignore Modern Medical Science and Die Painfully Like a Feudal Serf.
It’s a fascinating read, but, as an Anti-Vaxxer, you’ll probably want to skip it, seeing as it is neither a comic book nor a coloring book. Besides, it contains many complicated words and phrases like “pandemic” and “immunocompromised” and “if you’re still refusing to get vaccinated, you’re a selfish idiot.”
I can’t tell you how much I admire your stubborn conviction in the face of overwhelming evidence to the contrary. How you have managed to survive this long in your magical thinking bubble is remarkable. Words fail me when I see how, no matter what facts are presented, you steadfastly refuse to be bullied into getting vaccinated or wearing a mask for the safety of others. So what if others call you a moron? To me you’re a hero.
You have the unwavering internal compass to resist the counsel of thousands of medical experts, immunology researchers, the CDC, and your own daughter who is a nurse, who all keep telling you, YOU NEED TO GET VACCINATED!! Don’t listen to the experts. Remember when experts predicted TV would just be a fad? (Okay, so you’re not quite that old. I apologize.)
Oh sure, these quack medical doctors in their fancy white jackets with stethoscopes will tell viewers on CNN that the vaccine is safe and that the only people dying or getting hospitalized lately are the unvaccinated. But who knows more about your own health and safety – a bunch of government-funded scientists with PhD’s in infectious diseases, or your favorite Facebook Group (run by Russian trolls), whose latest post claims “Biden’s Vaccine Will Make You a Pedophile”? And how do you know it won’t? Better to be safe and avoid it.
Listen to your heart – and the latest QAnon conspiracy theory. Don’t you let them insert that microchip, which your FB group says will let Bill Gates control your thoughts and turn you into a Democrat. No, you’re the kind of independent thinker who won’t let pesky facts and statistics cloud your superior judgment.
You would never let the Surgeon General’s dire warnings about the Delta variant interfere with your freedom to defy bureaucratic government terrorists constantly harassing you about masking up indoors. Bravo to you, my fine vaccine-hesitant patriot. If you don’t stand up to the tyranny of government mandated vaccinations, what’s next? Forcing our innocent children to get vaccinated for polio, tetanus, measles, chicken pox, and mumps? Oh wait, they already did that. Never mind.
The government doesn’t tell you about the dark side of all these vaccinations. Did you know that when the smallpox vaccine was first introduced, every single recipient died? (Admittedly, the smallpox vaccine was introduced in 1800, and most of the deaths took place decades later, primarily caused by old age.) My point is, every single person forced to get vaccinated when that vaccine was first administered in 1800 ultimately died. Such a senseless tragedy.
There is tons of misinformation about the COVID vaccine. Take this anti-vax poster of Bill Gates. Just not believable. Gates would never wear a pink V-neck sweater. He’s much more of a grey crewneck kind of guy. So much fake news.
I want to thank all you freedom-loving Anti-Vaxxers for sending Doctor Tim your questions and complaints. I don’t have time to respond to all of your agitated curse-word-infused rants, but I’ll try to take a stab at a few of the less profane letters here.
“Doctor Tim, I was at the hardware store minding my own f**king business, when a nasty g**d*** clerk came up to me and asked me to put on a mask. I told him it’s a free country, and he can’t make me. He threatened to ask me to leave. Do I have the right under the Second Amendment to shoot him in self-defense?” – Armed in Amarillo
Dear Armed, the Second Amendment absolutely gives you the right to shoot when you reasonably feel your personal safety is at imminent risk. And who wouldn’t feel threatened when a store clerk politely asks you to put on a mask? But you might be on the hook for some substantial prison time, nonetheless. Personally, I’d opt against shooting him and instead search for another hardware store that loves people like you. They should be easy to find. Just look for a store with a Confederate flag out front.
“Doctor Tim, I was on a Delta flight from Biloxi to Tallahassee, and the flight attendant told me I had to put on a mask. Well, I gave her a piece of my $*%+@ing mind. Then she threatened to duct tape me to my seat. Hell, she even told me to put out my cigar – three times! What about MY Freedom! Where are we, Soviet Russia? Would her rudeness constitute Treason?” – Miffed in Mississippi
Dear Miffed, I looked up the grounds for Treason in our Constitution. And it reads as follows: “Treason against the United States shall consist only in levying War against them, or in adhering to their Enemies, giving them Aid and Comfort… or if a Delta Airlines flight attendant is rude to a passenger in coach.” So yes, I think you’re on solid legal footing to sue. Let me know how your lawsuit goes.
“I’m a housecleaner in Florida. I refuse to let that motherf**ker Biden force me to get vaccinated or wear a mask – as is my right. It’s in the Constitution, I believe in Article B, or maybe Article C. But last week, the homeowner asked me to wear a mask or else she would have to let me go. I’m pretty sure my Governor, Ron DeSantis, said it’s illegal for her to make me wear a mask. Can I sue her for $10 million for emotional pain and suffering?” – Suffering in Sarasota
Fun COVID Medical Fact: How can you tell who’s been vaccinated when you’re at a store? The vaccinated people are the ones wearing a mask.
Dear Suffering, you are, of course, 100% in the right. You should just immediately file with the United States Supreme Court, and in your legal brief, tell them Doctor Tim says “Howdy.” (I’m close friends with Justice Gorsuch.) You should easily win a $10 million judgment. For the preceding legal advice, my fee is $1 million. I accept VISA or PayPal.
That’s all the time I have. Be sure to send me your questions and complaints about the unfair vaccination and masking guidelines to DoctorTim@stopwhiningandgetthejab.com.
That’s the view from the bleachers. Perhaps I’m off base.
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© Tim Jones, View from the Bleachers 2021
by TEJ | May 25, 2020 | Pop culture humor
[The following article contains no factual information of any kind. Not a scintilla of truth. We felt a journalistic responsibility to thus inform our readers. We fear Mr. Jones is starting to lose it. – The Staff at VFTB]
This is a map of the areas of the world where, according to my DNA report, I may have had distant ancestors. Pay particular attention to that island off the east coast of Africa, Madagascar – the one spot with which I appear to have no connection.
If you are inclined to research your genealogy, be forewarned. There’s a lot of misinformation and hype out there. Learn from my mistakes. Not long ago I signed up for a service called Ancestree.com. The report came back concluding that my roots trace back to a ficus. Turns out the company was a rip-off luring bad spellers who were looking for Ancestry.com. I’ll never make that misteak agian.
That’s why I decided to sign up with 22andMe. I know what you’re thinking: Don’t you mean 23andMe? Turns out I’m also bad at math. Anyway, 22andMe offered results in less than a week, for half the cost of the more reputable service.
On the plus side, unlike the more well-known genealogy outfits, which typically require a saliva sample, this company did not ask for any of that fuss. I only had to send in a toenail clipping, a 16-ounce urine sample, fifteen strands of hair, and a photo of me dressed like a pirate. In retrospect, that probably should have been a tip-off.
When I received my results, they were somewhat disappointing. Not quite the kind of information I was hoping for. The analysis said I’m 99.995% Caucasian (what a shocker) and fit the profile of an under-achiever with self-esteem issues around my career choices. (I have to give them points for accuracy there.) They also concluded that I have a proclivity towards making impulsive online purchases about my ancestral background without doing adequate research. Perhaps most surprisingly, it also evaluated, “You’re not as funny a writer as you think you are.” I found that oddly critical for a DNA report.
The data indicated that my lineage originated from one of the following very narrow regions: Northern Africa, Western Europe, Eastern Europe, Asia, South America, North America and Tonga. So I know once and for all that none of my distant relatives originated in Antarctica. That is such a relief to know.
My DNA profile indicates that my most direct relative from the Middle Ages was probably this guy in the hoodie, second from the right, plowing a field. He could neither read nor write. Thus began a succession of low achievers.
The summary went on to say – and I know this may astound you – that many of my forebearers had extensive facial hair, although slightly more so on the males’ side. Even more precisely, the report determined that my mother had always hoped I would become a doctor and my father never really loved me. Wow, this DNA stuff can get incredibly specific.
I had hoped for a bit more illumination about my actual genetic history. Fortunately, I learned that for an additional investment of a mere $250 – accompanied by a nose hair sample plus a photo of me in drag – 22andMe could furnish a much more in-depth DNA analysis. The hardest part was explaining to my wife why I needed to borrow her sun dress.
Two weeks later, I received a more exhaustive assessment – I mean, it went on and on! It provided a fascinating portrait of my primogenitors. It appears they are 42% less likely to have sweaty feet; 39% more likely to have a craving for sweets; 53% more likely to have owned a cat; and 85% more likely to make poorly timed investments in the stock market.
My distant relatives more than likely included Celts, Germans, Slovaks, and people who were afraid of the moon. They were at least 70% likely to have had one or more black acquaintances. Among my Scottish lineage, they were 75% likely to have had the snot beaten out of them by Vikings. (I know what you’re thinking: Did the report actually say, “snot beaten out of them by Vikings?” Yes, it did. I would never make up something so personal – because I’m a professional humor writer.)
The findings went on to disclose that a closer review of my genealogical bloodline indicates I may have been related to European royalty, like a past King of France or a Danish prince. In fact, and I found this part particularly intriguing, it appears that some pretty famous and powerful people, including Abraham Lincoln, Winston Churchill, King Richard the Lionheart, Queen Victoria, Leonardo da Vinci and even Cleopatra were all people who my ancestors were perhaps marginally aware of.
If you go back far enough in my genealogical history, I’m related to this dude. Now that I look more closely, I totally think I have his eyes. Handsome critter.
This narrative also listed the last names of people who were likely to be my second, third, fourth and even fifth cousins – who, for an extra fee, 22andMe will invite to connect with me and exchange our genealogical profiles. I was intrigued to see unusual names from countries all over the world, such as Latvia, Spain, New Zealand, and, surprisingly, Tonga.
In retrospect, I’m still not sure this was worth the expense, not to mention the hassle my wife gave me for cutting up her dress so it would fit me. I don’t think I acquired many insights into my heritage, although I feel painfully more aware of my genetic baggage.
I just received another email from 22andMe. In this offer, they claim that for just another $500 – along with a copy of the deed to our house – they’ll provide an even more detailed report. Maybe with these findings, once and for all, I will be able to relocate my long lost relatives from Tonga. I miss them so much.
That’s the view from the bleachers. Perhaps I’m off base.
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Check out my latest humor book: YOU’RE GROUNDED FOR LIFE: Misguided Parenting Strategies That Sounded Good at the Time
© Tim Jones, View from the Bleachers 2020
by TEJ | Apr 6, 2020 | Pop culture humor
Until about twenty minutes ago, I thought I was a decent person, a loving father and all in all, a fairly responsible citizen. But I am starting to have my doubts. You see, I recently published a humor book on parenting called YOU’RE GROUNDED FOR LIFE – Misguided Parenting Strategies That Sounded Good at the Time.
I sent out press releases and then did a quick online search to see whether any of my promotional activities were paying off. So, I googled my name – TIM JONES. Uh oh. The results were rather surprising.
On the positive side, I found several search results about the book and recent VFTB articles I’d written. But that’s not all I discovered. Turns out I’ve lived a far more interesting and varied life than I’d ever realized. And I have a dark side. A disturbingly dark side.
Apparently, despite what my kids have been saying about me for the past ten years, I am “highly intelligent.”
So intelligent, in fact, that I earned a Ph.D. and joined the ranks of the faculty at Cardiff University in Wales.
According to my profile in the Faculty Directory, my interests include “airborne particulate pollution” and “remote sensing in resource exploitation.” I have no idea what any of this means. I must have been drunk when I wrote my faculty profile. Had you asked me before today what my interests are, I would have listed football, sleeping and bacon.
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