Sauce: A dangerous post.

You know those posts that stand in the middle of walking trails, to prevent motorized traffic? Your dog always goes around them on the wrong side.

They’re usually yellow, or orange, sometimes greenly unobtrusive. They’re easy to run into if you’re not paying attention. They’re something I’ve generally thought of as a mild annoyance, barely a hazard.

Until now.

Now I know they are equal in danger to a nuclear power plant, or perhaps crawling inside a microwave for a hot ten seconds.

How do I know this, you ask me? (No, I did not hit one while driving at high speeds on a pedestrian-only walkway.)

While on my road-trip, I encountered one (while walking...what kind of monster do you assume I am?) that was plastered over with official Warning stickers. There were two, and they read, simply:

Warning: Deformities

And

Warning: Cancer

I tiptoed from the scene, and since the stickers did not say exactly how the post would increase your risk of contracting either of those conditions, I have been waiting with trepidation, in case just walking by is enough to trigger something.

Maybe it’s only dangerous if you eat it.

Comments

Noodles: It’s autumn, all of you.

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Noodles: There are just some things you can’t ask your doctor.

So you turn instead to Google and let your questions be seen by all the world, including snoops like me. I happened to look up a strange sensation I’ve been experiencing lately (yes, I do it too, and yes, I’m probably on the brink of death) that involves a crawling sensation on the back of my scalp. Since it’s not tick season, I assume it’s a tiny person attempting to scale my head in order to have a look around. Unfortunately, I wear a lot of hats this time of year so even if they make it to the top, they aren’t likely to see much. But that’s not the point. If you ask Google to give you any information involving tingling sensations and your own head, it will immediately throw at you a list of questions asked by similar unfortunate individuals, along with the all-knowing answers provided by an unspecified internet friend. Some of them make you shake your head in pity, such as this sad, lonely soul, who asks, “Can I test myself for a brain tumor?” The answer is undecided...

Noodles: Cake.

I once read that humorists live small, pitiful lives. Which is true, if you think about it. It’s hard to joke about, say, sacrificing your life for the common good of your fellow humans. Great people are rarely funny people. Even when they have a sense of humor, what will they laugh about? “Today? Huh huh huh yuk yuk....Todaaay, I hugged TWENTY LEPERS and prayed soft prayers with them in the candlelight and three of them experienced miraculous healing! IS THAT LIKE NOT THE MOST HYYYSTERICAL THING YOU HAVE EVER HEARDDD??? I mean, com’on!!!!!!” On the extreme other end of the spectrum, you have, for example, me. I will probably never pilot a spaceship to Mars and bring back a strange new mineral that cures all diseases. But I will, with alarming regularity, experience trivial little setbacks in my journey up the vertical glacier of social acceptance. Take today. We had cake in the ...

The Password’s Lasagna.

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