Tomorrow, five different terrorist groups (Al-Qaeda, Hezbollah, Hamas, Islamic Jihad, Asbat Al-Ansar) will attack five different Canadian targets (CN Tower, Parliament Buildings, Confederation Bridge, Port of Montreal, Vancouver Ferry Terminal)  with five different kinds of weapons (explosives, fire bomb, nerve gas, radiation bomb, anthrax powder) at five different local times (9 a.m., noon, 2 p.m., 5 p.m., 8 p.m.).  From the clues given, figure out which group is hitting which target with which weapon at what time.  (Ignore time zone differences.)

1.  Either A or B is true, but not both:

   A.  The Port of Montreal will be hit at 9 a.m. but not with anthrax powder.

   B.  Asbat Al-Ansar will not use the fire bomb and will not attack later than 2 p.m.

2.  Four different attacks are: the one by Al-Qaeda, the one using anthrax powder, the one happening at 5 p.m., and the one at the Vancouver Ferry Terminal.    

3.  Either Hamas or Islamic Jihad will hit the CN Tower but not with the radiation bomb.

4.  Hezbollah is hitting the Port of Montreal but not with the fire bomb and not later than 2 p.m.

5.  The radiation bomb will be used at noon but not by Islamic Jihad or Asbat Al-Ansar.

6.  Al-Qaeda will attack at 2 p.m. but not with nerve gas.

7.  Explosives will be used at the Parliament Buildings but not before 2 p.m.

8.  The Confederation Bridge will be hit at 5 p.m. but not with nerve gas.

9.  The Vancouver Ferry Terminal is not being hit by Asbat Al-Ansar and not at 8 p.m.

Try another puzzle? —

    Copyright@ 2008 by Crad Kilodney, Toronto, Canada.  E-Mail:


    The Lorelei Tobacco Company is being sued for 100 billion dollars by the children of the late Mr. Simon Trunk, of Paterson, New Jersey, U.S.A., who smoked a pack a day of Lorelei 100’s until his tragic death at the prime age of 90.  The suit, brought by the law firm Goldberg, Mintz, Quetzalcoatl, seeks compensatory and punitive damages for shortening Mr. Trunk’s life (he was supposed to live to 105) and ten times the amount he would have earned in the last fifteen years of his life as a heavy equipment operator, earning $70,000 a year, with the assumption that Mr. Trunk would have invested half his salary on speculative penny stocks trading on the Canadian Venture Exchange, which would have been worth at least one billion dollars by the time of his scheduled death.

    Mr. Trunk’s eight children are claiming damages for mental suffering from thinking about the fact that they very likely would not have been born, since smoking causes impotence.

    A historian, Dr. Nigel Clawmute, of East Klutztown Teachers College (Pennsylvania), has submitted a brief on the side of the plaintiffs stating that second-hand smoke aboard the destroyer U.S.S. Millard Fillmore, on which Mr. Trunk served in the Second World War, very nearly killed the entire crew, which would have resulted in a Japanese victory in the battle of Gumby Island, and possibly the loss of the war by the United States.  The brief points out that many U.S. naval vessels that permitted smoking were lost in the war.

    The fact that the Trunk family’s dog  died at the age of 15 proves that second-hand smoke is deadly to pets.  The suit claims $4 billion in damages for the loss of the dog’s companionship.

    Goldberg, Mintz, Quetzalcoatl are also seeking punitive damages against Lorelei on the grounds that their cigarettes have reduced the oxygen in the earth’s atmosphere, generated 8 quadrillion tons of carcinogens, and contributed to global warming. 

    In a separate class action suit, representing all smokers and non-smokers who have ever heard of Lorelei Tobacco and who are afraid that they may someday die, Goldberg, Mintz, Quetzalcoatl are seeking damages equal to Lorelei’s anticipated profits for the next twenty years, plus legal costs.  Any excess money remaining in Lorelei’s treasury would have to be donated to hospitals.  Those wishing to sign on to the class action can e-mail Goldberg, Mintz, Quetzalcoatl or look for the insert in next Sunday’s newspaper.

    Lorelei has stated in its own defense that its products have always carried whatever health warnings were required by law.  However, Goldberg, Mintz, Quetzalcoatl argue that being in compliance with the law does not protect Lorelei from legal liability, based on the principle of si quaeris peninsulam amoenam, circumspice, as brilliantly demonstrated in City of Kingfish (South Dakota) Vs. Wong Fat Restaurant.

    Surprisingly, Lorelei’s stock has remained stable despite the controversy.  Financial analysts believe an out-of-court settlement will eventually be reached.

    Meanwhile, Congressman Dwayne Buglet of Connecticut has introduced a bill in the House of Representatives that would require that all cigarettes be made from spinach and be no more than one inch in length, including the filter.  When asked if he supported another Congressman’s proposal to sue Indians for introducing tobacco to the white man, Congressman Buglet dismissed the idea as “grossly racist, unfair, and unreasonable.”


     Copyright@ 2008, by Crad Kilodney, Toronto, Canada.  E-mail:

The venerable psychoanalyst Dr. Frood, who specializes in dream interpretation, keeps office hours from 9 a.m. to 4 p.m.  He schedules six patients a day, beginning on the hour at 9 a.m., with the last appointment running from 3 p.m. to 4 p.m.  He takes his lunch hour either at noon or 1 p.m.  Today he had six patients scheduled — Amy, Fred, Gus, Helen, Richard, and Selma — but one of them was a no-show.  The other five related dreams about having an operation, being lost in a shopping mall, being chased, being a celebrity, and flying.  From the clues given, account for all seven hours of Dr. Frood’s day, and determine who related which dream.

1.  Three consecutive hours were accounted for, in some order, by Fred’s appointment, the patient who dreamed of being lost in a shopping mall, and lunch.

2.   Amy was not the first woman scheduled.

3.  The no-show was one of the only two patients of the same gender to be scheduled for consecutive hours.

4.  Five of the six patients are: Helen, the patient booked for 10 a.m., the patient who dreamed of being a celebrity, the man who preceded the no-show by one hour, and the patient who was scheduled two hours before lunch.

5.  Either A or B is true, but not both:

     A.  Fred dreamed of being chased.

     B.  Selma was scheduled for 3 p.m.

6.  A man scheduled sometime before lunch related the dream of having an operation.

7.  Helen’s appointment was later than Richard’s, which was later than that of the patient who dreamed of being lost in a shopping mall.

8.  A woman was scheduled for 11 a.m.

Try another puzzle? —

     Copyright@ 2008, by Crad Kilodney, Toronto, Canada.  E-mail:

    Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, and welcome to the sixteenth installment of our interview series, “Extreme Writers,”  sponsored by the Arts Council of Moose River and by Garbanzo Waste Disposal, where “we treat you and your junk with equal respect.”

    This evening’s guest author is Crad Kilodney.  He will be interviewed by Ms. Agraka X. Pniu, editor of the Knerpie Literary Review.  Ms. Pniu, please begin.

Interviewer:  Mr. Kilodney, where do you get your ideas?

Kilodney:  My ideas?…I…uh…well…I really don’t know how to answer that.

Int.:  How long does it take you to write a book?

K.:  How long?…Well, I…I really couldn’t say.

Int.:  Which is your best book and your worst book?

K.:  Oh…uh…I…don’t know…I…

Int.:  How do you deal with rejection?

K.:  Rejection…I…uh…I suppose I just…carry on.

Int.:  Why haven’t any big publishers published you?

K.:  Uh…I…I couldn’t give you an answer, I’m afraid.

Int.:  Why do you think you have any talent?

K.:  Uh…uh…I have no answer for that…I’m sorry.

Int.:  Don’t you think you would have done better if you had majored in English in college, instead of something useless like astronomy?

K.:  Well…I’ll never know.

Int.:  One critic described your writing as “an almost random assemblage of words and sentences, devoid of meaning and integrity.”  Is that true?

K.:  Oh…uh…I…I hope not.

Int.:  Does the writer have a responsibility to uplift society, or is it all right just to be in it for the money?

K.:  I…I’m afraid I’m at a loss to answer that.

Int.:  You live off the stock market these days.  Doesn’t that negate your entire literary career?

K.:  Well…I have to support myself….Sorry about that.

Int.:  What awards have you won?

K.:  Oh…I haven’t won any, I’m afraid.

Int.:  If you had to live your life over, what would you do different?

K.:  I don’t know…I…really couldn’t say.

Int.:  If you had to be an animal, what kind would you want to be?

K.:  Animal?…Animal…I…I never thought about it…I don’t know.

Int.:  How exactly do you write?

K.:  I…uh…I write with a pen…and paper.

Int.:  Why don’t you get a computer?

K.:  I don’t know computers.

Int.:  Why aren’t you more famous?

K.:  Well…I…I don’t know.

Int.:  Who is your favorite movie star?

K.:  I don’t know…I…I’m not sure.

Int.:  Do you have any pets?

K.:  Pets?…No…no pets.

Int.:  What do you watch on television?

K.:   Television?…Television…Not much….Maybe the weather channel.

Int.:  What would be a good epitaph for your gravestone?

K.:  Oh, god…oh….I…I…I’m feeling faint.

Int.:  “I’m feeling faint”?  That’s rather clever.  I like it.  And I have no further questions, so thank you, Crad Kilodney.

K.:  Oh…yes…you’re welcome.

    This concludes the evening’s activities.  I want to thank Crad Kilodney and Ms. Agraka X. Pniu for a truly scintillating and memorable interview.  Next week, our guest author will be Farouk al-Jawali, author of Herbs of Agony.  He will be interviewed by Prof. Ruta Ghaoutsi-Habib of Munger College.

    Please leave in an orderly fashion through the back door, and be careful exiting the parking lot, as we have no liability insurance.  Thank you and good night.


    Copyright@ 2008, by Crad Kilodney, Toronto, Canada.  E-mail:

    Mr. Matthews has just joined Ace Company as its new financial officer, in charge of a group of six accountants: Betty, Bob, Ed, Frank, Gladys, and Marsha.  The departing financial officer has confided to him that two of the six accountants are crooks; also that two of them always lie, two always tell the truth, and two alternate between lies and truth (and are therefore neither liars nor truthful).  Unfortunately, he has refused to name names since it is no longer his problem.

    Mr. Matthews must now figure out who the crooks are.  He has devised a cunning plan: he has asked each accountant to slip him a confidential note containing two or three statements about the thefts and about the other accountants.  Help Mr. Matthews wade through the conflicting statements he has gotten back from his accountants and identify the crooks.

Betty:  1.  No women are crooks.

            2.  Gladys and Marsha are liars.

Bob:  1.  Betty is a crook, but I am not.

          2.  One of the women is a liar.

Ed:  1.  Marsha is a crook, but I am not.

       2.  Frank tells the truth.

       3.  Marsha lies half the time.

Frank:  1.  Gladys is a crook, but I am not.

             2.  Bob is a liar.

Gladys:  1.  Betty isn’t truthful.

               2.  Ed is not a crook.

Marsha:  1.  Gladys is a liar.

                2.  Frank is not a crook.

 Try another puzzle? —

     Copyright@ 2008 by Crad Kilodney, Toronto, Canada.  E-mail:

    Before I get into Qing Fo, the Chinese Squid Woman, there are a couple of matters I want to deal with.

    First thing, I’m sick of welfare bums, like my neighbor Martha, who has been on welfare for at least 15 years.  There’s nothing wrong with her physically or mentally.  She just has no interest in working.  How she gets away with it, I have no idea.  She claims to do volunteer work.  Even if she does, how does she manage to string the system along year after year?  The only thing I can think of is that she’s having sex with her case worker, although he’d have to be pretty hard up to want to have sex with such a dish rag.    I figure she goes to his place, because I’ve never seen her receive any male visitors.

    The second thing I am ticked off about is my local supermarket, which refuses to carry Diet Dr. Pepper or any diet root beer.  Where’s my freedom of choice?  What kind of backward country is this?  The manager claims he’s not allowed to carry the brands of soda I want!  What a typical Canadian loser!  Sometimes I just feel like strangling him!  He carries all these Asian-type snacks that look like cat litter, but he won’t carry normal soda for white people.  I’m sure Coke and Pepsi are paying for shelf space to keep other brands out, which is some sort of restraint of trade, but does the government do anything about it?  No way!  I’ve made lots of complaints, too, but nobody will answer my letters any more.

    Qing Fo, the Chinese Squid Woman, is the biggest mystery in the history of China, even more mysterious than how all those Chinese can live with all that polluted air.  There is nothing whatever about her on the internet, so once again (as usual) it’s up to me to fix something wrong with the world.  The Chinese Consulate, I should add, has been of no help whatever.  They claim they never heard of her!

    Qing Fo was born in either 1928 or 1938, in either Chengchow or Wuhan.   Her father was either a peasant or a street vendor of pots and pans, and the family was either on the side of the Communists or the Nationalists.  As a young woman, Qing Fo either taught school or was a mistress of Mao Tse-tung, from whom she would have learned about the atomic bomb.

    She came to be known as the Squid Woman either because of her skill in cooking squid in various ways or because she had squid-like arms with suckers.  Another theory is that she was the girlfriend of an opium dealer known as the Squid. 

    Some sources say she wasn’t Chinese at all but Korean.  And some suggest she was a man disguised as a woman.  However, a Chinese grocer in my neighborhood insists that no one in China would be called the Chinese Squid Woman unless she was really Chinese and a woman, because the Chinese are not so easily fooled.  I don’t think you can argue with that kind of logic.

    Her death is just as mysterious as her life.  Some believe she was killed in the Shantung soy riots of 1975.  Others claim she killed herself with poison rather than be executed for treason in connection with stolen blueprints for a rocket engine.  And others claim that she is still alive and living in Canton, Hong Kong, or Madison, Wisconsin, and has changed her name to Chi Kwok, Bao Wing, or Shirley Goldman.

    The lack of reliable documentation convinces me that there has been an Orwellian conspiracy at the top levels of the Chinese government to obliterate any mention of Qing Fo or any evidence of her existence.  This can only mean that she was deeply involved in some national security matter or some scandal with a high public official.  That is my hypothesis until someone can prove otherwise.

    Another thing that makes me mad is barking dogs that wake me up in the middle of the day when I like to sleep.  There are stores across the street, and dog owners will tie their dogs outside while they go in to shop, and some of these dogs are totally untrained and bark continuously.  There’s supposed to be a city by-law about noise, but nobody enforces it.  Sometimes I’m tempted to take a bat and go out there and smash the dog’s head in.  Some of these dog owners are so anti-social, they totally don’t care if their dogs bother normal people like me.  There’s one guy in particular whose dog won’t keep quiet for two seconds, and I can tell just by looking at him through my binoculars that he’s either a drug dealer or a welfare bum like that miserable Martha, who doesn’t have a dog, but she does have a cat that smells like death, and she doesn’t even open a window to air the place out, which is why no visitor can stand to be in her apartment for more than a minute, or so I’m told.

       Copyright @ 2008 by Crad Kilodney, Toronto, Canada.  E-mail:

    Has this ever happened to you?  You go down to the basement for yet another “final confrontation” with the fiend that has taken over your life.  There it is: the brain in the jar — the brain you’ve been keeping alive with liquid nutrients.  Attached to it are lots of wires connected to all this fancy lab stuff.  One wire is even connected to a speaker so the damned thing can talk to you.  Do this! Do that! Obey me!  All it ever does is give you orders.  But you’re going to put an end to it.  You’ve made up your mind.  You’re going to show that brain who’s boss….And what happens?  The same thing that always happens.  You lose your nerve, and the brain wins again.

    Now, if you’re a normal person like me, you might put up with this situation for, oh, let’s say six months.  Or maybe nine.  By that time you’re forced to admit to yourself that your life is no longer your own.  This cerebral monster has taken control of it and made you its slave.  How did this happen?  you ask yourself.  Well, you thought you were being a nice guy, a humanitarian, by keeping the brain alive.  There was an ethical issue.   It needed you.  You owed  it something.  You had to take care of it as a service to science, or society, or whatever.  And it was definitely smarter than you.  Maybe it was a genius, or maybe not.  But it certainly had a talent for winning every argument and manipulating you.  And you’d swear it could read your mind!

    One day leads to the next, and the next.  Things settle into a pattern, and you’re stuck.  If you try to break out of it, the brain lays this big guilt trip on you, and you really have no choice.   You’ve agreed to take care of this brain forever.  But just taking care of it isn’t enough.  It wants more and more and more — little luxuries and treats and favors.

    What can you do, kick it out of the house?  It has no mobility.  Where would you take it?  Who’s going to take it off your hands?  And what would you say if someone demanded to know where you got it in the first place?  And if you simply let it die of neglect, you’re a murderer.

    Now do you understand?

    I have tried to think the problem through rationally, the way a modern person is supposed to do.  We’re supposed to be a tolerant society, an inclusive society, where everyone without exception must be treated with dignity and made to feel welcome.  I considered approaching the brain in a reasonable manner — even as a friend.  Perhaps if we could arrive at a mutual understanding based on goodwill — you know, building on what we have in common, with mutual respect, finding a middle ground where there would be room for compromise and establishing a harmonious co-existence.  After all, I have my needs, too.

    Well, I tried.  I thought my well-rehearsed speech would have the desired effect, but no, just the opposite!  I received a stern rebuke and was made to feel selfish and guilty.  I ended up apologizing profusely and buying the brain a lot of things to try to make it happy again.

    I know you think I’m a spineless coward.  You’re saying, “Why don’t you just take an axe to the damned thing and be rid of it!”

    Yes, I’ve thought about it many times.  And sometimes I have even made what you might call a “plan.”  But my resolve always evaporates.   Why?  Because in the back of my mind lurks a fear of what would happen.  And I know it would happen.

    Let’s say I kill the brain.  I dispose of it.  Everything seems safe.  A few days pass, a few weeks, maybe even a few months.  But then, when I least expect it, there will be a knock at the door.  I will open it.  And there will be two very big, very tough-looking men, holding an identical brain in a jar.  And one of them will say: “We’re looking for his friend.”

    Copyright@2008, by Crad Kilodney, Toronto, Canada.  E-mail: