If you have been reading the papers, you know all about snakeheads. No, these are not terrorists. These are the frightening Asian fish with razor-sharp teeth who were once exotic pets now turned loose in local waters, much like baby alligators. What makes them frightening, besides the piranha teeth, is that they can grow up to four feet in length and they have the amazing ability to walk on land.

Yes, you read that right…whenever things get a bit boring, they can just pick up their little snakehead suitcases and move on. No one has actually measured how far a snakehead can walk, because they (the observers) are much too busy running away to look back. I don’t blame them--snakeheads are scary stuff. Being a man of action and ideas, especially after a few tasty beverages, I decided to use these evil snakeheads to my advantage.

You see, a certain individual has been picking on me lately, threatening to hire Johnny Cochran to sue me for slander. Yes, that man is the one and only Jimmy Barnes, the Titan of Trouble, The Ambassador of Agony, The Meister of Mischief. Now, I don’t have enough space to fully chronicle Jimmy’s antics—you’ll just have to check some back issues or go to my web site. Let me merely say that Jimmy’s antics are an inexhaustible fount of goofy stories, and they are all true. But with the threat of a lawsuit dangling over my pointy little head, I decided to seek revenge.

What I am going to do is make a snakehead puppet. I will then hide under Jimmy’s deck and wait for him to approach. I don’t think I’ll have time before the deadline for this column, but that doesn’t matter. If Jimmy reads of my master plan ahead of time, I’ll just wait until he returns from the golf course, where beer abounds. As people often say of Jimmy’s memory, ‘the sponge is full’.

Here is the scenario I envision:

Jimmy Barnes returns to his trailer. It is dusk. I am under his deck. Jimmy goes into his room to get another Miller Lite. He steps back out, and there is a long object on the deck, staring at him. The ‘thing’ raises its head and bares its fangs.

Jimmy: "What the ….!"

Snakehead: "Hello, Jimmy."

Jimmy: "What the ….!"

Snakehead: "I’m hungry, Jimmy. Mind if I have a bite?"

Jimmy: (throwing away his Lite) "It must be the beer. Maybe I got a bad batch." Jimmy retreats to his room. At this point I clamber out and start knocking on his door…

Snakehead: "Let me in, Jimmy!"

And then I will probably retreat, because Jimmy might come rushing out with a golf club or something. Anyway, if this works, I’ll let you know as soon as possible…

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UPDATE Last issue, I held a Movie Trivia Contest. True to form, not one single person submitted an answer. The prize was a generous gift certificate from Dave’s Milton Ace Hardware, and by default, it goes to me. So, in a way, thank you for not entering.

The Contest Question was based on my last column, in which Cap’t Mitch Mullins tried to talk a turtle to shore, even though it had been dead for a week. Cap’t Mitch managed to overturn his rowboat during one attempt, which set the scene for this question:

Three people are captured, shackled, and set adrift in a rowboat to die. The brainy one deliberately capsizes the boat. They breathe the air trapped under the rowboat as they paddle their way to shore and safety. Name the movie and at least one main actor or actress.

And the answer is…either ‘The Crimson Pirate’ or ‘The Flame and the Arrow’, both with Burt Lancaster. I’m not sure which movie, and I can’t remember the other actor and actress in the scene, but I don’t have to, because there is no winner, so there. (OK, it’s "The Crimson Pirate" with Burt Lancaster as Captain Vallo, the ever-famous Eva Bartok as ‘Consuelo’, and James Hayter—yes, that James Hayter—as Professor Prudence.)

Next time, try a little harder, eh?

Wait just a minute! I have an entry, via e-mail. This is from Rae Majzer at Blackhawk Campground: "The answer to your question is Burt Lancaster and Tony Curtis."

Nice try with the ‘Tony Curtis’ thing, Rae. I am indeed sorry to say that I must actually award you the Prize. I hope you’re happy, taking food from my mouth…

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Good deeds can often go awry. Just ask Lisa Laurich, who went ‘surfing’ after husband Randy tried to help a stranger. Randy explains: "We were near Menard’s (home improvement center in Janesville) when I see this guy in a pickup pulled over by a cop. It’s pretty obvious it’s because the truck’s over the weight limit—it’s sagging right down on the tires with all this lumber the guy’s got piled on. So I figure I’ll be a good guy and help out."

Doing his good deed, Randy and the stranger load the lumber on to Randy’s truck. It’s still a heavy load, and extends way over the tailgate. "Then I ask the guy where he’s going. Me, I’m headed back to the campground, mere miles away. I had figured he’s somewhere in the vicinity. But no, he’s going to some town 50 miles way! Well, I started out, and the 16’ 2x4s and the plywood and the rest of the stuff is just flopping all over the bed of my truck like a see-saw. So I decide to turn around and head back to Menard’s and unload, let the guy pay for delivery, or make two trips, whatever."

But Randy was worried. Ever the concerned man, fearing that this total stranger might lose even a single piece of lumber, Randy told Lisa to get out of the truck and sit on the wood to ‘hold it down’. Lisa, being blond, did so. Randy made it to the 4-way intersection leading towards Menard’s when tragedy struck, as we knew it would, or else I wouldn’t be telling you this.

As Lisa put it, "Randy told me to sit close to the window for ‘leverage’, whatever that is, but I couldn’t hold it all down. I was bouncing all over the place, and then he hit a bump or something, and everything started sliding out. I held on for dear life and just sailed out there with all the wood. It hurt my butt when I landed, that’s for sure!"

What was a real bummer, in Randy’s words, is that "the #!!!#! lumber was all over the intersection! People are giving me the finger, honking horns, yelling, and me and this stranger guy have to ward off traffic to dart out and grab stuff and run back to the truck without being hit. Nobody wanted to wait one darn second for us. But I am proud to say we didn’t lose one 2x4."

Way to go, Randy! But of course some of you, especially the womenfolk, are saying to themselves, "Scoop, I don’t exactly see the ‘Safety Tip’ in this story. Wasn’t this an act of stupidity, or at least careless disregard for a person’s safety?"

You are correct. Thus, my Safety Tip is: Randy, always bring along a safety helmet for Lisa, in case this situation should arise again.

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Cap’t Mitch Strikes Again! As I mentioned, Captain Mitch Mullins is the man who talks to turtles. Cap’t Mitch capsized his rowboat on what was to be a simple pleasure cruise, and has been rowboat-shunned by his neighbors ever since. That changed this past weekend when James ‘Gilligan’ Haas, who evidently also has a ‘full sponge’, forgot what Mitch did and attempted to brave the waters with him. Their plan was to set sail in search of another turtle sighted off-shore, a turtle engaged in a fierce battle with some strange sea creature they could not identify. Alas, this plan would also end in tragedy.

"This was a big turtle," said Cap’t Mitch, "although not as big as the last one I sighted. Some kind of strange animal was attacking it, trying to bite its head off. It was slimy, and kept trying to drag it under. Every time it bit, the turtle would grimace in pain and open its mouth and try to bite back. But this mysterious creature kept hanging on…I felt I had to rescue it, see what it might have to say."

Cap’t Mitch and his stalwart Lieutenant ventured forth to save the thrashing turtle from the sea-creature. Then they ventured again. As hard as Cap’t Mitch rowed, they could not make waves. "I was worried," said Cap’t Mitch. "We had to save the turtle, but the current was too strong."

Lt. James Haas valiantly shoved an oar against the shore to gain momentum, but again and again the little rowboat got no further. It was at this point that one of the womenfolk, a blond, came over and informed the sweating crew that they were still tied up to the pier. By the time they cast off, the battle was over and the turtle gone.

"I guess I can’t tell those hair-impaired jokes anymore," said James. "The blond was my wife."

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A fund-raising Golf Outing was recently held for the Milton Historical Society. Fun was had by all, especially the unofficial Blackhawk Campground team, comprised of Frank "I’m on medication" Commiso, Al "I shoulda’ stayed home" Castle, Mike "What’s this club for?" Orlando, and, yes, Jimmy "Snakehead" Barnes. Excuses ran rampant after the game, in which the usually-awesome foursome was awarded Last Place.

Their prize was a dozen ‘practice’ balls for each, which they have already lost.

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Thanks to all who goofed up and let me tell your tales. Remember, everything you read here is true, and it could happen to you. Have a nice winter, keep in touch with e-mails, and I’ll see you in Spring!

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Jimmy Barnes: "You’re not so bad once I got to know you. Here, have a beer."

Snakehead: "Could you open it for me? This one fang is killing me."

Jimmy (sarcastically): "You want me to drink it for you too?"

Snakehead: "Don’t get nasty, Jimmy. I’ve got a long striking range, pal."

Jimmy: "No problem-o…here you go, my slithering friend."

Cap’t Mitch (wandering by): "Whattya’ got there, a talking snake? Hey, Mr. Snake, you don’t happen to know what became of a big talking turtle that used to float around here, do you?"

The Snakehead merely smiles…

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Need more ‘Scoop’? Visit www.scoopjackson.net today! Bye!

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ONE LAST THING! I especially want to thank the truly great Jimmy Barnes, a handsome, dapper gent who is quick of wit and plays an excellent game of golf…usually. Sure, he has a wee bit of the Blarney in him, but don’t we all, then. Thank you, Jimmy, for being such a generous soul with your stories.

Now, lay off with the Johnny Cochran stuff, OK?

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EXTRA! EXTRA! BIG-TIME TRIVIA CONTEST! OK, maybe not really Big-Time, since you can only enter through my ‘Scoop’ site, but then again, I am world-wide, especially since I foolishly decided to share a reciprocal link with a hammock-maker in Bali, and have been getting strange e-mails ever since, especially involving single Russian women who want friendship and ‘maybe more’.

But I digress, again. This Contest is happening courtesy of Pat Bukiri, a friend from High School and beyond. We lost touch, until nearly 30 years later when I mentioned his name on this site. He found it by accident, and we are again in communication. Pat happens to know a lot about TV and Movie Trivia, and now our on-going TRIVIA CONTEST is on the air! Be aware that I may  occasionally award a Prize, such as my Scoop Jackson Golden Star Certificate, seen below, which may in time become quite valuable. Or not. Regardless, check often for more Trivia. Good luck!

For starters, he we go:

Who is Mrs. Finstermocker?

Who is the Master Cylinder?

Who is Simon Bar Sinister?

Scoop #1 Jan. 2001

THE 500 Lb. DEADLY DUCK OF DOOM

And other animal stories…

Curious about all aspects of the 2000 Olympics last fall, I was fortunate to read about some strange creatures that live in Australia. I say 'fortunate' because I am now going to save about $2,000 in airfare by not going there, at least not on some "Outback" adventure. Although I may suggest to Mrs. Scoop that she go. (Just kidding, Dear!)

While we all know about kangaroos and wallabies, there are also many dangerous species we don't. In the this particular Janesville (WI) Gazette article, spiders, fish, sharks, and other poisonous things were mentioned. Apparently the Aussies are quite proud of their extreme habitat, often boasting of the dangers that abound. Good for you. Here, try a blowfish, lad.

Again, I'm just kidding. I love Australians, even to the point of trying some Vegamite about 20 years ago. The Aussies have it for breakfast, smeared on toast. (To me, it tasted just like a salty mudpie). And it is well preserved. I know this for a fact--I still have a jar in my closet, and just now I tried it again. Funny, it tastes just like…an old salty mudpie.

The women of Australia are simply beautiful. I base this on the swimming competitions in the Olympics and the time that an Aussie lass offered to trade her T-shirt for mine. She was camping with a group of twenty or so travelers visiting the USA. I boldly stripped off my T-shirt and handed it to her. She then boldly stripped off her T-shirt and handed it to me. Perhaps Aussie lasses wear bras nowadays. She didn't. Australian girls have many good points, and she definitely had some. I gave her a "10". I then ate some Vegamite, remembering stories of horny sailors at sea eating saltpeter. It helped.

The point of this tale, as if I really needed one, is that dangerous creatures are everywhere, but perhaps the Australians aren't aware of the dangers lurking right here in this camping area, you smug blokes, you! And these are animals the Australians wouldn't even suspect! As evidence, I present the following True Tales of Horror:

A few months ago an elderly woman entered a local restaurant, which shall remain nameless. That's because the actual name of the restaurant is "The Nameless Restaurant". 

Sorry. I couldn't help that. Actually, it's nameless because it's not their fault, and also because I'm hoping the woman comes in again when I'm there. Her hair was that purple-silver color, a sort of retired-punk look, and there was a Daddy Longlegs crawling in it.

According to the Hostess and the Waitress, it was a really big spider. "It was HUGE!" states J****. "We didn't know what to do. I thought about trying to flick it off, but what if she caught me touching the spider? She might think it came from the restaurant, and it didn't. It came in with her."

Both ladies tried several times to knock the spider away, with no success. "One time," said J****, "I almost had it, but it might have gone right in her salad. I couldn't take the chance."

The elderly woman left without incident, unaware of the danger that lurked in her hair. The Hostess claims she tried to flick it off at the last moment, but personally, I think she flinched.

Now we come to the illustrious Jimmy Barnes, who is a repeat customer in these columns. It's not Jimmy's fault; bad things just seem to happen to him. As a Chicago Firefighter, he almost burned his own Firehouse down while basting baby-back ribs with a paintbrush that was soaking in paint-remover solvent. In Wisconsin, he was bitten repeatedly by crazed fish after he had tied his feet to a swimming-area rope so he wouldn't drift away to sea. Unable to free himself, Jimmy was savaged by near-sighted bluegills that mistook his wriggling toes for bait.

Just recently, Jimmy was searching for something in his tool shed, next to his trailer. Jimmy explains:

"There were some boat cushions in there, on a shelf. I don't know why, because I don't own a boat. Curious, I shifted the cushions. Lo and Behold, I spotted a whole bunch of mice! I don't know what you call that kind of family…a herd, a cluster, meeces, I don't know. But it was a whole family, at least ten of them. Then the biggest one stared at me. I was eyeball-to-eyeball with the creature, and I knew I was looking into the face of Death.

"Then the giant mouse took off like a pole-vaulter straight at me! It was a good thing I had my hand up, still near the boat cushions. The King Rat leaped towards my face, jaws wide open. Luckily, it glanced off my outstretched hand, and I deflected it. The thing plopped  against the side of my forehead. Then it seemed to leap right back into the shed. I haven't opened the shed since."

Rabid readers will recall that Jimmy often golfs with some imposing Italians, all of whom I myself deem friends. A few years ago, Jimmy suggested he be known as their "Consigliere". This is the only higher-echelon position given to an outsider, one who is not Italian. This man must be of supreme intelligence and fierce bravery.

So they gave it to Jimmy Barnes.

Knowing he must have an imposing moniker, they named him "Guido Stiletto". Realizing Guido must be armed, yet knowing Jimmy, they gave him a rubber knife and a water pistol. So far, he has not harmed anyone, especially himself. Nowadays you can often find him seated at a long table at the local saloon--as opposed to sitting on a barstool--nodding wisely to his friends and dispensing profound advice. He seems to know exactly when to give his sage advice, since Frank and Al and Teddy and Bob all nod in agreement, as evidenced by this nugget of knowledge:

Guido: (shaking his beer can) "Hey, I'm empty. Anyone need a beer?"

All Others: "Sure! Good idea, Guido!"

I can't really recall any other nuggets of knowledge, but I'm sure there are plenty. Maybe I was in the bathroom or something. Anyway, right about now I'm sure all of you are wondering what this has to do with Australia or animals. You probably think I'm aimlessly wandering all over the place with my thoughts, just sitting here drinking beer.

OK, you're right. In fact, I just went and got another one. But I do my best thinking on my feet, and my mind has cleared momentarily. What I wanted to say is this:

    Dear Mrs. Scoop: I never touched that Australian girl! I don't even remember what she looked like! I didn't need the Vegamite!   

Now that that's cleared up, here's what this is all about...the Australians also boast of a fierce creature that once roamed their island: The 500-Pound Deadly Duck of Doom. Personally, I think they've had too many pints of ale, but they insist such a thing existed. They also claim it was...a meat-eater! Let's try to picture this:

    1st Aussie: "Say, mate, it's the first day of duck-hunting season. Let's have a go."

    2nd Aussie: "You go. I'm not leaving this barstool!"

    1st Aussie: "You have to go...you're the bloomin' decoy!"

Did such an bird really exist, even in prehistoric times? How large were its wings? If a flock were flying overhead and they pooped on you, would it kill you? Would you really just prefer to die rather than have to stagger back to the pub looking like that? All I know is, if faced with one of these beasts, I'd like to have Jimmy Barnes with me, armed with a real gun, not a water pistol. (If it was a water pistol, the ammo would just roll right off the duck's back, you know. So he has to have real bullets.) Why Jimmy, you ask? Because the odds would be in my favor, for 2 very good reasons: 1) Jimmy has cat-like reflexes, and might be able to defend us, or 2) He would shoot himself in the foot, which would give me time to get away while he was hopping about.

As for Jimmy, I think he would survive. This guy would come back to the saloon riding the duck, sipping a beer, and proclaim a giant cook-out. As the 500-lb dead duck was roasting on the spit, probably a truck axle, Jimmy would offer to baste the beast with his secret BBQ sauce. Jauntily plucking a paintbrush from what he assumed was a can of water, he would apply the sauce...

All summer long rascal Jimmy Barnes has kept a low profile. But the Titan of Trouble has finally been engulfed in the biggest brouhaha that Miller Lite could bring on.

Devoted fans know Jimmy as the man who was bitten by vicious bluegills while tangled in a swim-area rope, attacked by a giant crazed mouse, had both his new trailer and his trade-in struck by lightning the same night, and almost set his Chicago Fire Station ablaze while cooking ribs behind the building. His own squad, out on routine patrol, had to rush back to put out the fire.

But as I said, Jimmy has kept low, apparently a new man. That all changed a week or so ago when Jimmy seemed to snap. "I never thought he’s do that to her," said close friend Ted Skora. "She’s been with him for almost a year."

This needs some explaining. Last fall, friends of Jimmy bought him a blow-up doll for his birthday. Jimmy immediately named her ‘Doll’. "I’m bad with names," admitted Jimmy. "I used to ask girlfriends to wear nametags. I figured ‘Doll’ was pretty safe."

Jimmy even bought Doll a dress so as to not offend anyone with her stylish figure. Jimmy was often seen about town with Doll, strolling casually hand-in-hand down the main boulevard, careful not to drag her inflated pink feet over sharp objects. "You can’t put shoes on these things," explained Jimmy. "I tried wrapping her feet with duct tape, but the color didn’t match her outfit."

OK, I’m lying. Jimmy never took her to town. But he did buy the dress as a gag. Then Doll seemed laid to rest—sightings dwindled to zero…until that fateful Saturday when Jimmy’s friends became prankish and Jimmy took matters into his own hands.

"Yes, I was on the golf course that morning, the Blackhawk Campground Annual Outing at Oak Ridge," said Jimmy. "And a lovely lass did indeed bring the beer cart around a few or more times. And then I went back to the party at the Campground, where there was free beer, so, yes, alcohol was a factor.

"Later on I saw Doll riding with someone else on their golf cart. They had invaded my sanctuary and kidnapped her. Then she was on another cart with a different guy. This kept happening, but I tried to ignore it. At 4pm, Doll was on the hayride with 20 other people, although they at least had the dignity to dress her this time. Even so, I guess that’s what pushed me over the edge."

Jimmy was heard to remark: "That’s it—I’m going to drown the b****! Let her sleep with the fishes!" Swooping down like Zorro, he snatched Doll from her admirers and sped away on his golf cart. He drove past the store to the beach and tossed the helpless Doll into Clear Lake, after first opening her inflation device.

At the same time, a prominent local citizen, who shall remain unidentified because he has bribed me with beer (Tony Astin—Scoop), was also on the beach at Clear Lake, on the other side of the store. "I saw a body float past," said Tony. "It sort of looked like a blow-up doll, but I couldn’t be sure. So I stripped down to my skivvies and dove in."

When he realized what he had rescued, heroic Tony knew what he had to do. "Without prompt attention, she would have been completely deflated. I had a purpose in mind."

Not quite sure what fungi might be on the inflation device, he carefully wiped it clean and used mouth-to-nozzle to bring Doll back to life. He then put her inside sister-in-law Jill Whitney’s car, where she would be sure to see it first thing in the morning, probably in a groggy state of mind.

Alas, Doll did not survive the night. She was a mere shell of herself when discovered by Jill, who promptly kicked her out of the car. Doll then drifted about, helpless in the cruel hands of the wind. When I went out that next afternoon to interview Jimmy Barnes about the incident, Doll was spotted lifeless under a trailer. I snagged her out just as Jimmy pulled up on his cart.

"There’s the little tramp!" said Jimmy. But his bark was worse than his bite—he immediately took Doll to the bar and tried to resuscitate her. His efforts were unsuccessful, and he was later seen drowning his sorrows. He took Doll back to his trailer and began arranging a wake.

But soon after, Doll was again kidnapped! "How much can one man stand?" said a forlorn Jimmy. And then, as this reporter was out on patrol, I spotted something fishy. Ken and Mary Atella were at their site. Ken waved, but Mary immediately hid something behind her back. It was a clumsy attempt—deflated rubber legs were sticking out from behind her. Caught red-handed, Mary then asked if any ‘patches’ were kept at the store. "I tried using duct tape, but it won’t work. She’s got a bad rip in her arm."

For now, Doll remains missing in action, and Jimmy Barnes sleeps alone…but this reporter is sure we have not seen the last of Doll!

Jimmy Barnes was feeling smelly the other day. He was visiting friends and remarked that he needed a shower. "But I’m having a great time right now and I don’t want to leave," he said, "so please don’t be offended. Just stay back a wee bit."

And then opportunity knocked. Dark clouds rolled in and it began to pour. As the others fled under awnings, Jimmy took matters into his own hands. At his urging, a neighbor tossed him a bar of soap, and sans shirt and shoes, Jimmy soaped up. "It was refreshing," Jimmy later remarked. "Very tingly."

But concerned neighbors now worry that this will become a standard practice for Jimmy. "We had that bad hailstorm last week," said one man. "Luckily, he was sleeping. Otherwise, he would have been knocked out and flattened to a pulp, just like Doll!"

JIMMY’S SAFETY LESSON…

'Old Salt' Jimmy Barnes comes up sputtering.

A concerned Jimmy Barnes recently took it upon himself to give a safety lesson to Frank Commiso’s grandkids. "They had this big inflated raft with seats, but you and I know it can be tricky getting into them. There was a bit of a current, and they had to step over a ways to get in, so I took it upon myself to show them the proper procedure for getting onboard."

Yes, Jimmy missed a step and fell into the lake. What else did you expect? Jimmy later said, "No, you don’t understand—I was showing them what not to do!"

Of course.

Carol Okerstrom, the ‘Vulture’ of Trivia Fame, has been bombarding me, demanding to know who won the last Trivia Contest. Well, there was a tie. Two people out of the actual five who entered are in a draw. So I will now use The Vulture’s own tie-breaking question. (You can try the Trivia Quiz at www.scoopjackson.net. Just search around. All questions involved ‘housekeepers, maids, or butlers’.)

Tie-breaker: Who ‘played’ the maid (one time only) on ‘The Simpsons’?

Good luck to all! Email me at scoop@scoopjackson.net.

See you in the Spring, everyone! Keep in touch—be a NewsHound and rat on your friends! Scoop Jackson is online all year, with new columns whenever I feel like it. Check often, and check out the Jimmy Barnes Tribute Page. Thank you! 

ONE LAST THING! Scoop Jr. is getting married to the beautiful Kris soon. It will be a marriage made in Heaven...or Catalina Island. Scoop Jr. is a very macho guy, although he does have his tender side. Kris happened to catch an episode of 'Queer Eye For The Straight Guy' recently. I love this show, because the 'make-over' guy usually cries after seeing what the 'Fab 4' did to help him get his life in order, and also get the girl of his dreams. So Kris wants the Fabulous Homosexual 5 to do a number on Scoop Jr. Unfortunately, they only work in New York. The show is on BRAVO on Tuesday nights at 7. Can each of you send $1 for Scoop Jr. to get a make-over? Email 1st, OK?

Now, does anybody here want to help me blow up this doll? 

 Not that's there anything wrong with doing that...