The Problem with Homonyms

Two Irish nuns are sitting at a traffic light in their car, when a car full of drunks pull up beside them.

"Hey, show us your tits, ye bloody penguins!" shouts one of them.

The Mother Superior turns to Sister Immaculata and says, "I don't think they know who we are.  Show' them your cross."

Sister Immaculata leans out the window and shouts, "Screw off, ye little fookin' wankers, before I come over there and rip yer balls off!"

Sister Immaculata turns back to the Mother Superior and says, "Was that cross enough?"

The Post-Malaise Post

Thanks for the suggestions and encouragement.  The tally on directions you want me to go?

Cultural Whistleblower:                      2

Raging Politico:                                  2

Spinner of Yarns                                2

Purveyor of the Absurd                      2

Navel-Gazing Self Analysis:                1

Odd Stuff:                                          1

Chronicle of Personal Adventures       1

So basically, keep doing everything I’ve been doing. 

I probably should have just embedded one of those survey thingies, but I didn’t feel like it. Blame it on the malaise. 

In fact, I think I’m going to blame every shortcoming on The Malaise. Now if I can just find someone to blame it on and sue, I’d accomplish the modern American dream.

Anyway, something in the news piqued my interest this week.

Sure Walmart employees will have to work Thanksgiving DAY, (along with those from Target and many other big box stores), but management is going to provide a traditional Thanksgiving dinner for them at the store.

Talk about missing the point! 

“Hey Wallies! It’s not the turkey and mashed potatoes that people are upset about missing; it’s having the meal with their families and sharing some fellowship! (And wine!)  I know you think of all your employees as one big happy family, but it’s not really the same, now, is it?”

I say, if they really want to provide a “traditional Thanksgiving meal,” then go whole hog.  Let everyone pull the demo recliners up to the flat-screen TV display, put on the football game, and fall asleep with their belts undone and their hands in their pants.

OK, that’s probably just for the sports fans. Everyone else should get to go shop at Target.

But seriously, I hate that Thanksgiving has been getting chipped away by the ever-encroaching business of Christmas. Or more specifically, Christmas shopping. These big businesses don’t care a lick about their employees, no matter what their press releases say. The only thing that matters is the pursuit of increasing revenues. But that’s what big business does… it’s their only reason for existence. Increase profits… lower costs… continue. You can’t blame the snake for acting like a snake.

I’ve seen petitions going around on the matter, but they’re not going to accomplish diddly-squat. The only way this trend gets rolled back is if people stop going out to shop on Thanksgiving, period. Once opening on Thanksgiving becomes unprofitable, they will stop, and not a moment before.

I’m not optimistic. There should be a point where a good deal on electronics costs too much in human collateral damage. But I don’t think we will ever see it.

In 2013 America, a good deal for “ME” trumps any concern for “YOU”, every time.

Regardless, I’ll be staying home for Thanksgiving. No shopping for me… not at night, not during the day, not any time. (And that has nothing to do with the fact that the Steelers and Ratbirds are playing that night. I haven’t been out on Thanksgiving or even Black Friday, since I still worked in a record store.)

Of course, I’ll be hitting Cyber Monday like a Big Dog…

The Malaise Post

These are weird times and I don’t know what I’m doing.

Maybe you've noticed that my last several posts have basically been re-postings of other stuff, rather than my customary original, or at least marginally stolen material.

The thing is, I feel like I’m running out of stuff to write about. It seems like I've said everything I can say about any given subject. Because let’s face it; there aren't many new subjects surfacing. Everything in the news seems like we've seen it before.

Republicans and Democrats still disagree on everything and will tear down the country before one accommodates the other. Fox “News” is still manipulating its presentation of current events to obtain and preserve power for conservatives. People are fighting with each other over all the societal issues… abortion, birth control, gay marriage, fracking, drilling, gun control, voting rights, health care, food stamps, censorship, and the Kardashians.

At one point or another, I've covered all of it, multiple times with some. I mean, look at each of those issues and guess which side I come down on. Easy, right?  So commenting on the news has become an exercise in deja vu. Contact the Department of Redundancy Department.

Regarding my own life, nothing’s happening. I get up, go to work, come home, cobble together a post on Tuesdays and Thursdays, watch TV, go to bed. Repeat. While I’m perfectly happy with that routine, there’s not much worth writing about, without getting into the minutiae of the moment. I mean, if I want to do that, I always have Twitter. I don’t want this blog to devolve into nothing but photographic evidence of what I had for dinner every night.

I love to tell stories about my wild past, about family, friends, and whatnot, but by now, I've already told all the best ones. There may still be a few floating around, but none that really excite me to tell.  (And if they don’t even excite me, how can they excite you?)

I've cut way back on sports, mostly because I’m not writing for a primarily Pittsburgh audience anymore, so when I lead with a Steelers or Penguins story, I suspect there’s a lot of, “Oh, more Pittsburgh bullshit. See you next time.” I've even cut out the mojo stuff because even though I’m still actively working the game jersey mojo for every game, I've already done it to death on the blog.  It’s a long running joke, to which I don’t have anything new to add.

I suppose could just claim a Sabbatical and walk away for a while, but I know how that goes. Out of sight, out of mind. It’s not like I’m getting flooded with hits right now; how hard will it be trying to get back even to this level after a prolonged absence?

I look back at old posts and see how I used to get 10-12 comments per post. Now? Three or four. It makes me wonder if I’m doing anything differently, or if people just naturally move on to seek newer and fresher things.

I love the writing, telling stories, entertaining, and interacting that goes with doing a blog. But sometimes that love ebbs and flows, and blogging becomes more of a chore than a reward. I've gone from “Oh boy, I can’t wait to sink my teeth into this (issue/story/series),” to “Aw, crap, I need to do a Tuesday post, and I got nuthin.”

Today, I was going to use an idea I literally stole from my fine Buckeye friend, Uncle Crappy. He found a site where you can make a map that shows every state you've been to, and color it accordingly:

Red, for states where you've not spent much time, seen very much, or just passed through.

Amber, for states where you've at least slept, and seen some sights.

Blue, for states you've spent a lot of time in or seen a fair amount of.

Green, for states you've spent a great deal of time in on multiple visits or lived in.

White, for states you've never been in.

So I took 5 minutes and did one, so I could post it here.

Yeah… BFD, as we used to say. What is there to say about it, other than I need to go visit the south-central and northern plains states? And that I need to collect North Carolina for no other reason but to fill in the hole.

Note: Hey Mom and Dad, did we ever hit Maine when we did that big New England vacation back in the mid-70s?

Now here I am, having just produced a post out of my own malaise. I’m in the clear until Thursday and then I’m back in the same boat.

If you’re a blogger, what do you do when you run out of ideas, or you just feel stale? 

More importantly, blogger or not, what would you like for me to write about? If you've read me a while, what is the role you like me in best? Raging politico and cultural whistle-blower? Spinner of old yarns?  Purveyor of the absurd? Music and film critic? Chronicler of personal adventures? Seeker of human truths? Navel-gazing self-analyzer? Joke of the moment jukebox? Feel free to create your own label for whatever it is I do that entertains you.

I’m curious to see if there is a predominant answer. I sure don’t have any.

When Math Meets Baked Goods...

I don't remember where I first saw this, but it reminded me of my brother, who has considerable expertise on both numbers, and chocolate cake.

Now How About Quentin Tarentino as C-3PO?

I’ve seen a number of stories lately about the upcoming (in a couple years) 7^th Star Wars film.  Now that George Lucas has sold the franchise to Disney, they’re wasting no time in getting the Empire back together to continue the story of the Force and the Jedi and the Sith, et al.

Last I saw, both Mark Hamill and Carrie Fisher were interested in reprising their roles as Luke and Laia, and they were trying to land Harrison Ford.  One guy who I know is waiting for a call is Samuel L Jackson, who played Mace Windu in the 4^th through 6^th movies (aka Parts 1-3).  He said he’d love to play in any and all upcoming Star Wars movies, regardless that his character is presumed dead.  Face it, that never stopped anyone else in the Star Wars universe.

Back in 1998, when it was announced that he would be playing a character in “Phantom Menace,” (Part 1), my cousin sent me an email listing the Top 10 Things We Want to Hear Samuel L Jackson Say in a Star Wars Movie.

Because it seems to be coming around again, and I can’t think of anything intelligent to write about tonight, I thought I’d reproduce it here.

Note 1: I did not write this stuff and I don’t know who did.  It just showed up as an email 15 years ago.  (Holy shit.)

Note 2: Caution… Industrial Strength, Samuel L Jackson-caliber vocabulary is used.

Note 3: This post won’t seem nearly as funny if you’re not familiar with both the Star Wars world, and Sam Jackson films (mostly “Pulp Fiction”).  (Mom and Dad, you may be excused.)

And now, the Top 10 Things We Want to Hear Samuel L Jackson Say in a Star Wars Movie.

10.  You don’t need to see my goddamn identification, ‘cause these ain’t the motherfuckin’ droids you lookin’ for.

9.  Womp rat may taste like pumpkin pie, but I’ll never know, ‘cause even if it did I wouldn’t eat the filthy motherfucker.

8.  This is your father’s lightsaber.  When you absolutely positively have to kill every motherfuckin’ stormtrooper in the room… accept no substitutes.

7.  If Obi-Wan ain’t home then I don’t know what the fuck we’re gonna do.  I ain’t got no other connections on Tattooine.

6.  Feel the Force, motherfucker.

5.  “What” ain’t no planet I ever heard of!  Do they speak Bocce on “What?”

4.  You sendin’ the Fett?  Shit, Hutt, that’s all you had to say.

3.  So Jabba the Hutt threw Chewie Rocky Horror through a third floor window.  Since then, it seems the Wookie has developed a speech impediment.

2.  Does Jabba the Hutt look like a bitch?

1.  Hand me my light saber… it’s the one that says “Bad Motherfucker” on it.

That’s not the order I would have put them in… I think my favorite was the first one, #10.  Then #4 and #5.  But why quibble?

One of my favorite movies is “The Long Kiss Goodnight,” where Geena Davis plays a badass CIA assassin with amnesia and Sam Jackson is the comic relief, if you can believe that.  Anyway, my favorite SLJ quote can be found early on in the movie, which I will end with right here.

“You’re assuming I won’t shoot your sorry ass.  And as you know when you make an assumption, you make an ass out of you, and umption.”

How Did We Get Here From There? Part 2

A couple years back, I received an email containing all these old-time advertisements… you probably saw the same email.  These were print ads from what looked to be the 40s or 50s, and were remarkable for being so scientifically and socially out of touch with today’s world, and shockingly misogynistic.  I featured them in a post and added my two cents.

Sitcom Kelly recently sent me a similar email.  (Man, I get a LOT of blog content ideas from her.  Every blogger should have a Sitcom Kelly at his disposal.)  This one had a number of the same ads, but also had a bunch I hadn't seen before.  Ever the sucker for an easy blog post, I thought I’d share some comments on a few of the more interesting ones. 

Looking at these collectively, I can see why conservatives yearn to return to the days of yesteryear.  Well-to-do white men had it pretty good.

“We Hate Women-Part 1.”  So this is why Cassie looks so good… I can’t imagine her cleaning the house in heels, knee-length dress, lacy apron and full makeup though.  (I actually used this one in my first post… but this is a different take.  So sue me.)

We Hate Women-Part 2.”   I can’t, for the life of me, figure out the connection between killing a woman and a postage meter.  Any help?  I think she ought to jam the guy’s tie into the slot and start cranking.

We now take time out from killing women, to kill some children.  Actually, this could be an NRA ad, right now.  The “Iver Johnson Arms and Cycle Works?”  Do those products really go together?  It sounds like “Bluzdude Socks and Sheet Metal Works.”

“Killing Some Kids Part 2.”  Baby: “Yeah, Mom, please chill out and have a smoke, before smoking my bottom for smearing my diaper all over the wall.”  Random thought: If a baby is nursing while the mother is smoking, the baby should be able to blow smoke rings.

I bet those Chesterfield boxes, autographed by The Gipper, are worth something now.  At least I hope so, just to make up for the emphysema.

This is amazing.  “A case of Blatz in your home means much to the young mother, and obviously baby participates in its benefits.”  So we’re getting the babies drunk, are we?  I’m picturing the baby taking a long pull off of Mommy, leaning back and going, “BRAAAAAAAAAP!”

“We Hate Women-Part 3.”  This one has the exact same theme as modern face cream ads; it just spells it all out verbally.  “Don’t be homely; use our stuff and be dazzling.”

“We Hate Women-Part 4.”  Subaru has made quite the turnaround in ad philosophy, didn't they?  They went from crushing women’s spirits to the car of choice for lesbians.

At least this one is better than the Thorazine “Eye Surgery/Torture” ad from the last post.  I actually like this one.  I’m sending a case of Thorazine to my parents, immediately.  You know, just in case Walgreen’s is all out.  I’m sure the guy in the picture is agitated because even with arthritis, they still made him tie his own tie.

“We Hate Women-Part 5.”  Is it wrong that the first thing that hit me was “Why is that dude wearing a shirt and tie to bed?”  Can’t be a “50 Shades of Grey” thing...  I’m sure the lady is only on her knees out of gratitude for being let out of the basement pit for a couple hours.

“We Hate Women-Part 6.”  This one is partially true.  Men may not be the number one reason for women taking Midol, but I bet they’re a close 2nd.

I’m sure the gays would provide much better entertainment on a cruise, than THAT.  The dude with the puppets doesn't say “gay,” he says “child molester.”  The people circled around him have obviously never made it past Romper Room.  Next time, book the cruise that Lenny Bruce is playing.

If Santa gives you a gun, you can skip the background check.  After all, he’s the top authority on if you’re naughty or nice.

“We Hate Women-Part 7.”  If the carpet is that dirty, why is she laying on it?  Maybe they could do an Endust tie-in, spray her down, and make her roll around.  Also, if I ever gave my wife a Hoover vacuum cleaner for Christmas, she’d never be able to use it.  It would be hard for the vacuum bag to expand, after she stuffed it up my ass.

Hey look!  They had Fox News on TV way back in the 50s!

The Best Damned Band in the Land

I don’t usually go nuts over college football, but I do follow Ohio State.  Any OSU fan knows that besides the football team, the marching band is also a huge draw.  They may not be as flamboyant as other bands, in that they don’t do a lot of dancing around, but their creativity and precision is off the charts.

My dad sent me a clip of the band from last week’s game, and it just knocked my socks off.  The band does a Tribute to Movies, featuring the themes from Superman, Harry Potter, Titanic, Jurassic Park, and others, but with applicable choreography.  You have to see it to believe it.

I just wonder what it takes to come up with an intricate routine like this?  Who thinks it up, and how long does it take to practice?  I mean, they have to do something every week, don’t they?

I only have a short post for you today… I have another day planned to spend at the sports bar.  The Steelers game against the Patriots isn’t on local TV; both they and the Ratbirds game against the Brownies are on at 4:25.  (Every market in the country is getting the Steelers/Patriots, except Baltimore and Cleveland.)

Because I don’t want to risk not getting my preferred seating, I usually show up around noon, and sit through all the 1:00 games.  So pity me, as I’m forced to endure giant hamburgers, wings and cold beer for seven hours today.  Alas…

Winepocalypse

Oh my GAWD!  The wine is running out!  The wiiiiiiiine is running out!

I saw a news article today stating that due to increasing consumption and decreasing production, we may be looking at a worldwide wine shortage in the coming years.

Sitcom Kelly tipped me off to the story yesterday.  I’m guessing she’s already converting her basement Pit into an earthen wine cellar, in anticipation of the wine drought.  Best to lay in supplies now, while stock is full, choices are wide and prices are low.  I mean, people are going to have to prepare for this.  And wine will keep!

Sitcom Kelly's recycle bin, after a long weekend.

I’m just waiting for the ripples to hit the female blogging community.  I’m not trying to be sexist, but you can’t help but notice that wine comes up a great deal in blogs and Facebook posts written by women.  A wine shortage can make that whole Sex in the City / Wine-Therapy theme collapse like a house of cards.

Granted, there may be a lot of male bloggers that lean on wine as well; I just don’t see them.  Maybe I need to follow more dudes.  (And that’s a line I never thought I’d type.)

I like wine as much as anyone, but I’m just as happy with beer or some Jack on the rocks.  Call me when there’s a shortage of Miller Lite or Bud Ice. 

As you can see from my pedestrian tastes, I’m certainly no beer snob.  I like good old watery American light beer.  (Or “ice” beer, for that extra kick.)  Someone has to keep the major breweries in business… 

My Uncle Gordon, who is English, once told me, “American beer is for people that don’t like the taste of beer.”  I suppose he’s right, but whatevs… I likes what I likes.

Last weekend when I was at my regular sports bar watching the Steelers get their asses kicked again, (dammit…) the proprietor was all excited to get me to try a taste of his new pumpkin spiced ale.  I took a taste, and said it was “OK,” but inside, I was like “Bleah! This tastes like ass.”  I just don’t like strong beer.  I’m surprised he couldn’t tell that, from my regular orders of Miller Lite.  He probably just wanted to see the look on my face.  Freakin’ Ratbird fans…

I can only imagine what might happen once this wine shortage goes into effect.  Wine rationing?  Check.  Stampedes at the liquor store?  Check.  Purchasing grape futures?  Check.  People making bad wine at home?  Check.  Shady back-alley deals for some Chardonnay?  Check.  Raging cases of Pinot envy?  Check.

So if you’re a wine connoisseur, winophile, or just a wino, you may want to stockpile some supplies, while the gettin’s good. 

The future is not looking very rosé.  [Snork!]

Splinter Cell

I had lunch with Sitcom Kelly yesterday.  You may remember that she provided foster care for a little girl a couple years back, and she still sees her a few times a month.  The girl (who is about 5) was out to visit last weekend, and in the course of their adventures, she got herself a pine needle splinter in her finger.

Needless to say, there was much wailing and carrying on regarding Kelly trying to get the splinter out.  She said she was sure the neighbors must have thought she was performing a ritual killing.  It got to the point where she gave the girl the tweezers to let her try it herself.  I give her points for that, because when I was a kid, I always wished I was allowed to do it myself.

I still remember the age-old splinter battles of my youth.  Suffice to say, kids and grownups don’t see splinters the same way.

Here’s your garden-variety splinter:

Now, here’s how a little kid sees a splinter:

And here’s how a grownup sees a kid’s splinter:

I quickly learned to rue the moment I got a splinter, because I knew my Dad would have to take it out.  And he didn't consider it “extrication” as much as “exploratory surgery,” with nothing but a straight-pin.

First, he had to run the end of the pin through the flame from a match, to “disinfect” it.  I think it was really to make sure I was properly terrified.  Then he’d use it to start digging around in my finger until he couldn't hold my hand down securely, from all my wiggling and howling.  After much crying and moaning and swearing and straining, he’d come up with the splinter on the end of the pin.  (Although a few times, I think he just pushed it down far enough so I couldn't see it anymore.)  Afterwards, he’d apply some alcohol… not to me, to himself, in the form of Jack Daniels.

I remember one evening, when we still lived in Pittsburgh, I got a splinter from playing around near this rough railroad tie-looking plank that bordered our garden.  I came in and we did the whole Splinter Removal Dance, which took about 20 minutes.  (Not including the Jack.)  I went back outside to continue what I was doing and immediately got another splinter. 

That one didn't go over very well.  I think there was considerably less delicacy used in the second extraction, than there was with the first.  He might have even used an old corkscrew, I’m not sure.  I can’t say I blame him, but on the bright side, it was an early lesson wherein the little Bluzdude learned about the insanity of repeating the same action and expecting a different result.

Eventually, we managed to procure a pair of tweezers, so Dad could retire the straight-pin.  I’m not sure that was better, though, because often the splinter still had to be dug out, and the dullish edges of the tweezers were ineffective unless the nub was exposed.

Before long, I stopped telling anyone I had a splinter, and just went for the tweezers myself.  At least I could regulate how hard to push, and therefore the pain.  It’s hard to properly judge a kid’s actual pain when they scream before you even stick it in.

Like a lot of kids, I had a problem with needles.  I used to have to get allergy shots, which was always an ordeal.  I’d scream and howl and somehow, it never made any difference… I still got the shot.

Finally, Mom found an effective calming mechanism… bribery!  I had recently lost this little rubber change purse-thing… you know those things where you squeeze the sides and it opens up?  Well, I had one, I loved it, and I lost it.

Don’t laugh… it was the 60s.  We didn't have video games or cell phones.  I had a change purse.  But I’m OK now.

Anyway, Mom said that if I didn't cry when I got my shot, she’d get me another one.  So when the doctor approached me, I just bit my lip, scrunched up my mouth, and took one for the change purse.

And that was another lesson, about how the fear of something is often worse than the actual event.  Once I knew I could do it, that was the end of my carrying on over needles, thank goodness.  (I totally should have held out for more stuff, but I wasn't that bright.)

But face it; if I hadn't gotten over all the crying and screaming, they would have stopped calling me in for blood donations long ago.

You’re welcome, Mankind.

What Would YOU Do?

A story blew up in Maryland this week, that’s already put a charge in to next year’s race for Governor.  Attorney General and gubernatorial candidate Doug Gansler was photographed at a large house-party in Delaware, where there was a copious amount of teenage drinking going on.  His son was there, and his original statement was that he came in to briefly speak with his son, didn't notice any under-aged drinking.  He told the Baltimore Sun that even if there was, he didn't feel it was his place to do anything about it.  The quote:

“Assume for the purposes of discussion that there was widespread drinking at this party.  How is that relevant to me? … The question is, do I have any moral authority over other people’s children at beach week in another state?  I say no.”

Gansler is near the center, in a white shirt, holding out his cell phone.

Gansler also disputed charges that he was taking a cell phone picture.  He said he “was actually looking at a text message, because I’m 50 years old and can’t read, so I was holding it out.” 

To that, this 52-year old says, “Word,” although other partygoers say he was there for quite some time, and took a number of pictures and videos with his son.

What isn't disputed is that he was one of the organizers of this adult-chaperoned party (see the two dudes in the upper right corner of the picture), with ground rules.  (No hard liquor, no boys and girls behind closed doors.) 

Now, just to clarify, I really don’t know anything about his qualifications to be governor, nor do I know much about his opponent.  I figure I’ll cross those bridges when I come to them next year.  So as yet, I don’t have a dog in this fight.

I just wonder if this is something that should derail a bid for office.  I mean, there are two levels here… his role as a political leader, and his role as a father and responsible citizen.

First of all, I look at my upbringing.  I hosted a bunch of parties, just like that one.  (Only more “Barn,” and less “Beach House.”)  Well, my parents technically “hosted” the parties.  It was their house and their barn, and they often provided the beer and wine.  Sure, I was older; we didn't have our first Barn Party until I was out of high school, but my brother and sister weren't, and neither were their friends or our neighbors.

So I’m not really one of those “Never let a teenager drink” people.  I see the value in having a good time, but keeping some supervision so that things don’t get out of hand.  And always collecting keys at the door, so that there are no tragedies to wake up to.  At our parties, the only tragedies were spilled beer and spats between boyfriends and girlfriends.

I can state categorically, that if that were me, there’s no way I would have went in there and busted up the party or tried to curtail the drinking.  I agree that it wouldn't be my place to try to “parent” anyone but my own kid. 

I don’t know that I could have, even if I wanted to.  What am I going to do, run around and take the drink out of everyone’s hand?  That’s a good way to get your ass kicked by a group of teenage boys. 

The alternative would be to call the cops, to a party I had a hand in planning.  Again, I would not be “that guy.”  Teens will drink, and I believe laying down a total ban will make it that much more attractive later.  And I’m not going to risk getting a bunch of kids tangled up with The Law, over having a couple of beers and partying on.

All of this, I’m saying as a regular guy.  (And not even as a parent, obviously.)  So what about as a politician?  In technical terms, he’s right; he has no jurisdiction in another state.  But politically, it’s a major PR hit.  Common sense and politics rarely go hand in hand.  He’s the Attorney General, Maryland’s top law enforcement officer.  It just doesn't look good to be seen as anything but “Law and Order, Law and Order, Law and Order.”

It will be interesting to see how this shakes out next November.  But what I really want to know is what do YOU think?  What would you do if you were him, only as a regular civil non-servant?  Do you bust up the party and pull your kid out?  Do you call the cops?  Do you hang out and supervise?  Do you have a few beers yourself? 

And what if you did have political aspirations?  Does that change your actions?

Inquiring Bluzdudes want to know.