I don't DO TV

Queerin' the Gold-Dollar Deal

2011-07-15T07:07:00.000-05:00

Like Roseanne Roseannadanna says, "It's always somethin'!" And for yours truly, it looks like it's the "travel hackers."
Yesterday, Forbes writer John Giuffo reported the story of folk who want to boost their frequent flyer miles are taking advantage of a sweet deal offered by the U.S. Mint. As Mr. Giuffo explains it, "The dollar coin trick involves purchasing large amounts of coins with a frequent flier card, waiting for the Mint to ship the coins (free shipping!), and then taking the coins to the bank, where they are deposited and the money is used to pay the credit card charges. No money is lost, the frequent flier miles rack up, and travelers can use them for upgrades or completely free flights whenever they want."
Dear U.S. Mint, this is John writing, and I am NOT a travel hacker. I LOVE the gold coins! (See my October 2007 blog.) Heck, I'm Johnny Gold-Dollar-Seed! I appreciate your free shipping and I put the coins I purchase from you back into the economy with every-day purchases and an occassional gift to delight a youngster. I never take mine to the bank. I am NOT a travel hacker.
Mr. Giuffo's acticle notes that the Mint has made some adjustments in defense, limiting the amounts of purchase, but I think they could take it one step further so their valuable service remains - because these hackers are queerin' the deal for us law-abiding gold-dollar afficianados who like to share our love of the coins via distribution.
New rule: if you don't have a blog swearing you allegiance to the proper appreciation and use of the gold dollars, you cannot purchase them. The Mint could set up the Gold Dollar Club. I would be honored to be a founding member.
I think these hackers are taking advantage of our government, and I think it's wrong. Presently, my state's attorney general is going after a landlord in tornado-damaged Joplin for raising rates. That's wrong, plain and simple. People should think before they act. I say "Shame on you, travel hackers!" Go find another vine from which to pick the fruit to feed your greed, but stay away from my gold dollars! Don't queer the deal!

The Colonoscopy Cocktail

2011-06-17T07:09:00.000-05:00

As a two-time veteran of the procedure, I can truly tell you that a colonoscopy is "not that bad." Truly.
If you are hesitant, Google "colon cancer." After my first, five years ago (I had a couple of noncancerous polyps removed so I had to have another in five years instead of the usual 10), a hospital was giving a free lecture on colon cancer – with snacks! Snacks were tasty, the doctor was entertaining and informative, but when he started that PowerPoint…!
Let's just say this, the anus may not be your favorite orifice, but could you imagine life without it? Don't even try!
Anyway, at my second colonoscopy a couple of days ago, I learned the advances in modern science came after the preparation phase (more on that later) when the anesthesiologist told me that I would be receiving a drug that would give me "temporary amnesia." I think it's called propofol.
Well, last time's drug was fine, made me feel REAL GOOD, and I even chatted with the doctor a bit while he was doing the procedure and he even let me watch on a video screen. And that drug lingered a bit, if you know what I mean.
The anesthesiologist wasn't offering a choice, just telling me I wouldn't even know the colonoscopy happened and that I would feel "back to normal" right after the procedure. I would have rather felt REAL GOOD, but not getting to chose, I went with what was offered.
And it worked. They rolled me in, rolled me on my side, put an oxygen mask on me, there was a little snappy banter during introductions all around, and the next thing you know I'm in the recovering area where Nurse Natasha, when I told her I felt like I needed to release some gas, told me to roll over and "let it go – it's just air from the procedure."
I got the "all clear" and was up and around and out of there!
Okay, the preparation phase is the worst part. Briefly, it's this:
1. Two days before, start cutting back on the food intake. You eat soup, yogurt, etc.
2. Day before, maybe a little juice or soda, then, around 1 p.m. for me, it was time to mix up the ol' colonoscopy cocktail, polyethylene glycol, and cool it in the refrigerator.
3. From 3 to 5 p.m., you drink the polyethylene glycol.
4. And for me, from about 4:30 until 7 p.m., you make sure you have plenty of reading handy at the ol' porcelain throne.
Polyethylene glycol is a laxative, and it has kind of a salty taste. It is not at all appetizing. The pharmacist can give you a "flavor packet," but I tried that once and it doesn't help, so this time, I took it straight. Refrigeration does help, as does drinking through a straw to avoid some of the taste buds. But it still tastes nasty — make that yucky.
There has to be a better way, right? That's what I thought, and what I know I read somewhere, but when I asked my pharmacist about "the pill," he said he'd never heard of it. Well, I'm giving him this website: http://www.tabletprep.com/index.aspx
I don't know why the woman on the page is sitting on a big blue ball with wheels – unless that's the latest in colonoscopy prep "evacuation devices," if you know what I mean – but she IS smiling. And that leads me to believe she either got a nice check to pose like that or she took a OsmoPrep, "The Tablet Prep."
I am so looking forward to that next time!!!
But even if I have to chug the good ol' polyethylene glycol again, I'll be there. I've SEEN the PowerPoint. The anus is my friend.

Coincidence at the Confluence

2011-06-17T07:02:00.000-05:00

On May 2, 2011, I awoke in my St. Louis hotel room to hear Osama bin Laden was dead.
I was in St. Louis the day Saddam was captured, too, and was inspired to chalk "You're next, Osama!" on the back window of my pickup. (Got lots of honks.)
And I walked across the empty Arch grounds on 9/11/2001 to volunteer for an international zoo convention, only to be sent home with everyone else after the second plane hit its tower.
Maybe I should visit St. Louis more often so I can help close the book on this story.

Learnin' from Old Folk

2011-04-27T07:33:00.000-05:00

On Easter Sunday, as we were waiting for the start of church services, my friend Fred leaned over and said to me, "Sixty-six years ago, I was invading Okinawa."
I'm guessing you don't hear that one every day.
Fred is an 88-year-old Marine - "Once a Marine, always a Marine!" - and he was celebrating his 19th birthday the morning the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor.
I've learned a lot about the Marines, World War II, and life in general from Fred. You can learn a lot from old folk.
As for that Easter Sunday in 1945, Fred said our leaders thought it would be a "surprise" to attack on Easter, thinking the Japanese would not expect us to attack on a religious holiday.
But he said he went to church at 4 a.m., on a ship, and the Japanese troops - some 130,000 of them - were far from surprised. We lost more than 12,000 lives in the 82-day-long battle, on land and sea.
As I'm reading "Jungle Ace," the story of Col. Gerald R. Johnson, a U.S. Army Air Force fighter pilot during WW II, I asked Fred about something author John R. Bruning shares from Col. Johnson's letters home - his disgust at workers striking for better pay in the USA while men and women were fighting and dying to protect that right.
Fred said his base pay as a fighting Marine was $30 per month.
Fred said the main carping he heard was in the Red Cross tent. The man there was paid over $500 per month to distribute items sent from home to give a little comfort to our military. That man charged the troop nickels and dimes for coffee and donuts.
Fred said he doesn't think much of the Red Cross. I think that's understandable.
I'm glad Fred made it home from Okinawa. I wouldn't have been at that particular Easter lunch with friends and loved ones if he hadn't.
And that's just an example of what I've learned from old folk. Not all has been about war. There are lots of other things, some useful, some sad, some funny.
And even a few head-scrathers ... but they were all worth my time to obtain.
Old folk are a most valuable resource, and it's worth your time to seek them out, give them a hand or just a listening ear, and get all the learnin' you can.

TRUE CONFESSIONS

2011-02-02T15:07:00.002-06:00

Okay, I did it. I took the frozen dinner from the office refrigerator, microwaved it, and ate it. There, I've said it.
Here's the deal: we have 18 inches of snow; I'm here with less than 10 people in a 200+ person office building; because my car is light, I walked home last night - in the snow - and walked back today - in the deeper snow; and none of the nearby restaurants nor the building snack shop are open.
As I hope you can see, it's not my fault.
I read "Alive," about the rugby team from Uruguay whose plane crashed in the Andes Mountains and they were forced to eat their dead fellow passengers to survive. It wasn't their fault, either!
Not that I didn't have guilt. Heck, the Uruguayans had guilt - but the priests said their action was okay because it was for survival. Same with me.
I'm reminded of the time my friend Big M bought some frozen White Castles at lunch at the grocery and stowed them in the fridge. By break time, they were gone. I don't think anybody ate them ... to survive ... or anything like that. They simply stole them.
I didn't steal. I had to survive. There, I've said it.
(By the way, it was turkey and mashed potatoes and it was pretty tasty.)

Here Comes the Judge! BBQ Judge, That Is!

2010-04-28T09:53:00.002-05:00

Sugar Creek, Mo. — At about 9:45 on the evening of April 21, 2010, I was sworn in as a Certified Barbeque Judge (CBJ) of the Kansas City Barbeque Society (KCBS). Sworn in? Yes indeed — the barbeque business is serious.
As I learned in the almost 4-hour class, barbeque contest participants will spend a minimum of $500 to compete in a single event, so it is the responsibility of the CBJs to invest our time in serious judging.
"You are here to judge, not to do a buffet," our instructor reminded us.
And there is the rub – no pun intended.
In a normal competition, the CBJ will be presented with four different types of barbeque: chicken, ribs, pork and brisket. (The meats are served in that order based on required cooking time, from least to most.)
Depending on the number of contestant offerings the CBJ will judge, she or he will consume an average minimum of two pounds of meat in a single sitting. And that two pounds is based on our instructor's suggested sampling of just two bites per contestant's offering.
So, imagine this judge-in-training's shock, surprise and disappointment when, after being served three delicious pieces of barbeque chicken, to have to discard – that's right, THROW AWAY! – all but two bites of each. And the same with the ribs, pork and brisket.
No doggie bags. Two bites. Judge. Discard. It's almost criminal is what it is.
We CBJs do blind judging, meaning we rate each offering on its own, not in comparison to others. We rate in three areas: appearance, taste and texture.
Appearance is scored when we first see the contestant's offering. It is brought to us (usually a table of six CBJs) in a box that must include enough meat for all six judges to have a sample. The box can include just the meat, or it can have some regular lettuce underneath. But it can't have any kale or other fancy greens, nor can there be other types of garnish, as they may be considered a hint to a judge of a certain contestant's entry. Illegal garnish is a disqualification (DQ).
The entry's meat can also have sauce – but just on the meat. Any excess, either in the tray or in a container within the tray, is a DQ. Not providing enough samples for all six CBJs is also a DQ.
We experienced all of these in our training, but the last one was my favorite. A tray of what looked like six delicious ribs were passed around. When CBJ #4 picked up one, she got two – they had not been cut through. By the rules, she was not allowed to tear them apart, so she passed the tray to me. I took the last rib, and passed CBJ #6 an empty tray.
Clearly unhappy, CBJ #6 did what was required: he reported the problem to the Table Captain, who declared a DQ. As it was a training event, the Table Captain brought CBJ #6 another rib. (After all, we PAID for the class.)
Taste and texture (also called tenderness) are purely subjective. We rate on a scale of 9 (excellent) to 2 (inedible), with 6 being "average." There are suggestions in our certification program handbook, but as our instructor told us, "Don't ask me what 'average' is, you're the judge."
And that's about it. And the end of the class, we were all – 58 of us – sworn in as official CBJs. Our next step is to review The Bull Sheet, the KCBS official newsletter, and contact competitions we would like to judge. As our instructor said, we ask "if we might have the pleasure of judging at your event," and not to show up to judge until we are accepted and confirmed for the event. (Some CBJs have been "disrobed" for being a bit to pompous.)

I Lost My Knife Sharpener

2010-03-12T14:21:00.002-06:00

The headline read, "Missouri man killed in wreck with semi," and that is what happened. The story was brief, and it listed the man's middle initial wrong. I know this for sure - the man was my dad. He kept my pocket knife sharp.
It happened about 11 a.m. on January 28. As near as we can tell, he had made an early stop at the grocery for some potatoes, onions and cookies (he loved his sweets!) and was returning from a circular route when he crossed the center line of the highway. Why? We don't know, probably never will. And that's not important.
More important was one of the "gifts" we received after Pop's death - a story - one he'd never tell, because it was about himself.
After serving in the Korean War (and having to come back to help his Mom during the Elwood flood of, I think, '53), he started work at Seitz packinghouse. He worked at Seitz for 32 years, then took the "buyout."
He tried several different things, kept meticulous notes of job searches and get-rich-schemes in what apparently was a tight economic time at the home in the late 80s, then down to a population of just he and Mom. But like he was always known to say, "Better days are comin'."
As one of the ladies at Baisch & Skinner (which was then Stuppy's) shared, it was a single, memorable action that lead to another 20 years of work for a man who had to be told to take his vacations.
She said there were about 50 men waiting around in the warehouse, hoping for a chance at the one position, and she didn't know how she would choose. Then in came Pop, went right up to the desk, saw the stack of blank applications, and aid, "Well, I guess I better help you hand these out."
A co-worker said, "You better hire that guy!" And the rest is history.
The day Pop died was a cold day. It would have been a nice evening for a big bowl of potato soup.

RIP, Sweet Georgia Brown

2010-01-12T07:41:00.002-06:00

When it comes to a certain issue, I think I must be a dinosaur watching the glacier edge my way, or a Model T driver out on the Interstate. The glacier will eventually overtake me when I can no longer out run it, and in this situation, there's no optional vehicle I would find acceptable.
The issue is what I see as a major sign of our moral decline, the increased use and acceptance of profanity.
I try to avoid it where ever and whenever I can. And last night, I made a major avoidance decision. I was settling in for the opening of the annual Blue & Gold Tournament at Fatima High School, Westphalia, Mo. I started following the Lady Comets, home and away, with that very tournament in January of 2000. $3 per night for two games of basketball in a warm gym? You couldn't beat it!
I cut my teeth on small-town basketball while living up north in Memphis, Mo., where high school basketball is a community event. Friday nights usually featured a fundraiser of a soup/chili supper, complete with dessert. Although they didn't have the suppers, I happened upon Fatima and enjoyed a great decade.
In my observation, girls' basketball is a bit like chess: you can see the plays (moves) forming. It can be fast, but it's fast with a purpose – not the racing up and down the court of the boys' game.
I've had a decade of enjoyment with the Lady Comets, but it came to an end last night. During the warm ups for the opening game, the music was loud — I suppose that has to be accepted as the youngsters look up to the adults, and I understand the NBA "entertainment" is almost as much music as sport — and angry. That's how I describe the type of rap/hip hop music where the rappers shout out threats and boasts in a usually hateful, sing-song rhyme.
I can put up with it, usually, and I guess the players like it. But when "Get Buck" by Akon came on, that was it. That one, administrators of Fatima High School, is profane. Shame on you for allowing it. Shame on you players for selecting it to be played in front of your guests, who if you haven't checked the stands, range in age from 8 days to over 80 years.
Maybe I'm a prude, but this dinosaur is packing up his Model T and seeking greener pastures. I won't be expecting "Sweet Georgia Brown," but I'll accept nothing less than a far slower decline in our moral fabric.

Jesse James, My Home Boy

2009-10-30T15:44:00.002-05:00

I'm reading The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford, a "historical novel" written by Ron Hansen. I'm enjoying it a great deal – a great deal more than I did the movie of the same name featuring Brad Pitt as Jesse.
The book is "historical" because it works in a lot of the facts and reports about Jesse James, because so much was written about him, both in his day and in the years since. And it's "novel" where the writer puts in information – particularly dialog and what people are thinking – that he has to make up based on his research. He has Jesse as quite an interesting fellow.
I've recently passed the part of the day all of us St. Joseph natives know to be so famous: April 3, 1882. The author starts this part with a real quote by Oscar Wilde, from a letter he posted from St. Joseph April 19, 1882:
"Outside my window about a quarter mile to the west stands a little yellow house and a crowd of people are pulling it all down. It is the house of the great train robber and murderer, Jesse James, who was shot by his pal last week, and the people are relic hunters. … The Americans are certainly great hero worshippers, and always take their heroes from the criminal classes."
I think Oscar's got us pegged there.

The Perfect Weight Watchers Dessert

2009-06-16T11:49:00.002-05:00

Let's just get to it: Hostess Chocolate Cake with Creamy Filling/100 Calorie Pack. One Weight Watchers (WW) Point for three mini cakes - six 3-cake packs to a box. And they are SO good!
How can you eat three cupcakes - even mini cupcakes - and only use one WW point, you ask? Fiber, my friend - man-made fiber.
As we all know, there's no fiber in the two main components of two of the great human inventions of all time, chocolate and cake. However, somebody at the Hostess bakeries have done some hocus pocus and come up with a way to pack FIVE grams of dietary fiber in three little cakes.
So, it's 100 calories, 3 grams fat, and 5 grams fiber. That equals ONE!
And oh, are they good! They have moist cake, WITH creamy center, and icing on top. Only thing they lack is the white curly line. But you will not miss it!
What's the downside? Only two, and I wrote Hostess about this one: because they are so moist - that's what Hostess said in reply - they kind of stick to the wrapping, which is about as strong as those anti-theft things they put around CDs in some stores.
And the other problem is Wal-mart can't keep them on the shelves! (Note to Hostess: Mrs. Freshley's is almost as good, easier to unwrap, and cheaper. Either you keep the shelves stocked or the Fresh' chick is going to take over.
Try 'em! You'll like 'em!

We gots PIRATES!!!

2008-12-19T13:40:00.002-06:00

I am fascinated by these Somali pirates!
They whip out into the vast ocean in their tiny little boats and take on supertankers, cruise ships - anything from which they think they can get a ransom.
They are like gnats on an elephant's butt, but the elephant's tail is short, making the gnats' success rate quite impressive.
I read that the pirates either fire on the bridge with a rocket launcher or just sneak up on the back of these big ships and climb up from the back, which is low and often has available ropes dangling. And the crews of the big ships are traditionally unarmed. Clearly, these guys are opportunists.
Somalia doesn't have much of a government, so the pirates have no worries on shore, and at this writing, the world's navies are just beginning to send ships to defend the merchants. But even they have a "short tail" - there remains much dispute and unclarity over who should convict the pirates. Apparently "walk the blank" is no longer included in maritime law.
A quote from a supertanker captain said his only plea was "DON'T SHOOT!" Apparently oil tankers emit a highly volitile gas that any flash or spark can ignite. A cruise ship apparently avoided capture with the one-two punch of speed and a sound "blaster" that can be fired as the pirates approach.
There have been some victories, but they are far outweighed by the millions in ransom the pirates are receiving. Some shipping companies are rerouting away from the Suez Canal, which hurts the struggling economy of Egypt.
Meanwhile, it appears piracy is big business in Somalia. I read that pirates are big spenders, paying $20 for a $5 bottle of perfume. And they employ a large support system, from women to make bread to men to service and fuel their "gnats," which continue to sting the mighty elephant of shipping ... at least until a better gnat-swatter is invented.

Mom

2008-08-26T07:01:00.002-05:00

My Mom died the morning of July 20, probably in her sleep. That's one of the best ways to go, I think, because it seems so peaceful.
Mom had been in the hospital for about 10 days and was on a roller coaster - down, then a little better, then down again.
She was a good Mom. I have only good memories. She did a great deal for us, made sacrifices for us, gave us all of her love. She was a good Mom.

A Solution to Many of the World's Problems

2008-05-10T11:55:00.002-05:00

Put birth control in alcohol.
No beating around the bush with this one. I want scientists, pharmaceutical reps and brewers to find this, develop it, and get it out on the market post haste.
I just came up with the idea last week, but I share it with the world, free of charge ... I want no credit, and I have applied for no patent.
We all know what alcohol does - it's in all the country songs. And we also know what results - that's in all the country songs, too. And the other forms of music, literature and reality itself.
We can spin that the parents will "grow to want/love the child," but I work in the business and I know that's not 100% true. The millions in unpaid child support prove it. Not to mention divorces and other dreams and hopes dashed on the shores of despair thanks to a bit too much alcohol and a bit too little use of protection.
But put them together and you have something the world can use. Girls don't have to ask "Did you bring a 'raincoat?'" And guys don't have to lie and say "Don't worry, baby, I a) am sterile b) had a vasectomy c) will pull out in time or d) another falsehood that ends up changing both of their lives forever."
Birth control in alcohol, people. That's all I'm saying. Let's make it happen.

Adventures in Dead Presidents

2007-10-16T07:11:00.000-05:00

Your humble narrator is the unofficial Midwest distributor of the new presidential dollar coins. Whether I get them from the bank or as change from the USPS stamp machines, I always try to keep a dozen or so in my pocket to spread around.
Reaction varies as, at this writing, the coins have been around since earlier in the year and three presidents are now in circulation. Some assume it's the Sacagawea coin, others are just impressed with how shiny they are, while a few actually ask, "Are these real?"
A couple of my favorite dollar-coin stories go like this:
At a McDonald's, my tab came to exactly $1.50. I gave the counter person two "gold" coins.
"What are these," he asked.
"The new dollar coins," I replied.
"Cool," he responded as he tried to decide which part of the cash drawer to put them in. (Most cash drawers have an extra slot after the quarters for keys and/or unusual coins.)
"Just don't put them in your quarter slot and you'll be okay," I remarked.
"Ronald Jr." gave me a "Duh!" look, then gave me my change - the two presidential coins I'd just given him, which he had indeed dropped into the quarter slot. Quickly assessing that the young man was beyond training in the fine art of coin handling during my limited time, and reminding myself of an Illinois judge's comment - "You can't fix stupid." - I pocketed the coins, took my order, thanked the young man and departed.
The other story comes from a Target store, where another young man was at the register where I paid with five shiny dollar coins.
I believe he had over-moussed that morning, as he seemed very confused by what I had given him. He didn't ask what they were or give any of the usual reactions. Instead, he just began looking around, apparently for some sort of guidance.
He didn't ASK for guidance, he just LOOKED for it. When he finally caught the eye of a young manager, he asked "What should I do with these?" not even holding up the coins, but apparently believing the manager had telepathic abilities.
She reponded with a glance that the popular snooty high school girls give the unpopular boys who dare to enter their aura of popularity, so Mr. Target was on his own. He looked around a bit more, again seeking that mysterious guidance one hopes to obtain by just projecting hopelessness, but he received no reaction.
Finally, in mild frustration, he put the coins under the coin slots (where checks and "big bills" are sometimes kept), gave me my correct change, and then turned his glassy gaze back to his register.
For reactions alone, the new coins are a lot of fun. Some folk will actually express joy in receiving them, as they see them as a gift for a child or as a collectible. At the Chicago Museum of Art, the cafeteria checker refused them, saying it was "policy" not to accept them as she had no place to put them in her cash drawer. (Yours truly saw her as beyond hope, too, and didn't bother to show her that next-to-the-quarters slot; maybe they store a small Picasso there or something.)
Anyway, the presidential dollar coins are out there, and a new one comes out every three months. They make nice Christmas gifts. Will they suffer the same fate as the Susan B. Anthonys and the Sacageweas? That remains to be seen. The government would like them to become popular, as they last longer than the $1 bill. But I believe, like Canada, they will have to do away with the bill if they want the coin to stay.
In the meantime, I'll keep spreading them - along with joy, confusion and enlightenment - around the Midwest.

Rebarbative Jackanapes

2007-06-13T18:38:00.000-05:00

Call me a rebarbative jackanapes - if you can! - but your humble narrator has finally found the time to gnaw on a couple of those proverbial bones. (I'm trying to be calmer ... but it's hard to calm the storm, baby!)
Item: The female summer fashion statement of flip-flops and high-waters as acceptable office attire.
First, I don't care how much you paid for them, they're shower shoes. Doesn't matter if they're made of faux leather and have rhinestones. And I really don't care whose name was on the box. They're noisy, they're bad for your feet, and they're potentially dangerous. And did I mention they're noisy?!
But if you MUST, you must, so why not make sure even the DEAF know you are wearing shower shoes by exposing your ankles and calves - Oh! Look who's got a new tattoo! - in a nice pair of high-waters. (Remember that term from high school? You were growing faster than your pant legs and kids would tease you with, "Where's the flood?")
About the only person I can think who ever looked good in them - and she's the only one in my opinion who could call them "Capris" as she'd probably been there (the Isle of Capri, that is) was Audrey Hepburn. And I'm talking young, "Breakfast at Tiffany's" Audrey Hepburn.
Everybody else? You look like you're goin' to a picnic and you're so CHEAP, you volunteered to bring NAPKINS!
Item: Waitresses calling me "hon" and "sweetie."
Now yours truly eats out a lot, and he enjoys good service. He actually studies it: he learned recently that "Do you need any change?" is not always a cheap we to fish for a tip - on the contrary, it's considered rude to make change at the table and if you don't need change, you save your server and yourself time.
But who started this "hon/sweetie" thing? I don't even know you! I've gotten this unsolicited familiarity from waitresses of all ages ... is it passed down by the generations that have come before? Is it like the first commandment of waitressing: Thou Shalt Call the Customer "Hon" or "Sweetie"?!
I don't like it. I don't get it. But I feel a LOT BETTER for pounding it out!!!

The Lucky Charms

2007-01-07T14:48:00.000-06:00

I've been charmed.
I chanced upon The Lucky Charms at O'Malley's Pub in Weston when a few friends gathered in the underground venue to celebrate my niece Jessie's birthday. I've seen them twice since, and have at least two future dates inked to date.
Go to www.theluckycharms.com and, because they are nice folk, you can listen to some of their music free. Or you can buy their debut CD, which I'll review for you now.
The Lucky Charms is a nice sampling of what this band from the greater Kansas City area does best: harmony, nice playing, and fun - all with a bit o' the Irish mixed in to spice it up.
Although five of the 11 cuts are termed "traditional," The Lucky Charms make them their own, such as "Nancy Whiskey," in which they nicely blend a bit of the standard "Heart and Soul." It's a catchy tune, about drinking of course, and I find myself humming it several times a day.
But the one that comes to me the most is Dominic Behan's "Black & Tans." It's a rousing song with definite Irish roots. It stands alone, but if you take the time to Google or Wikapedia the demons who carried that nickname, you'll get a definite appreciation for why it's one The Lucky Charms really belt out. And they "charm" it a bit, too - slipping in someof The Ramones "What I Like About You."
As you can learn on their website, The Lucky Charms is made up of three ladies and a gentleman. Christine "Cricket" Pugh is the original member; she plays guitar, flute and tin whistle. Alaina Romine plays guitar and bass. Dori Walker Como plays the Irish drum. Gerry Monks plays guitar and mandolin.
And they all sing ... very well. The harmony of the three women is a real treat - check out "The Skye Boat Song" on the website as a good example. And aside from his excellent playing, Gerry comes through very strong on his two original songs on the CD, "The New World," a upbeat song that can stir the heart of anyone who can trace their family tree to the Emerald Isle, and "One Last Jar" (again, about drinking) which is my second favorite song on the CD (next to "Black & Tans.")
The Lucky Charms is an outstanding first effort for the group. But if you want to fully appreciate it, you're going to have to come hear them perform so you can be charmed as well.
Having both packed-house and snow-restricted shows to compare, I can testify that they are great fun. They'll mix songs from the CD with a wide variety of American folk, Celtic tunes, and covers, ranging from Janis Joplin to Richard Thompson. If Cricket doesn't have the song in her head or her Big Book, she'll do it best to have it ready when you come back for another show ... and you will come back.
The Lucky Charms both entertain and involve their audiences, giving little assignments that range from singing a bit to drinking a bit to spewing a bit of mild profanity - all in fun, of course. And even if she doesn't bring along her dancing shoes, make sure to get Dori to lead you through "The Unicorn Song."
Here's wishing The Lucky Charms good luck with their CD! Best wishes for many more!

Mouton Gregarious

2007-01-07T14:34:00.000-06:00

All I wanted for Christmas was Gisele Bundchen (with the double-dot umlaut over the u).
Not the Brazilian born super model herself, but her Amazon-size cardboard cut out that was hanging in the window of Victoria's Secret at the local mall. She was dressed in a little pink outfit, complete with a Santa hat, and was looking quite saucy.
I have to confess I wasn't sure what I would do with Gisele once I got her, but Big M, my morning mall walking partner, suggested suspending her above my bed. It was enjoyable to just think about the possibilities.
What I actually GOT for Christmas was Mouton Gregarious (emphasis on the "-ton," sounding as in "John.) Factually, I didn't really "get" Mouton - she is not my property. She is more like something I have checked out from the Library of Life and she's in charge of the due date.
Words can't really describe her ... at least words at the moment in the public library where I have a gamer on my left and a speed-scroller on my right (I don't think these people USE the keyboard!) I can certainly do a "let me count the ways" exercise, however.
First, she has a dazzling smile - a full face smile made all the more dazzling by her sparkling eyes.
Second, she's sharp ... very intelligent.
Third, she's "a hoot."
Fourth, she is fun to be with, a joy to be with, an honor to be with.
And fifth, she introduces me to some of the many people she knows as "my boyfriend."
I hope that means her return date isn't anytime soon! :)

The Election and Slugs

2006-11-07T16:56:00.000-06:00

11/7/2006 - It's over!
I had a prepared comment for whomever I met the official 100 feet or so outside the polling place this morning who would try to hand me campaign material on their particular candidate or cause: "I have put up with this crap for more than six months - 24-7 - and I'm going to go in and end it now. I do NOT need your paper and it will NOT influence my vote."
But I didn't get to use it. The meek woman outside my polling place (a church), who asked me nicely to "Please vote" for her cause, got this from me: "Thank you, you can keep your paper; but I will consider your request."
Thus, I lied in front of church.
We had the big Amendment 2 this time, which pitted the Stem-Cell-Research-We-Love-Michael-J.-Fox Supporters against the You-Baby-Killing-Cloners-Will-Burn-In-The-Pits-Of-Hell-Forever Crusaders.
And although this is a huge issue, based on a very lengthy constitutional amendment, most folk probably voted based one of the thousands of commercials, yard signs or mail flyers they've seen, heard and/or received ... or maybe even the handout from the meek Crusader woman.
I knew how I would vote. I read all the amendments and propositions in full, published in the local newspaper. I skipped right over the Cliff's Notes versions on the ballot which, some day, should be challenged as biased and misleading and worthy of being removed from the voting process ... of course, that would probably take an Amendment and vote.
I'm just glad it's over. Note to Claire and Jim: I didn't vote for either of you; you should be ashamed of yourselves; and I endorse this message.
And while I'm still fired up, let's talk about something important: the handicap button to open doors.
They are for the handicapped ... the physically disabled ... and you do not qualify if you are:
A) fat;
B) lazy;
C) loaded down with the packages of processed fats and sugars that you need to get you through the day because you are A and/or B;
D) a delivery guy who should be using the loading dock; or
E) any combination of the above.
If you're any of A through E, you're a SLUG ... and that's with apologies to "real" slugs. (As for animated slugs - this is an "aside" - I suggest "Flushed Away," one of those claymation animated movies. It's great, and it has slugs.)
Man! Do I feel better!!!!!!

The Other Shoe

2006-09-25T19:38:00.000-05:00

I found this at World Wide Words regarding the phrase, "Waiting for the other shoe to drop."
"Its source would seem to be the following story. A man comes in late at night to a lodging house, rather the worse for wear.* He sits on his bed, drags one shoe off and drops it on the floor. Guiltily remembering everyone around him trying to sleep, he takes the other one off much more carefully and quietly puts it on the floor. He then finishes undressing and gets into bed. Just as he is drifting off to sleep, a shout from the man in the room below: 'Well, drop the other one then! I can't sleep, waiting for you to drop the other shoe!' This may come from music hall or vaudeville, though it would seem that nobody has been able to tie it down more precisely."
*(Off topic, "worse for wear" reminds me of a great Rolling Stones song, "Girl with Far-Away Eyes." It's on the "Some Girls" album.)
Anyway, I've been waiting for the other shoe to drop on a couple of things that are going on right now: unseasonably pleasant September weather in the Midwest and gasoline prices dropping as much as a dime a day.
There apparently is a joke going around that the President ordered the falling gas prices, but come the day after the election? $5 per gallon. That is NOT funny, and I'm 99% sure it's just a joke as the President can't control the price of gasoline ... right? I do know I would not want to know everything the US President knows (it clearly ages them in a short time as their before-and-after photos show) so I'll just tank up occasionally in my 35 mpg Chevrolet Aveo and motor on, blissfully unaware.
As for the weather? I'm about ready to get out my heat blanket. I bought it two years ago (I'd never had one before) and it is a thing of beauty! For me, it was better than discovering sliced bread ... which I have read was "invented" in Chillicothe, Mo. (Don't believe me? Google it.)
Speaking of "slice," there's a great movie to rent at the video store, "Breaker Morant." It's set in South Africa during the Boer Wars and I belive is about a series of true events involving some Australian soldiers. (No, Mel Gibson isn't in it.)
During a trial, one of the soldier defendants is asked his alibi, and he is forced to reveal he was having a dalliance with a married woman at the time. "Slice off a used loaf never missed," he tells the judicial panel off-handedly.
Amazing what the mind retains, isn't it? I may not remember the cool nights and pleasant days of the September of '06 ... may not remember the plumet at the pumps (although I remember 21-cent gas and not having $5 to fill the tank) ... but I remember that movie line, and the Stones ... and I remember at least one girl with far-away eyes.

Just Two Things

2006-08-09T19:25:00.000-05:00

ONE: Vote!
I have a political cartoon posted outside my office. It shows a business suit guy, on a cell phone, standing by the statue featuring the Marines raising the flag at Iwo Jima. The suit is surprised when one of the Marines says, "What do you mean you don't have time to vote?"
Unless you're dead or in the hospital - or something similar - there is NO EXCUSE not to vote ... in elections big or small. (At noon Tuesday I was the 253rd voter at my precinct; my county had a 25% voter turnout for the primary race.)
"I make a statement by NOT voting" and "I only vote at the BIG elections" and "I just don't have time" are UNACCEPTABLE when we have men and women in uniform risking their lives and dying in Afghanistan and Iraq to protect our freedoms.
Oh, don't give me that "They're fighting for OIL" or "They're dying so Bush can play cowboy." Again, you use those, you are to me of less value than television - and John don't do TV.
TWO: See the Hallmark Entertainment production of "Animal Farm" (1999). It's out on DVD, so check your local library. While you're there, check out the novel, too. Yes, it's a book! Author George Orwell's views on Communism, nicely wrapped in a story of how animals take over a small farm. Whether you have read the book or not, this is one creepy, spooky story.

The Porcine Lollipop

2006-07-24T19:25:00.000-05:00

Final edit 8-30-2006
Pork chop on a stick.
Imagine if you will, a perfectly prepared piece of porcine product poised precipitously on a dowel pin. An inch thick. Six ounces minimum. And as you make your way around the grounds of the Iowa State Fair, taking bite after delicious bite, this pork lollipop is on display, for all the hungry world to see.
The state fair - that celebration of harvest and the best produced from the land of (fill in your state here) - is all about food.
Some will argue it's about concerts, carnivals, competition and the like ... but it's about food.
I went to two state fairs this year: the Missouri State Fair (an annual tradition); and the Iowa State Fair, rumored to be THE fair.
What I missed at both was my favorite viewing activity (next to people watchng), team penning. You can Google for more detail but basically three riders have to cut a select number of specially-numbered cows from a herd in a timed event in an arena partially filled with family, penning afficianados like your humble narrator, and folks just looking to sit a bit and either eat or rest up a bit after eating. For as I said, the state fair is all about food. I found no penning this year, but I found food.
Both fairs had just about anything imaginable to eat on a stick. Corn dogs and apples are a given; but there were fried candy bars and Twinkie cakes on a stick, too. I sought, and found, at the Iowa State Fair, the legendary Pork on a Stick at the small Iowa Pork Producers trailer.
Just a small little trailer, nothing fancy, but for five dollars, out of the small serving window I was handed at approximately 9:35 a.m. the thing that man has sought since the beginning of time - hot, roasted meat on a stick. De-licious!
It was an "Iowa chop," which is the description for the cut of the pork chop, about an inch thick. It was firm meat, but not chewy, cooked well through and through, and I was clearly the envy of all I passed. A couple seated, licking their fingers from morning cinammon rolls and who knows what else, asked where I had discovered the Holy Grail of Porkdom.
Naturally, I pointed them, WITH the Pork on a Stick itself, in the right direction. One must share the wealth. I then saw the legendary Butter Cow - a full-sized sculpture of a cow in butter - and can only say, "Must be an Iowa thing."
I finished off my pork with a cup of fresh chopped fruit from another stand. It wasn't on a stick, but it was the only thing worthy of following the pork.
I had port at the Missouri State Fair, too. At the Missouri Pork Producers restaurant, where I strayed after years of supporting the Poultry Producers place for a chicken sandwich or turkey drumstick. It was a nice chop, with a side of fresh, chunky applesauce. It was good, very good, but it wasn't Pork on a Stick.
It's a flaw, Missouri. We need to fix it.

Fair fact: The Moniteau County Fair (California, Mo.) is the oldest continuously operating county fair in the USA.

Weight Watchers got my mind right

2006-07-24T18:46:00.000-05:00

"You've got to get your mind right."

That was the advice Captain, Road Prison 36, gave the convicts in "Cool Hand Luke." Once you got used to your sentence, that there was no advantage to escape, you could accept things - get your mind right.

Lucas "Luke" Jackson (Paul Newman) would never have made a good Weight Watchers (WW) member, as he never took the Captain's (Strother Martin) advice. See the movie; he was always fighting, trying to escape.

I started WW in late June 2002 at 295 pounds; at this writing, I'm at 207. To me, getting my mind right is focusing on the money.

I'm a WW "Lifetime Member," which means I met my weight-loss goal of 215, which was set by my doctor. As long as I get no higher than 217, I don't pay to be a member, and I can go to as many meetings as I choose. (That's a savings of $12 per week; rates by WW region may vary.)

Making that goal was HUGE for me. I have had to pay twice since I made it, but that has been only twice in well over a year. That's a lot of money - my money.

My road to WW started years earlier. I was sitting in front of the television (I don't do TV, you know) surfing channels and I noticed my ankles were kind of big. Now this was a time of a 58-inch waistline but no true concept of my actual weight (honest) and not much concern. I was "big boned," as my mama said.

But I went to the doctor, about the ankles. He said that was just water retention, which he could give me pills for, but he suggested I see a dietician ... and the rest begins my personal weight-loss history.

My dietician and I had to go to the wheelchair scale - a miniature version of what trucks weigh on - to get my weight of 378 pounds. She got me counting calories, writing down what I ate, and moving. I started out on the high school track once a day with a goal of eight laps; for awhile, I couldn't make eight, and then, when I could make eight, the time it took started to get less and less, as did my waistline.

I was down about 60 pounds or so when I started getting lazy; I had moved, and given up on dieticians. But after feeling very dizzy a few mornings in a row and being put on hypertension medication, I sought out another dietician. This was a rough period; food options were too varied and the dietician was too nice. I held steady, but no loss.

Ready to get serious again, I asked my current doctor (after I had moved again) about a dietician. Straight-shooter that she is, my doctor told me she didn't think my insurance would cover it, so why didn't I try WW.

I've been there ever since.

I've had up weeks and down weeks, frustrations and elations, but when the compliments started coming in and the clothes started coming in more options and at less cost, and I started feeling better, and I was taken off the blood-pressure medicine, and ... well, I got my mind right.

Looking back, the dieticians were a form of WW. They were good, they were helpful. I don't regret them.

But WW was every week, out-of-my-pocket cash, with a compliment or an insult from the scale followed by good advice and positive reenforcement from the WW leader and fellow members. (You can join WW on-line, but I don't recommend it; you have to get your fat out in public and flop it down next to other fat - it's the only way.)

I want to get to 199 by basketball season; I originally set that goal for June 30, but I got a bit lazy ... but only a bit. Because, as Captain, Road Prison 36 also said - and I'm not talking about the famous "What we've got here is ... failure to communicate" - what he also said was this: "Now, I can be a good guy, or I can be one real mean sum-bitch."

Got my mind right here, Captain.

Avast, me hearties!

2006-07-13T18:41:00.000-05:00

"Hello, beastie!"

I've rarely agreed with Robert W. Butler, the Kansas City Star film critic.
He opened his July 11 column thus: "If you're looking for an apology, stop reading now." Butler was responding to feedback he received after giving "Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest" just 1 1/2 stars.

History - fleeting as it is - will show the movie's opening weekend brought in $132 million, the most successful opening in Hollywood history.

Butler concluded that he reviews movies, but the moviegoers have the final vote. "That's the way it's supposed to work," he wrote.

On that, I agree.

When I reviewed movies for the St. Joseph Gazette, I foolishly wrote that if "Chariots of Fire" won Best Picture, I'd quit reviewing. I ate crow, waited a few weeks, and started writing reviews again. To get paid to watch movies? It's a beautiful thing and a luxury not to be trifiled with. It's like sportswriters who complain about pressboxes - don't poke at it, boys, as it might bite back.

Now, let's talk pirates.

Is Captain Jack Sparrow the best movie pirate ever? He is to many. Johnny Depp created an original, memorable character who keeps us coming back for more.

I saw "Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl" four times and "Dead Man's Chest" twice ... so far. But if they would put on the big screen - and I mean the w-i-d-e screen it was made for - I would pay twice the price to see Burt Lancaster as Captain Vallo in "The Crimson Pirate."

If you call either of Depp's "Pirates" an "action movie," "The Crimson Pirate" is a super-duper, packed-to-the-crow's-nest action extravaganza! Imagine if you will a 1952 film. No way you can create Davy Jones and his crew, let alone his ship. The two best "effects" this movie has are "Technicolor" (which was HOT at the time) and Burt Lancaster.

If you've never see a Lancaster movie, you have missed a treat. He was a true Hollywood star - full of life and "bigger than the silver screen," as they used to see. When he gave the command, "All hands on deck," you jumped and wiped the salt-sea spray from your face.

Stunts? Burt did most of them himself, along with his comic sidekick Ojo, played by Nick Cravat. Lancaster and Cravat were former trapeze partners, so when they do stunts, they are doing some stunts!

Double feature of Burt and Johnny? No, they're different pirates from different times. If you can rent "The Crimson Pirate," see if you can also get your hands on "His Majesty O'Keefe." Burt isn't a pirate this time, but he's a captain on the high seas.

See those two and you'll still be back with me next summer to see "Pirates III," but you'll have an entirely new appreciation for pirates. Sabe?

I don't watch, don't ask me

2006-07-10T19:53:00.000-05:00

I don't watch TV ... or as I usually phrase it, I don't "do" TV.
I can afford it, and I do have a "monitor" (for a couple of things I'll get to in a minute) but I don't have satellite, cable or any other way to pick up channels ... and that's fine with me.
I've given up television before. lt's not hard really, although I will admit, when in a hotel room, I will work that remote for all it's worth ... for about an hour. I don't need it.
The last time I gave up TV - this time - was four years ago. I had become hooked on Turner Classic Movies, so much so that I subscribed to the little magazine that gives the full schedule. I would set my VCR for foreign films, old films, just about any movie I'd never seen, and some I wanted to see again. And that's about all I watched.
Then one day, I came home, hit rewind, and then play, and I got nothing. I checked my channel. There was nothing there, either. Some of the other channels worked, but not TCM.
I gave it a day - cable goes out sometimes - and another - and still nothing, so I called. I learned it was a mistake that I had been getting TCM for three months. A mistake by the installer. Right.
Well, that was the day I told them stop my service. I still get postcards, offering to reinstall, but I recycle the paper. Don't need it. Plenty to do without it. I don't do TV.
I use my monitor for two things: DVDs from time to time; and "Uncharted Waters," the Super Nintendo game, to relax while listening to the St. Louis Cardinals during the season, or music or NPR when the season ends.
I don't have to record anything, rush home to watch something, or turn down another offer to do something so I can go sit in front of the television. I have nothing against those who do. There is entertainment to be had, education, too. I just choose not to do TV.