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One of the responsibilities InfoEd takes on is keeping you “in the know” about changes in the world of research administration and then making sure our software is optimally positioned to support those changes. I will do my best to share things as we hear about them, but the most “sure fired” way is to just follow us on Twitter.
In the midst of the stress the government may be causing you by increasing its need on developing regulations for sponsored projects that will undoubtedly cost more to implement than they would save in oversight, I am going to share a little story with you to hopefully brighten your day.
Last weekend I saw something at Larry’s Pistol & Pawn Shop that sparked my interest. The occasion was my sister’s birthday and I was looking for a little something extra for her. What I came across was a 100,000 volt, pocket/purse-sized Taser. The effects of the Taser were supposed to be short lived, with no long-term adverse effect on your assailant, allowing her adequate time to retreat to safety…. WAY TOO COOL!
Long story short, I bought the device and brought it home. I loaded two AAA batteries in the darn thing and pushed the button. Nothing! I was disappointed. I learned, however, that if I pushed the button and pressed it against a metal surface at the same time; I’d get the blue arch of electricity darting back and forth between the prongs. Awesome! Unfortunately, I have yet to explain to everyone what that burn spot is on the face of our microwave
Okay, so I was home alone with this new toy; thinking to myself, “It couldn’t be all that bad with only two AAA batteries, right?”
There I sat in my recliner, my dog Leopold looking on intently (trusting little soul) while I was reading the directions and thinking that I really needed to try this thing out on a flesh & blood moving target. I must admit I thought about zapping Leopold (for a fraction of a second) and thought better of it. He is such a sweet dog. But, if I was going to give this thing to my sister to protect herself against a mugger, I wanted some assurance that it would work as advertised. Am I wrong?
So, there I sat in a pair of shorts and a tank top with my reading glasses perched delicately on the bridge of my nose, directions in one hand, Taser in another. The directions said that a one-second burst would shock and disorient your assailant; a two-second burst was supposed to cause muscle spasms and a major loss of bodily control; a three-second burst would purportedly make your assailant flop on the ground like a fish out of water. Any burst longer than three seconds would be wasting the batteries.
All the while I’m looking at this little device measuring about 5″ long, less than 3/4 inch in circumference; pretty cute really and loaded with two itsy, bitsy AAA batteries, thinking to myself, “no possible way!”
What happened next is almost beyond description, but I’ll do my best…..
I’m sitting there alone, Leopold looking on with his head cocked to one side as if to say, “don’t do it master,” reasoning that a one-second burst from such a tiny little ‘ole thing couldn’t hurt all that badly. I decided to give myself a one-second burst just for the heck of it. I touched the prongs to my thigh, pushed the button, and HOLY MOTHER, WEAPONS OF MASS DESTRUCTION@!@$@$%!@ *!!!
I’m pretty sure Jessie Ventura ran in through the side door, picked me up in the recliner, then body slammed us both on the carpet, over and over and over again. I vaguely recall waking up on my side in the fetal position, with tears in my eyes, body soaking wet, with my left arm tucked under my body in the oddest position, and tingling in my legs. Leopold was standing over me making sounds I had never heard before, licking my face, undoubtedly thinking to himself, “do it again, do it again!”
Note: If you ever feel compelled to “mug” yourself with a Taser, one note of caution: there is no such thing as a one-second burst when you zap yourself. You will not let go of that thing until it is dislodged from your hand by a violent thrashing about on the floor. A three second burst would be considered conservative
SON-OF-A-that hurt like he**..! A minute or so later (I can’t be sure, as time was a relative thing at that point), collected my wits (what little I had left), sat up and surveyed the landscape. My bent glasses were on the mantel of the fireplace. How did they up get there? My triceps and right thigh was still twitching. My face felt like it had been shot up with Novocain, and my bottom lip weighed 88 lbs. I’m still looking for my common sense; I’m offering a significant reward for its safe return.
Hope you found that as amusing as I did. I have to admit this was a story I ripped off; it was passed around to me over email, so I can’t give credit where credit is due but every time I read it, it makes me smile. I hope you did too.