Challenges Met, Obstacles Overcome

Most people that show up to Kenmore Lanes on a Friday evening are looking to have a little fun and unwind from a long week of work. I however, was there for business. Little did they know that the man in lane 48 was there on a mission. A mission that would have a major impact of each and every one of their Miller High Life drinking lives.

Upon arrival I secured a lane, laced up my shoes and chose a serviceable, 14 pound house ball with a swirling pink pattern. My wife and camerawoman then brought over two oat sodas to ease our tension as the time drew near. We nonchalantly bowled a few frames, as if nothing extraordinary were about to happen, and then with 5 minutes until the appointed time we began our preparations. First, I removed my shoes and put them on the opposite feet. Next we framed the shot and took a test video to ensure that our equipment was in working order. Finally I stepped onto the hardwood, pink ball in hand, and awaited the countdown.
The pressure was immense. As I stood there I realized that I had neglected to practice with this awkward shoe configuration. I'd also learned through some last minute calculations that rolling a gutterball could wreak havoc on the Earth's orbit, sending us hurtling into space away from the sun. Add to that the distraction of a small boy kicking his bowling ball in the lane next to me and you can understand my concern.

With two seconds until the appointed time, I made my approach, releasing the ball at precisely 19:02 PST. I could immediately tell that the ball was not headed for the gutter and despite being a bit left of center it managed to dislodge 7 pins. But I had no time to celebrate as it was now time to speed the Earth's rotation by executing a precise backspin. As you can see in the video, my awkward backspin achieved exactly one revolution which, despite its apparent failure, was actually the exact speed and rotation required for the proper adjustment to the Earth's rotation.

Having succeeded in my half of the mission I finished the game, posting a very respectable (for me) 128 total score. But it's not all about me (or Gibson-OZ). The real winner here is mankind. We are only answering our calling — fighting against the forces that threaten to disrupt order in the universe, humble servants to the greater good. Amen.

(No) Time To Spare

Friends,

Mounting data compiled by ourselves, in conjunction with the International Earth Rotation and Reference Systems Service, appears to indicate a growing menace from forces almost beyond our control - time itself.

Boiling down a complex model to simple terms, it goes something like this: for the past several decades, leap seconds have been quietly introduced to compensate for the fact that the earth's rotation speed is diminishing. And while theoretical proposals and conceptual remedies have been on the international table for some time, no real action has taken place.

Well, it's time to end the inaction.

On Saturday, September 26th (GMT), the Gibsons will take the following steps to speed up the earth and put an end to international debate:

1) Having secured a lane at bowling alleys in Seattle and Sydney, we will ensure our bowling shoes are worn on the opposite feet to those intended. This will ensure that both hemispheres are in sync for a short period (Seriously, it will. We've done the math).
2) At 0202 GMT (1202 on Saturday in Sydney, 1902 on Friday in Seattle), we both bowl a ball (representing the earth) at a full rack of 12 10 pins.
3) No matter what the result of the bowl is, we will drop to the floor and do an old school backspin. This crucial move should serve to speed the earth's rotation just enough to eliminate the need for leap seconds in the future.
4) Photo and/or video evidence will be provided both of the pins left standing after the bowl, and of the subsequent backspin.

**NOTE** It has been brought to our attention that a full rack of bowling pins contains 10, not 12 pins. It seems that while our math is infallible when it comes to complex equations, mere double digit integers sometimes fall through the cracks.

Gibson Honoured In Western Australia

Honouring a Gibson who walked so tall was no mean feat. Aside from all the usual logistics involved in our challenges, I knew that plant, toy and location selection would be paramount. Thankfully, plant selection was carried out by my mother - Leptospermum scoparium 'An evergreen, medium sized shrub with [fittingly] an upright habit.'


An ideal location was found in the form of a little native garden adjoined Robertson Park in Northbridge, W.A. - a popular dog walking thoroughfare - where I undertook planting just before 0100 GMT (0900 Perth time).


The ball selected for the job cost a princely $2 from one of those stores where everything's from China. It features images of tasty bones and dogs of all varieties, which are raised from the ball in relief. This not only adds aesthetic value, but also ensures that an owner's hand may remain relatively slobber free after an extensive fetch session. The squeak was a little shrill, but satisfactory.


At the prescribed hour, I stood on my toes and gave 3 squeaks in Gibson's honour. As I had no photographic assistant, I had to take the photo myself during the first squeak, so you'll just have to trust that I was on my toes (note the legs bent at the knees to compensate for camera weight). A passing dog walker stopped to give me a strange look, but her pooch seemed to sense what was going on and lingered to add some fertilizer to a nearby plant. Following the event, a strange old lady asked from over her fence what I was doing. I replied 'I'm just doing it for Gibson.' She stared at me.


Owing to the harsh light, this photo of the plant in situ is a little unclear. However, it does give you an idea of the marvelous environs in which the event took place. I left the ball for a passing pooch and set out for home.

Gibson was a giant amongst giants. His passing is a blow to Gibsons everywhere and he will be missed. Hopefully his Australian plant will flourish. Next time I'm back in Western Australia, I will post a special update on its progress.

What A Squeak It Was

Under threatening skies on this warm late summer evening my wife/photographer, my 8 year old lab/shepherd mix, and I marched to the park about a half block away carrying a spade, a Blue Holly bush and a white bucket full of water. We found a perfect spot for the holly in a secluded area of the park that is landscaped with lots of native trees and perennials. After planting and watering the bush we had time to spare and milled about trying not to look suspicious.


As the first sprinkles of rain began to fall I raised the squeak toy to the sky and at precisely 18:08 PST went onto my tiptoes next to the holly and sent a piercing squeak up to the heavens. Surely some of the children and parents at the park wondered what we were doing tucked away in the bushes squeaking a dog toy and taking pictures, but to hell with them! This was for Gibson, Gibson and Gibson. This was for all Gibsons who are not lame. This was for tall dogs and tall people and the environment. This was for air — sweet, sweet air like the stuff that we breathe.


And then, in a flash, we were gone leaving the bright plastic squeaky toy next to the newly planted holly.
Somewhere a gigantic Great Dane is slobbering.

A Fallen Comrade

Greetings, friends, followers and cyber-stalkers,

As you may have guessed, our last challenge successfully extinguished the Supervolcano which has most certainly resulted in a profound improvement in your day to day life. But before you get too comfortable, allow us to direct your attention to an unfortunate event that set off alarms in both hemispheres. We're sad to report that Gibson, the world's tallest dog, has passed on.

Needless to say, this is a blow to the Gibson dynamic. While the two of us have done our part for mankind, Gibson the hound was doing his part for both man and man's best friend. So, in the spirit of this great Gibson, it is our privilege and duty to execute this tribute/challenge.

Here are the details:

1. Purchase a cheap plastic squeaking dog toy and a native sapling or small bush.
2. Plant the bush or sapling in a public area.
3. At precisely 1:08 GMT on Saturday, August 29th squeak the dog toy three times while standing on tiptoes next to the plant.
4. Leave the toy next to the plant.
5. Record the event with a photograph taken during the first squeak.

If all goes according to plan this will not only be a fitting tribute to our houndly namesake, but a vital adjustment to oxygen and carbon dioxide levels in the Earth's atmosphere.

RIP Gibson. It was an honor to share a name with you.

SUCCESS in the US!

My focus was keen, my resolve unwavering. This time I was not to be denied. After my bus fiasco and the kangaroo balls blunder I was eager to get back on track with this difficult and important mission.

As Gibson-OZ alluded, walking on ice was an experience I shall not soon forget. As you can see from the wince on my face, the first thirty seconds were extremely uncomfortable. However the pain slowly subsided into numbness by the time I set the strawberry popsicle in the hole.

Just in case our mission went awry, causing the Supervolcano to erupt, I wore a Mount St. Helens Observer Hat that I found at a thrift store long ago. It folds up into a convenient pouch with strap that you can wear around your neck when not in use. You can never be too careful.

At precisely 18:35 on Friday the 24th, I began the agonizing walk toward the 12" deep hole. At exactly 18:36 I placed the strawberry popsicle (addressed to the Supervolcano) in the hole and by 18:40 the burial was complete and the mission accomplished! I did stand on the ice for the entire burial process, but it wasn't that bad since I'd lost all sensation in my feet by then. Fortunately, it wasn't long before my feet recovered and I could finally bask in the deep satisfaction of knowing that I had done my part to thwart the potential devastation of the Supervolcano!

As the popsicles make their way into the earth’s core to cool the magma of the Supervolcano, I hope that you can rest a bit easier as well.

Southern Popsicle Deployed!

Attention, anyone who has ever walked over hot coals...you are a pussy!

As hot coals cool, they develop a layer of ash over the surface which acts as a barrier between your bare foot and the glowing ember.

There is no such insulating layer on a bed of ice.

I took on board this startling phenomenon at 1135 AEST this morning when my bare feet (soft and pale from a winter spent inside ugg boots) first touched the path of ice layed down for this most important of missions. Holy crap, that stuff is cold - freezing, even!

However, having prepared my chocolate popsicle stick in the manner perscribed, and having dug a hole in the side yard (a task made slightly difficult given that some previous yard worker had obviously chosen the exact spot to bury a bunch of building waste), my resolve was concrete.

Every step brought more unpleasant sensation to my tootsies, but at 1136, when the popsicle was dropped into the earth and the first shovel load of dirt was dropped on it, the relief of having done my bit to save the continental United States overrode all discomfort.

Farewell, Super Volcano!