The Biggest Truck in the World is available in the PDF format.

This has to be one of my more ridiculous ideas, but I suppose I think I am what I create.

We were walking down Waterford Street this morning when he pointed out the discarded remains of someone's midnight snack.

"Do you see those thin white lines around the edge of the carton?" he asked.

I admitted I didn't. It takes a discerning eye to distinguish between congealed grease and styrofoam, and I couldn't do it. All my years of photography left me blind.

"Those hard white lines, my friend, are the fingerprints of lard. And there are only thirteen places here that still boil in lard. That narrows it down."

"Now, observe the uneven cut of the chips. Those chips were cut by hand, and ten of the lard-based shops use machine-cut potatoes."

"So how can you tell which of the three other shops made this batch?" I asked.

"You'll note the wrapping paper. Yeager's uses real newspaper, and the other ones use the sterile blank newsprint. This one's been wrapped in a half-sheet so it must be from Robinson's; McKay's doesn't cut corners and uses the full sheet."

"Brilliant!" I applauded.

I felt like I was playing Dr. Watson to his Sherlock, but I didn't mind. Sherlock was under all the pressure, but Watson got to enjoy all the adventures as well as get paid well for writing about them.

From what I've heard, the standing wave materialized during a winter storm. I suppose wave isn't the right word; it never moved. The water structure was over a kilometer tall, a half kilometer wide, and nearly seventeen kilometers long. Although some of the leaked stories contradict each other, apparently the water mountain had very steep sides; impossibly steep sides. It stood for over three hours, then vanished.

And that's all anyone knows. Or, more accurately, that's all anyone's revealing.

What a great story! Who says satellites aren't good for anything?

The "Compliance Co-ordinator" ad concludes with "Part of the Magic of the Walt Disney Company." I'm sure that's true.

Like almost every other site, this was not well crafted, but at least the perpetrators had the courtesy to warn me that there was "no substantial art displayed yet." I ultimately found the site quite rewarding, for in ridiculous purple type on a black (what else?) background I found the directory to the empty mausoleum: cliché city!

"Famous Artists"- acclaimed, exhibited in museum and/or commercial galleries - Sunset Exhibit Hall

"Undiscovered Artists"- never received recognition that the work deserved -Twilight Exhibit Hall

"Successful Artists"- fully or partially supported by one's art - Rainbow Exhibit Hall

"Frustrated Artists"- inadequate means of support by one's art; becoming "famous" was important to the individual; hurt by rejections from juried art shows, sometimes may have had bouts of depression or self doubt - Misty Exhitbit [sic] Hall

"Starving Artists"- driven by the passion of creating one's art; income from art was secondary; strong conviction about the value of one's talent and work - Winter Exhibit Hall

"Professional Artists"- may or may not have college degree in art; earned a living through one's artwork; may have taught art; may have done successful commercial design production besides fine arts works - Harvest Moon Exhibit Hall

"Amateur Artists"- considered oneself an artist but did not think of selling works as the main objective for creating the art; may have belonged to art clubs; no strong attempt to make a living off one's artwork - Spring Exhibit Hall

"Hobbyists"- created for the sheer enjoyment of expressioning [sic] one's self and visions; did not necessarily consider oneself an artiste per se - Summer Exhibit Hall

"Closet Artists"- cared less of ever showing publicly one's work but did it for themselves or some other unknown obscure reasons; art may have literally been discovered in the closet, among the other private possessions after the death of the individual - Autumn Exhibit Hall

Since I am a famous undiscovered successful frustrated starving professional amateur hobbyist closet artist, when I die I suppose you'll be able to visit my work in the Sunset Twilight Rainbow Misty Winter Harvest Moon Spring Summer Autumn Exhibit Hall.

See you there.

I wonder if I'll be visited by more and more ghosts as I grow older until I'm one myself. I hope not. I hope so.

It's an elaborate time-consuming project, but, as Oliver points out, "Watching the television is already a waste of time, so the gum and raisins work really doesn't waste any more. And you'd be amazed at how gum-covered raisins can really stretch a box of breakfast cereal."

He's right: I'm amazed.

A technician told me the building was made of earthworms. The worms, which were full of soil, were dumped into molds. They soon died, and their decomposing bodies made an adhesive slime that bonded with the soil. As a result, the walls were strong, relatively light, and of course cheap.

I wonder why no one makes buildings from worms any more.

"I always hold a body by the ankle when I pull it up. The ankle is one of the strongest joints in the body; it's about the last thing to decompose. I've never had an ankle go on me, ever."

"Also, the ankle grip means I never have to look the person in the face, or what's left of it. The fish and scavengers usually eat the eyes, lips and nose cartilage first, so there's never much of a face left, even in Alaska."

Roger explain that he works in Alaska because the pay is better and because "you get a better kind of body there. You couldn't pay me enough to do my job in the Caribbean."

I asked Roger if he'd ever seen a corpse in "cement overshoes," but he hadn't. He said that most murderers aren't that patient and prefer to use chains or bricks.

Roger said he'd only been in danger once.

"When I was starting out, I had to bring up the body of a suicide. She was a young woman who jumped off the ferry wearing her wedding dress. When I found her body I saw an eel coming out of the hole in her face where her nose used to be. I almost threw up, which can be fatal for a diver."

I marvel at what people will do for money.

Being ridiculous is all a matter of perspective.

I'm glad I'm neither a laborer or a worker. It's like Tom Stoppard said:

"What is an artist? For every thousand people there's nine hundred doing the work, ninety doing well, nine doing good, and one lucky bastard who's the artist."