Three Things I Just Don't Understand

Three Things I Just Don't Understand:

1. I just don't understand the free handouts in the grocery store on weekends.

More specifically, the reaction of shoppers to the free handouts. You've got the beleaguered store employee standing at the end of the aisle putting a tiny piece of brie cheese on a soggy saltine cracker, and shoppers are charging toward her like she's laying out a feast for the Queen.

Free food! Free food!

They act like she's wrapping that piece of rye bread in rolls of hundred dollar bills. Like that cup of fruit yogurt has a gold doubloon hidden at the bottom.

Do these shoppers not eat before they get there? Are they that hungry? Is this their family dinner? Maybe they go on a starvation diet for a week so they can load up on that inch-long slice of sausage pizza. I don't know.

I've seen irate shoppers, men and women alike, jostle each other for room and try to elbow their way to the front of the line for a chunk of pineapple. Voices are raised, carts bang together, fists nearly fly.

I'm always surprised I don't see people thrown to the ground and stomped like ants.

And heaven forbid if the poor worker runs out of handouts with people still waiting in line. She has to mumble an apology and flee for her life while the shoppers murmur in anger and decide whether or not to set the store on fire.

And it's always fun to watch the shoppers who wolf down the tiny cup of grapes, immediately reach for a second cup before anyone's the wiser, then walk away grinning like gargoyles because they think they put one over on the Man.

I know food is expensive these days, but geez...it's a piece of salami on a stick. It's not worth getting knee-capped with a tire iron.

2. I just don't understand Drives Around to Find the Best Price of Gas Guy.

This was an actual conversation I had with that guy last weekend:

Him: "You seen the price of gas recently?"
Me: "Yep. I've seen it."
Him: "I filled up yesterday. Know what I got?"
Me: "What did you get?"
Him: "Stopped at one place and it was $3.93. Then I drove to the next town and it was still $3.93. Then I went to another town and it was $3.93 again, except I talked to a guy who told me that down the road a ways it was $3.89. So I went there and it was actually $3.88. What do you think of that?"
Me: "You drove to four different towns?"
Him: "Yeah. But I got $3.88."

He probably drove 20 to 25 miles out of his way to save his five cents a gallon. I wasn't a math major, but...does that add up? Drives Around to Find the Best Price of Gas Guy makes no sense at all.

3. I just don't understand shaking hands in church.

Churches love shaking hands. Just love it.

And they're relentless. Absolutely relentless.

They catch you first as you walk in the front door. Two or three greeters are usually there, smiling broadly, hands outstretched in welcome. It's a gauntlet of torture.

I've tried to dodge around them. I've tried to walk right through them. I've grabbed my five-year old daughter as a prop so my hands aren't free.

I've tried to stumble and pretend to sprain my knee. I've pretended to look at my watch and quicken my stride like I'm desperately late, even though I don't wear a watch.

The greeters will have none of it. They take it personally if you refuse to shake. Their ears turn red and they chase after you. I've been practically tackled from behind like I'm a running back nearing the goal line.

I don't mean to be rude. But shouldn't we put this whole shaking hands thing to rest? Aren't we all aware by now of what lives on our hands? Hands are deplorable. They're disgusting. I don't want what's on your hands. And you don't want what's on mine. Keep your hands to yourself.

The fun doesn't stop at the door, though. Shortly after the service begins, your typical pastor encourages the congregation to turn to their neighbors and shake their hands warmly. And all I can think is, "You - the guy behind me. You've coughed up a gallon of phlegm in the last five minutes, and you want me to shake your hand? I don't think so. And you - the guy in front of me. I just saw you come out of the bathroom. How do I know what you did in there? Get away. And you - the lady a few seats over. Did you just wipe your nose with the back of your hand? I think I'm going to throw up."

Most of the time I just kneel down and pretend to tie my shoe for five minutes while people mill about me.

My church wonders why my shoes are always untied. I'm not going to tell them.

Bull Semen For Oil is a Fair Trade

No one ever asked me if I have the solution to America's crippling dependence on foreign oil. Why this tragic oversight is a complete mystery to me.

Because if they had asked me, I would have given them the answer - the perfect solution, the long-awaited key, the omega to oil's alpha.

Bull semen.

According to an Associated Press analysis of federal government trade data, U.S. exports to Iran have grown dramatically during the last several years. That whole "Axis of Evil" thing, we've still got that going on, and we're still shaking our fists at Tehran, and still scowling darkly in their general direction.

But it hasn't hurt the free market.

We've been selling Iranian President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad all manner of goodies for the longest time now. They include cigarettes, perfume, stethoscopes, soybeans, sculptures, bras (Who knew Admadinejad even wore a bra? I had no idea.) and saxophones.

And bull semen. $12.6 million worth at last count.

And Iran's not the only nation lining up for our bull semen. In 2006, the last year I could find a comprehensive figure, the world shelled out $56.4 million for our best bull semen.

You may wonder why they would do this. Well, it turns out bull semen is surprisingly versatile. You can use it in moisturizers and hair products among other things, along with the time-honored function of producing more bovines.

There's a reason they call it "Cream Gold" and "Texas Glee."

So why stop at $56.4 million? It occurs to me that there's more where that came from. Talk about your renewable resources.

If Iran wants as many vials as it can carry, then you can bet Saudi Arabia wouldn't mind a piece of the action too. And what about Argentina? And Qatar? And Nigeria?

Is there any reason at all why America couldn't become the Kuwait of bull semen?

In 2007, the U.S. imported 3.7 billion barrels of oil. At present prices of about $150 a barrel, that comes to (And this I did with pencil and paper because I couldn't find my calculator. I hope I don't embarrass myself.) $540 billion dollars worth of oil imports. That's a lot.

But pound for pound, bull semen is right there with crude oil in value. It goes for between $3 and $100 a unit. (Disclaimer here: I don't know what kind of volume a unit is. I also don't know the difference between $3 bull semen and $100 bull semen. I suppose the $100 bull had better hair and higher SAT scores.) Splitting the difference right down the middle at $50 a unit, all we need is 10.8 billion units of bull semen exports to break even.

Surely we've got enough bulls for that, don't we? I mean, I've been all through the West. Nobody lives there. There's lots of empty space. Let's fill it up with bulls and turn this ship around.

But again - nobody asked me.