I am convinced that our brain, especially when it comes to memory, is like a giant pot of soup, boiling and bubbling. As it boils and bubbles, various vegetables and/or chunks of chicken or beef float to the surface, remain visible for a bit, then sink back down into the roiling depths of the pot, only to be replaced by a different vegetable or piece of meat. Perhaps even a noodle.
I do consider my memory to be such an ever-churning pot of soup, and often times I find really old vegetables..er..memories spontaneously bobbing up to the surface, hanging around for a while, then eventually sinking back down into the broth. We're talking old memories here, as in decades old, floating back into my conscious without even an identifiable trigger.
Recently I had the pleasure of recalling two incidents from my childhood, completely out of the blue, that in fact reinforce the idea that Disney is Evil. Read on, MacDuff.
Anyone who knows me even just a little is aware that I love to read. I find that reading expands your mind, sharpens your wits, increases your vocabulary, fills in knowledge gaps, and much much more. It may further not come as much of a surprise to anyone that I loved to read from a very early age, like around 3. I so impressed my dad that he'd go out and get his hands on any second-hand book he could buy and give them to me.
One particular batch contained A Christmas Carol, The Wizard of Oz, and Toby Tyler. What's Toby Tyler, you ask? Well you may ask! Toby Tyler is one of those cautionary "bad boy" stories. Boy is a problem at home, boy runs away convinced that his parents don't love him, boy gets into trouble, boy eventually has an epiphany and returns home, chastened and wiser, and is a good boy from now on.
The titular Toby ran away from his foster parents and ended up joining the circus. As an aside, don't you think Titular Toby would make a good name for a porn star? Anyways, Toby strikes up a friendship with Mr. Stubbs, a chimpanzee in the circus. In order to show that there are consequences to being a bad boy, there comes a point where said chimp has an unfortunate run-in with a hunter who has a rifle (Spoiler alert: chimp loses).
Now, this book really milked that damned chimp's death scene. Good Lord, did it tug at the heart strings. And I was just a kid, who still thought that chimps were cute and smart and wonderful, not the hateful, screaming, shit-flinging little douchebags that they really are. Which reminds me: I wonder how the New York Yankees fanbase is taking the fact that their team really hasn't made much progress to improve themselves over the off-season thus far?
But I digress. Where was I? Ah yes. Ventilated chimp.
Anyways, Toby is devastated, I was beside myself with grief, and even though the story ends happily (Toby learns the error of his ways, goes back to loving family), I was still shaking my head and going "Sure,it's a happy ending for everyone except Mr.Stubbs, who is DEAD!"
Well, enter the Wonderful World of Disney.
Sunday nights, NBC, 730 EST...the Wonderful World of Disney...IN COLOR! OOooooooooo! That was one of the big selling points of WWD. The show was in glorious COLOR! Yeah what can I say? It didn't take much to impress us in the 60's. I mean, come on, three network channels and a few UHF stations? Oh yeah. We were living the high-life, let me tell you. Then just when you thought the bar couldn't possibly be set lower, the 70's came along.
OK, where was I? Oh yeah, Disney and their Wonderful World of Technicolor Yawns. Anyways, WWD did a movie adaptation of Toby Tyler. And guess what? The damned chimp survives the hunter's gunshot! Yep, there's good old Mr. Stubbs with a big ol' gauze bandage wrapped around his mid-section.
Now, though a part of me was sort of happy at this "alteration", an even bigger part of me was all "Hey wait! That's wrong! The monkey died!" It really bugged me. These grown-ups...DISNEY of all people, got it wrong!
That's because the chimp is a cute (ostensibly) and cuddly (tchyeah right) creature, and thus cannot die. Had it been a parental figure, however, and ol' mom or dad would've ended up in a chipper/shredder for sure, with their disbelieving offspring witnessing the whole thing as the child was inundated with a crimson tidal wave of parental blood.
OK, that's not fair, I guess. Disney would never do that. No, Disney would just have already eliminated either and or both parents before the start of the story.
But yes, there you have it. Disney is evil; they modify classic stories so as to make them more palatable to young viewers, even though they won't hesitate to off a parent or two in the backstory.
The second instance of what I perceive today as Disney Evil, was the Coming Attractions for another episode of "Wonderful World of Disney". I never saw the episode in question, but after the eyeful I got, I didn't want to.
The episode was called something like "Minado the Wolverine". At least I think it was "Minado". Minado, Menudo, Mentos, Mindanao...something. So yeah, the episode was about a wolverine. OKay, fine. WWD would often do a program based on some animal's adventures. And these weren't cartoons; they were live-action.
So, in this episode preview, I'm seeing this animal that looks like an over-sized, de-striped skunk on steroids, and they show it relentlessly attacking this guy who's walking through the snow. The thing leaps at him, snarling, the man bats it away, it recovers, attacks again, the man bats it away, it climbs a goddam tree and jumps out of it and onto the guy's head and here's the poor sap trying to keep his footing in the deep snow, while battling a furry psychopath with a level of rage usually only achieved by being rogered by a cactus while being informed that your spouse has been unfaithful, and incidentally you're not getting a tax refund in fact you owe $20,000, and by the way your car spontaneously combusted and your auto insurance mysteriously terminated yesterday.
This wolverine didn't smoke cigars, address people as "bub", and have adamantium claws that went "snikt". No, this Lon Chaney Junior of the animal kingdom was a furry nightmare, attacking its foe with a crazed single-minded suicidal zeal that would make Osama Bin-Laden weep tears of envious joy.
As I watched this preview, as a child, I knew something was wrong, but I couldn't put my finger on what it was. Something was off. It took a few years of growing up and learning how programs are made to realize that a tv show has cameramen, sound people, a director, etc., all of whom we can't see, off-screen, making the tv or movie magic.
That's when it came together for me. Bear in mind, I was still a kid here: this poor sap was getting attacked by a psychotic wolverine and a whole crew of people didn't do a thing to help him! No sir, they just kept filming their stupid program while the fate of this poor sucker remained a mystery.
It took a couple more years for me to realize that it was all a show, and whatever happened, no actual humans were harmed in the making of that stupid-ass Disney program.
So there you have it. Two concrete bits of evidence that reinforce the fact that Disney is evil.
In a future installment, we'll have another look at Disney evil, as well as the very first time I read a comic book in which the heroes died, and the ensuing trauma to my psyche.
Ciao!
Monday, January 17, 2011
Thursday, January 6, 2011
New Years' Do T'ings..
Yes, it's that time of year when everyone staggers out of their inebriated state that was attained on the last day of the old year, and solemnly swears to undergo a series of life-changing goals, otherwise known as resolutions. Most of these resolutions will wither and die before the New Years Eve party food has negotiated its way through the person's digestive tract and has left the building (fact: that's three to five days).
That's why a lot of clever, savvy people like me (and, at the risk of starting a mutual back-patting fest) and most of the people I hang with, shrink at the idea of declaring resolutions. Usually they're a cliche for failure (the resolutions, not my friends!).
And yet, there's a certain logic, a certain order, a certain ease of accountability, in starting something on January 1st (or thereabouts). It certainly makes a convenient benchmark. Maybe it's the word "resolution" that's the problem.
I've tried coming up with some clever. I thought of "revolution", "devolution" (are we not men? We are DEVO!), "irresolution", "revelation", but alas, none of them make sense. That's why I have decided to incorporate a phrase that Carol and I use, called "do t'ings".
"Do t'ings" was culled from the hilarious video, "Pork Chop Sandwiches", a satire of a GI Joe cartoon. Soon, we started using "do t'ings" as a catch-all, plugging it in when we were unwilling or unable to come up with specifics. For instance, you could say, "At lunch time, we'll stop off at Wendy's, grab a bite, then for the rest of the lunch hour, I dunno, we'll do t'ings".
Clear now? Good. So, let's cover my New Years Do T'ings.
First of all, let's recap last year's Do T'ings. There was only one, and that was to reduce my body mass so that I would no longer be mistaken for a stunt double for the Hindenburg. False modesty aside, it was a raging success. Took a year, but I lost 60 lbs. Hooray for me!
Well, that was pretty much the only Do T'ings for 2010. Fortunately (or unfortunately, as the case may be), there's more for 2011. Read on:
Do T'ings #1. Let's Finish The Job!
OK, so my weight is down to around 160. Supposedly, I should be at 150. So I still have 10 lbs to go. Do T'ings number one, then, is to lose that last 10 pounds or so.
Do T'ings #2. We Are Here To Pump ::Clap:: You Up!
OK, so I lost 60lbs and my legs are gorgeously muscular to behold. You know what is NOT? Upper body. Sure, I'm wiry and can run fast and long, but when it comes to muscle mass, it's almost an embarrassment. Fortunately, there's that gym membership that I have, and have been availing myself of solely to use the treadmills so that I may continue running even when we get rogered by New England's ever-lovable winters. Time to work out, build up upper body strength, etc. So, that's Do T'ings number 2...building up muscle mass.
Do T'ings #3. The Removal Of An Altogether Different Kind Of Fat
The Department Of Statistics Designed To Make You Feel Bad reports that the average American has about $25,000 in non-mortgage debt. Well, this is the year that Carol and I decide that any debt, excluding said mortgage, must shrink if not go away altogether. So, Do T'ings number 3 is to reduce and shut down sources of credit.
Do T'ings #4. Spending More Time With My Kids
The problem with listing this as a Do T'ing is that it may imply that I have to force myself to spend time with my own kids. After all, whether you call it a resolution or a Do T'ing, it usually means that you're forcing yourself to do something that, while ultimately good for you, is something you'd rather not be doing. Well, that's not the case here. See, I see my kids just enough that it's not like they're not in my orbit at all, so it's easy to just sort of coast when they're around. I'm talking here about going out of my way to have more one-on-one time with each of them. I can get lazy and just take for granted that they'll always be around and able to do stuff whenever the mood strikes me. That's not the case. Nothing lasts forever, and the chances to, well, do t'ings diminishes over time. So, Do T'ings Number Four is to go out of my way to have more one-on-one time with each of my kids. I really don't get the chance to see them enough for my tastes.
Do T'ings #5. It's Blog, It's Blog, It's Big, It's Heavy, It's Wood.
I do enjoying writing like this, but a lot of times, I get too lazy and instead burn off time playing Bejeweled Blitz or some PC game. And I do think I have some good things to say sometimes. I should post more blogs. So, that's Do T'ings #5. Blog more.
Do T'ings #6. The Most Frightening Do T'ings Of All
I have three, count 'em, three novels in various stages of completion. At least two of them are over half done. But therein lies the problem. I work on one, everything's great, I'm humming along, then I stop because I have another great idea, so I start another novel, then that one comes along nicely, then I stop because I get yet another good idea, and so on, and so on.
Problem is, I know myself too well. I know what I'm doing here. And in true "pour your heart out because you're blogging" style, it's confession time.
I'm afraid of rejection.
Oh Hell, afraid nothing; I'm TERRIFIED.
See, if I'm working on a book, I can have that nice warm feeling of "Ooooo, this is GOOD!", and no one can refute that. But as the book gets closer to completion, I start to realize that inevitably, others will need to look at it. And they may not agree with my assessment. Do I really want that? Sending the book out to be judged may end up shattering my preconceived subjective notions as to its goodness!
Hell no! Let's start another book! Yeah! OOOO, this one is GOOD! Yeah baby!
I realize I'm being ridiculous. I understand that there's a lot of people that I know who think my writing is all that and a bag of chips. And there's some who think it's at least on par with a lot of other stuff out there. But...but...what if THIS particular thing sucks? What if all those people who like my stuff are wrong???
So, in essence, I need to grow a pair, finish one of the damned things, and start shopping around for an agent. Period. Fish or cut bait. Crap or get off the fence. Yes, I know I mangled that phrase. It was intentional.
So, New Years Do T'ings #6: Shop around ONE completed manuscript.
Will these Do T'ings get done? I have to admit that losing 60 lbs has done wonders for my feeling of "I can't fail". It'll be interesting to see if it holds up to a challenge. Stay tuned throughout the year!
That's why a lot of clever, savvy people like me (and, at the risk of starting a mutual back-patting fest) and most of the people I hang with, shrink at the idea of declaring resolutions. Usually they're a cliche for failure (the resolutions, not my friends!).
And yet, there's a certain logic, a certain order, a certain ease of accountability, in starting something on January 1st (or thereabouts). It certainly makes a convenient benchmark. Maybe it's the word "resolution" that's the problem.
I've tried coming up with some clever. I thought of "revolution", "devolution" (are we not men? We are DEVO!), "irresolution", "revelation", but alas, none of them make sense. That's why I have decided to incorporate a phrase that Carol and I use, called "do t'ings".
"Do t'ings" was culled from the hilarious video, "Pork Chop Sandwiches", a satire of a GI Joe cartoon. Soon, we started using "do t'ings" as a catch-all, plugging it in when we were unwilling or unable to come up with specifics. For instance, you could say, "At lunch time, we'll stop off at Wendy's, grab a bite, then for the rest of the lunch hour, I dunno, we'll do t'ings".
Clear now? Good. So, let's cover my New Years Do T'ings.
First of all, let's recap last year's Do T'ings. There was only one, and that was to reduce my body mass so that I would no longer be mistaken for a stunt double for the Hindenburg. False modesty aside, it was a raging success. Took a year, but I lost 60 lbs. Hooray for me!
Well, that was pretty much the only Do T'ings for 2010. Fortunately (or unfortunately, as the case may be), there's more for 2011. Read on:
Do T'ings #1. Let's Finish The Job!
OK, so my weight is down to around 160. Supposedly, I should be at 150. So I still have 10 lbs to go. Do T'ings number one, then, is to lose that last 10 pounds or so.
Do T'ings #2. We Are Here To Pump ::Clap:: You Up!
OK, so I lost 60lbs and my legs are gorgeously muscular to behold. You know what is NOT? Upper body. Sure, I'm wiry and can run fast and long, but when it comes to muscle mass, it's almost an embarrassment. Fortunately, there's that gym membership that I have, and have been availing myself of solely to use the treadmills so that I may continue running even when we get rogered by New England's ever-lovable winters. Time to work out, build up upper body strength, etc. So, that's Do T'ings number 2...building up muscle mass.
Do T'ings #3. The Removal Of An Altogether Different Kind Of Fat
The Department Of Statistics Designed To Make You Feel Bad reports that the average American has about $25,000 in non-mortgage debt. Well, this is the year that Carol and I decide that any debt, excluding said mortgage, must shrink if not go away altogether. So, Do T'ings number 3 is to reduce and shut down sources of credit.
Do T'ings #4. Spending More Time With My Kids
The problem with listing this as a Do T'ing is that it may imply that I have to force myself to spend time with my own kids. After all, whether you call it a resolution or a Do T'ing, it usually means that you're forcing yourself to do something that, while ultimately good for you, is something you'd rather not be doing. Well, that's not the case here. See, I see my kids just enough that it's not like they're not in my orbit at all, so it's easy to just sort of coast when they're around. I'm talking here about going out of my way to have more one-on-one time with each of them. I can get lazy and just take for granted that they'll always be around and able to do stuff whenever the mood strikes me. That's not the case. Nothing lasts forever, and the chances to, well, do t'ings diminishes over time. So, Do T'ings Number Four is to go out of my way to have more one-on-one time with each of my kids. I really don't get the chance to see them enough for my tastes.
Do T'ings #5. It's Blog, It's Blog, It's Big, It's Heavy, It's Wood.
I do enjoying writing like this, but a lot of times, I get too lazy and instead burn off time playing Bejeweled Blitz or some PC game. And I do think I have some good things to say sometimes. I should post more blogs. So, that's Do T'ings #5. Blog more.
Do T'ings #6. The Most Frightening Do T'ings Of All
I have three, count 'em, three novels in various stages of completion. At least two of them are over half done. But therein lies the problem. I work on one, everything's great, I'm humming along, then I stop because I have another great idea, so I start another novel, then that one comes along nicely, then I stop because I get yet another good idea, and so on, and so on.
Problem is, I know myself too well. I know what I'm doing here. And in true "pour your heart out because you're blogging" style, it's confession time.
I'm afraid of rejection.
Oh Hell, afraid nothing; I'm TERRIFIED.
See, if I'm working on a book, I can have that nice warm feeling of "Ooooo, this is GOOD!", and no one can refute that. But as the book gets closer to completion, I start to realize that inevitably, others will need to look at it. And they may not agree with my assessment. Do I really want that? Sending the book out to be judged may end up shattering my preconceived subjective notions as to its goodness!
Hell no! Let's start another book! Yeah! OOOO, this one is GOOD! Yeah baby!
I realize I'm being ridiculous. I understand that there's a lot of people that I know who think my writing is all that and a bag of chips. And there's some who think it's at least on par with a lot of other stuff out there. But...but...what if THIS particular thing sucks? What if all those people who like my stuff are wrong???
So, in essence, I need to grow a pair, finish one of the damned things, and start shopping around for an agent. Period. Fish or cut bait. Crap or get off the fence. Yes, I know I mangled that phrase. It was intentional.
So, New Years Do T'ings #6: Shop around ONE completed manuscript.
Will these Do T'ings get done? I have to admit that losing 60 lbs has done wonders for my feeling of "I can't fail". It'll be interesting to see if it holds up to a challenge. Stay tuned throughout the year!
Thursday, December 2, 2010
Memories of an Odd Kid: The Mighty Hercules
When I was a kid, Saturday morning cartoons were an indispensable part of my week. I'd struggle to get up each weekday morning to get to school,only to easily and eagerly get up bright and early on Saturday in order to watch cartoons.
And you had to see them when they were being broadcast, because back in those days, we didn't have no newfangled VCRs, or DVDs, or DVR! Nossir! We had to walk FIF-teen miles to watch television, and we only had six channels and by cracky we were grateful for it, and...
..oh..sorry...where was I?
Oh yeah. Saturday cartoons. Anyways, one of the little gems that I loved was a cartoon called The Mighty Hercules, a product of 1963. Set in ancient Greece, Hercules was your basic muscular good guy, son of Zeus and all that. But his power was diminished on Earth, so when things got really hairy, he put on this magic ring that gave him his amazing power boosts (accompanied by the usual dramatic music and flashing lightning bolts).
Hercules had an annoying sidekick, a young centaur named Newton (first name Fig, perhaps!?), who had this irritating habit of repeating himself, repeating himself. Hercules' arch enemy was this evil sorcerer named Daedalus. Yes, the show took certain liberties with the classic mythology, but no worse than the Great Rogerer of All Our Beloved Childhood Stores and Legands..er...I mean, Disney. Hey at least the show featured mythological critters like the Laernean Hydra and the Nemean Lion.
Then there was the theme song. Oh, the theme song. Wow! A real manly-man hero theme song if there ever was one. See for yourself:
Hercules, hero of song and story.
Hercules, winner of ancient glory.
Fighting for the right,
Fighting with his might,
With the strength of ten, ordinary men.
Hercules, people are safe when near him.
Hercules, only the evil fear him.
Softness in his eyes,
Iron in his thighs,
Virtue in his heart,
Fire in every part,
Of the Mighty Hercules.
Wow. Makes you want to slap on a toga and a pair of sandals and start smacking things with a sword, don't it?
And it was sung by someone who you'd swear was Johnny Mathis. I mean, this fellow was so close to Mathis' style, that you'd swear he was going to follow up the theme song with an impromptu rendition of "Chances Are".
Turns out, it wasn't Mathis, but check this out. The singer of The Mighty Hercules was a man named Johnny Nash. You might remember him as the guy who sang about how he could see clearly now, the rain was gone. Yeah, that's the one.
So yes, The Mighty Hercules was one of those beloved childhood memories of mine that, thanks to the vastness of the Internet, has been rediscovered. Childhood cartoons have been in the forefront of my brain thanks to one of those nifty Facebook things where people are encouraged to put up a profile image about something or other.
Come to think of it, I think I'll be devoting a few more OV's to some other childhood favorites (Prince Planet, The Eighth Man, The Mighty Heroes, Frankenstein Junior and the Impossibles, et al). I also have two other ideas in mind, one involves a discussion about Rings, and another involves The Cliched Device of Power Used During Dramatic Moment.
Until next time, keep your feet on the ground and keep reaching for cigars!
Saturday, November 13, 2010
Fruit From The Random Tree, Redux
Every once in a while I enjoy doing the mental equivalent of cleaning out the attic. Let the housecleaning begin.
I know that there are people out there that you meet that you take an instant liking to, but has anyone out there ever met anyone that you took an instant, baseless, illogical DISlike to? I have. There's someone out there who, from the git-go, I irrationally couldn't stand. Now that I've had more time around this person, I can't stand them even more, but still. No worries, this person's not on facebook.
Dear right-wing yahoos who are pissed at Obama because of the bailouts and resulting deficit: You DO know that Dubya is the one who initiated the bailouts, right? Just checking.
And I still feel that the particular vehemence aimed at Obama by certain circles comes from their deep down dislike at having a black man in the White House. Of course, they'll never admit it publicly....
But I do think Obama made a big mistake when he made health care his big priority, and not unemployment.
I have to say, I LOVE the recent new hot buzz-phrase du jour: "Really?" I love, LOVE, LOVE it! One word, but said in such a way that it conveys SO much.
You heard it here: The Office will NOT survive Steve Carrell's departure.
If Derek Jeter was was truly the God-Almighty Ultimate Baseball Sportsman Nice Guy Upright Dude that his horde of worshipers say he is, then he'd refuse the Gold Glove award. His winning it is a travesty, as everyone and their grandmothers know that his defensive stats are mediocre at best. There is no way in Hell he was the best shortstop of the year. Not even close.
And while we're on the subject of WTF baseball awards, Papi got jobbed. He deserved the Silver Slugger award, not Vlad.
Just so it's been said: Fad diets do NOT work. Sure, you can lose 90 pounds in one month on the Hot mustard/raisin/chlorine bleach/goose turd diet, but eventually you'll have to go back to eating real food, and when you do, that weight comes RIGHT back on. Fad diets have NO basis in reality.
Current book I'm reading: Midnight In The Garden Of Good And Evil
Wisdom of the Day: Never take what's not offered, and never stay where you're not wanted.
Every time I think to myself that people are making too much of a big deal out of bullying and trying to protect kids from it, I remember my own high school experience. That's when I find myself wishing that all the angst and "we gotta do something about this" was around when I was a teenager..either that, or easy access to an assault rifle.
Evidence that there's still justice in the world: Stuck in traffic on Route 128 because they've shut down two lanes due to road construction. Watching a few jerks whizz by in the breakdown lane (despite signs posted NOT to!), because hey, clearly those people have much more important places to be than we do....then seeing a Mass Statey positioned up ahead, waving over one, two, three, four cars. Aw HELL YEAH! Justice!
Also, kudos to Massachusetts for adopting laws making it illegal to text while driving. New Hampshire needs that too!
Wisdom of the Day II: Nothing makes a man more sympathetic to a woman's monthly "inconvenience" than to be going about his business and having a hemorrhoid detonate in his pants.
OK, I admit it...I LOVE getting all the compliments I've been receiving over my weight loss. I never get sick of hearing it.
Said it before, will say it again: There should be three options for Friend requests on FB: Confirm, Ignore, and Who The Hell Are You And Why Should I Care?
Speaking of Facebook, here's the answer I've always wanted to give people who rail about it being slow, or whatever. "You're right! I wouldn't take it if I were you! Write to the Facebook powers that be, and demand your money back!"
Sorry, but I don't buy "...but it's for a good cause", as well as its cousin "...but it raises awareness!" as excuses for what I consider tacky, classless behavior.
I kind of like having Shaq on the Celtics.
Nothing is more boring to me than a zealot (be it religious, political, cause-oriented, whatever).
The problem with a hopeless romantic is that the phrase does in fact contain the word "hopeless".
If you're a parent in their 50's, and you're undergoing Empty Nest Syndrome, and you're actually considering having another kid at this stage in life, you should be sterilized then thrown into the loony bin. And if you're still adamant about it, then at least don't add to the surplus population...ADOPT!
Speaking of the phrase "..surplus population" (clever people will know where I'm coming from with this), I think any store that starts gearing up for Christmas BEFORE Halloween even ends, should be picketed by people dressed in the most hideous, gory, disgusting costumes and makeup imaginable...until January 2nd.
Speaking of zombies, I'm really loving "The Walking Dead" on AMC.
Sick of vampires yet? I am....
OK OK, so I found myself actually watching a few more episodes of Glee. Granted, I was a captive audience, but at least I decided to go ahead and pay more attention to it...get a bigger sampling if you will. I've gone from disliking the show to fervently wishing someone would take this show around back of the barn and going all Old Yeller on its ass.
Watched Paranormal Activity recently. Sorry, it did nothing for me nor for Carol.
Joe Morgan was finally fired. Now, if they can only do likewise to Tim McCarver, the baseball world will be a happier place!
Recently watched "The Zanti Misfits" again. Even after all this time, that episode is STILL pretty effed up....and I mean that as a compliment.
There was some MGD 64 left over from our party, so I figured I'd try it. I'm forced to admit it wasn't half bad...wasn't half GOOD either, but it's definitely better than Coors Lite or Bud Light...and it's just 1 WW point!
On a related note, I think that many people aren't aware of the implications of the acronym RSVP. It's not just "let us know if you can make it", it's "let us know if you can make it OR NOT".
Shows I'm currently enjoying: NCIS, Big Bang Theory, Lie to Me, $#%@ My Dad Says.
Shows I'm increasingly not sure about, but still watch: House, The Office
Shows I wish would die a horrible death: Glee, most of Nick's cartoon shows
Speaking of NCIS, hey Carol, feel free to wear that Abby Sciuto costume around the house! No need to put it away just because our party's over!
I know that there are people out there that you meet that you take an instant liking to, but has anyone out there ever met anyone that you took an instant, baseless, illogical DISlike to? I have. There's someone out there who, from the git-go, I irrationally couldn't stand. Now that I've had more time around this person, I can't stand them even more, but still. No worries, this person's not on facebook.
Dear right-wing yahoos who are pissed at Obama because of the bailouts and resulting deficit: You DO know that Dubya is the one who initiated the bailouts, right? Just checking.
And I still feel that the particular vehemence aimed at Obama by certain circles comes from their deep down dislike at having a black man in the White House. Of course, they'll never admit it publicly....
But I do think Obama made a big mistake when he made health care his big priority, and not unemployment.
I have to say, I LOVE the recent new hot buzz-phrase du jour: "Really?" I love, LOVE, LOVE it! One word, but said in such a way that it conveys SO much.
You heard it here: The Office will NOT survive Steve Carrell's departure.
If Derek Jeter was was truly the God-Almighty Ultimate Baseball Sportsman Nice Guy Upright Dude that his horde of worshipers say he is, then he'd refuse the Gold Glove award. His winning it is a travesty, as everyone and their grandmothers know that his defensive stats are mediocre at best. There is no way in Hell he was the best shortstop of the year. Not even close.
And while we're on the subject of WTF baseball awards, Papi got jobbed. He deserved the Silver Slugger award, not Vlad.
Just so it's been said: Fad diets do NOT work. Sure, you can lose 90 pounds in one month on the Hot mustard/raisin/chlorine bleach/goose turd diet, but eventually you'll have to go back to eating real food, and when you do, that weight comes RIGHT back on. Fad diets have NO basis in reality.
Current book I'm reading: Midnight In The Garden Of Good And Evil
Wisdom of the Day: Never take what's not offered, and never stay where you're not wanted.
Every time I think to myself that people are making too much of a big deal out of bullying and trying to protect kids from it, I remember my own high school experience. That's when I find myself wishing that all the angst and "we gotta do something about this" was around when I was a teenager..either that, or easy access to an assault rifle.
Evidence that there's still justice in the world: Stuck in traffic on Route 128 because they've shut down two lanes due to road construction. Watching a few jerks whizz by in the breakdown lane (despite signs posted NOT to!), because hey, clearly those people have much more important places to be than we do....then seeing a Mass Statey positioned up ahead, waving over one, two, three, four cars. Aw HELL YEAH! Justice!
Also, kudos to Massachusetts for adopting laws making it illegal to text while driving. New Hampshire needs that too!
Wisdom of the Day II: Nothing makes a man more sympathetic to a woman's monthly "inconvenience" than to be going about his business and having a hemorrhoid detonate in his pants.
OK, I admit it...I LOVE getting all the compliments I've been receiving over my weight loss. I never get sick of hearing it.
Said it before, will say it again: There should be three options for Friend requests on FB: Confirm, Ignore, and Who The Hell Are You And Why Should I Care?
Speaking of Facebook, here's the answer I've always wanted to give people who rail about it being slow, or whatever. "You're right! I wouldn't take it if I were you! Write to the Facebook powers that be, and demand your money back!"
Sorry, but I don't buy "...but it's for a good cause", as well as its cousin "...but it raises awareness!" as excuses for what I consider tacky, classless behavior.
I kind of like having Shaq on the Celtics.
Nothing is more boring to me than a zealot (be it religious, political, cause-oriented, whatever).
The problem with a hopeless romantic is that the phrase does in fact contain the word "hopeless".
If you're a parent in their 50's, and you're undergoing Empty Nest Syndrome, and you're actually considering having another kid at this stage in life, you should be sterilized then thrown into the loony bin. And if you're still adamant about it, then at least don't add to the surplus population...ADOPT!
Speaking of the phrase "..surplus population" (clever people will know where I'm coming from with this), I think any store that starts gearing up for Christmas BEFORE Halloween even ends, should be picketed by people dressed in the most hideous, gory, disgusting costumes and makeup imaginable...until January 2nd.
Speaking of zombies, I'm really loving "The Walking Dead" on AMC.
Sick of vampires yet? I am....
OK OK, so I found myself actually watching a few more episodes of Glee. Granted, I was a captive audience, but at least I decided to go ahead and pay more attention to it...get a bigger sampling if you will. I've gone from disliking the show to fervently wishing someone would take this show around back of the barn and going all Old Yeller on its ass.
Watched Paranormal Activity recently. Sorry, it did nothing for me nor for Carol.
Joe Morgan was finally fired. Now, if they can only do likewise to Tim McCarver, the baseball world will be a happier place!
Recently watched "The Zanti Misfits" again. Even after all this time, that episode is STILL pretty effed up....and I mean that as a compliment.
There was some MGD 64 left over from our party, so I figured I'd try it. I'm forced to admit it wasn't half bad...wasn't half GOOD either, but it's definitely better than Coors Lite or Bud Light...and it's just 1 WW point!
On a related note, I think that many people aren't aware of the implications of the acronym RSVP. It's not just "let us know if you can make it", it's "let us know if you can make it OR NOT".
Shows I'm currently enjoying: NCIS, Big Bang Theory, Lie to Me, $#%@ My Dad Says.
Shows I'm increasingly not sure about, but still watch: House, The Office
Shows I wish would die a horrible death: Glee, most of Nick's cartoon shows
Speaking of NCIS, hey Carol, feel free to wear that Abby Sciuto costume around the house! No need to put it away just because our party's over!
Thursday, October 14, 2010
Supermarket Background Music- WTF?
Sometimes I have to wonder what people are thinking when they choose the background music for shoppers in their store. Presumably, the music is there as a sort of entertaining distraction that lurks in the background, setting a mood for the shoppers, presumably one that makes them more willing to spend a few extra bucks.
I realize that supermarket managers don't pick the songs. Background music is some sort of canned packaged program. It's not like a supermarket has a DJ that puts together a playlist. But as a side note, wouldn't that just rock? Can't you see it? "OK, shoppers, this next selection is the Beach Boys '409'; and speaking of which, we're having a sale on Formula 409 cleaner, available in aisle four!".
But I digress. In any event, this blog is precipitated by an experience I had recently at one of our favorite supermarkets, Market Basket, or as we like to call it, Basket Case. Carol and I have nicknames for all our supermarkets. There's Snausage's (Shaw's), Basket Case (Market Basket), and Try and Save (the local Hannaford's, that use to be a Shop and Save). And yes, that last name is taken from the Simpsons.
SO anyways, there I was at Basket Case, when over the speakers comes that 70's vintage, whiny, self-pitying shitfest known as "At Seventeen" by Janis Ian. Can there be a more miserable song? And yet that is what was playing over the speakers. This is a song they expect to put people in a receptive mood?
And this isn't an isolated incident. They've also vomited forth "Killing Me Softly" by Roberta Flack. When that song came out in the 70's, I recall really disliking it. Now, more than 30 years later, with more maturity under my belt and a refining of my musical tastes, I can safely say I totally loathe it. A miserable, miserable song, in my humble opinion. This song doesn't inspire me to shop. This song inspires me to jam cucumbers in my ears, then go on a homicidal rampage.
There are others as well, but the titles just aren't coming to me. I think my brain is trying to be merciful.
Stores really need to pay more attention to the song packages they buy. The atmosphere of the store should be conducive to make me want to stick around and buy stuff, not vomit on stock boy and hurl myself through the store's plate glass window.
I realize that supermarket managers don't pick the songs. Background music is some sort of canned packaged program. It's not like a supermarket has a DJ that puts together a playlist. But as a side note, wouldn't that just rock? Can't you see it? "OK, shoppers, this next selection is the Beach Boys '409'; and speaking of which, we're having a sale on Formula 409 cleaner, available in aisle four!".
But I digress. In any event, this blog is precipitated by an experience I had recently at one of our favorite supermarkets, Market Basket, or as we like to call it, Basket Case. Carol and I have nicknames for all our supermarkets. There's Snausage's (Shaw's), Basket Case (Market Basket), and Try and Save (the local Hannaford's, that use to be a Shop and Save). And yes, that last name is taken from the Simpsons.
SO anyways, there I was at Basket Case, when over the speakers comes that 70's vintage, whiny, self-pitying shitfest known as "At Seventeen" by Janis Ian. Can there be a more miserable song? And yet that is what was playing over the speakers. This is a song they expect to put people in a receptive mood?
And this isn't an isolated incident. They've also vomited forth "Killing Me Softly" by Roberta Flack. When that song came out in the 70's, I recall really disliking it. Now, more than 30 years later, with more maturity under my belt and a refining of my musical tastes, I can safely say I totally loathe it. A miserable, miserable song, in my humble opinion. This song doesn't inspire me to shop. This song inspires me to jam cucumbers in my ears, then go on a homicidal rampage.
There are others as well, but the titles just aren't coming to me. I think my brain is trying to be merciful.
Stores really need to pay more attention to the song packages they buy. The atmosphere of the store should be conducive to make me want to stick around and buy stuff, not vomit on stock boy and hurl myself through the store's plate glass window.
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
That's Me On The Toilet- An Open Letter to the Writers of Glee
Dear Sirs or Madames
Lately, through no fault of my own, I have been exposed to your television show. Now, from the little I knew about it before this exposure, I had a reasonable idea that it wasn't something I'd be too interested in. I know that a handful of people whose opinions I respect like it, but that was scarcely reason for me personally to spend time watching it.
Recently, I managed to overhear parts of an episode, in one of those "captive audience" situations. Furthermore, someone close to me recently sent me a Youtube link to a segment of one show where "Losing My Religion" was being featured. I'm a rabid REM fan (that is to say, I rabidly enjoy REM, not that I'm a fan of REM turning rabid). The reason that this person sent me the link in the first place was "Hey, it's REM. You LIKE REM."
Yes. Yes I do. Which is why I disliked the Glee treatment of what is most likely one of REM's most beautiful songs.
But anyways, I'm getting ahead of myself. After being forced to hear a good majority of one episode, I am forced to conclude that it indeed really is not my cup of tea. And some of the songs featured made me want to jam screwdrivers in my ears ("Don't go breaking my heart"? Come on, really?).
However, the biggest issue is the use of REM songs. I don't know who's in charge of giving that kind of permission; whether it's the band, their manager, or perhaps even the record company. But I haven't felt so embarrassed for the band since their ill-advised cameo performance on Party of Five.
So please, I beg you, in the name of all which does not suck: Keep your hands off of REM songs.
As for my friends and associates who like the show, I am mystified as to why they do, but I won't hold it against them. Just like I have friends who for some Godforsaken reason think Sarah Palin walks on water, or some who deny the existence of God, so I apparently can have friends who think this show rules. It's possible that people can co-exist in peace and harmony despite disparate tastes in television and music. It's called celebrating diversity, or adversity, or perversity, or something like that.
By the same token, I hope they will think no less of me that I'd rather hear a plate of beans negotiating its way through the digestive tract of a cow than listen to another minute of your program.
Thank you for your time. Once more...hands off of REM. And if you EVER touch "It's the End of the World as We Know It", I will personally strangle each and every one of you.
Lately, through no fault of my own, I have been exposed to your television show. Now, from the little I knew about it before this exposure, I had a reasonable idea that it wasn't something I'd be too interested in. I know that a handful of people whose opinions I respect like it, but that was scarcely reason for me personally to spend time watching it.
Recently, I managed to overhear parts of an episode, in one of those "captive audience" situations. Furthermore, someone close to me recently sent me a Youtube link to a segment of one show where "Losing My Religion" was being featured. I'm a rabid REM fan (that is to say, I rabidly enjoy REM, not that I'm a fan of REM turning rabid). The reason that this person sent me the link in the first place was "Hey, it's REM. You LIKE REM."
Yes. Yes I do. Which is why I disliked the Glee treatment of what is most likely one of REM's most beautiful songs.
But anyways, I'm getting ahead of myself. After being forced to hear a good majority of one episode, I am forced to conclude that it indeed really is not my cup of tea. And some of the songs featured made me want to jam screwdrivers in my ears ("Don't go breaking my heart"? Come on, really?).
However, the biggest issue is the use of REM songs. I don't know who's in charge of giving that kind of permission; whether it's the band, their manager, or perhaps even the record company. But I haven't felt so embarrassed for the band since their ill-advised cameo performance on Party of Five.
So please, I beg you, in the name of all which does not suck: Keep your hands off of REM songs.
As for my friends and associates who like the show, I am mystified as to why they do, but I won't hold it against them. Just like I have friends who for some Godforsaken reason think Sarah Palin walks on water, or some who deny the existence of God, so I apparently can have friends who think this show rules. It's possible that people can co-exist in peace and harmony despite disparate tastes in television and music. It's called celebrating diversity, or adversity, or perversity, or something like that.
By the same token, I hope they will think no less of me that I'd rather hear a plate of beans negotiating its way through the digestive tract of a cow than listen to another minute of your program.
Thank you for your time. Once more...hands off of REM. And if you EVER touch "It's the End of the World as We Know It", I will personally strangle each and every one of you.
Friday, September 10, 2010
A Snapshot of a Moment of Pure Bliss
There are those simple moments in life that you always remember fondly, moments that have left an indelible impression on you, even though the event itself wasn't Earth-shattering. Sometimes, the beautiful simplicity of a moment of pure joy just sticks with you regardless of the passage of time. This is one of those moments.
The moment in question occurred in the late summer of 1982. I was six months into my first marriage, and my wife and I lived in a small apartment in Brighton, near the Chestnut Hill area, just a stone's throw from Boston College.
I was working third shift as a computer operator at the time, so there was always that interesting transitional day when you shift from sleeping during the day to being awake, like the vast majority of so-called normal people.
On this particular occasion, I decided to spend my lunchtime at this small park located adjacent to the Chestnut Hill reservoir. There was (and perhaps still is?) a nifty ice cream and sub shop called the Fantastic Food Factory, located just a few blocks from our apartment. This place had the most amazing ice cream and huge sub sandwiches (although their pizza could be described charitably as "vile"). The place was the favored go-to site for our gaming dinner breaks.
Anyways, on this particular day, I left our apartment with a newly acquired paperback, The Case of Charles Dexter Ward, the novella by H.P. Lovecraft. This book was one in a series of Lovecraft books that I had picked up and was in the process of devouring, having only recently learned about ol' HPL courtesy of a D&D sourcebook called Deities and Demigods.
I went to FFF and picked up a large mushroom, steak and cheese sub (note: "large" as in "about three-foot long", and that's no exaggeration), a liter bottle of Mountain Dew (no, not Diet Dew..the real stuff), and a cup of Apple Pie ice cream. I took my loot and went to the little park off the reservoir, found a nice grassy spot underneath a large oak, and proceeded to pig out while reading Lovecraft.
And that was my afternoon. Pigging out on "not good for you" food, while reading "Charles Dexter Ward" for the very first time, punctuated with the occasional lazily drifting off for a several-minute catnap as the urge hit.
A moment of sheer beauty, never to be forgotten!
The moment in question occurred in the late summer of 1982. I was six months into my first marriage, and my wife and I lived in a small apartment in Brighton, near the Chestnut Hill area, just a stone's throw from Boston College.
I was working third shift as a computer operator at the time, so there was always that interesting transitional day when you shift from sleeping during the day to being awake, like the vast majority of so-called normal people.
On this particular occasion, I decided to spend my lunchtime at this small park located adjacent to the Chestnut Hill reservoir. There was (and perhaps still is?) a nifty ice cream and sub shop called the Fantastic Food Factory, located just a few blocks from our apartment. This place had the most amazing ice cream and huge sub sandwiches (although their pizza could be described charitably as "vile"). The place was the favored go-to site for our gaming dinner breaks.
Anyways, on this particular day, I left our apartment with a newly acquired paperback, The Case of Charles Dexter Ward, the novella by H.P. Lovecraft. This book was one in a series of Lovecraft books that I had picked up and was in the process of devouring, having only recently learned about ol' HPL courtesy of a D&D sourcebook called Deities and Demigods.
I went to FFF and picked up a large mushroom, steak and cheese sub (note: "large" as in "about three-foot long", and that's no exaggeration), a liter bottle of Mountain Dew (no, not Diet Dew..the real stuff), and a cup of Apple Pie ice cream. I took my loot and went to the little park off the reservoir, found a nice grassy spot underneath a large oak, and proceeded to pig out while reading Lovecraft.
And that was my afternoon. Pigging out on "not good for you" food, while reading "Charles Dexter Ward" for the very first time, punctuated with the occasional lazily drifting off for a several-minute catnap as the urge hit.
A moment of sheer beauty, never to be forgotten!
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