In case you missed it, last week a group of Cubans attempted to make the ninety-mile journey across the Florida Straits to freedom in America using a 1951 Chevy truck.
For those of you who failed geography in school, the Florida Straits happen to be a body of water between the coast of Florida and communist Cuba.
It seems the twelve, would-be emigrants strapped empty, fifty-five gallon drums to the sides of the bright-green truck, added a small, neon-yellow shelter to its bed and stuck a propeller onto the driveshaft. Of course, they also left the tires on.
The pilot of a military plane spotted the truck, driver behind the wheel, chugging through the Straits at eight mph and reported the unusual sight (after blinking a half-dozen times, no doubt) to the Coast Guard. A short while later, a Coast Guard cutter picked up the Cubans about forty miles from their destination.
After ordering the skipper and his crew aboard, the Coast Guard sank the truck and transported the twelve back to Cuba. The decision was made in accordance with the U.S. immigration policy of “wet foot, dry foot” – Cubans who manage to reach U.S. soil are allowed to stay, but those picked up at sea are returned to their homeland.
Coast Guard Petty Officer Ryan Doss is quoted as saying, “We’ve seen (Cubans on) surfboards, pieces of Styrofoam, bathtubs, refrigerators. But never an automobile.”
This episode raises a number of interesting questions, including:
- How bad must conditions be in Cuba to drive its citizens to attempt to “drive” to America?
Luis: “Hey, Carlos, aren’t you tired of watching these stinking reruns of 1980s’ American t.v. shows?
Carlos: “Yeah, but what can we do about it?”
Luis: “I’m thinking about escaping to America so I can get cable.”
Carlos: “But how are you gonna get there, Luis?”
Luis: “I’m gonna drive there in my bright-green truck.”
Carlos: “But it’s across open water.”
Luis: “So what’s your point?”
Carlos: “You’re gonna need a neon-yellow shelter in the back.”
- How does one navigate a ‘51 Chevy truck across the Florida Straits?
Carlos: “Hey, Luis, don’t you think we should have stopped and asked directions back there.”
Luis: “Back where?”
Carlos: “Back at that island where all those big people were being chased by little people and yelling, ‘Take me with you!’”
Luis: “Oh, you mean Disney’s Castaway Cay.”
- When the Cubans saw the Coast Guard ship bearing down on them, did they gun the motor and attempt to outrun the “law”? If so, it would bring new meaning to the term, “police chase.”
Coast Guard: “Pull over and prepare to be boarded!”
Luis: “You’ll never catch me, Cutter!”
Coast Guard: “No? We’ve got your license plate number!”
Luis: “Oh, damn! Carlos, you were supposed to take that off!”
Carlos: “Oops.”
- What would have happened had the Cubans actually made it to shore?
Irving: “Martha, did you see that?”
Martha: “See what?”
Irving: “A bright-green truck filled with Cubans just drove out of the ocean and headed across the beach.”
Martha: “Irv – did you forget to take your medicine again?”
- Where was General Motors Corporation in all this?
1st GM VP: “Hey, we gotta get our hands on that bright-green truck.”
2nd GM VP: “You mean the one used by those Cubans to try to escape from communist oppression?”
1st GM VP: “That’s the one.”
2nd GM VP: “What do you want with that?”
1st GM VP: “It could be the centerpiece of a whole, new ad campaign. The heck with that ‘built Ford tough’ crap. We could say our vehicles are so tough, they can even cross the Straits of Florida.”
2nd GM VP: “But the truck didn’t make it.”
1st GM VP: “Oh, yeah...But it did get twenty nautical miles to the gallon!”
In the end, the Cubans struck out in their bid for freedom. Based solely upon creativity, I think we should have let them stay in America. It would have been the humane thing to do.
After all, one can only watch so many reruns of “The Love Boat.”
Copyright 2003 Marc L. Prey
All Rights Reserved.
Wednesday, July 30, 2003
Tuesday, July 22, 2003
Gotta have that pizza pie
It finally happened.
After years of health warnings concerning the foods we eat – red meat increases the risk of developing cancer, fish is filled with mercury, ice cream causes brain freezes – this week the dinner tables were turned.
Italian scientists announced Monday that people who regularly gorge themselves on pizza – eating the equivalent of nearly two whole pies per week – had a significantly reduced incidence of certain cancers during their lives.
The news seems too good to be true. Sort of like that whole, “bald is beautiful” thing.
The researchers cited the antioxidant benefits of tomato sauce, the fiber content of dough and the nutrients in many of the toppings as a possible explanation for their findings. The fact that they wore white chef’s hats with their lab coats should not discredit them in the least.
Indeed, I say these scientists just gave new meaning to the word, “ciao”.
What’s more, it is entirely possible this development is merely the tip of the iceberg lettuce. The scientific community may soon announce that:
- eating fried chicken dramatically improves one’s eyesight;
- devouring mash potatoes and gravy increases one’s flexibility;
- chomping on chocolate bars drastically reduces the risk of gingivitis;
- nibbling on lard unclogs one’s arteries; and
- pigging out on Chinese food not only heightens one’s memory, it enables the diner to tell the fortune of total strangers.
Okay, that last one may be pushing it a bit. I couldn’t help but become a little giddy, since pizza just happens to be one of my favorite meals. I love it in every shape known to man – round, square, deep dish, trapezoid – and in practically every variety – Dominoes, Little Caesars, Hungry Howies, etc.
I eat pizza hot, cold, fresh and leftover. I scrape the cheese off the cardboard box and treat my son’s discarded crust like a delicacy.
Now, based upon Italian research, it actually turns out I’m not eating enough of it. This has got to be the greatest discovery since the microwave oven and Slurpies.
Of course, I immediately vow to increase my family’s pizza consumption by at least two pies per week. I know I won’t get any argument from my sons.
It also occurs to me that the greater the amount of toppings decorating the pizza surface, the greater the health benefits. As a result, I further vow to order my pies with more options than a top-of-the-line Fiat. For the health benefits.
As I’m about to make a third vow concerning double cheese, my wife walks in.
“Why are you so happy?” she inquires, suspicion dripping off her tongue.
I show her the news item.
“Interesting...” she says.
I can see her wheels spinning. I consider engaging the brakes, but it’s too late.
“So most of these test subjects lived their entire lives without being afflicted with cancer?”
“Yeah, so?” comes my weak reply.
“I bet eating all that pizza caused them to become grossly overweight, leading to heart disease, diabetes and other problems. Of course, that would probably shorten their lives to the point where they died before they could be diagnosed with cancer.”
Kaboom!
My hopes and dreams suddenly pop like a large cheese bubble.
“You don’t know that,” I say with little conviction.
“Then go and eat a pizza a day,” she says, walking out of the room. “Prove me wrong.”
You know, I might just do that. Right after I shave my head bald.
Copyright 2003 Marc L. Prey
All rights reserved.
After years of health warnings concerning the foods we eat – red meat increases the risk of developing cancer, fish is filled with mercury, ice cream causes brain freezes – this week the dinner tables were turned.
Italian scientists announced Monday that people who regularly gorge themselves on pizza – eating the equivalent of nearly two whole pies per week – had a significantly reduced incidence of certain cancers during their lives.
The news seems too good to be true. Sort of like that whole, “bald is beautiful” thing.
The researchers cited the antioxidant benefits of tomato sauce, the fiber content of dough and the nutrients in many of the toppings as a possible explanation for their findings. The fact that they wore white chef’s hats with their lab coats should not discredit them in the least.
Indeed, I say these scientists just gave new meaning to the word, “ciao”.
What’s more, it is entirely possible this development is merely the tip of the iceberg lettuce. The scientific community may soon announce that:
- eating fried chicken dramatically improves one’s eyesight;
- devouring mash potatoes and gravy increases one’s flexibility;
- chomping on chocolate bars drastically reduces the risk of gingivitis;
- nibbling on lard unclogs one’s arteries; and
- pigging out on Chinese food not only heightens one’s memory, it enables the diner to tell the fortune of total strangers.
Okay, that last one may be pushing it a bit. I couldn’t help but become a little giddy, since pizza just happens to be one of my favorite meals. I love it in every shape known to man – round, square, deep dish, trapezoid – and in practically every variety – Dominoes, Little Caesars, Hungry Howies, etc.
I eat pizza hot, cold, fresh and leftover. I scrape the cheese off the cardboard box and treat my son’s discarded crust like a delicacy.
Now, based upon Italian research, it actually turns out I’m not eating enough of it. This has got to be the greatest discovery since the microwave oven and Slurpies.
Of course, I immediately vow to increase my family’s pizza consumption by at least two pies per week. I know I won’t get any argument from my sons.
It also occurs to me that the greater the amount of toppings decorating the pizza surface, the greater the health benefits. As a result, I further vow to order my pies with more options than a top-of-the-line Fiat. For the health benefits.
As I’m about to make a third vow concerning double cheese, my wife walks in.
“Why are you so happy?” she inquires, suspicion dripping off her tongue.
I show her the news item.
“Interesting...” she says.
I can see her wheels spinning. I consider engaging the brakes, but it’s too late.
“So most of these test subjects lived their entire lives without being afflicted with cancer?”
“Yeah, so?” comes my weak reply.
“I bet eating all that pizza caused them to become grossly overweight, leading to heart disease, diabetes and other problems. Of course, that would probably shorten their lives to the point where they died before they could be diagnosed with cancer.”
Kaboom!
My hopes and dreams suddenly pop like a large cheese bubble.
“You don’t know that,” I say with little conviction.
“Then go and eat a pizza a day,” she says, walking out of the room. “Prove me wrong.”
You know, I might just do that. Right after I shave my head bald.
Copyright 2003 Marc L. Prey
All rights reserved.
