Something I've talked about before on this site is my fear of flying - That lack of trust between me, the aluminum tube flying through the air, and that drunken bastard in the cabin who takes orders from a computer and calls him/herself "Captain."

I'm a "white knuckle" flyer. As soon as I'm in my seat, I'm buckled in and converted to whichever religion will make it possible for me to pray to a god for deliverance from failed hydraulics, a meteor crashing through a wing, or the well known "tail separation problem" of the Airbus 300 series (thanks very much, Leo, for bringing that to my attention).

I don't know what the source of my fear is. An airline attendant during my last flight made it pretty clear to me that she thought I was a control freak, but that's another story for another time and another place.

I learned something valuable during that flight, though. I found out how to keep my brain occupied and away from thoughts of doom while sailing on a sea of ABSOLUTELY NOTHING! THERE'S NOTHING BETWEEN YOU AND THE GROUND! HOLY CRAP, THERE'S JUST NOT A GOD DAMN TH-

Uh...

<ahem>

Sorry. As I was saying, I found something with which to distract myself while trusting my life to an airline that's mostly likely going bankrupt and cutting corners everywhere (especially in the "Wing Structural Integrity Maintenance" department (I'm sure of it ("Give them peanuts, and they won't look out the window to see that the wing is hanging from the fuselage, connected by little more than a thin string of hope" is probably what they say during boardroom meetings))).

This thing, ladies and gentlemen (and coders), this fabulous thing, is one of those stupid catalogs stored in the "seat pocket in front of you" that you usually ignore during the flight, typically preferring to focus on the peanuts that are distracting you from looking out the window and seeing that one of the engines is missing.

I was flipping through one of them, and within about thirty seconds, I was in tears, laughing, nay, guffawing at the incredible stupidity of the products in the catalog. I understood immediately why the "inventors" of these trashy knick-knacks had to resort to pitching their products to a captive audience in a cabin that's only pressurized to 7,000 feet, and therefore looped on oxygen deprivation (most of them, anyway).

It calmed me down instantly. I felt even better when I started ripping ads right out of the catalog and stuffing them into my bag. It seemed to bother the guy sitting next to me, but what do I care? Is it any of his business if I want to sit around and tear pages out of magazines on an airplane? It's not like I had actually told him that I suspected he was the person who had been having a flatulence party in his pants every three minutes, stinking up our corner of the cabin. No - I let that slide. No respect: That's what I get.

Anyway, the reason I was tearing this catalog apart is that I wanted to share some of the ads with you people. I have a couple sets, and plan on collecting more items on other flights I'll be taking in the near future, so consider this a bit of a Neopoleon.com mini-series.

Hope you like it...

For those of you who can't read the writing, this one says: A pet barrier doesn't have to be a people barrier. Just 21" tall, this gate is low enough for humans to step over with ease, and there's a separate doorway you can open so smaller dogs can get in and out of a room without removing the entire gate. OK, buddy, so let me get this straight: You've created a gate that is short enough for people to step over, and which has a door in it so that small dogs can walk through. What's the bloody point? There's another thing that allows people and dogs to pass through a room unrestricted. Do you know what it is? Do you want to take a guess? Let me help you out a little: It's called "air."

This is great: Dazzle party-goers or create a tropical paradise with our spirited, color-bright palm trees. I've spent a bit of time in the tropics myself, and nothing brings those memories surging back like the image of a plastic, anemic, overpriced, crappy lawn ornament. And what's this "dazzle" business? How totally unsophisticated would my "party-goers" have to be in order to be wowed by one of these things? Was I handing out anonymous invitations to my party at Wal-Mart? I want to know.

This ad would have been all right, but only with this text: Aqua Force Child Humiliation Device. Has someone eaten too many cookies or put lipstick on the dog again? Are your kids "wearing the pants" in the family, kicking you around and treating you like a subordinate? Then reestablish your dominance in the familial hierarchy with an Aqua Force Child Humiliation Device! Mental scarring which previously took years to establish can now be firmly etched into the mind of a child in one short afternoon. Lab tests have shown that dressing your child in one of these devices for only two hours can do as much emotional damage as twenty "pants-down" spankings in the middle of a crowded food court at the mall on your child's birthday while he/she is surrounded by friends. So what are you waiting for? The more time you wait, the sooner your child will achieve a level of emotional maturity that will make it much easier for him/her to cope with psychological trauma! Don't miss this precious window in your little one's life.

For the fashionably inclined: Squares of pure cotton Indian madras are stitched into a muted multipatch design. I had to read that twice just to make sure I wasn't hallucinating. I mean, it does say "muted multipatch design," doesn't it? Makes you wonder. If that's the "muted" version of their shirt, then what are their slightly less subtle offerings like? They'd have to staple oily rags to the guy's chest, light him on fire, and toss him into a Chinese fireworks factory while burning the words "LOOK AT THAT GUY'S SHIRT" into your retinas with lasers, all to a double-speed track of can-can music being played with jackhammers by meth addicts in a glass warehouse. I think "muted" might not be an appropriate description for that epilepsy-inducing mess of pastel vomit. It looks like somebody ate a rainbow and then threw up on the guy's shirt.

After Blog Mint [?] :

It looks like Jim and John have been talking about a Portland Nerd Dinner in... San Diego? Sounds cool :)