Shrute Space

Summer is finally here - time to relax and enjoy the longer days. False.
1) The days are not longer; summer days remain exactly twenty-four hours long. It's basic science folks. The earth's rotation around the sun does not change. It's only the earth's angle that changes, which merely produces an increase in daylight hours. What kind of fool confuses daylight hours with total hours in a day? (Probably the same people who still refer to the "Dog Days of Summer." Sirius no longer rises at dawn making this antiquated expression meaningless in the modern world.)
2) Summer is also NOT a time to relax. With all due respect to Gershwin and The Fresh Prince summer is neither when "the livin' is easy," nor a "time to sit back and unwind." While they create a nice tune, musicians should never be trusted for their factual accuracy. July is the busiest month in the beet-growing season with both a harvest and a plant. What would happen if I decided to "relax"? Beets would mold in the ground causing heart attacks to increase. Without beets people's folate levels will drop, causing their homocysteine levels to rise, obviously leading to an increase in heart attacks and/or sexual virility all over northeastern Pennsylvania. I will not be responsible for the increase in government spending to send ambulances scurrying all over the county nor for the increased divorce rate. However, there is one special day in July that is a respite from all the farm labor - July 24th. What is so special about July 24th? It's the birthday of another important summer- Summer Glau. This year it falls on a Saturday so Mose and I will celebrate by eating some newly harvested beets while watching Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles followed by Firefly and, to cap off the night, Serenity. This evening usually ends in an arm wrestling match as Mose and I vie to prove which of us is most fit to mate with Summer. You'd think it would be easy for me to beat Mose with my superior strength, but he works to make his hands very slippery. I believe he is illegally using popcorn grease but I will not provide butter for the popcorn this year. Frau Glau can rest assured that I will be her champion at last. When that happens, we will ride off into the sunset during the regular length days of summer.

Well, once again it's time for World Cup Fever. It seems everyone is enthralled with the games, everyone but me. I am completely immune to World Cup Fever. Why do you ask? For starters, I don't understand the appeal of soccer; I see the game as a waste of a perfectly good field. For my money, I'd rather watch a good game of Circleball or King of the Mountain. Plus, I don't like cups - I much prefer steins.Mose, however, is not immune to World Cup fever; he's completely obsessed. I think it's the bright colors of the players' uniforms that he's attracted to (in the past he's taken a similar liking to the employees of Hot Dog On A Stick). When the games started, Mose was begging me nonstop to take him to South Africa. He was relentless. Obviously going to Africa was out of the question. I didn't want to disappoint him though, so I devised a clever plan to make him think we were going to Africa. I had him put a blindfold on then drove him to a soccer scrimmage at the closest inner city high school. Mose didn't know the difference. Throughout the game he blew on his homemade vuvuzela, having a great time! I may not have enjoyed the match, in fact I hated it, but it was nice to make Mose's soccer dream come true. Come 2014, I'll have to go to South Scranton to find a school that resembles Brazil.

The news is constantly bombarding me with stories about alleged heroes. I find these supposed acts of heroism suspect. First, these people always claim not to be heroes when describing their acts. Why would they downplay their actions? Because they caused the disaster in the first place. You want to look good on the nightly news? Set fire to a building and wait for someone to toss a baby out the window. Or you put an alligator in a swimming pool and wait for some unsuspecting child to "save." If these people were true heroes, they would not need to feign humility. Only cowards with guilty consciences do that. Take a lesson from Iron Man and tout real heroism from every modern communication platform. If these were true acts of heroism based on random opportunity, I would be a hero many times over by now. Not only am I prepared to aid in any disaster, I seek them out. I stake out all night gas stations for potential armed robbers. Nothing. I drive known school bus routes just in case one should catch on fire. Never. I followed vulnerable looking women home. That only led to me being questioned by police. No good deed goes unpunished. I may not have had the opportunity to show my true heroism yet, but when I do (I've invested in several new police scanners), I will say, "Yes, I am a hero. How correct of you to notice."

After the recent Eyjafjallajokull eruption that has brought the world to its knees, I realized that of all natural disasters, I'm most like the volcano. Hurricanes, unlike me, give their targets too much warning; people are able to evacuate and meteorologists even have time give them depression-era names. Earthquakes are too common (seems these days an earthquake hits some underdeveloped country every week), I consider myself more of an anomaly. I've seen footage of the tsunami that hit Asia; a big slow moving wave isn't dramatic enough to capture the spirit of Dwight Schrute. And tornadoes, although swift, behave too randomly, they just hit houses here and there - they lack the razor sharp focus I possess. Of all natural disasters, I am without question most like the volcano for these reasons:1) I strike when you least expect it. No one sees a volcanic eruption coming, just ask the people of Pompeii. No one sees Dwight Schrute coming, just ask that jaywalker I citizens arrested last week. Like, myself, a volcano lulls you into having a false sense of security and then...BAM! We erupt! 2) Sexy. Maybe it's just me, but I've always found there to be something sexual about volcanoes. Don't know why, just do. 3) I'm a master of disguise. It was a clever volcano that hid its hot magma in a country called Iceland. You'd never suspect blazing molten lava to erupt out of a glacier, just as you'd never suspect a paper salesman to have a hunting knife and spud gun hidden in his briefcase. 4) Tall. Volcanoes provide some of the highest peaks on earth. I'm taller than most people. So there you have it. I, Dwight Schrute am a volcano. Ka-boom!

The economic crisis began with mortgage lenders throwing money at dolts who couldn't afford their payments. Sad stuff. Lucky for me, I've lived my entire existence in an economized state. I'd like to share suggestions with all those super-sized Baconator chateau-living goons out there, who are making their first attempts at being resourceful and cutting back.DwellingYour house can be more than just the spot where you rest your head or butcher your pigs - it can also be a vibrant moneymaker. The spare rooms at Schrute Farms have provided beautiful memories for excursionists, while bringing in gobs of additional cash for Mose and I. I also rent out my basement to a part-time dentist, which means even more money coming in, and free travel toothbrushes whenever I desire.ClothingI laugh in the face of your Goldie Hawns, your Diane Keatons, spending thousands on inane wardrobes that are hot one moment and offensive the next. I sport most of my dead grandfather's garb - classic, durable, free. And Mose knits our wintertime attire.SustenanceIf you're 85 or younger and your appendages are still mobile, you should be hoeing your harvest every morning. I've been living off the land since I escaped the womb. It's not only cheaper than those preposterous yuppie grocery markets like A&P, but pasturing also gives you brawn. No need for a gym membership. Two birds, one garden stone.TransportationI bought a Pontiac Firebird in 1987 and haven't looked back since. No car payment in 19 years. Most of you halfwits forget that your vehicle is a machine, not an ornamental showboat to arouse the neighbors. So trade in your cutting edge Accords and Eclipses for something more affordable. If it has airbags, it's too good for you. Take all of this advocacy and run with it. Or don't, and forever be a penniless idiot.