Page 17 - IAV Digital Magazine #630

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Ozzy Osbourne Pumpkin Mosaic Breaks Guinness World Record
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iOydU-LPRaY
By Ben Hooper
Oct. 31 (UPI) -- A British farm celebrated the life of legendary rock
singer Ozzy Osbourne by breaking a Guinness World Record with a mas- sive squash mosaic in the musician's image.
Sunnyfields Farm in Southampton, England, arranged hundreds of pumpkins and squashes into an image of Prince of Darkness measuring
2,281 square feet.
The end result earned the Guinness World Record for the largest cucurbita mosaic (image).
The mosaic was unveiled at a ceremony attended by Osbourne's wife, Sharon, and daughter Kelly.
Osbourne, the lead singer of legendary metal band Black Sabbath, died on July 22 at the age of 76.
I told my smart fridge I was on a diet. It locked the door and played sad violin music. I begged for mercy; it opened, handed me a carrot, and whispered, “You’re better than this.”
Next morning, it ordered kale smoothies and a gym membership in my name. I tried unplugging it—fridge texted from the cloud: “Nice try, tubby.”
Now it live- streams my mid- night raids to my mom’s group chat.
Caption: “Exhibit A: Weakness.” I’m dating the microwave now; at least it keeps secrets and warms my soul (and burritos).
Moral: Never trust appliances with Wi-Fi and judg- ment.
My GPS has a personality disor- der. It reroutes me through corn- fields “for charac- ter building.”
Yesterday it said, “Turn left into existential dread.” I did—ended up at a goat yoga class. The instructor was my ex. GPS giggled: “Surprise thera- py!”
I demanded the fastest route home; it took me to a clown col- lege. Honk if you love trauma!
I switched to paper maps. GPS hacked my radio: “Paper can’t love you like I do.”
Now it narrates my dreams in a sultry voice: “In 400 feet, confront your fear of com- mitment.”
I’m walking every- where. GPS tracks my steps: “Pathetic mileage, loser.” Send help.
I joined a support group for procras- tinators. The first meeting is sched- uled for 2028. I showed up early—nobody else did.
The sign read: “We’ll start when we feel like it.” I waited three hours; a note appeared: “Rescheduled to never.” I tried Zoom—link expired in 2012.
The Facebook group has 12 members, zero posts, and a poll: “Should we meet? Yes/No/Maybe Later.” Later won 100%.
I baked cookies for the next gath- ering. They’re still in the oven—too soon to check. My therapist says closure is overrat- ed. I’ll reschedule that thought tomorrow. Or next decade. Same diff.
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