The college football Bowl Season is in full stride. There are no fewer than thirty-three bowl games this year, not to mention the BCS National Championship which is prestigious beyond simple bowl designation.
Originally, college football bowl games were a product of warm weather city boosterism. Pasadena, CA grew roses and other flowers in the winter, but few midwestern snowbirds travelled to the west coast to enjoy the blooms. Its city fathers put on a floral bedecked parade and still they did not come. Add a football game, call it the Rose Bowl and on New Year's Day half of Iowa (or Ohio or Michigan) shows up.
Not to be left out, New Orleans began the Sugar Bowl, Miami started the Orange Bowl, and Dallas birthed the Cotton Bowl. Football stadia somewhat resemble "bowls" and a local product got free advertising. One had the mental image of an enormous concrete structure filled with roses, sugar, oranges, or cotton as opposed to drunken louts. It was somehow soothing.
Time and TV money led to the proliferation of bowls that we see today. Alas, we ran out of soothing bowl names. The Poinsettia Bowl works, while the Gator Bowl doesn't, though the image of 70,000 ravenous reptiles in a Jacksonville, FL stadium is quite the mental image. The Sun Bowl is somewhat soothing if we assume sunshine and not a star shooting out deadly radiation in that El Paso, TX structure.
Yesterday, I watched the Humanitarian Bowl live and in color from Boise, ID. Apparently, humanitarianism is a prominent export from Boise. Are Idahoans implying that they and only they devote their lives to the betterment of their fellow man? Did concession stands revert from selling overpriced, watered-down beer to handing out winter clothing to the needy? Were the stadium gates flung open to the proverbial "huddled masses" free of charge? Would one expect any less from a stadium full of Humanitarians?
Today, I plan to watch the Insight Bowl from Tempe, AZ. What can we expect from a stadium full of insightful Arizonans? A viable National Health Care Plan? Not a problem with 70,000 insightful thinkers on the job. Every American will have health coverage by halftime. That pesky Palestinian Question? It will be solved by the final whistle. If the game goes to overtime, we will finally know how much wood could a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood. I've been searching for that answer for years.
That's the joy of college football bowl games - bringing humanitarians and insightful folks together for the betterment of society.
Thursday, December 31, 2009
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
Scouting Today
As the guy who unlocks the church for Boy Scout meetings, I am on the mailing list for "Scouting - The Magazine for Scout Leaders".
The current issue contains advertisements from fundraising suppliers appealing to scouts of all sorts. There are flower bulbs, "the healthy, low-cost, earth-friendly fundraiser". For those somewhat less health-conscious, Krispy Kreme offers 25 dozen free doughnuts with every paid order of 300 dozen or more. Assuming that the average scout troop has 50 members, the lads can chow down on six free glazed beauties each before making their deliveries. "Martha, there's a wild-eyed kid on a sugar high ringing the door bell. Set the dog on him!"
The magazine also includes ads for "true scouting adventures". Scout troops can reserve space now at Cherokee Camp, NC featuring "Authentic Cherokee culture and experiences in nature. The stuff that reminds us why scouts are scouts." After that, scouts can embark on "The Trail of Tears, a forced march to Oklahoma the stuff that reminds us why the Cherokees aren't in North Carolina anymore."
For the less-outdoorsy, Philly's Franklin Institute offers "Spy Camp" - a sleepover within its hallowed halls featuring an IMAX movie, planetarium show, and hands-on workshops. The ad also states, "Explore the museum exhibits after dark." This may not appeal to kids who have seen the Ben Stiller movie or its sequel, but is a great opportunity for older scouts to scare the pants off their younger counterparts by doing bad Robin Williams as Teddy Roosevelt impersonations. Come to think of it, even Robin Williams is doing bad Robin Williams impersonations nowadays.
For the military-minded, "Plan your troop's next big overnight adventure on one of the most famous aircraft carriers in US Naval History - the USS Lexington in Corpus Christi, TX. Experience a MEGA movie, tours, flag program, chow, ghost stories, and more. Bunk in air-conditioned crew quarters."
Air-conditioned crew quarters on a WWII-vintage ship? This coddling of today's youth must cease! The Mega movie and ghost stories are all well and good, but for scouts to get a real taste of WWII naval life, they should sleep on a rack of bunks with 18" clearance from their head to the bottom of the bunk above. For true realism, the guy on the bunk above should be un-showered for several days and have recently consumed lots of beans. Above all, no air-conditioning!
Imagine Josh the Boy Scout saying to his WWII vet great grandpa, "It wasn't so bad staying on the Lexington though they turned the AC on a little high."
The current issue contains advertisements from fundraising suppliers appealing to scouts of all sorts. There are flower bulbs, "the healthy, low-cost, earth-friendly fundraiser". For those somewhat less health-conscious, Krispy Kreme offers 25 dozen free doughnuts with every paid order of 300 dozen or more. Assuming that the average scout troop has 50 members, the lads can chow down on six free glazed beauties each before making their deliveries. "Martha, there's a wild-eyed kid on a sugar high ringing the door bell. Set the dog on him!"
The magazine also includes ads for "true scouting adventures". Scout troops can reserve space now at Cherokee Camp, NC featuring "Authentic Cherokee culture and experiences in nature. The stuff that reminds us why scouts are scouts." After that, scouts can embark on "The Trail of Tears, a forced march to Oklahoma the stuff that reminds us why the Cherokees aren't in North Carolina anymore."
For the less-outdoorsy, Philly's Franklin Institute offers "Spy Camp" - a sleepover within its hallowed halls featuring an IMAX movie, planetarium show, and hands-on workshops. The ad also states, "Explore the museum exhibits after dark." This may not appeal to kids who have seen the Ben Stiller movie or its sequel, but is a great opportunity for older scouts to scare the pants off their younger counterparts by doing bad Robin Williams as Teddy Roosevelt impersonations. Come to think of it, even Robin Williams is doing bad Robin Williams impersonations nowadays.
For the military-minded, "Plan your troop's next big overnight adventure on one of the most famous aircraft carriers in US Naval History - the USS Lexington in Corpus Christi, TX. Experience a MEGA movie, tours, flag program, chow, ghost stories, and more. Bunk in air-conditioned crew quarters."
Air-conditioned crew quarters on a WWII-vintage ship? This coddling of today's youth must cease! The Mega movie and ghost stories are all well and good, but for scouts to get a real taste of WWII naval life, they should sleep on a rack of bunks with 18" clearance from their head to the bottom of the bunk above. For true realism, the guy on the bunk above should be un-showered for several days and have recently consumed lots of beans. Above all, no air-conditioning!
Imagine Josh the Boy Scout saying to his WWII vet great grandpa, "It wasn't so bad staying on the Lexington though they turned the AC on a little high."
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
A Rose By Any Other Name
And what is in a name?
If Shakespeare were alive today, he might apply his wordsmithing skills not to the "legitimate" stage, but to the better-paying political one. The modern spinmeister who came up with "Troubled Asset Relief Plan" surely exceeds Billy Bard's ability to place poetic words in the mouths of oedipal Danish princes or starcrossed teen lovers in Verona. Could Hamlet, Romeo, or Juliet so easily title a multi-billion governmental bailout of incredibly greedy financiers and give it a cool acronym like TARP?
"Troubled Asset"? Romeo's plain-speaking buddy Mercutio would say, "Worthless financial instrument foisted upon an ignorant public. "Relief Plan"? Hamlet's wise mentor Yorick would call it, "We'll give you bushels of money that you will magically be able to re-pay when it turns out you won't get your massive year-end bonuses unless you do so." Even Shakespeare couldn't come up with a cool acronym for those more valid descriptions.
Political spinmeisters developed another creative title during the 2008 campaign. "We must repeal The Death Tax! The government wants to pillage your estate. You won't be able to pass on your small business to your family. Buffy will have to drop out of high school and stock shelves at Wal-Mart!"
In fact, the Estate Tax has been around since the 1800s. It is applicable only to the one in 500 estates valued at $7 million or more per couple. Small business owners can purchase life insurance (and charge its premiums as a business expense) to pay it off upon their demise and "keep the business in the family". Buffy will have a corner office awaiting her when she graduates from Princeton.
Juliet's wordly Nurse would say, "Abolish the Too Dumb or Lazy To Buy Insurance To Keep Rich Guys' Trophy Wives In Jewelry Tax". Somehow, it doesn't have the same ring as Death Tax.
Apparently, there's no place for plain-speaking Shakespeareans in today's politics.
If Shakespeare were alive today, he might apply his wordsmithing skills not to the "legitimate" stage, but to the better-paying political one. The modern spinmeister who came up with "Troubled Asset Relief Plan" surely exceeds Billy Bard's ability to place poetic words in the mouths of oedipal Danish princes or starcrossed teen lovers in Verona. Could Hamlet, Romeo, or Juliet so easily title a multi-billion governmental bailout of incredibly greedy financiers and give it a cool acronym like TARP?
"Troubled Asset"? Romeo's plain-speaking buddy Mercutio would say, "Worthless financial instrument foisted upon an ignorant public. "Relief Plan"? Hamlet's wise mentor Yorick would call it, "We'll give you bushels of money that you will magically be able to re-pay when it turns out you won't get your massive year-end bonuses unless you do so." Even Shakespeare couldn't come up with a cool acronym for those more valid descriptions.
Political spinmeisters developed another creative title during the 2008 campaign. "We must repeal The Death Tax! The government wants to pillage your estate. You won't be able to pass on your small business to your family. Buffy will have to drop out of high school and stock shelves at Wal-Mart!"
In fact, the Estate Tax has been around since the 1800s. It is applicable only to the one in 500 estates valued at $7 million or more per couple. Small business owners can purchase life insurance (and charge its premiums as a business expense) to pay it off upon their demise and "keep the business in the family". Buffy will have a corner office awaiting her when she graduates from Princeton.
Juliet's wordly Nurse would say, "Abolish the Too Dumb or Lazy To Buy Insurance To Keep Rich Guys' Trophy Wives In Jewelry Tax". Somehow, it doesn't have the same ring as Death Tax.
Apparently, there's no place for plain-speaking Shakespeareans in today's politics.
Monday, December 28, 2009
Boxing Day
Those clever Canadians spread out Christmas cheer by observing "Boxing Day" on 26 Dec.
No, our neighbors to the north do not strip to their skivvies, don padded leather gloves and beat each other senseless in some illogical extension of the Seinfeldian "Festivus Feats of Strength". In their typically patient manner, they do the church-going and feasting on Christmas, but delay the gift-giving (presumably in boxes) to the following day. After all, these are the folks who waited nearly 100 years for the British to give them independence rather than going through all that messy Revolutionary War stuff. What's another night of "visions of sugar plums dancing through their heads" after that?
We Americans celebrate a Boxing Day of sorts when Trash Pick Up Day is 26 Dec, like it is this year. Walking the dog this morning, I marvelled at the multitude of illustrated boxes lining the streets. Where do toy manufacturers get those delighted children depicted on boxes of toys? Their sheer joy at witnessing a dancing Elmo or operating a Rock'Em, Sock'Em robot fails to match American reality. Real American kids show no delight upon ripping open Present #1 as they proceed to tear the wrappings off what promises to be even better Present #2 until all gifts are opened and disappointment sets in that Brother Josh or Sister Tiffany got a superior haul..
My theory is that the ecstatic kids pictured on toy boxes are all Canadians and likely have no siblings. When you've had to wait another whole day for a gift and especially when you have nothing to be jealous of, you tend to appreciate it more.
No, our neighbors to the north do not strip to their skivvies, don padded leather gloves and beat each other senseless in some illogical extension of the Seinfeldian "Festivus Feats of Strength". In their typically patient manner, they do the church-going and feasting on Christmas, but delay the gift-giving (presumably in boxes) to the following day. After all, these are the folks who waited nearly 100 years for the British to give them independence rather than going through all that messy Revolutionary War stuff. What's another night of "visions of sugar plums dancing through their heads" after that?
We Americans celebrate a Boxing Day of sorts when Trash Pick Up Day is 26 Dec, like it is this year. Walking the dog this morning, I marvelled at the multitude of illustrated boxes lining the streets. Where do toy manufacturers get those delighted children depicted on boxes of toys? Their sheer joy at witnessing a dancing Elmo or operating a Rock'Em, Sock'Em robot fails to match American reality. Real American kids show no delight upon ripping open Present #1 as they proceed to tear the wrappings off what promises to be even better Present #2 until all gifts are opened and disappointment sets in that Brother Josh or Sister Tiffany got a superior haul..
My theory is that the ecstatic kids pictured on toy boxes are all Canadians and likely have no siblings. When you've had to wait another whole day for a gift and especially when you have nothing to be jealous of, you tend to appreciate it more.
Monday, December 21, 2009
Queen of the Universe
Athletic team nicknames are a never-ending source of amusement.
The conventional Lions, Tigers, and Bears (Oh my!) strike fear into opponents' hearts, but fail to tickle the funny bone. Give me the Port LaVaca Sand Crabs (sounds like a parasite that one would pick up on the beach), the UC-Santa Cruz Banana Slugs (not what you want to find on your morning Chiquita), or the Boiling Springs Bubblers (whose mascot might be a gurgling infant).
To pass the time while the school closings scroll slowly across the TV screen, I assign appropriate athletic team nicknames. With the advent of charter schools, some wild nicknames come to mind. Philadelphia's School of Engineering and Science teams would obviously be the Geeks with a mascot sporting coke bottom glasses, a bad haircut, and zero social graces. Come to think of it, they don't need a costume. They can just hire me.
Philly's Imhotep Charter wants to be the Fightin' Mummies, trailing dusty body wrapping as they trudge down the basketball court. Opponents beware! You may be ahead 100 - 0, but the Mummies never die!
The plenitude of Christian schools poses a problem. Not every team can be known as the Crusaders. How about the Faith Christian School Church Ladies? Their mascot would be clad in sensible shoes and feature pursed lips and a disapproving glare that would certainly intimidate those heathens across the court.
One school on this morning's closing list nearly threw me for a loop. Somewhere in the Philly area is the modestly-named Queen of the Universe High School. What mascot would be appropriate to rule not just our planet, our solar system, or even our galaxy, but the entire universe? After considerable thought, I realized that the only possibility was the man who already owns the Miss Universe Pageant. I give you the Queen of the Universe High School Donald Trumps!
With his busy schedule, the Donald will be unavailable for sideline mascot duty, but surely there is a blustery guy with a bad comb-over somewhere in the Philly Area willing to lead the QOTU faithful in chants of "You're Fired!" at basketball games.
The conventional Lions, Tigers, and Bears (Oh my!) strike fear into opponents' hearts, but fail to tickle the funny bone. Give me the Port LaVaca Sand Crabs (sounds like a parasite that one would pick up on the beach), the UC-Santa Cruz Banana Slugs (not what you want to find on your morning Chiquita), or the Boiling Springs Bubblers (whose mascot might be a gurgling infant).
To pass the time while the school closings scroll slowly across the TV screen, I assign appropriate athletic team nicknames. With the advent of charter schools, some wild nicknames come to mind. Philadelphia's School of Engineering and Science teams would obviously be the Geeks with a mascot sporting coke bottom glasses, a bad haircut, and zero social graces. Come to think of it, they don't need a costume. They can just hire me.
Philly's Imhotep Charter wants to be the Fightin' Mummies, trailing dusty body wrapping as they trudge down the basketball court. Opponents beware! You may be ahead 100 - 0, but the Mummies never die!
The plenitude of Christian schools poses a problem. Not every team can be known as the Crusaders. How about the Faith Christian School Church Ladies? Their mascot would be clad in sensible shoes and feature pursed lips and a disapproving glare that would certainly intimidate those heathens across the court.
One school on this morning's closing list nearly threw me for a loop. Somewhere in the Philly area is the modestly-named Queen of the Universe High School. What mascot would be appropriate to rule not just our planet, our solar system, or even our galaxy, but the entire universe? After considerable thought, I realized that the only possibility was the man who already owns the Miss Universe Pageant. I give you the Queen of the Universe High School Donald Trumps!
With his busy schedule, the Donald will be unavailable for sideline mascot duty, but surely there is a blustery guy with a bad comb-over somewhere in the Philly Area willing to lead the QOTU faithful in chants of "You're Fired!" at basketball games.
Friday, December 18, 2009
Toga! Toga!
Most Americans identify a toga party with the raucous scenes from "Animal House" showing bedsheet-clad fraternity boys pouring beverages over each other while flopping around on a vomit-stained dance floor.
As a veteran of toga parties circa 1960s, I can verify the accuracy of Animal House's portrayal. Of course, there were also tiki parties where we poured beverages over each other while clad in grass skirts, cowboy parties where we poured beverages over each other while clad in Stetsons, and party parties where we poured beverages over each other while clad in whatever we happened to be wearing at the time. There was a lot of pouring going on in those days.
That was forty years ago, and apparently times have changed. Yesterday's "Wonderword" puzzle was titled "Toga Parties". "Wonderword" is a 15 x 15 grid of letters. Puzzlers circle the letters vertically, horizontally, or diagonally to form words relating to the puzzle's title. The related words are listed below the puzzle itself. The leftover letters spell the Wonderword.
I'm not much of a puzzle-solver, but "Toga Parties" seemed right up my alley. I easily identified "wine", "wild", "beer", "juice", "stomping" and the like in the grid, but many unused letters remained. The only words that fit were "elegant", "harpist", and "camera".
"Elegant" is not the adjective that anyone would attach to any toga party I ever attended. "Debauched' works, but I couldn't find it in the puzzle. The musical background to our debauchery was typically not a "harpist". It's so difficult to do the Watusi to harp music. You really need that driving bass beat. A "camera" was a real no-no at toga parties. "So that's what my child is doing instead of studying? Stop payment on that tuition check now!"
According to "Wonderword", toga parties today are elegant affairs with heavenly harp music in the background and photographed for posterity (and the social pages). In a way, I'm glad that John Belushi didn't live to see this.
As a veteran of toga parties circa 1960s, I can verify the accuracy of Animal House's portrayal. Of course, there were also tiki parties where we poured beverages over each other while clad in grass skirts, cowboy parties where we poured beverages over each other while clad in Stetsons, and party parties where we poured beverages over each other while clad in whatever we happened to be wearing at the time. There was a lot of pouring going on in those days.
That was forty years ago, and apparently times have changed. Yesterday's "Wonderword" puzzle was titled "Toga Parties". "Wonderword" is a 15 x 15 grid of letters. Puzzlers circle the letters vertically, horizontally, or diagonally to form words relating to the puzzle's title. The related words are listed below the puzzle itself. The leftover letters spell the Wonderword.
I'm not much of a puzzle-solver, but "Toga Parties" seemed right up my alley. I easily identified "wine", "wild", "beer", "juice", "stomping" and the like in the grid, but many unused letters remained. The only words that fit were "elegant", "harpist", and "camera".
"Elegant" is not the adjective that anyone would attach to any toga party I ever attended. "Debauched' works, but I couldn't find it in the puzzle. The musical background to our debauchery was typically not a "harpist". It's so difficult to do the Watusi to harp music. You really need that driving bass beat. A "camera" was a real no-no at toga parties. "So that's what my child is doing instead of studying? Stop payment on that tuition check now!"
According to "Wonderword", toga parties today are elegant affairs with heavenly harp music in the background and photographed for posterity (and the social pages). In a way, I'm glad that John Belushi didn't live to see this.
Thursday, December 17, 2009
Benefit Changes
In an effort to recoup all those lobbying expenses against the Health Care Bill, Capital Blue Cross has done it again. Their annual letter thanking me for re-enrolling includes these "Benefit Changes" for 2010:
Emergency Room co-pay is increased to $100. "Honey! The power saw slipped and I just sliced off my arm! There's blood everywhere. I'm losing consciousness. Take me to the Emergency Room." "Hang in there, dear. I've got to go to the ATM and withdraw $100 first."
Coverage for flu vaccine is added. "Immerse your entire body in Purell before going to school, kids. Got to protect against that H1N1. I know it's a pain now, but after the New Year you can get a free flu shot."
Specialty medications for hemophilia will no longer be covered under my medical benefit. They will be covered only when ordered through the mail order specialty pharmacy vendor. "Dad! Anastasia cut herself and it won't stop bleeding!" "Quick, Alexandra, go on line and order the hemophilia meds. Better request overnight delivery. Little Anastasia is white as a sheet already."
But seriously folks...we Americans demand the best health care and expect someone else to pay for it. It is an untenable situation.
Emergency Room co-pay is increased to $100. "Honey! The power saw slipped and I just sliced off my arm! There's blood everywhere. I'm losing consciousness. Take me to the Emergency Room." "Hang in there, dear. I've got to go to the ATM and withdraw $100 first."
Coverage for flu vaccine is added. "Immerse your entire body in Purell before going to school, kids. Got to protect against that H1N1. I know it's a pain now, but after the New Year you can get a free flu shot."
Specialty medications for hemophilia will no longer be covered under my medical benefit. They will be covered only when ordered through the mail order specialty pharmacy vendor. "Dad! Anastasia cut herself and it won't stop bleeding!" "Quick, Alexandra, go on line and order the hemophilia meds. Better request overnight delivery. Little Anastasia is white as a sheet already."
But seriously folks...we Americans demand the best health care and expect someone else to pay for it. It is an untenable situation.
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
Collector's Item
Magazines require a gestation period to allow for printing and distribution, but there is danger in that what appeared to be an innocuous cover photo and article in November may be wildly inappropriate and even darkly comic come December.
The cover on the current issue of Golf Digest shows President Obama lining up a putt with Tiger Woods standing behind him as his "caddy". The headline reads, "10 Tips Obama Can Take From Tiger". Even better, the lead article includes a question from a reader that asks Tiger, "How is life on the road now that you have a family?"
There are three possible results for this gaffe:
1. The Golf Digest editor who failed to "stop the presses" on this one is currently unemployed and sleeping under a cardboard box over a sidewalk grate next to the credentials-checker who allowed those gate-crashers into the White House State Dinner a couple of weeks ago
2. Golf Digest intentionally lets it run and experiences its highest newsstand sales ever.
3. Golf Digest prints only a few copies of this issue and it becomes an extremely valuable collector's item like that stamp with the airplane flying upside down or the penny with a beardless Lincoln.
In the same spirit, other magazines might consider these headlines and through the magic of Photo Shopping might come up with a cover photo:
1. South Carolina Government News - "Hiking the Appalachian Trail with Governor Sanford (Why Are all the Signs in Spanish?)"
2. DC Airport Weekly - "Senator Larry Craig Reveals the Best Rest Rooms at Reagan National"
3. White House Intern Quarterly - "How to Get Face Time with President Clinton by Monica Lewinsky"
Limit the press run and these magazine covers will surely be more valuable than a Mickey Mantle rookie baseball card!
The cover on the current issue of Golf Digest shows President Obama lining up a putt with Tiger Woods standing behind him as his "caddy". The headline reads, "10 Tips Obama Can Take From Tiger". Even better, the lead article includes a question from a reader that asks Tiger, "How is life on the road now that you have a family?"
There are three possible results for this gaffe:
1. The Golf Digest editor who failed to "stop the presses" on this one is currently unemployed and sleeping under a cardboard box over a sidewalk grate next to the credentials-checker who allowed those gate-crashers into the White House State Dinner a couple of weeks ago
2. Golf Digest intentionally lets it run and experiences its highest newsstand sales ever.
3. Golf Digest prints only a few copies of this issue and it becomes an extremely valuable collector's item like that stamp with the airplane flying upside down or the penny with a beardless Lincoln.
In the same spirit, other magazines might consider these headlines and through the magic of Photo Shopping might come up with a cover photo:
1. South Carolina Government News - "Hiking the Appalachian Trail with Governor Sanford (Why Are all the Signs in Spanish?)"
2. DC Airport Weekly - "Senator Larry Craig Reveals the Best Rest Rooms at Reagan National"
3. White House Intern Quarterly - "How to Get Face Time with President Clinton by Monica Lewinsky"
Limit the press run and these magazine covers will surely be more valuable than a Mickey Mantle rookie baseball card!
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
Uncle Wiggily
A week ago Saturday, I visited Winterthur, the estate of a branch of the DuPont family. Those DuPonts really did things in a big way. The estate not only featured its own gardens, greenhouses, fishing ponds, and dairy herd, but it had its own railroad station. Beat that, Louis XIV and Versailles!
Winterthur's theme for this holiday season was Christmas, 1920. The estate was decorated as it would have been eighty years ago replete with Christmas trees and gifts of that era. The gift that struck me was the Uncle Wiggily board game. Uncle Wiggily's adventures on his way to Dr Possum's office for his rheumatism cure were a big part of my pre-school years. One glance at the board and sixty years melted away.
There in all their glory were Skillery Skallery Alligator, Woozy Wolf. Pipsisewah the Rhino, and the dreaded crow Skeezix ready to pounce. All featured gaping mouths full of sharp teeth. Surely, a rheumatoid, aged rabbit like Uncle Wiggily wouldn't stand a chance unless through capable card drawing, I could bring him to such friends as Peetie Bow Bow or Nurse Jane Fuzzy Wuzzy who would help him on his way.
Then I realized the differences between today for modern kids and 1920 for the DuPont kids or 1950 for me. Comparing today's "Candyland" to yesteryear's "Uncle Wiggily":
There's inherent violence (the rise of fascism or the Red Menace) in the toothy carnivores of the past but wholesome consumerism in the calorically-laden Lord Licorice, Princess Frostine, and Grandma Nut of today. We had to be slender and ready to combat the world's evils back then. Now we can sit back with Gloppy in the Caramel Swamp.
There was sexual repression back then. Uncle Wiggly's friends and foes all wore pants and shirts. How did Disney ever get away with a pants-less Donald Duck? Candyland's human characters are fully-dressed, but its animals let it all hang out. Thank you, Hugh Hefner and the 60s.
More was expected of kids and adults back then. It required some reading skill or adult supervision to interpret "Petey Bow Wow helps Uncle Wiggly along four hops". Today, kids get by with color-coded game cards. I'll bet pre-schoolers in Singapore and Korea don't have color-coded game cards which is why they get into MIT and American kids don't.
Finally, after sixty years, the Skeezix in "Uncle Wiggily" still freaks me out. That crow is evil incarnate. Look out, Uncle Wiggily! Ar-r-r-gh!
Winterthur's theme for this holiday season was Christmas, 1920. The estate was decorated as it would have been eighty years ago replete with Christmas trees and gifts of that era. The gift that struck me was the Uncle Wiggily board game. Uncle Wiggily's adventures on his way to Dr Possum's office for his rheumatism cure were a big part of my pre-school years. One glance at the board and sixty years melted away.
There in all their glory were Skillery Skallery Alligator, Woozy Wolf. Pipsisewah the Rhino, and the dreaded crow Skeezix ready to pounce. All featured gaping mouths full of sharp teeth. Surely, a rheumatoid, aged rabbit like Uncle Wiggily wouldn't stand a chance unless through capable card drawing, I could bring him to such friends as Peetie Bow Bow or Nurse Jane Fuzzy Wuzzy who would help him on his way.
Then I realized the differences between today for modern kids and 1920 for the DuPont kids or 1950 for me. Comparing today's "Candyland" to yesteryear's "Uncle Wiggily":
There's inherent violence (the rise of fascism or the Red Menace) in the toothy carnivores of the past but wholesome consumerism in the calorically-laden Lord Licorice, Princess Frostine, and Grandma Nut of today. We had to be slender and ready to combat the world's evils back then. Now we can sit back with Gloppy in the Caramel Swamp.
There was sexual repression back then. Uncle Wiggly's friends and foes all wore pants and shirts. How did Disney ever get away with a pants-less Donald Duck? Candyland's human characters are fully-dressed, but its animals let it all hang out. Thank you, Hugh Hefner and the 60s.
More was expected of kids and adults back then. It required some reading skill or adult supervision to interpret "Petey Bow Wow helps Uncle Wiggly along four hops". Today, kids get by with color-coded game cards. I'll bet pre-schoolers in Singapore and Korea don't have color-coded game cards which is why they get into MIT and American kids don't.
Finally, after sixty years, the Skeezix in "Uncle Wiggily" still freaks me out. That crow is evil incarnate. Look out, Uncle Wiggily! Ar-r-r-gh!
Monday, December 14, 2009
Kielbasa for Santa
What is a better example of America's cultural diversity than the ways various ethnic groups celebrate Yuletide?
We have Santa Claus bearing gifts on Christmas Eve, Boxing Day, Three Kings Day, the "eight crazy nights of Hanukkah", Kwanza, and the Wall Street Bonus Jubilee. The first five require us to be "good little boys and girls" to receive gifts. Wall Street largess comes to us irregardless provided that we are "too big to fail". Greed is good, indeed.
There are cultural differences even within the same tradition. A time-honored tradition is leaving a snack for Santa on Christmas Eve. This means milk and cookies and perhaps a carrot for the reindeer for most Americans, but not for all.
The local PBS TV station is currently conducting yet another Pledge Drive. It is re-broadcasting some of its "greatest hits" to energize its donors. Among these is "Eastern Europeans In Pennsylvania", a celebration of Slavic culture. A lady from Wilkes-Barre noted that her Polish tradition was to leave kielbasa and beer for Santa on Christmas Eve, As a child, she was amazed that her Welsh, Irish, and German classmates left milk and cookies for the Jolly Old Elf.
As a survivor of the gastronomical ravages of homemade kielbasa, I am not surprised that sausage and beer for Santa is a dying tradition. Authentic kielbasa is not the fresh, lightly-spiced stuff found in supermarkets today. The genuine article is fatty meat combined with significant quantities of horseradish and garlic, encased in pig intestines, drawn through a cow's horn, smoked and aged to a wrinkled, potent sausage that will keep you dancing the polka for hours on end. And it's impossible to digest unless you've been raised on the stuff.
If Good Saint Nick had to consume real kielbasa at every house in Wilkes-Barre, he would be laid low with gastric distress before he ever got to Scranton, let alone the Lehigh Valley. Thousands of children would be disappointed on Christmas morn.
Diversity is good. We should respect the traditions of our neighbors. Still, let it go, Wilkes-Barre! Think of the children!
We have Santa Claus bearing gifts on Christmas Eve, Boxing Day, Three Kings Day, the "eight crazy nights of Hanukkah", Kwanza, and the Wall Street Bonus Jubilee. The first five require us to be "good little boys and girls" to receive gifts. Wall Street largess comes to us irregardless provided that we are "too big to fail". Greed is good, indeed.
There are cultural differences even within the same tradition. A time-honored tradition is leaving a snack for Santa on Christmas Eve. This means milk and cookies and perhaps a carrot for the reindeer for most Americans, but not for all.
The local PBS TV station is currently conducting yet another Pledge Drive. It is re-broadcasting some of its "greatest hits" to energize its donors. Among these is "Eastern Europeans In Pennsylvania", a celebration of Slavic culture. A lady from Wilkes-Barre noted that her Polish tradition was to leave kielbasa and beer for Santa on Christmas Eve, As a child, she was amazed that her Welsh, Irish, and German classmates left milk and cookies for the Jolly Old Elf.
As a survivor of the gastronomical ravages of homemade kielbasa, I am not surprised that sausage and beer for Santa is a dying tradition. Authentic kielbasa is not the fresh, lightly-spiced stuff found in supermarkets today. The genuine article is fatty meat combined with significant quantities of horseradish and garlic, encased in pig intestines, drawn through a cow's horn, smoked and aged to a wrinkled, potent sausage that will keep you dancing the polka for hours on end. And it's impossible to digest unless you've been raised on the stuff.
If Good Saint Nick had to consume real kielbasa at every house in Wilkes-Barre, he would be laid low with gastric distress before he ever got to Scranton, let alone the Lehigh Valley. Thousands of children would be disappointed on Christmas morn.
Diversity is good. We should respect the traditions of our neighbors. Still, let it go, Wilkes-Barre! Think of the children!
Friday, December 11, 2009
Land Lines
Today's "Dilbert" shows the title character perusing a business card and stating, " Your home phone is a land line. That must come in handy when someone calls from 1993."
Wait a minute! I still have a land line and fondly remember 1993. Does this mean that I am less cool than Dilbert? Have I not kept up with the times? Have I become my stuck-in-the-past parents, incapable of programming a VCR, still banking at the teller's window instead of the ATM, still shopping at stores instead of on-line?
Well, Mister Dilbert, I'll have you know that I do, in fact, have a cell phone. Granted, I have no idea how to text message (those keys are so small). It probably isn't one of those cool phones that can take photos although it may be for all I know. I'm pretty sure it isn't one of those magic iPhones with "killer apps" that can direct me to the finest restaurants in San Francisco, make a reservation, and probably pay my bill. At least I don't have to worry whether I'm in a 3G or a 4G area whatever that means.
Actually, that whole 3G / 4G area thing is a concern. Based on the TV commercials, 3G is available pretty much everywhere east of the Mississippi except for a swath of West Virginia. Does this mean that land lines will eventually disappear and technophobes like me, incapable of adapting to the wireless world, will be herded into remote sections of the Mountaineer State to live out our miserable, Bluetooth-less lives?
Go ahead and play video games on your fancy cell phone, Dilbert! Download spread sheets and e-mail while you're at it. Just remember that while we technophobes are letting our land lines ring away, unanswered and unheard, as we hike the beautiful trails of "Almost Heaven", you can't walk away from pesky phone calls and e-mails. Who is the smart one now?
Wait a minute! I still have a land line and fondly remember 1993. Does this mean that I am less cool than Dilbert? Have I not kept up with the times? Have I become my stuck-in-the-past parents, incapable of programming a VCR, still banking at the teller's window instead of the ATM, still shopping at stores instead of on-line?
Well, Mister Dilbert, I'll have you know that I do, in fact, have a cell phone. Granted, I have no idea how to text message (those keys are so small). It probably isn't one of those cool phones that can take photos although it may be for all I know. I'm pretty sure it isn't one of those magic iPhones with "killer apps" that can direct me to the finest restaurants in San Francisco, make a reservation, and probably pay my bill. At least I don't have to worry whether I'm in a 3G or a 4G area whatever that means.
Actually, that whole 3G / 4G area thing is a concern. Based on the TV commercials, 3G is available pretty much everywhere east of the Mississippi except for a swath of West Virginia. Does this mean that land lines will eventually disappear and technophobes like me, incapable of adapting to the wireless world, will be herded into remote sections of the Mountaineer State to live out our miserable, Bluetooth-less lives?
Go ahead and play video games on your fancy cell phone, Dilbert! Download spread sheets and e-mail while you're at it. Just remember that while we technophobes are letting our land lines ring away, unanswered and unheard, as we hike the beautiful trails of "Almost Heaven", you can't walk away from pesky phone calls and e-mails. Who is the smart one now?
Thursday, December 10, 2009
Rush to Judgement
The classic movie "Twelve Angry Men" shows the American justice system at its finest. Eleven of twelve jurors are set to convict a hapless young man of murder. Juror #12, Henry Fonda, delays the rush to judgement, analyzes the evidence, and convinces the jury that the boy is, in fact, innocent.
The Pennsylvania Game Commission needs a Henry Fonda. The PGC accused Charles Olsen of illegally baiting an area near his home with pastries to attract bears prior to the recent hunting season. Chuck "harvested" a 707 pound bruin, the largest taken in PA this year. That honor is in question after neighbors reported the Chuckster "driving a truck loaded with pastries" into the area prior to hunting season and driving out empty. If convicted, Chuck faces fines and loss of hunting privileges for three years. Fine! Schmine! But three years without hunting is cruel and unusual punishment for any red-blooded Pennsylvania boy.
Henry Fonda would stand before that Game Commission and plead, "Couldn't it have happened another way? Haven't we all seen those TV commercials where Domino's offers home delivery of brownies along with their pizza? How about Poppa John's home delivery of cinnamon pastries? Anyone with a cell phone can have a truck-load of pastries delivered anywhere!"
"Who is to say that a "Mister Bear" didn't phone Domino's or Poppa John's and order that truck-load of pastry? What if Chuck Olsen just happened to be the driver that horrible night? Imagine his shock when the address proved false and he was stopped on the rural road by a 700 pound beast! How did he manage to drive out of the woods that night having witnessed the wanton destruction and consumption of a truck-load of his beloved pastry?"
"But Mister Bear wasn't as smart as he seemed. When hunting season began, Chuck simply followed the trail of pastry wrappings to his den and wreaked revenge for those poor, innocent pastries. Instead of convicting Chuck, we should be honoring him! It's men like Chuck who protect our Twinkies, Yoo-Hoos, and Tastykakes from the ravages of 700 pound bears! I vote him innocent of all charges!"
The Pennsylvania Game Commission needs a Henry Fonda. The PGC accused Charles Olsen of illegally baiting an area near his home with pastries to attract bears prior to the recent hunting season. Chuck "harvested" a 707 pound bruin, the largest taken in PA this year. That honor is in question after neighbors reported the Chuckster "driving a truck loaded with pastries" into the area prior to hunting season and driving out empty. If convicted, Chuck faces fines and loss of hunting privileges for three years. Fine! Schmine! But three years without hunting is cruel and unusual punishment for any red-blooded Pennsylvania boy.
Henry Fonda would stand before that Game Commission and plead, "Couldn't it have happened another way? Haven't we all seen those TV commercials where Domino's offers home delivery of brownies along with their pizza? How about Poppa John's home delivery of cinnamon pastries? Anyone with a cell phone can have a truck-load of pastries delivered anywhere!"
"Who is to say that a "Mister Bear" didn't phone Domino's or Poppa John's and order that truck-load of pastry? What if Chuck Olsen just happened to be the driver that horrible night? Imagine his shock when the address proved false and he was stopped on the rural road by a 700 pound beast! How did he manage to drive out of the woods that night having witnessed the wanton destruction and consumption of a truck-load of his beloved pastry?"
"But Mister Bear wasn't as smart as he seemed. When hunting season began, Chuck simply followed the trail of pastry wrappings to his den and wreaked revenge for those poor, innocent pastries. Instead of convicting Chuck, we should be honoring him! It's men like Chuck who protect our Twinkies, Yoo-Hoos, and Tastykakes from the ravages of 700 pound bears! I vote him innocent of all charges!"
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
The Rich Get Richer
The Tiger Woods saga certainly has many facets:
1. Elin and the kids may or may not have moved out of one multi-million dollar mansion in the exclusive Isleworth community to another multi-million dollar mansion on the other side of the same community. Nothing like having a spare mansion for situations like this. Way to plan ahead, Tiger!
2. Tiger and Elin's current pre-nuptial agreement gives Elin a cool $20 million if they remain married for ten years. That's nearly $6,000 per day. Of course, the original pre-nup is currently being re-negotiated. $6,000 doesn't buy what it used to.
3. The only endorsement cancelled so far is one for a sports drink called "Tiger's Focus". Gatorade stated that they were planning to ditch the drink even before the recent scandal due to poor sales. It's hard to believe that golfers would pass up the traditional vodka, gin, and beer to improve focus on that big putt. After all, golfers lose valuable electrolytes riding around on a cart and rising every minute or so to strike those oh-so-heavy balls.
4. It's a subtle point, but the Cadillac Escalade that Tiger cracked up on Thanksgiving night was apparently just one of a small fleet of luxury cars that General Motors owns and gave to Tiger for his use. General Motors sheds thousands of jobs but figures that Joe the Plumber will want to drive a Buick because Tiger Woods does. This makes as much sense as General Electric providing fresh flowers every day for former CEO Jack Welch's luxury NYC apartment just in case a potential customer might drop in.
The rich get richer (and better perks)!
1. Elin and the kids may or may not have moved out of one multi-million dollar mansion in the exclusive Isleworth community to another multi-million dollar mansion on the other side of the same community. Nothing like having a spare mansion for situations like this. Way to plan ahead, Tiger!
2. Tiger and Elin's current pre-nuptial agreement gives Elin a cool $20 million if they remain married for ten years. That's nearly $6,000 per day. Of course, the original pre-nup is currently being re-negotiated. $6,000 doesn't buy what it used to.
3. The only endorsement cancelled so far is one for a sports drink called "Tiger's Focus". Gatorade stated that they were planning to ditch the drink even before the recent scandal due to poor sales. It's hard to believe that golfers would pass up the traditional vodka, gin, and beer to improve focus on that big putt. After all, golfers lose valuable electrolytes riding around on a cart and rising every minute or so to strike those oh-so-heavy balls.
4. It's a subtle point, but the Cadillac Escalade that Tiger cracked up on Thanksgiving night was apparently just one of a small fleet of luxury cars that General Motors owns and gave to Tiger for his use. General Motors sheds thousands of jobs but figures that Joe the Plumber will want to drive a Buick because Tiger Woods does. This makes as much sense as General Electric providing fresh flowers every day for former CEO Jack Welch's luxury NYC apartment just in case a potential customer might drop in.
The rich get richer (and better perks)!
Monday, December 7, 2009
Every Parent's Nightmare
Modern youth (and the youth of the past for that matter) tend to keep vital information from parents:
"That summons from the State Police? Oh, I forgot to tell you. I got pulled over for speeding last week."
"By the way, they needed chaperones for the prom tonight and I signed you up, Mom and Dad. I get a free ticket."
"That smell coming from the basement? Well, this cat followed me home last week and it was so cute. I locked it in the furnace room and I guess I forgot about it."
A Colorado Dad nearly experienced every parent's worst nightmare last week. The Associated Press reported that a woman tried to use a ski pass with the photo of a man at Keystone Resort. She claimed that it was truly her ski pass and that she was in the midst of a sex change which explained her lack of resemblance to the burly, bearded individual pictured on the pass. The authorities then phoned the pass-holder's number and got his father who was "shocked" to hear that his son was having a sex change. He eventually got to the bottom of the situation. It turned out that the son had loaned his pass to his girlfriend.
Modern youth, please note - If you undergo gender change, please inform Mom and Dad.
"That summons from the State Police? Oh, I forgot to tell you. I got pulled over for speeding last week."
"By the way, they needed chaperones for the prom tonight and I signed you up, Mom and Dad. I get a free ticket."
"That smell coming from the basement? Well, this cat followed me home last week and it was so cute. I locked it in the furnace room and I guess I forgot about it."
A Colorado Dad nearly experienced every parent's worst nightmare last week. The Associated Press reported that a woman tried to use a ski pass with the photo of a man at Keystone Resort. She claimed that it was truly her ski pass and that she was in the midst of a sex change which explained her lack of resemblance to the burly, bearded individual pictured on the pass. The authorities then phoned the pass-holder's number and got his father who was "shocked" to hear that his son was having a sex change. He eventually got to the bottom of the situation. It turned out that the son had loaned his pass to his girlfriend.
Modern youth, please note - If you undergo gender change, please inform Mom and Dad.
Friday, December 4, 2009
Beautiful Feet
The newspaper ad read, "Give yourself the gift of beautiful feet". It included a photo of admittedly attractive feet attached to not-so-bad legs on a beach somewhere. My interest was piqued. Lord knows my lumpy body, wrinkled face, receding hair, and unfashionable swimsuit are not going to turn many heads on the beach, but with feet like that, I'll have the beach bunnies trailing after me like Tiger Woods' former girlfriends cashing in on the current news cycle. Apparently, the demand for face lifts, nose jobs, and breast enhancements has tanked along with the economy. Plastic surgeons are now expanding their business to previously-unexploited body parts, like feet. "Let's just straighten this little piggie who went to market, trim that arch, and plump up that heel pad. You know, Michael Jackson had this same surgery. You'll be ready for that new pair of stilettos in no time!" It was a clever advertising ploy to use the phrase, "Give yourself the gift...". Plastic surgery is not exactly on par with jewelry as the typically thoughtful, sentimental gift exchanged between lovers on Christmas morn. Sobbing, "You think my feet are ugly, don't you? This is your way of saying it, you swine! Cook your own Christmas dinner!"
Plastic surgery, the gift that keeps on giving (preferably to yourself).
Plastic surgery, the gift that keeps on giving (preferably to yourself).
Thursday, December 3, 2009
The Blind Side
What makes a perfect Thanksgiving Weekend movie?
Pouty teen vampires and werewolves? Actually, that formula would work any old weekend.
How about box office gold Sandra Bullock portraying a spunky, take-charge (as if Sandra has ever played any other type) Southern belle who takes in a black orphan, teaches him everything he needs to know about football (white Southern women know tons about the gridiron while black guys know little which explains why NFL rosters are packed with Scarlett O'Hara types), and sets him on the path to a million dollar pro football contract? That, my friend, is the plot of the movie that very nearly outdrew the doomed romance of Edward and Bella over the holiday weekend. Football draws the guys. Spunky Sandra draws the female demographic. It's perfect.
In a remarkable side story, the actor who played the football star actually lost over 100 pounds for the role. Quinton Aaron went from 475 lbs to 350 lbs prior to filming. Quinton sweated out the equivalent of Sandra Bullock's weight. Quinton went from the mass of a typical American family (185 lb Dad, 140 lb Mom, 100 lb Josh and 50 lb Tiffany) to the weight of the same family, pre-kids, but with a 25 lb Shih Tzu.
Previously, Quinton's "blind side" was the size of the Chrysler Building. During filming, it was down to the size of a your average Cineplex screen.
Better yet, even the smaller Quinton made those of us who gorged ourselves on Thanksgiving dinner feel better about our bloated bodies. The persect Thanksgiving movie, indeed.
Pouty teen vampires and werewolves? Actually, that formula would work any old weekend.
How about box office gold Sandra Bullock portraying a spunky, take-charge (as if Sandra has ever played any other type) Southern belle who takes in a black orphan, teaches him everything he needs to know about football (white Southern women know tons about the gridiron while black guys know little which explains why NFL rosters are packed with Scarlett O'Hara types), and sets him on the path to a million dollar pro football contract? That, my friend, is the plot of the movie that very nearly outdrew the doomed romance of Edward and Bella over the holiday weekend. Football draws the guys. Spunky Sandra draws the female demographic. It's perfect.
In a remarkable side story, the actor who played the football star actually lost over 100 pounds for the role. Quinton Aaron went from 475 lbs to 350 lbs prior to filming. Quinton sweated out the equivalent of Sandra Bullock's weight. Quinton went from the mass of a typical American family (185 lb Dad, 140 lb Mom, 100 lb Josh and 50 lb Tiffany) to the weight of the same family, pre-kids, but with a 25 lb Shih Tzu.
Previously, Quinton's "blind side" was the size of the Chrysler Building. During filming, it was down to the size of a your average Cineplex screen.
Better yet, even the smaller Quinton made those of us who gorged ourselves on Thanksgiving dinner feel better about our bloated bodies. The persect Thanksgiving movie, indeed.
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
The Want Ads
The Help Wanted Ads offer rather distasteful job openings nowadays. "Grease trap cleaner wanted. Night shift only." "Landfill equipment operator needed. Sense of smell not required." "Repairman required to replace doors during Incredible Doorbuster Sale. Ability to avoid being trampled underfoot a must."
Imagine the response to this ad, "VIP Hostess needed. Responsibilities include shepherding celebrities to private rooms at exclusive nightclubs and diverting the public. That's about it. Resemblance to Angelina Jolie and free time to fly off to Melbourne for the Australian Masters Golf Tournament a plus. Contact T. Woods."
If I were seeking someone to guide me to the VIP Room and keep the paparazzi at bay, I'd choose a 300 lb guy named Vito. That's why I'm not Tiger Woods. He chose Rachel Uchitel who met the requirements above.
Our girl Rachel responded to scurrilous rumors during an exclusive interview with that paragon of journalism, the New York Post. "I've always been Director of VIP Services. That's my job - to know these people, to hang out with them. That doesn't mean having sex with them." When asked why she flew to Australia while Tiger was there, she stated that she was there with friends "on business."
That must be some nightclub if its VIP Room is in Australia. "Welcome, Mr Woods. Will you take your bottle of Kristal at the bar here in New York or in our VIP Room in Melbourne? Rachel will escort you on your 22 hour flight."
Time heals all wounds and the American public has a very short attention span. Come the New Year, this will all be forgotten and Tiger Woods can earn a cool one billion(!) in endorsements and appearance fees in 2010 just like he did in 2009. It would really be helpful, though, if Tiger would lay a small portion of that billion on Miss Rachel to keep her mouth shut. Let the story die. It would also be helpful to avoid your golf club swinging wife there, Big Guy.
Imagine the response to this ad, "VIP Hostess needed. Responsibilities include shepherding celebrities to private rooms at exclusive nightclubs and diverting the public. That's about it. Resemblance to Angelina Jolie and free time to fly off to Melbourne for the Australian Masters Golf Tournament a plus. Contact T. Woods."
If I were seeking someone to guide me to the VIP Room and keep the paparazzi at bay, I'd choose a 300 lb guy named Vito. That's why I'm not Tiger Woods. He chose Rachel Uchitel who met the requirements above.
Our girl Rachel responded to scurrilous rumors during an exclusive interview with that paragon of journalism, the New York Post. "I've always been Director of VIP Services. That's my job - to know these people, to hang out with them. That doesn't mean having sex with them." When asked why she flew to Australia while Tiger was there, she stated that she was there with friends "on business."
That must be some nightclub if its VIP Room is in Australia. "Welcome, Mr Woods. Will you take your bottle of Kristal at the bar here in New York or in our VIP Room in Melbourne? Rachel will escort you on your 22 hour flight."
Time heals all wounds and the American public has a very short attention span. Come the New Year, this will all be forgotten and Tiger Woods can earn a cool one billion(!) in endorsements and appearance fees in 2010 just like he did in 2009. It would really be helpful, though, if Tiger would lay a small portion of that billion on Miss Rachel to keep her mouth shut. Let the story die. It would also be helpful to avoid your golf club swinging wife there, Big Guy.
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
Catch Phrases
Lines from popular movies often become catch phrases. "Love means you never have to say you're sorry" was on everyone's lips after the release of "Love Story" in 1970. "I'm the King of the World!" was big after "Titanic". "Dirty Harry" spawned "Make my day". Would Arnold have achieved public office without "Terminator" and "Ah'll be bahck."?
Building on the "Twilight" phenomenon, store racks are chock full of tee-shirts showing Edward the Teen Aged Vampire stating something to effect of, "I'll never see you again, but it is to protect you." The tee-shirts are labeled unisex which is seems unusual at first glance. Teen girls would certainly purchase a shirt depicting the pouty Edward and his sensitive dialogue. "I'd be arm in arm with a hot guy like the one on my shirt here, but he's actually a vampire. He can barely control himself around me, so I'm going to the prom alone for my own protection."
But why would teen guys buy an Edward shirt? Hope always reigns that your average teen guy can "trade up" girlfriend-wise. One magical day, his skin clears up or his Dad buys him a cool car and suddenly Tiffany the Hot Cheerleader is interested. The problem is how to let current girlfriend Daphne the Not-So-Hot Bandmember down easy. The classic "It's not you, it's me" line lost its impact after George abused it regularly on "Seinfeld".
Thank you, Twilight! Teen guys "trading-up" today need only wear the shirt. The appropriate line is written right on it in case you need a cue card. What teen girl could resist explaining her doomed romance with, "Just like Bella, ours was a love that could not be! Now where's that Werewolf guy with the chiseled abs?"
Building on the "Twilight" phenomenon, store racks are chock full of tee-shirts showing Edward the Teen Aged Vampire stating something to effect of, "I'll never see you again, but it is to protect you." The tee-shirts are labeled unisex which is seems unusual at first glance. Teen girls would certainly purchase a shirt depicting the pouty Edward and his sensitive dialogue. "I'd be arm in arm with a hot guy like the one on my shirt here, but he's actually a vampire. He can barely control himself around me, so I'm going to the prom alone for my own protection."
But why would teen guys buy an Edward shirt? Hope always reigns that your average teen guy can "trade up" girlfriend-wise. One magical day, his skin clears up or his Dad buys him a cool car and suddenly Tiffany the Hot Cheerleader is interested. The problem is how to let current girlfriend Daphne the Not-So-Hot Bandmember down easy. The classic "It's not you, it's me" line lost its impact after George abused it regularly on "Seinfeld".
Thank you, Twilight! Teen guys "trading-up" today need only wear the shirt. The appropriate line is written right on it in case you need a cue card. What teen girl could resist explaining her doomed romance with, "Just like Bella, ours was a love that could not be! Now where's that Werewolf guy with the chiseled abs?"
Friday, November 20, 2009
Spin and Re-Spin
College tuition being high and post-graduation job prospects being low, it is time for our institutions of higher learning to make their courses more relevant.
English departments could offer "Spinning 101". Graduates adept at putting the proper "spin" on the news would certainly find employment in politics as well as in corporate PR. Advanced students could tackle "Re-Spin 102", taking that spin and reversing it.
For example, Penn State is now requiring a $600 per seat "donation" to the Nittany Lion Club to purchase season tickets between the 40 yard lines. Previously, a $100 "donation" had sufficed. At first blush, this is a money grab, pure and simple. Let the spinning begin:
Penn State Spin - Schools like Ohio State, Michigan, Texas, and Florida already have similar plans in place.
Re-Spin - Listen to every mother in the Keystone State, "If Ohio State, Michigan, Texas, and Florida jumped off a cliff, would you?"
Penn State Spin - We are doing this for fairness. We need to properly allocate our tickets according to how someone is willing to support us and currently we don't do that.
Re-Spin - Gee, what not simply charge more for better seats? The scalpers outside Beaver Stadium do it. Theaters do it. The airlines do it. Oh, you have to share gate receipts with the visiting team and you get to keep every penny of Nittany Lion Club "donations". That's fair!
Penn State Spin - Now we'll have the money for fan requests like upgraded rest rooms and concession stands.
Re-Spin - Assuming there are 20,000 seats between the 40 yard lines and you are getting $500 more in "donations" per seat than you used to, that's a cool $10 million per year. Those are going to be some great rest rooms and concession stands. Rest room construction costs must be really high in State College, PA if the $2 million per year you were getting under the old plan couldn't cover it.
Penn State had good news for its students as well. The Student Section now wraps around the south end zone. It had previously extended from the 40 to a goal line.
Penn State Spin - The south end zone packed with students will create an intimidating atmosphere for opponents.
Re-Spin - Freeing up more prime seats for season ticket "donations" wouldn't have anything to do with this, would it? Also, unless you change the rules, those intimidated opponents can always score in the north end zone for half of the game.
I'd give the Penn State "spin" a B and the "re-spin" a B+.
English departments could offer "Spinning 101". Graduates adept at putting the proper "spin" on the news would certainly find employment in politics as well as in corporate PR. Advanced students could tackle "Re-Spin 102", taking that spin and reversing it.
For example, Penn State is now requiring a $600 per seat "donation" to the Nittany Lion Club to purchase season tickets between the 40 yard lines. Previously, a $100 "donation" had sufficed. At first blush, this is a money grab, pure and simple. Let the spinning begin:
Penn State Spin - Schools like Ohio State, Michigan, Texas, and Florida already have similar plans in place.
Re-Spin - Listen to every mother in the Keystone State, "If Ohio State, Michigan, Texas, and Florida jumped off a cliff, would you?"
Penn State Spin - We are doing this for fairness. We need to properly allocate our tickets according to how someone is willing to support us and currently we don't do that.
Re-Spin - Gee, what not simply charge more for better seats? The scalpers outside Beaver Stadium do it. Theaters do it. The airlines do it. Oh, you have to share gate receipts with the visiting team and you get to keep every penny of Nittany Lion Club "donations". That's fair!
Penn State Spin - Now we'll have the money for fan requests like upgraded rest rooms and concession stands.
Re-Spin - Assuming there are 20,000 seats between the 40 yard lines and you are getting $500 more in "donations" per seat than you used to, that's a cool $10 million per year. Those are going to be some great rest rooms and concession stands. Rest room construction costs must be really high in State College, PA if the $2 million per year you were getting under the old plan couldn't cover it.
Penn State had good news for its students as well. The Student Section now wraps around the south end zone. It had previously extended from the 40 to a goal line.
Penn State Spin - The south end zone packed with students will create an intimidating atmosphere for opponents.
Re-Spin - Freeing up more prime seats for season ticket "donations" wouldn't have anything to do with this, would it? Also, unless you change the rules, those intimidated opponents can always score in the north end zone for half of the game.
I'd give the Penn State "spin" a B and the "re-spin" a B+.
Thursday, November 19, 2009
Shout Outs
One of the keys to ingratiating yourself to an audience is to give them a complimentary "shout-out". Rock concerts frequently begin with the lead singer bellowing, "Hell-o-o-o, Cleveland!!!". Of course, this is most effective when the concert is actually in Cleveland. Bruce Springsteen began a recent Detroit concert with a hearty "Hell-o-o-o, Ohio". Not a good idea the week before before the Ohio State - Michigan game.
Our girl Sarah Palin greeted a book signing audience yesterday with, "Michigan and Alaska are a lot alike. There's the fishin' and the huntin' and the Hockey Moms." Well done, Sarah! That audience is now in your hip pocket. You may want to change that line if you ever appear in San Francisco. "Alaska and San Francisco are a lot alike. There's the Pacific Ocean and the Russians just over the horizon and the gay activism. Well, we don't actually have gays in Alaska just like they don't in Iran, but we have a lot in common anyway."
President Obama's Asian tour might have been a smashing success if he took a page from Bruce's and Sarah's book. "Hell-o-o-o, Beijing! China and America have a lot in common. There's the huntin' and the fishin' and the big stacks of dollars that we owe you. There would be more , but I guess you don't have Hockey Moms over here."
"Hell-o-o-o, Tokyo. Japan and America have a lot in common. There's the huntin' and the fishin' for whales (Actually we don't do that anymore, but we used to!) and the respect for Hockey Moms and aged Emperors. I'd probably catch less flak if I bowed before Gordie Howe's Mom than your Emperor. Or maybe not. Mrs Howe is Canadian."
Shout it out, Sarah and Barack!
Our girl Sarah Palin greeted a book signing audience yesterday with, "Michigan and Alaska are a lot alike. There's the fishin' and the huntin' and the Hockey Moms." Well done, Sarah! That audience is now in your hip pocket. You may want to change that line if you ever appear in San Francisco. "Alaska and San Francisco are a lot alike. There's the Pacific Ocean and the Russians just over the horizon and the gay activism. Well, we don't actually have gays in Alaska just like they don't in Iran, but we have a lot in common anyway."
President Obama's Asian tour might have been a smashing success if he took a page from Bruce's and Sarah's book. "Hell-o-o-o, Beijing! China and America have a lot in common. There's the huntin' and the fishin' and the big stacks of dollars that we owe you. There would be more , but I guess you don't have Hockey Moms over here."
"Hell-o-o-o, Tokyo. Japan and America have a lot in common. There's the huntin' and the fishin' for whales (Actually we don't do that anymore, but we used to!) and the respect for Hockey Moms and aged Emperors. I'd probably catch less flak if I bowed before Gordie Howe's Mom than your Emperor. Or maybe not. Mrs Howe is Canadian."
Shout it out, Sarah and Barack!
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
Teen Life Lessons
Movies allow teen-agers learn lessons otherwise gained through suffering. During my teen years, I learned that exteme cold incapacitates "The Blob", that "Mothra" can only be drawn to her doom by an erupting volcano, and that "The Mysterians", presumably invincible invaders from outer space, can be laid low by the simple flu virus. I fully expected to be consulted by the Japanese government when the next supernatural catastrophe hit that benighted land. "Prime Minister - San, those tanks and planes will not stop the monster, but maybe if you sneeze in its direction..."
"The Twilight Saga: New Moon" opens in theaters on Friday. It promises to teach valuable life lessons to the teens of today. Its leading lady, Kristen Stewart stated:
"My toughest scene is when (sexy teen vampire) Edward tells (innocent mortal) Bella that it's all over and they're never going to see each other again. (Typical vampire! Love 'em, suck out a few pints of Type O+, and leave 'em. Didn't I see this on Jerry Springer yesterday?)
"There's nothing like it in reality." (Oh, I see. In the real world, vampires remain true to their mortal girlfriends at least until after the Prom)
"It's not even like a normal break-up because I know what it's like to get broken up with. I don't know what it's like to get broken up with by a vampire." (So few of us do, Kristen. So few of us do.)
There you have it, Teens of America! If your romance with the neighborhood vampire is going sour, get your tickets now for "The Twilight Saga: New Moon" for tips on how to handle that break-up. SPOILER ALERT: Try running around with a werewolf to make him jealous.
"The Twilight Saga: New Moon" opens in theaters on Friday. It promises to teach valuable life lessons to the teens of today. Its leading lady, Kristen Stewart stated:
"My toughest scene is when (sexy teen vampire) Edward tells (innocent mortal) Bella that it's all over and they're never going to see each other again. (Typical vampire! Love 'em, suck out a few pints of Type O+, and leave 'em. Didn't I see this on Jerry Springer yesterday?)
"There's nothing like it in reality." (Oh, I see. In the real world, vampires remain true to their mortal girlfriends at least until after the Prom)
"It's not even like a normal break-up because I know what it's like to get broken up with. I don't know what it's like to get broken up with by a vampire." (So few of us do, Kristen. So few of us do.)
There you have it, Teens of America! If your romance with the neighborhood vampire is going sour, get your tickets now for "The Twilight Saga: New Moon" for tips on how to handle that break-up. SPOILER ALERT: Try running around with a werewolf to make him jealous.
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
Market Value
The most immutable of Economics Laws states. "Anything is worth what someone is willing to pay for it."
That Springsteen ticket may have a face value of $100, but the scalper in the parking lot will get $500 for it from an avid Bruce fan. That game-worn Jeter jersey may need a good washing, but a die-hard Yankee supporter will pay $1,000 for it, stains and all. It's all a matter of market value.
But what is the market value of a gesture, and an obscene gesture at that? The NFL fined Tennessee Titans owner Bud Adams $250K for giving a double-barrelled "one finger salute" to some Buffalo Bills fans after the Titans victory last Sunday. Real estate may be plummeting. Shares of General Motors may not be worth the price of the paper that they are printed on. Subway foot-longs may be going for $5, but, even in this time of economic duress, a hearty "Eff-you" directed at some drunken louts in upstate New York goes for a whopping quarter million.
The Bruce fan may very well get $500 worth of enjoyment from rocking to "Born to Run" live. The Yankee supporter may get $1,000 worth of pleasure from caressing the polyester that once clothed his idol (though this is disturbing image). One hopes that Bud Adams got $250K worth of satisfaction from his gesture.
Bud has set the market value for flipping the bird though. The next time I express my opinion of the driving ability of that dolt who cut me off on Route 22, I'll have to remember that.
That Springsteen ticket may have a face value of $100, but the scalper in the parking lot will get $500 for it from an avid Bruce fan. That game-worn Jeter jersey may need a good washing, but a die-hard Yankee supporter will pay $1,000 for it, stains and all. It's all a matter of market value.
But what is the market value of a gesture, and an obscene gesture at that? The NFL fined Tennessee Titans owner Bud Adams $250K for giving a double-barrelled "one finger salute" to some Buffalo Bills fans after the Titans victory last Sunday. Real estate may be plummeting. Shares of General Motors may not be worth the price of the paper that they are printed on. Subway foot-longs may be going for $5, but, even in this time of economic duress, a hearty "Eff-you" directed at some drunken louts in upstate New York goes for a whopping quarter million.
The Bruce fan may very well get $500 worth of enjoyment from rocking to "Born to Run" live. The Yankee supporter may get $1,000 worth of pleasure from caressing the polyester that once clothed his idol (though this is disturbing image). One hopes that Bud Adams got $250K worth of satisfaction from his gesture.
Bud has set the market value for flipping the bird though. The next time I express my opinion of the driving ability of that dolt who cut me off on Route 22, I'll have to remember that.
Monday, November 16, 2009
Good vs. Evil
Why do I read every line of the Sports Section? Why do I need to know how Stony Brook (team nickname - The Babblers?) did against New Paltz (as opposed to Old Paltz)?
Perhaps I seek the answer to these deep philosophical questions:
If Evergreen State falls to Western Washington in the forests of the Great Northwest and no one attends, does it make a sound?
If a Cal State - Santa Cruz fan raises his hand in the Fighting Banana Slugs (their actual athletic team nickname) salute, will a tsunami eventually result in Sumatra?
No! To a true sports fan, every contest is a battle between perceived good and evil. For example, the Philadelphia Eagles are, to my mind, inherently good. If they win, I am happy. The Dallas Cowboys are evil to the core. When they win, I mourn. At the end of the day, I total the triumphs of the "good" versus the depredations of the "evil" and determine whether the Apocalypse is at hand.
Occasionally, the Sports World gives us a result that proves the ultimate victory of good over evil. Last Saturday, Cornell defeated Alabama in men's basketball. A team that passed Calculus beat a team that probably couldn't spell the word. A team that read Moby Dick topped a group that might wonder why Moby and Andy Dick formed a band. A team that ten years from now will be involved in hedge fund management beat a team that ten years from now may be trimming hedges.
Granted, these are exaggerations and I'm sure the Alabama hoopsters are fine young men. Still, it is reassuring that a group who took advantage of their athletic prowess to get an Ivy League education while suffering through winters in Ithaca can come out on top against a heralded foe. Perceived "Good" sometimes triumphs.
Perhaps I seek the answer to these deep philosophical questions:
If Evergreen State falls to Western Washington in the forests of the Great Northwest and no one attends, does it make a sound?
If a Cal State - Santa Cruz fan raises his hand in the Fighting Banana Slugs (their actual athletic team nickname) salute, will a tsunami eventually result in Sumatra?
No! To a true sports fan, every contest is a battle between perceived good and evil. For example, the Philadelphia Eagles are, to my mind, inherently good. If they win, I am happy. The Dallas Cowboys are evil to the core. When they win, I mourn. At the end of the day, I total the triumphs of the "good" versus the depredations of the "evil" and determine whether the Apocalypse is at hand.
Occasionally, the Sports World gives us a result that proves the ultimate victory of good over evil. Last Saturday, Cornell defeated Alabama in men's basketball. A team that passed Calculus beat a team that probably couldn't spell the word. A team that read Moby Dick topped a group that might wonder why Moby and Andy Dick formed a band. A team that ten years from now will be involved in hedge fund management beat a team that ten years from now may be trimming hedges.
Granted, these are exaggerations and I'm sure the Alabama hoopsters are fine young men. Still, it is reassuring that a group who took advantage of their athletic prowess to get an Ivy League education while suffering through winters in Ithaca can come out on top against a heralded foe. Perceived "Good" sometimes triumphs.
Friday, November 13, 2009
Green Tennessee
Born on a mountaintop in Tennessee
Greenest state in the Land of the Free
Raised in the woods so he knew every tree
Killed him a b'ar when he was only three
Dav-eee, Davy Crockett, King of the Wild Frontier
"Ballad of Davy Crockett" c.1955
The Volunteer State remains the "greenest". It gave us environmental crusader Al Gore. It legalized firearms in bars so Tennesseans can immediately blow away that guy who dissed them during Happy Hour rather than having to drive home for their trusty .44 magnum thus saving tons of CO2 emissions.
It is also the home to Toyota's largest US manufacturing plant from whence cometh the Greenest Car on Earth, the Prius. The Prius may help save the planet, but, as three University of Tennessee football players found, it makes a bad getaway car. Late Wednesday night, the three walked up to a car parked at an off-campus hangout, pointed a CO2 pellet gun at its occupants, and demanded cash. Alas, the victims were cashless and the perpetrators made their escape in a Prius. The victims did have cell phones handy and before you can dial 911, the police were on the way. It didn't take long for their 450 HP Crown Vic to overtake the perp's Prius and bring the gridders to justice. Well, sort of. The Vols have a big game scheduled for Saturday and we are talking about three really good players here. A decision on their status has not been made as yet.
Should the case come to trial, counsel might try a "green" defense. "Your honor, these fine young Tennesseans were only doing what any environmentally-conscious citizen of this great state would do under the circumstances. They were concerned about the impact of the so-called victim's gas guzzler on the quality of the air that they would have to breathe to gain further gridiron glory for our beloved Vols. They approached that polluting monster with a CO2 pellet gun. Bear in mind that every molecule of CO2 in a pellet cartridge is one less greenhouse gas in the atmosphere! They didn't want cash for themselves, but merely to take it from the so-called victim who would only squander it on gasoline resulting in even more pollution. How can the Prosecution claim that these environmental crusaders attempted an escape from justice? The record shows that their Prius's gas engine never kicked in! It is the so-called victim who is the criminal here - a criminal against the environment! My clients added zero!, zero! to their carbon footprint in this entire incident. They should be praised, not convicted!
(Should you feel differently, Judge, could you let me know before I have to get my bet down with my bookie? The Vols are screwed without these guys.)
Greenest state in the Land of the Free
Raised in the woods so he knew every tree
Killed him a b'ar when he was only three
Dav-eee, Davy Crockett, King of the Wild Frontier
"Ballad of Davy Crockett" c.1955
The Volunteer State remains the "greenest". It gave us environmental crusader Al Gore. It legalized firearms in bars so Tennesseans can immediately blow away that guy who dissed them during Happy Hour rather than having to drive home for their trusty .44 magnum thus saving tons of CO2 emissions.
It is also the home to Toyota's largest US manufacturing plant from whence cometh the Greenest Car on Earth, the Prius. The Prius may help save the planet, but, as three University of Tennessee football players found, it makes a bad getaway car. Late Wednesday night, the three walked up to a car parked at an off-campus hangout, pointed a CO2 pellet gun at its occupants, and demanded cash. Alas, the victims were cashless and the perpetrators made their escape in a Prius. The victims did have cell phones handy and before you can dial 911, the police were on the way. It didn't take long for their 450 HP Crown Vic to overtake the perp's Prius and bring the gridders to justice. Well, sort of. The Vols have a big game scheduled for Saturday and we are talking about three really good players here. A decision on their status has not been made as yet.
Should the case come to trial, counsel might try a "green" defense. "Your honor, these fine young Tennesseans were only doing what any environmentally-conscious citizen of this great state would do under the circumstances. They were concerned about the impact of the so-called victim's gas guzzler on the quality of the air that they would have to breathe to gain further gridiron glory for our beloved Vols. They approached that polluting monster with a CO2 pellet gun. Bear in mind that every molecule of CO2 in a pellet cartridge is one less greenhouse gas in the atmosphere! They didn't want cash for themselves, but merely to take it from the so-called victim who would only squander it on gasoline resulting in even more pollution. How can the Prosecution claim that these environmental crusaders attempted an escape from justice? The record shows that their Prius's gas engine never kicked in! It is the so-called victim who is the criminal here - a criminal against the environment! My clients added zero!, zero! to their carbon footprint in this entire incident. They should be praised, not convicted!
(Should you feel differently, Judge, could you let me know before I have to get my bet down with my bookie? The Vols are screwed without these guys.)
Thursday, November 12, 2009
Legend
M*A*S*H was a memorable book, movie, and TV show. The TV show probably dragged on a few years past its "brilliant creativity" expiration date, but it stood out for its off-the-wall zaniness. The zaniest episode was one where a Halloween party at the M*A*S*H unit was interrupted by an influx of wounded and the surgeons went to work in costume. Hawkeye wore a gorilla suit beneath scrubs. The wounded soldier looked up to see King Kong scalpel in hand. His expression was priceless.
All of us want to be remembered as a legend. The trick is to go out with a bang. Add dishwashing detergent to the high school swimming pool and cause it to foam it to overflowing on graduation night and you'll be a legend. Personally consume a quarter keg of beer before Commencement and you'll be a college fraternity legend.
The problem is that after high school and college, there aren't a whole lot of occasions that are amenable to a grand, foolish, yet legendary act. In fact, the sole candidate is the last day before retirement at one's long-time employer. I dreamed of donning a gorilla suit for my last day of work and just walking around as if nothing was out of the ordinary. What could management do? Fire me? I'm out the door at 5 PM anyway.
And I'd be a legend! Babe Ruth will be remembered as long as there is baseball. "The Guy Who Wore the Gorilla Suit" would be remembered as long as there are cubicles.
Alas, I was unexpectedly downsized so I never had the chance to become a legend. Perhaps in my next life...
All of us want to be remembered as a legend. The trick is to go out with a bang. Add dishwashing detergent to the high school swimming pool and cause it to foam it to overflowing on graduation night and you'll be a legend. Personally consume a quarter keg of beer before Commencement and you'll be a college fraternity legend.
The problem is that after high school and college, there aren't a whole lot of occasions that are amenable to a grand, foolish, yet legendary act. In fact, the sole candidate is the last day before retirement at one's long-time employer. I dreamed of donning a gorilla suit for my last day of work and just walking around as if nothing was out of the ordinary. What could management do? Fire me? I'm out the door at 5 PM anyway.
And I'd be a legend! Babe Ruth will be remembered as long as there is baseball. "The Guy Who Wore the Gorilla Suit" would be remembered as long as there are cubicles.
Alas, I was unexpectedly downsized so I never had the chance to become a legend. Perhaps in my next life...
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
Proper, Courteous, and Professional
The "Workplace" column in today's newspaper is in Q & A format. Paraphrasing and adding comments in parentheses:
Q: Is there any law pertaining to how layoffs should be handled? Is an e-mail stating, ""Your services are no longer required" legal?
A: It's legal (Of course it is! If your boss can legally rummage through your personal possessions, spy on your internet usage, and tap your body fluids for drugs in the workplace, he can certainly fire you any way he wants) but it's also shameful.
Paul Munoz, president of HR Group, Inc. understands why some managers resort to it. It helps to minimize anxiety or fear over having to tell someone his or her position is being eliminated. (Oh, the anxiety and fear that those poor managers suffer when saying, "Your job is kaput, but I'm still getting my salary and bonuses. What are you reaching for there? A gun!")
It also saves time if a company has several locations. It is an efficient way of communicating the decision. ("One keystroke and I've eliminated fifty positions! What ever shall I do with the rest of my managerial day? Can I get a late morning tee time at the country club?")
The drawbacks outweigh the benefits. The electronic good-bye reduces the morale of the employees left behind (Though it certainly strikes fear in their hearts) as they see their employer as cold and stand-offish (As if there is a warm and fuzzy way of giving someone the axe. "Bob, you're the greatest. We would like to give you the opportunity to share your brilliance with the rest of the world rather than keeping you all to ourselves.)
Telling downsized employees that their position is eliminated on a face-to-face basis is proper, courteous, and professional. (And American corporations are nothing if not proper, courteous, and professional. When I got the axe, my boss was accompanied by a jack-booted security guard who properly, courteously, and professionally watched as I packed my personal belongings, accompanied me to my car, and made sure that I gave up my employee ID card and parking pass. Now I know that it could have been worse. I could have received the bad news by e-mail and walked the Last Mile accompanied by a robot.)
Q: Is there any law pertaining to how layoffs should be handled? Is an e-mail stating, ""Your services are no longer required" legal?
A: It's legal (Of course it is! If your boss can legally rummage through your personal possessions, spy on your internet usage, and tap your body fluids for drugs in the workplace, he can certainly fire you any way he wants) but it's also shameful.
Paul Munoz, president of HR Group, Inc. understands why some managers resort to it. It helps to minimize anxiety or fear over having to tell someone his or her position is being eliminated. (Oh, the anxiety and fear that those poor managers suffer when saying, "Your job is kaput, but I'm still getting my salary and bonuses. What are you reaching for there? A gun!")
It also saves time if a company has several locations. It is an efficient way of communicating the decision. ("One keystroke and I've eliminated fifty positions! What ever shall I do with the rest of my managerial day? Can I get a late morning tee time at the country club?")
The drawbacks outweigh the benefits. The electronic good-bye reduces the morale of the employees left behind (Though it certainly strikes fear in their hearts) as they see their employer as cold and stand-offish (As if there is a warm and fuzzy way of giving someone the axe. "Bob, you're the greatest. We would like to give you the opportunity to share your brilliance with the rest of the world rather than keeping you all to ourselves.)
Telling downsized employees that their position is eliminated on a face-to-face basis is proper, courteous, and professional. (And American corporations are nothing if not proper, courteous, and professional. When I got the axe, my boss was accompanied by a jack-booted security guard who properly, courteously, and professionally watched as I packed my personal belongings, accompanied me to my car, and made sure that I gave up my employee ID card and parking pass. Now I know that it could have been worse. I could have received the bad news by e-mail and walked the Last Mile accompanied by a robot.)
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Twelve Miles High
The current issue of The New Yorker reports that NYC Mayor Michael Bloomberg's net worth is $17.5 billion. Put in layman's terms, "That's a stack of $100 bills twelve miles high."
Pilot to passengers, "We've reached our cruising altitude of 55,000 feet. To your left, we are passing over Mayor Bloomberg's cash pile. It's the same height as two Mount Everests stacked on top of each other."
The New Yorker continues, "He will have spent well over one hundred million dollars getting re-elected this year." and "He has spent more of his own money than any other individual in United States history in the pursuit of public office."
The old adage informs us, "You've got to spend money to make money" (or get elected). That's somewhat easier to accomplish when $100 million represents less than 1% of your net worth. If most Americans are worth $100,000 between the equity in their house, the Blue Book value of their cars, and their savings / investments, it's like coughing up $700 for a new suit and a salon makeover for that big job interview. It's worth it.
So good old Michael Bloomberg essentially did what any of the rest of us would do to land a good job.
Pilot to passengers, "We've reached our cruising altitude of 55,000 feet. To your left, we are passing over Mayor Bloomberg's cash pile. It's the same height as two Mount Everests stacked on top of each other."
The New Yorker continues, "He will have spent well over one hundred million dollars getting re-elected this year." and "He has spent more of his own money than any other individual in United States history in the pursuit of public office."
The old adage informs us, "You've got to spend money to make money" (or get elected). That's somewhat easier to accomplish when $100 million represents less than 1% of your net worth. If most Americans are worth $100,000 between the equity in their house, the Blue Book value of their cars, and their savings / investments, it's like coughing up $700 for a new suit and a salon makeover for that big job interview. It's worth it.
So good old Michael Bloomberg essentially did what any of the rest of us would do to land a good job.
Monday, November 9, 2009
American Health Care
Chief among the arguments against the proposed Health Care Plan is that we Americans will be forced to abandon our "best in the world" medical attention for the slipshod ministrations found in those "socialized" systems elsewhere. It's a small miracle that there are any Canadians, Brits or Europeans left living what with interminable waits for second-rate medical care outside our borders.
Maybe, just maybe, medical competence has nothing to do with whether the government, a private insurer or the patient pays the bills.
A Southern Lehigh HS Field Hockey player suffered a wrist injury in Friday's District XI championship game. According to the newspaper article, her wrist "swelled to tennis ball size. The orthopedist on duty said she probably burst a blood vessel, rather than breaking a bone."
Now there's a diagnosis to put House, MD to shame. "Your wrist is expanding faster than the National Debt. It's black and blue and ugly. You can't move it. It's PROBABLY just a burst blood vessel though. Nothing to worry about there. Internal bleeding usually isn't much of a problem unless you're a hemophiliac or something. If it was a broken bone, there would be bone fragments sticking through the skin. Now that would be a problem."
That's good old American Health Care, the best that money can buy! No wonder foreigners flock to our shores when they are really sick.
Maybe, just maybe, medical competence has nothing to do with whether the government, a private insurer or the patient pays the bills.
A Southern Lehigh HS Field Hockey player suffered a wrist injury in Friday's District XI championship game. According to the newspaper article, her wrist "swelled to tennis ball size. The orthopedist on duty said she probably burst a blood vessel, rather than breaking a bone."
Now there's a diagnosis to put House, MD to shame. "Your wrist is expanding faster than the National Debt. It's black and blue and ugly. You can't move it. It's PROBABLY just a burst blood vessel though. Nothing to worry about there. Internal bleeding usually isn't much of a problem unless you're a hemophiliac or something. If it was a broken bone, there would be bone fragments sticking through the skin. Now that would be a problem."
That's good old American Health Care, the best that money can buy! No wonder foreigners flock to our shores when they are really sick.
Friday, November 6, 2009
Death Worms
This was an actual question on Wednesday's "Who Wants To Be a Millionaire":
The Acid-Spitting Mongolian Death Worm is native to which of these locations:
A. The Himalayas
B. The Kalahari Desert
C. The Gobi Desert
D. I'm not sure, but one is crawling up your leg!!!
Mongolian Death Worms, especially the acid-spitting variety, are not among the cuddly, furry friends typically brought into school for Show and Tell. Most Americans are ignorant of their existence. The poor contestant was at a loss for a response and guessed "A. The Himalayas" when, in fact, the critical clue was in the very name of the beast. "Mongolian"equals north of China equals Gobi Desert. QED
"Millionaire" question trickery aside, wouldn't The Acid-Spitting Mongolian Death Worms be the coolest name ever for an athletic team? Lions, and Tigers, and Bears (Oh my!) are so common that they no longer strike fear into opponents' hearts. "Oh, we play the Bears this week. I'm so intimidated."
Let's see how you handle acid being spit into your face while this giant worm (probably resembling Jabba the Hutt of Star Wars fame) crushes you in a Mongolian Death Grip (popularized by the immortal wrestler Gorilla Monsoon, the Manchurian Landslide). Now, there's intimidation! The opposing teams might not even show up for the game.
Big time college programs have live mascots. The Colorado football team is led onto the field by a real buffalo. LSU keeps a caged tiger on its sidelines. That's all well and good, but the Fighting Mongolian Death Worms could surely get George Lucas to create a Jabba the Hutt animatron that would spit acid at the officials after questionable calls. Let's see Ralphie the Buffalo do that!
The Acid-Spitting Mongolian Death Worm is native to which of these locations:
A. The Himalayas
B. The Kalahari Desert
C. The Gobi Desert
D. I'm not sure, but one is crawling up your leg!!!
Mongolian Death Worms, especially the acid-spitting variety, are not among the cuddly, furry friends typically brought into school for Show and Tell. Most Americans are ignorant of their existence. The poor contestant was at a loss for a response and guessed "A. The Himalayas" when, in fact, the critical clue was in the very name of the beast. "Mongolian"equals north of China equals Gobi Desert. QED
"Millionaire" question trickery aside, wouldn't The Acid-Spitting Mongolian Death Worms be the coolest name ever for an athletic team? Lions, and Tigers, and Bears (Oh my!) are so common that they no longer strike fear into opponents' hearts. "Oh, we play the Bears this week. I'm so intimidated."
Let's see how you handle acid being spit into your face while this giant worm (probably resembling Jabba the Hutt of Star Wars fame) crushes you in a Mongolian Death Grip (popularized by the immortal wrestler Gorilla Monsoon, the Manchurian Landslide). Now, there's intimidation! The opposing teams might not even show up for the game.
Big time college programs have live mascots. The Colorado football team is led onto the field by a real buffalo. LSU keeps a caged tiger on its sidelines. That's all well and good, but the Fighting Mongolian Death Worms could surely get George Lucas to create a Jabba the Hutt animatron that would spit acid at the officials after questionable calls. Let's see Ralphie the Buffalo do that!
Thursday, November 5, 2009
Vincent Lopez
Turner Classic Movies is the marvel of the cable TV universe. There are no commercials! When movies fail to fill the designated time slots, TCM fills in with travelogues, previews, and other "shorts" (but, sadly, never cartoons) that we fondly remember from our days at the neighborhood cinema.
Last night, TCM showed a 10 minute "short" from 1939 featuring Vincent Lopez and his Orchestra. Now, Vincent Lopez was my parents' favorite bandleader. They planned their wedding night at the Hotel Taft in NYC because Vincent Lopez was playing there. If not for their shared affection for Vincent, they might never have gotten together and I would not be here today.
I'd never seen or heard Old Vince in action. I figured him as a second rate Xavier Cugat, all frilly sleeves, fruit bowl on the head, 30s caricature of Latin Culture. The "short" showed Vincent as a dapper, tuxedo-clad pianist, his orchestra as Glenn Miller wannabes replete with the deal where the brass section chants catch phrases while the reed section plays. It featured Betty Hutton "America's #1 Jitterbug" as the requisite girl singer / dancer. My opinion of my parents' musical taste skyrocketed. These guys were cool and unlike the dour Lawrence Welk types that I remembered actually seemed to be having fun.
Then I realized that 1939 was every bit of 70 years ago. The "short's" final number had Betty backed by the male quartet. They were all smoking cigarettes while singing, apparently to give the song a sophisticated look. How tough it must be to hit that high C after a drag on a Chesterfield. I'm surprised that Vincent would allow it.
Last night, TCM showed a 10 minute "short" from 1939 featuring Vincent Lopez and his Orchestra. Now, Vincent Lopez was my parents' favorite bandleader. They planned their wedding night at the Hotel Taft in NYC because Vincent Lopez was playing there. If not for their shared affection for Vincent, they might never have gotten together and I would not be here today.
I'd never seen or heard Old Vince in action. I figured him as a second rate Xavier Cugat, all frilly sleeves, fruit bowl on the head, 30s caricature of Latin Culture. The "short" showed Vincent as a dapper, tuxedo-clad pianist, his orchestra as Glenn Miller wannabes replete with the deal where the brass section chants catch phrases while the reed section plays. It featured Betty Hutton "America's #1 Jitterbug" as the requisite girl singer / dancer. My opinion of my parents' musical taste skyrocketed. These guys were cool and unlike the dour Lawrence Welk types that I remembered actually seemed to be having fun.
Then I realized that 1939 was every bit of 70 years ago. The "short's" final number had Betty backed by the male quartet. They were all smoking cigarettes while singing, apparently to give the song a sophisticated look. How tough it must be to hit that high C after a drag on a Chesterfield. I'm surprised that Vincent would allow it.
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
Jerseys
Forbes Magazine reports that the best-selling sports jersey this year is that of the Dallas Cowboys quarterback Tony Romo. The survey includes all sports, so Tony not only beats out fellow gridders like Bret Favre and Ben Roethlisberger, but basketball icons like Kobe and Lebron and even baseball stars like A-Rod and Derek Jeter.
How can this be? It's not like Tony Romo does lots of commercials like Favre or won the latest Super Bowl like Big Ben. What with the helmet and pads, we 're not even sure what Tony looks like whereas most sports fans would recognize Kobe, Lebron, A-Rod, or Derek if they walked up to them at the Lehigh Valley Mall.
The answer must lie with Tony's former main squeeze, Jessica Simpson. There must be plenty of lonely guys out there hoping against hope to encounter Jessica one day when she's not wearing her contact lenses. "Tony! You've gotten chubby, short, and bald, but I'd recognize that Cowboys jersey anywhere. Let me slip on my Daisy Dukes and we'll relive old times!"
Other than that, I can see no reason to wear a team jersey with an athlete's name on the back. Most jersey-wearers are kids. Is the youth of America playing a prank on us? "Yes, I am Kobe Bryant as you can plainly see by my Lakers jersey. Everyone tells me I'm much shorter, younger, and paler in real life."
How can this be? It's not like Tony Romo does lots of commercials like Favre or won the latest Super Bowl like Big Ben. What with the helmet and pads, we 're not even sure what Tony looks like whereas most sports fans would recognize Kobe, Lebron, A-Rod, or Derek if they walked up to them at the Lehigh Valley Mall.
The answer must lie with Tony's former main squeeze, Jessica Simpson. There must be plenty of lonely guys out there hoping against hope to encounter Jessica one day when she's not wearing her contact lenses. "Tony! You've gotten chubby, short, and bald, but I'd recognize that Cowboys jersey anywhere. Let me slip on my Daisy Dukes and we'll relive old times!"
Other than that, I can see no reason to wear a team jersey with an athlete's name on the back. Most jersey-wearers are kids. Is the youth of America playing a prank on us? "Yes, I am Kobe Bryant as you can plainly see by my Lakers jersey. Everyone tells me I'm much shorter, younger, and paler in real life."
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
The Power of Lithium
Among the manly items advertised during World Series telecasts is the Lithium Ion Drill. The only thing that could make it more macho would be if it were "turbo" or "hemi". My testosterone level peaks whenever I hear those adjectives.
According to the commercial, I can return my old, outmoded drill to Home Depot and get a big discount on this wave of the future device. Star Trek fans may recall that it was dilithium crystals that powered the Starship Enterprise. A Lithium Ion Drill sounds like something that Captain Kirk might use to beat back a Klingon attack. How can simple household repair tasks stand up to The Power of Lithium?
Along with Space Age power, the Lithium Ion Drill must be incredibly precise. High school chemistry tells us that the lithium ion (Atomic Number 3) is smaller than any known material save the hydrogen and helium ions. Any old drill can handle carbon, sulfur, or chromium. It takes incredible precision to drill those lithium ions!
Don't tell the Iranians, but all that uranium enrichment that they are doing is so 20th century. The thing to do is to take the lithium ions from these drills (available at your friendly neighborhood Home Depot), join them together into dilithium crystals, and use those to power phasers and even photon torpedoes. Hey, it worked for Captain Kirk.
According to the commercial, I can return my old, outmoded drill to Home Depot and get a big discount on this wave of the future device. Star Trek fans may recall that it was dilithium crystals that powered the Starship Enterprise. A Lithium Ion Drill sounds like something that Captain Kirk might use to beat back a Klingon attack. How can simple household repair tasks stand up to The Power of Lithium?
Along with Space Age power, the Lithium Ion Drill must be incredibly precise. High school chemistry tells us that the lithium ion (Atomic Number 3) is smaller than any known material save the hydrogen and helium ions. Any old drill can handle carbon, sulfur, or chromium. It takes incredible precision to drill those lithium ions!
Don't tell the Iranians, but all that uranium enrichment that they are doing is so 20th century. The thing to do is to take the lithium ions from these drills (available at your friendly neighborhood Home Depot), join them together into dilithium crystals, and use those to power phasers and even photon torpedoes. Hey, it worked for Captain Kirk.
Monday, November 2, 2009
Baby Einstein
The current issue of "Time" reports a $15.99 refund offered to dissatisfied purchasers of any Baby Einstein educational DVD after studies showed that the products did not improve infant intelligence.
Now, that is a disappointment. I had hoped that after propping an infant in front of the TV for a few hours of Baby Einstein, the kid would begin soliloquizing on the convertibility of matter to energy, win a Nobel Prize or two, and. at the very least, change his own diaper.
How did they determine whether Baby Einstein worked or not? "Here in Room A, we have Baby Einstein running in a continuous loop. Note that the infant is spitting up, pooping, and sleeping. Here in Room B, we have The Jerry Springer Show running in a continuous loop. Again, the infant is spitting up, pooping, and sleeping. There's no difference! Better get those $15.99 refund checks printed up."
"Wait a minute. Our production crew in Room B is also spitting up, pooping, and sleeping. The Springer Show must dumb down its viewers to the level of infants. Let's spin this to make back our Baby Einstein refunds!"
"Are you overweight, constipated, and sleep-deprived? This Jerry Springer DVD is the answer! After watching a few episodes like "My Mom slept with my pet ferret and my new little brothers and sisters were born naked and blind", you will upchuck that calorie-laden snack, your bowels will loosen, and you will sleep like a care-free baby. Call now. Operators are standing by."
Now, that is a disappointment. I had hoped that after propping an infant in front of the TV for a few hours of Baby Einstein, the kid would begin soliloquizing on the convertibility of matter to energy, win a Nobel Prize or two, and. at the very least, change his own diaper.
How did they determine whether Baby Einstein worked or not? "Here in Room A, we have Baby Einstein running in a continuous loop. Note that the infant is spitting up, pooping, and sleeping. Here in Room B, we have The Jerry Springer Show running in a continuous loop. Again, the infant is spitting up, pooping, and sleeping. There's no difference! Better get those $15.99 refund checks printed up."
"Wait a minute. Our production crew in Room B is also spitting up, pooping, and sleeping. The Springer Show must dumb down its viewers to the level of infants. Let's spin this to make back our Baby Einstein refunds!"
"Are you overweight, constipated, and sleep-deprived? This Jerry Springer DVD is the answer! After watching a few episodes like "My Mom slept with my pet ferret and my new little brothers and sisters were born naked and blind", you will upchuck that calorie-laden snack, your bowels will loosen, and you will sleep like a care-free baby. Call now. Operators are standing by."
Friday, October 30, 2009
Dust Bunnies
You can take the boy out of the Army, but you can't take the Army out of the boy. Every morning for the past 40 years, I make my bed as soon as I depart it. The trauma of having my old Drill Instructor screaming and spraying spittle in my face because my bunk failed the bouncing coin test lives on.
Now, bedsheets and blanket must be tucked in superlatively tight for the D.I.'s coin to properly bounce on them. These civilian sheets require daily tightening which is a problem due to the presence of that scourge, the dust ruffle. Extending from the mattress to the floor, it invariably becomes scrunched up in the sheet tightening process leading to re-lifting of the mattress, loosening of the sheets and here we go again. Frustration sets in and frustrated is no way to begin the day.
What is the purpose of the dust ruffle anyway? It doesn't prevent those dust bunnies from gathering beneath the bed. In fact, by blocking them from view, it probably allows them to have wild dust bunny parties and you know how that turns out - baby dust bunnies.
It doesn't allay children's fears of night-time monsters beneath the bed. What child will lift the ruffle for fear of disturbing a monster? It is much more reassuring to peek beneath a ruffle-free bed and see the remnants of disassembled toys and games. "So that's where my Chutes and Ladders game pieces are! I can sleep soundly now."
The dust ruffle serves no purpose other than decoration and complicating the bed-making process. The Army isn't very big on domestic decoration, but it is noted for making the simplest tasks even more difficult. Perhaps the military should require dust ruffles on Army bunks. It would give Drill Instructors another reason to browbeat recruits and that is never a bad thing,
Now, bedsheets and blanket must be tucked in superlatively tight for the D.I.'s coin to properly bounce on them. These civilian sheets require daily tightening which is a problem due to the presence of that scourge, the dust ruffle. Extending from the mattress to the floor, it invariably becomes scrunched up in the sheet tightening process leading to re-lifting of the mattress, loosening of the sheets and here we go again. Frustration sets in and frustrated is no way to begin the day.
What is the purpose of the dust ruffle anyway? It doesn't prevent those dust bunnies from gathering beneath the bed. In fact, by blocking them from view, it probably allows them to have wild dust bunny parties and you know how that turns out - baby dust bunnies.
It doesn't allay children's fears of night-time monsters beneath the bed. What child will lift the ruffle for fear of disturbing a monster? It is much more reassuring to peek beneath a ruffle-free bed and see the remnants of disassembled toys and games. "So that's where my Chutes and Ladders game pieces are! I can sleep soundly now."
The dust ruffle serves no purpose other than decoration and complicating the bed-making process. The Army isn't very big on domestic decoration, but it is noted for making the simplest tasks even more difficult. Perhaps the military should require dust ruffles on Army bunks. It would give Drill Instructors another reason to browbeat recruits and that is never a bad thing,
Thursday, October 29, 2009
Competition
The commercial began, "The Most Famous Fairy in the World embarks on a new adventure. See it on a brand new Disney DVD, Tinker Bell... "
I missed the rest of the title. It might have been "Tinker Bell - Fully Loaded" or was that Herbie and Lindsay Lohan after a night of partying..
You've got to admit that The Most Famous Fairy in the World is an ear-catching phrase and certainly one with several meanings. Thinking only of the magical sort of fairy though, is it really the honor that it seems? After all, where's the competition? Can you name another fairy, famous or obscure?
Back in the 70s, I had boarded a flight in Denver bound for Houston. Our departure was delayed by the grand entrance of a young lady and her entourage. She was wearing a tiara and a sash that proclaimed her "Miss Teen Age - Wyoming". Apparently, she was bound for the Miss Teen Age USA Pageant. She was a nice enough looking girl, I guess, but my thought at the time was "How tough can it be to become Miss Teen Age - Wyoming?"
The state has a population of about 300,000 which is not that much greater than that of the Lehigh Valley. Becoming Miss Teen Age - Wyoming is about as tough as attaining the title of Prom Queen at Parkland High School. And this rates a tiara, sash, and delaying the plane to Houston?
A note to Tinker Bell and Miss Teen Age - Wyoming: Congratulations on your fame, but don't get a big head. The competition may be tougher next time.
I missed the rest of the title. It might have been "Tinker Bell - Fully Loaded" or was that Herbie and Lindsay Lohan after a night of partying..
You've got to admit that The Most Famous Fairy in the World is an ear-catching phrase and certainly one with several meanings. Thinking only of the magical sort of fairy though, is it really the honor that it seems? After all, where's the competition? Can you name another fairy, famous or obscure?
Back in the 70s, I had boarded a flight in Denver bound for Houston. Our departure was delayed by the grand entrance of a young lady and her entourage. She was wearing a tiara and a sash that proclaimed her "Miss Teen Age - Wyoming". Apparently, she was bound for the Miss Teen Age USA Pageant. She was a nice enough looking girl, I guess, but my thought at the time was "How tough can it be to become Miss Teen Age - Wyoming?"
The state has a population of about 300,000 which is not that much greater than that of the Lehigh Valley. Becoming Miss Teen Age - Wyoming is about as tough as attaining the title of Prom Queen at Parkland High School. And this rates a tiara, sash, and delaying the plane to Houston?
A note to Tinker Bell and Miss Teen Age - Wyoming: Congratulations on your fame, but don't get a big head. The competition may be tougher next time.
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
High School Mania
The Saturday sports section carries high school football scores from all of Pennsylvania. Most of the high school names are derived from towns (Hershey, Gettysburg), geography (Mid-Valley, Blue Mountain), or historical figures (George Washington, Thomas Jefferson), but some are unique and raise the following questions:.
Which team would Jesus root for when Bethlehem Catholic (his birthplace) plays Nazareth (where he grew up)?
Is there always a cloud of steam over the playing field at Boiling Springs High?
What is the school color at Plum High School?
Are the players at Mars High "little green men"?
Does Communications Tech use satellite phones to send signals to the huddle?
Did Imhotep Charter get said charter from an Egyptian pharaoh?
Is the High School Of The Future (an actual school in Philly) able to foresee what defense the opposing team will use?
Do its opponents use Desenex to combat Turkey Foot High athletes?
Inquiring minds want to know!
Which team would Jesus root for when Bethlehem Catholic (his birthplace) plays Nazareth (where he grew up)?
Is there always a cloud of steam over the playing field at Boiling Springs High?
What is the school color at Plum High School?
Are the players at Mars High "little green men"?
Does Communications Tech use satellite phones to send signals to the huddle?
Did Imhotep Charter get said charter from an Egyptian pharaoh?
Is the High School Of The Future (an actual school in Philly) able to foresee what defense the opposing team will use?
Do its opponents use Desenex to combat Turkey Foot High athletes?
Inquiring minds want to know!
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
The Frillies
Today's front page of that paragon of journalistic excellence, the NY Daily News carries the headline "Here Come The Frillies" with an obviously photoshopped shot of Shane Victorino wearing a pleated cheerleader-type skirt below his Phillies jersey. Shane has shapely calves, but that is beside the point.
The point is that this year's series pits the most successful sports franchise of all time, the Yankees with their 26 championships, against arguably the least successful, our Fightin' Phils with a mere three not to mention an all-time record 10,000+ loses in 127 years. And New York fans need a sophomoric headline and doctored photo to fire them up? This is like Sauron inspiring his orcs to battle with a picture of Frodo in jockey shorts.
Get a clue, Yankee fans! You don't need psychological help to overcome your poor cousins from down the Jersey Turnpike. Your payroll matches the GDP of some Central American countries. George Costanza no longer works in your front office. You are the proverbial sure thing.
Of course, things worked out for Frodo, so you never know.
The point is that this year's series pits the most successful sports franchise of all time, the Yankees with their 26 championships, against arguably the least successful, our Fightin' Phils with a mere three not to mention an all-time record 10,000+ loses in 127 years. And New York fans need a sophomoric headline and doctored photo to fire them up? This is like Sauron inspiring his orcs to battle with a picture of Frodo in jockey shorts.
Get a clue, Yankee fans! You don't need psychological help to overcome your poor cousins from down the Jersey Turnpike. Your payroll matches the GDP of some Central American countries. George Costanza no longer works in your front office. You are the proverbial sure thing.
Of course, things worked out for Frodo, so you never know.
Monday, October 26, 2009
Bears!
There are headlines that chill the soul and revive the fears of our youth. "Razor Blades Found in Halloween Treats", if true, would be an example. "Machete-Wielding Psychopath At Large Near Remote Summer Camp" is another. "President Born Outside US, Programmed By Terrorists" is a recent addition to the list.
An actual headline from last week read, "Russian Ice-Skating Bear Kills Trainer". The story continues. "The director of a circus arena said an ice-skating bear turned on its trainers, killing one and seriously wounding another as they were rehearsing a show in Bishkek, Kyrgystan."
Most readers would skip past this story on their way to the latest update on the Taylor Swift / Kanye West brouhaha, but for anyone who was in the US military forty years ago, this story brings validation. "OMG, my drill sergeant was right. The Russkies really did have a secret weapon - ice-skating bears!"
In those days, whatever we did, the Russians did better or so we were told. "You think that running a mile in full CBR gear trying to breathe through a gas mask is tough? The Russians run five miles every day for a month!" "You think it's tough digging a foxhole in frozen ground? The Russians do it with their bare hands!"
Beyond toughness, the Russians had it all over us in military technology back then, Russian-built tanks and jets really did a job on us in Korea. Sputnik would lead to satellites raining destruction on Main Street USA from space. And God only knows what "secret weapons" they were developing.
We returned to our barracks each night feeling that we had to train even harder the next day to keep up with the Russians. Of course, it might all be in vain if they developed a really good secret weapon. It took a while, but finally they have it. Imagine the terror as an American infantryman faces a snarling, massive Russian bear racing toward him on skates across the frozen tundra.
"I'll do two miles in my gas mask and dig that foxhole with my bare toes, Sarge. Just keep me away from those ice-skating bears."
An actual headline from last week read, "Russian Ice-Skating Bear Kills Trainer". The story continues. "The director of a circus arena said an ice-skating bear turned on its trainers, killing one and seriously wounding another as they were rehearsing a show in Bishkek, Kyrgystan."
Most readers would skip past this story on their way to the latest update on the Taylor Swift / Kanye West brouhaha, but for anyone who was in the US military forty years ago, this story brings validation. "OMG, my drill sergeant was right. The Russkies really did have a secret weapon - ice-skating bears!"
In those days, whatever we did, the Russians did better or so we were told. "You think that running a mile in full CBR gear trying to breathe through a gas mask is tough? The Russians run five miles every day for a month!" "You think it's tough digging a foxhole in frozen ground? The Russians do it with their bare hands!"
Beyond toughness, the Russians had it all over us in military technology back then, Russian-built tanks and jets really did a job on us in Korea. Sputnik would lead to satellites raining destruction on Main Street USA from space. And God only knows what "secret weapons" they were developing.
We returned to our barracks each night feeling that we had to train even harder the next day to keep up with the Russians. Of course, it might all be in vain if they developed a really good secret weapon. It took a while, but finally they have it. Imagine the terror as an American infantryman faces a snarling, massive Russian bear racing toward him on skates across the frozen tundra.
"I'll do two miles in my gas mask and dig that foxhole with my bare toes, Sarge. Just keep me away from those ice-skating bears."
Friday, October 23, 2009
Helmets
Nobody looks good in a bicycle helmet.
It's not so much the strips in contrasting color that run from forehead on back and resemble a weasel. The problem is with the overall shape of the thing. A bicycle helmet resembles an overturned gravy boat. That funky "spout" on its back dates back to the Los Angeles Olympics in '84. Since the Soviet Bloc countries were boycotting those Games, the good old USA! USA! for the first time in forever garnered medals in cycling. Television covered the sport extensively. Breathless commentators credited that success in part to the advanced aerodynamic properties of our cyclists' helmets. The wind whooshing past the "gravy boat spout" created "lift" just like an airplane wing.
Now, "lift" may be beneficial at 40 mph on an Olympic cycling track, but it probably isn't much help to little Tiffany at 5 mph on the family driveway. Wouldn't those photos of Tiff on her Disney Princess Huffy be much cooler if instead of the inverted gravy boat on her head, she took a page from "Easy Rider" and went with the Peter Fonda hair-flowing-unencumbered-in-the-breeze look or the Dennis Hopper Australian-digger-hat, or even the Jack Nicholson 50s-era- Army-football-helmet? The Hells Angels bandana or German Army helmet thing might be a bit much for this year's Christmas card photo though.
Parents, beware. Some day, Tiffany will see that photo of the overturned gravy boat on her head and "die of embarrassment".
It's not so much the strips in contrasting color that run from forehead on back and resemble a weasel. The problem is with the overall shape of the thing. A bicycle helmet resembles an overturned gravy boat. That funky "spout" on its back dates back to the Los Angeles Olympics in '84. Since the Soviet Bloc countries were boycotting those Games, the good old USA! USA! for the first time in forever garnered medals in cycling. Television covered the sport extensively. Breathless commentators credited that success in part to the advanced aerodynamic properties of our cyclists' helmets. The wind whooshing past the "gravy boat spout" created "lift" just like an airplane wing.
Now, "lift" may be beneficial at 40 mph on an Olympic cycling track, but it probably isn't much help to little Tiffany at 5 mph on the family driveway. Wouldn't those photos of Tiff on her Disney Princess Huffy be much cooler if instead of the inverted gravy boat on her head, she took a page from "Easy Rider" and went with the Peter Fonda hair-flowing-unencumbered-in-the-breeze look or the Dennis Hopper Australian-digger-hat, or even the Jack Nicholson 50s-era- Army-football-helmet? The Hells Angels bandana or German Army helmet thing might be a bit much for this year's Christmas card photo though.
Parents, beware. Some day, Tiffany will see that photo of the overturned gravy boat on her head and "die of embarrassment".
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
Sweaters
Autumn is the season of romance. Take an informal poll, and you are nearly certain to find that a high percentage of the world's precious supply of lasting relationships dates to the fall. Most people attribute this phenomenon to leaves falling, school starting and fireplaces being lit. The real reason is simpler. The real reason is sweaters. Everyone looks better in sweaters.
Sweaters conceal those body flaws that tank tops, camisoles, and tee shirts reveal. That "roll" at waist level may not be unsightly flab but merely a bunching up of fabric. Sweaters' color and pattern make the short person tall and the chubby person svelte. The vee-neck sweater broadens the shoulders and narrows the waist. The cardigan sweater brings that Mister Rogers air of geniality to the wearer. Job seekers should be advised to don a proper cardigan for that initial interview instead of an ill-fitting, obviously I don't normally wear this sort of thing, business suit.
Why, then, are sweaters not more popular? The problem is with the name. "Sweat-er" implies unsightly, malodorous perspiration. Why wear a garment that may cause those horrible half-moons beneath the armpits and cause the other folks in the elevator to hold their breath and get off a floor early? That's obviously not the case, but why take a chance?
Sweaters should be re-christened "Thinners". Other than certain parts of the Third World, everyone wants to look thinner. Sales will skyrocket.
Sweaters conceal those body flaws that tank tops, camisoles, and tee shirts reveal. That "roll" at waist level may not be unsightly flab but merely a bunching up of fabric. Sweaters' color and pattern make the short person tall and the chubby person svelte. The vee-neck sweater broadens the shoulders and narrows the waist. The cardigan sweater brings that Mister Rogers air of geniality to the wearer. Job seekers should be advised to don a proper cardigan for that initial interview instead of an ill-fitting, obviously I don't normally wear this sort of thing, business suit.
Why, then, are sweaters not more popular? The problem is with the name. "Sweat-er" implies unsightly, malodorous perspiration. Why wear a garment that may cause those horrible half-moons beneath the armpits and cause the other folks in the elevator to hold their breath and get off a floor early? That's obviously not the case, but why take a chance?
Sweaters should be re-christened "Thinners". Other than certain parts of the Third World, everyone wants to look thinner. Sales will skyrocket.
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
Constructive and Productive
After the alcohol-related death of an undergraduate, Penn State University officials are seeking ways to combat binge drinking. They are publicizing the dangers of alcohol abuse and suspending fraternities that provide booze. These are the standard remedies.
In a unique move, the University plans to offer more Friday classes "to fill students' time with constructive, productive learning activities." One imagines that until now only Monday through Thursday classes were constructive and productive. That'll do it! "I'd really like to play beer pong until I barf my guts up this Friday, but that Economics 101 lecture is so constructive and productive that I don't want to miss it. We're going over the elasticity of demand with price. Will those curves ever intersect?"
Alcohol abuse has caused untold death, destruction, and heartbreak. Use of alcohol should never be encouraged. One wonders why advertising of beer and liquor is allowed.
Still, I think back to my days testing an oxygen system at East St Louis Castings. ESLC manufactured cast iron sewer pipe. Molten iron at more than 2000 degrees was poured into centrifugal casters that spun it into pipe. The temperature on the work floor exceeded 100 degrees. The air was filthy with black dust. The noise level was so high that we communicated by writing on white boards. There was a bar across from the plant entrance. The incoming shift would gather at the bar, down as many beers as they could afford, and then head into what was close to Hell on Earth. What with the heat, they'd sober up in a half hour.
This was one of the very few cases where alcohol consumption allowed constructive and productive activity. You had to be half lit to walk through that plant gate. Presumably, Penn State's proposed Friday classes won't be that bad.
In a unique move, the University plans to offer more Friday classes "to fill students' time with constructive, productive learning activities." One imagines that until now only Monday through Thursday classes were constructive and productive. That'll do it! "I'd really like to play beer pong until I barf my guts up this Friday, but that Economics 101 lecture is so constructive and productive that I don't want to miss it. We're going over the elasticity of demand with price. Will those curves ever intersect?"
Alcohol abuse has caused untold death, destruction, and heartbreak. Use of alcohol should never be encouraged. One wonders why advertising of beer and liquor is allowed.
Still, I think back to my days testing an oxygen system at East St Louis Castings. ESLC manufactured cast iron sewer pipe. Molten iron at more than 2000 degrees was poured into centrifugal casters that spun it into pipe. The temperature on the work floor exceeded 100 degrees. The air was filthy with black dust. The noise level was so high that we communicated by writing on white boards. There was a bar across from the plant entrance. The incoming shift would gather at the bar, down as many beers as they could afford, and then head into what was close to Hell on Earth. What with the heat, they'd sober up in a half hour.
This was one of the very few cases where alcohol consumption allowed constructive and productive activity. You had to be half lit to walk through that plant gate. Presumably, Penn State's proposed Friday classes won't be that bad.
Monday, October 19, 2009
Pensioner
Having achieved the requisite age though not the accompanying wisdom for Social Security eligibility, I fired up the trusty laptop and applied on-line for benefits.
As promised, the process was painless and efficient. It began with Privacy and Anti-Fraud Statements. These consisted of the standard legal folderol. For the momentous act of officially becoming a pensioner, I expected to see something like:
"By signing this document and claiming eligibility for Social Security benefits, I hereby promise to:
Drive slowly in the passing lane with my turn signal on at all times
Complain about "the gov-a-mint".
Make a fashion statement by pairing dress socks with sandals
Wear my pants either well above my waist or well below my hips
Purchase the "Matlock - Season 1" DVD then complain that it doesn't fit in my VCR
Write angry "Letters to the Editor" regarding any tax increase while en-route to the local casino"
Now, that is a statement worthy of the "I Agree" tab!
As promised, the process was painless and efficient. It began with Privacy and Anti-Fraud Statements. These consisted of the standard legal folderol. For the momentous act of officially becoming a pensioner, I expected to see something like:
"By signing this document and claiming eligibility for Social Security benefits, I hereby promise to:
Drive slowly in the passing lane with my turn signal on at all times
Complain about "the gov-a-mint".
Make a fashion statement by pairing dress socks with sandals
Wear my pants either well above my waist or well below my hips
Purchase the "Matlock - Season 1" DVD then complain that it doesn't fit in my VCR
Write angry "Letters to the Editor" regarding any tax increase while en-route to the local casino"
Now, that is a statement worthy of the "I Agree" tab!
Friday, October 16, 2009
The Fungus Among Us
Sports Radio commercials offer products to relieve modern man's greatest fears.
Getting a little "thin on top"? Hair replacement surgery, products, or toupees are advertised around the "20 - 20 Sports Updates".
Having trouble "performing"? Brand name E.D. pills can be delivered to your door "in a plain paper wrapper" or picked-up at Fed Ex if you want to surprise the wife (or if you've got something on the side that you don't want to wife to know about). Better yet, that embarrassing "talk with your doctor" can be avoided. These mail order outfits have "medical professionals" who will clear you for whoopie based on a phone call. The phone lines to Mumbai must be ringing off the hook. "Rajiv, are we doctors or computer experts today?"
The standard array of automotive and handyman products are advertised as well.
Yesterday, I heard a new one - Laser treatment for toenail fungus. The commercial is a dramatized "intervention" wherein Bob's friends and family inform him that his unsightly toenails are damaging his social standing and instilling fear in small children. The microlaser zaps the fungus and only the fungus which is reassuring for those of us who remember Luke Skywalker's hand being sliced off by a laser light sword in the first Star Wars movie. "Sorry, Luke! I was only trying to eliminate that unsightly fingernail fungus."
Call me squeamish, but I'd never zap my toenails. The laser literally burns what it touches and the odor of burning finger or toe nails is a phobia from my past. Part of the hazing procedure for first-year Boy Scout campers was to ignite a small tin can full of nail clippings and tie closed the kids' tent flaps while they slept. Retching would inevitably ensue. I could handle the cherry bomb down the latrine stack and even the finger dipping into warm water to instigate nocturnal urination, but the smell of burning keratin brings up the bile every time.
Just clear the room of small children when I take off my shoes and socks.
Getting a little "thin on top"? Hair replacement surgery, products, or toupees are advertised around the "20 - 20 Sports Updates".
Having trouble "performing"? Brand name E.D. pills can be delivered to your door "in a plain paper wrapper" or picked-up at Fed Ex if you want to surprise the wife (or if you've got something on the side that you don't want to wife to know about). Better yet, that embarrassing "talk with your doctor" can be avoided. These mail order outfits have "medical professionals" who will clear you for whoopie based on a phone call. The phone lines to Mumbai must be ringing off the hook. "Rajiv, are we doctors or computer experts today?"
The standard array of automotive and handyman products are advertised as well.
Yesterday, I heard a new one - Laser treatment for toenail fungus. The commercial is a dramatized "intervention" wherein Bob's friends and family inform him that his unsightly toenails are damaging his social standing and instilling fear in small children. The microlaser zaps the fungus and only the fungus which is reassuring for those of us who remember Luke Skywalker's hand being sliced off by a laser light sword in the first Star Wars movie. "Sorry, Luke! I was only trying to eliminate that unsightly fingernail fungus."
Call me squeamish, but I'd never zap my toenails. The laser literally burns what it touches and the odor of burning finger or toe nails is a phobia from my past. Part of the hazing procedure for first-year Boy Scout campers was to ignite a small tin can full of nail clippings and tie closed the kids' tent flaps while they slept. Retching would inevitably ensue. I could handle the cherry bomb down the latrine stack and even the finger dipping into warm water to instigate nocturnal urination, but the smell of burning keratin brings up the bile every time.
Just clear the room of small children when I take off my shoes and socks.
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Nepotism
Nepotism is definitely a bad thing, unless, of course, it involves my family. The Mini Page in today's newspaper invites us to get to know Frankie Jonas. Frankie, age 9, is the voice of Sosuke in the Disney movie "Ponyo", According to the article, "He enjoys playing football" and "He has his own band, Hollywood Shakeup." There are approximately 4 million nine year olds in America. Quite a few of them probably enjoy playing football which is apparently a prerequisite for getting a voice-over role in a movie. But Frankie might be the only nine year old who fronts his own band. How can that be? I mean, Michael Jackson and Little Stevie Wonder were twelve before they hit the big time. The article continues, "Frankie is the brother of the famed actors and musicians, the Jonas Brothers." That explains it, but Frankie should be aware of the sordid history of Disney-related nepotism. When Donald Duck was riding high, Disney thrust Donald's "nephews" Huey, Dewey, and Louie into the public eye. They achieved some success cavorting with Uncle Scrooge McDuck, but when they hit puberty and were no longer "cute", their careers nose-dived. Rumor has it that Huey joined a cult, Dewey parties with Lindsay Lohan, and Louie posed feather-less for an obscene Federal Duck Stamp. At least, Huey, Dewey, and Louie had some talent. Even the Disney Star-Making Machine couldn't bring fame to Mickey Mouse's "nephews" Mortie and Ferdie. A few appearances in obscure comics and that was it for the obscure rodents. Insiders report that Disney's retention of the Duck triplets and abandonment of the Mouse twins was the true cause of the Donald / Mickey split immortalized in the "Mickey Mouse Club" theme song.
Beware, Frankie. Sure, it's great to have your own band at age 9, but fame will chew you up and spit you out.
Beware, Frankie. Sure, it's great to have your own band at age 9, but fame will chew you up and spit you out.
Monday, October 12, 2009
Disney Princess Flu
A poll released last week found that 38% of parents were unlikely to give permission for their children to be vaccinated against swine flu at school.
Have those parents really thought this thing through? Let the School Nurse put up with the tantrum when little Josh or Tiffany faces that monster hypodermic. Let the teacher handle the tears and acting out afterwards. This is why we pay those school taxes.
The problem is with the name, swine flu. Other than Porky Pig (and he had his own set of problems what with the stuttering and all), has there ever been a pig that inspires the warm and fuzzies? Any flu associated with swine scares both kids and parents. Now, if they had named it Disney Princess Flu or Transformer Flu, kids would demand immediate inoculation.
Parents remain to be convinced and it's not easy. I work at the local Food Bank. When swine flu first became known last spring, several clients refused hot dogs because they contained pork and "better safe than sorry". I explained that USDA approved hot dogs are thoroughly cooked and contain more preservatives than Hugh Hefner. Flu or any other germs don't stand a chance. It didn't work.
All is not lost. Kids today get what they want regardless of whether it is good for them. The "Transformers" movie remains the highest-grossing flick of 2009 and it's not as if a whole lot of parents thought that it was worth coughing up $8 for little Josh to see it. The Center for Disease Control needs to re-christen swine flu as Disney Princess or Transformers Flu and the epidemic will be halted in its tracks.
Have those parents really thought this thing through? Let the School Nurse put up with the tantrum when little Josh or Tiffany faces that monster hypodermic. Let the teacher handle the tears and acting out afterwards. This is why we pay those school taxes.
The problem is with the name, swine flu. Other than Porky Pig (and he had his own set of problems what with the stuttering and all), has there ever been a pig that inspires the warm and fuzzies? Any flu associated with swine scares both kids and parents. Now, if they had named it Disney Princess Flu or Transformer Flu, kids would demand immediate inoculation.
Parents remain to be convinced and it's not easy. I work at the local Food Bank. When swine flu first became known last spring, several clients refused hot dogs because they contained pork and "better safe than sorry". I explained that USDA approved hot dogs are thoroughly cooked and contain more preservatives than Hugh Hefner. Flu or any other germs don't stand a chance. It didn't work.
All is not lost. Kids today get what they want regardless of whether it is good for them. The "Transformers" movie remains the highest-grossing flick of 2009 and it's not as if a whole lot of parents thought that it was worth coughing up $8 for little Josh to see it. The Center for Disease Control needs to re-christen swine flu as Disney Princess or Transformers Flu and the epidemic will be halted in its tracks.
Friday, October 9, 2009
The European Way
It's not easy to follow in the footsteps of greatness. Frank Sinatra sold out the Hollywood Bowl. Frank Sinatra, Jr has trouble selling out the Holiday Inn. No one remembers who followed Abraham Lincoln as president, Michael Jordan as a Chicago Bull, or Joe Swift as Barbara Tucker's boyfriend. (Barbara was the Sandra Dee of Central High School circa 1964).
It's the American Way - Produce or Perish! What Have You Done For Me Lately!
Europeans take a different stance. France produced a King Louis XVIII times with declining results from the sainted IX to the megalomaniacal XIV to the headless XVI, vainly hoping to get it right. England produced a King Henry VIII times. Hey, Hank VIII can't be any worse than VII was, let's give it another shot.
It's the European Way - Let's encourage the New Guy. He's got to be better than his predecessor.
So we should not be surprised that Barack Obama is the 2009 recipient of the Nobel Peace Prize. It's not as if Obama has ended the bloodshed in Iraq or Afghanistan, solved the Israeli - Palestinian conflict, or shut down Guantanamo. It is that he is not G.W. Bush. Those Europeans would probably vote the Nobel Peace Prize to US President Genghis Khan as long as he showed a willingness to talk to the rest of the world as opposed to invading it.
That's those zany Europeans for you - Giving an award on promise as opposed to results.
It's the American Way - Produce or Perish! What Have You Done For Me Lately!
Europeans take a different stance. France produced a King Louis XVIII times with declining results from the sainted IX to the megalomaniacal XIV to the headless XVI, vainly hoping to get it right. England produced a King Henry VIII times. Hey, Hank VIII can't be any worse than VII was, let's give it another shot.
It's the European Way - Let's encourage the New Guy. He's got to be better than his predecessor.
So we should not be surprised that Barack Obama is the 2009 recipient of the Nobel Peace Prize. It's not as if Obama has ended the bloodshed in Iraq or Afghanistan, solved the Israeli - Palestinian conflict, or shut down Guantanamo. It is that he is not G.W. Bush. Those Europeans would probably vote the Nobel Peace Prize to US President Genghis Khan as long as he showed a willingness to talk to the rest of the world as opposed to invading it.
That's those zany Europeans for you - Giving an award on promise as opposed to results.
Thursday, October 8, 2009
Rush the Ram
News Flash - Rush Limbaugh is purchasing a major ownership share in the National Football League's St Louis Rams.
What are the requirements to be an NFL owner and how does Mr Limbaugh fill the bill?
1. Incredible wealth. NFL teams are valued between $700 million and $1.1 billion depending on whether they own or lease their stadium, local broadcasting revenue, and sales of their Cheerleaders in Lingerie Calendar. Obviously, El Rushmo has several hundred million dollars of spare change jangling around his pocket. He will fit right in with the guy who founded Home Depot and owns the Atlanta Falcons and the guy who started Hardee's and owns the Carolina Panthers. He earned his largess the hard way, too!
2. Camera Awareness. TV broadcasts invariably show reaction shots from the Owner's Box at exciting moments during NFL games. While face-painted, team-colors-wearing fans exposed to the elements and juiced on $8 beer are high-fiving and going nuts in the background, the owners and their trophy wives / girlfriends politely applaud. El Rushmo can add to this excitement with his patented pause, throat clear, and paper-rattle. Hey, it's worked for years on radio.
3. Play Calling. Half the fun of owning a football team is occasionally calling a play. If it goes for a touchdown, it was all the owner's idea. If it fails, no one is the wiser. A coach who blames the owner will collect his next paycheck from Southeast Siberia State University. This may be a problem for El Rushmo. His political views will require that all formations be "strong right", that play calls be "conservative", and that the forward pass be eliminated. Two players sharing credit for a successful play is just so "socialist". It will be easy to discern which are Rush's plays.
What are the requirements to be an NFL owner and how does Mr Limbaugh fill the bill?
1. Incredible wealth. NFL teams are valued between $700 million and $1.1 billion depending on whether they own or lease their stadium, local broadcasting revenue, and sales of their Cheerleaders in Lingerie Calendar. Obviously, El Rushmo has several hundred million dollars of spare change jangling around his pocket. He will fit right in with the guy who founded Home Depot and owns the Atlanta Falcons and the guy who started Hardee's and owns the Carolina Panthers. He earned his largess the hard way, too!
2. Camera Awareness. TV broadcasts invariably show reaction shots from the Owner's Box at exciting moments during NFL games. While face-painted, team-colors-wearing fans exposed to the elements and juiced on $8 beer are high-fiving and going nuts in the background, the owners and their trophy wives / girlfriends politely applaud. El Rushmo can add to this excitement with his patented pause, throat clear, and paper-rattle. Hey, it's worked for years on radio.
3. Play Calling. Half the fun of owning a football team is occasionally calling a play. If it goes for a touchdown, it was all the owner's idea. If it fails, no one is the wiser. A coach who blames the owner will collect his next paycheck from Southeast Siberia State University. This may be a problem for El Rushmo. His political views will require that all formations be "strong right", that play calls be "conservative", and that the forward pass be eliminated. Two players sharing credit for a successful play is just so "socialist". It will be easy to discern which are Rush's plays.
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
Career Goal
Career goals have changed over the years.
When I was a teen, responses to "What do you want to be when you grow up?" ranged from "A Doctor. You get to help people, make lots of money, and nurses go crazy for you." to "A Trucker. You get to listen to Johnny Cash songs all day long, make lots of money, and Flo at the Diner goes crazy for you." Making lots of money and having an active social life were constants.
Career goals changed in the 80s. Suddenly, teens wanted to grow up to be CEOs. You still got to make lots of money (more on that later) and your social life would be unbelievable, trading in one trophy wife for another on a whim. After all, somewhere in the world, Donald Trump's next supermodel wife is being born.
The current issue of The New Yorker cites the salary and perks package received by Jack Welch, former CEO of General Electric as an example of why business schools are chock full of aspiring top dogs. Besides a $20 million annual salary, Jack received free lifetime use of a company Boeing 737 (in case he and 100 or so of his closest friends needed to hop to Hawaii), box seats for both the Red Sox and the Yankees (you never know which of the two will make the World Series), and exclusive use of a company-owned Manhattan apartment (it's so hard to find mid-town digs). Since $20 million doesn't buy what it used to, GE also threw in fresh flowers daily for the apartment, dry-cleaning, Internet service, tips for his doormen, and even free postage. You don't get these perks as a doctor or even as a trucker.
Of course, another standard career goal is "professional athlete." Granted, Derek Jeter makes $20 million per year and has dated Mariah Carey not to mention a few Miss Universes. Still, wise Guidance Counselors would recommend the CEO career path over that of athletics. Jack Welch and Donald Trump make as much money as Derek Jeter, but Jack doesn't have to stand in line at the Post Office and The Donald literally owns the Miss Universe Pageant.
Sign me up for Business School!
When I was a teen, responses to "What do you want to be when you grow up?" ranged from "A Doctor. You get to help people, make lots of money, and nurses go crazy for you." to "A Trucker. You get to listen to Johnny Cash songs all day long, make lots of money, and Flo at the Diner goes crazy for you." Making lots of money and having an active social life were constants.
Career goals changed in the 80s. Suddenly, teens wanted to grow up to be CEOs. You still got to make lots of money (more on that later) and your social life would be unbelievable, trading in one trophy wife for another on a whim. After all, somewhere in the world, Donald Trump's next supermodel wife is being born.
The current issue of The New Yorker cites the salary and perks package received by Jack Welch, former CEO of General Electric as an example of why business schools are chock full of aspiring top dogs. Besides a $20 million annual salary, Jack received free lifetime use of a company Boeing 737 (in case he and 100 or so of his closest friends needed to hop to Hawaii), box seats for both the Red Sox and the Yankees (you never know which of the two will make the World Series), and exclusive use of a company-owned Manhattan apartment (it's so hard to find mid-town digs). Since $20 million doesn't buy what it used to, GE also threw in fresh flowers daily for the apartment, dry-cleaning, Internet service, tips for his doormen, and even free postage. You don't get these perks as a doctor or even as a trucker.
Of course, another standard career goal is "professional athlete." Granted, Derek Jeter makes $20 million per year and has dated Mariah Carey not to mention a few Miss Universes. Still, wise Guidance Counselors would recommend the CEO career path over that of athletics. Jack Welch and Donald Trump make as much money as Derek Jeter, but Jack doesn't have to stand in line at the Post Office and The Donald literally owns the Miss Universe Pageant.
Sign me up for Business School!
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
First Day of School
Yesterday was our doggie's First Day of (Obedience) School. He looked so cute waiting for the bus in his new outfit and backpack!
Just kidding! Actually, the anthropomorphism of the occasion was significant. Will our dog get along with his classmates? Will he be bullied? Which clique will he hang out with - the jocks, the nerds, the druggies? I actually worried about these things.
Petco hosted the Obedience School. What better environment to demand a canine's attention than one filled with toys, food, unfamiliar smells, people walking by, and, best of all, caged creatures to sniff and possibly eat? No distractions here.
Of course, the ultimate distraction was "our boy's" classmate, a yellow lab puppy. When they went at each other for the traditional butt sniff, discipline was swift and chilling. The instructor demanded "Sit" and "Stay" in his best Leader of the Pack command voice. Naturally, it didn't work. It was like insisting that the class derive the Pythagorean Theorem on the first day of geometry class. "Sorry, Leader of the Pack, you can't give the final exam before you've taught us the material."
The Instructor was wearing an official shirt with embroidered lettering reading "Dog Trainer". This apparently keeps Petco customers from stopping him and asking where the kitty litter is stocked, but doesn't automatically gain respect from dogs who won't be able to read his shirt until at least the third or fourth session of Obedience School.
The curriculum for Session 1 included the "Heel" command. Session 1 ended with a Pop Quiz. We had to keep our pets docile at our hip as we walked up and down the aisles. To get an "A" grade, the dog must respond to verbal and hand commands. For a "Gentleman's C", a few tugs on his leash may be required. For an "F", the dog would ravage the treats shelved right before his eyes and consume a ferret or two (You eat it; you bought it!).
I'm proud to say that our doggie rated a strong C+ and, better yet, the yellow lab puppy was a weak C- at best. Already, he's the smartest one in his class. I can picture him in his little cap and gown giving the Valedictory Address at graduation. No anthropomorphism here.
Just kidding! Actually, the anthropomorphism of the occasion was significant. Will our dog get along with his classmates? Will he be bullied? Which clique will he hang out with - the jocks, the nerds, the druggies? I actually worried about these things.
Petco hosted the Obedience School. What better environment to demand a canine's attention than one filled with toys, food, unfamiliar smells, people walking by, and, best of all, caged creatures to sniff and possibly eat? No distractions here.
Of course, the ultimate distraction was "our boy's" classmate, a yellow lab puppy. When they went at each other for the traditional butt sniff, discipline was swift and chilling. The instructor demanded "Sit" and "Stay" in his best Leader of the Pack command voice. Naturally, it didn't work. It was like insisting that the class derive the Pythagorean Theorem on the first day of geometry class. "Sorry, Leader of the Pack, you can't give the final exam before you've taught us the material."
The Instructor was wearing an official shirt with embroidered lettering reading "Dog Trainer". This apparently keeps Petco customers from stopping him and asking where the kitty litter is stocked, but doesn't automatically gain respect from dogs who won't be able to read his shirt until at least the third or fourth session of Obedience School.
The curriculum for Session 1 included the "Heel" command. Session 1 ended with a Pop Quiz. We had to keep our pets docile at our hip as we walked up and down the aisles. To get an "A" grade, the dog must respond to verbal and hand commands. For a "Gentleman's C", a few tugs on his leash may be required. For an "F", the dog would ravage the treats shelved right before his eyes and consume a ferret or two (You eat it; you bought it!).
I'm proud to say that our doggie rated a strong C+ and, better yet, the yellow lab puppy was a weak C- at best. Already, he's the smartest one in his class. I can picture him in his little cap and gown giving the Valedictory Address at graduation. No anthropomorphism here.
Monday, October 5, 2009
Laws and Sausages
Bismarck said, "You don't want to know what goes into the making of either laws or sausages."
The Iron Chancellor would be pleased (or perhaps appalled) that things haven't changed very much. The current issue of Time includes the following "Back & Forth" from the floor of the Senate as it debates the proposed Health Care Reform Bill.
Jon Kyl, Arizona Republican - "I don't need maternity care so requiring that to be in my insurance plan would would make my policy more expensive."
Debbie Stabenow, Michigan Democrat - "I think your mom probably needed it though."
So we've gone from "Death Panels" to abortion coverage to illegal immigrant eligibility to maternity care for males. One wonders how laws are ever passed what with 535 cooks stirring the pot and millions of dollars of potential "campaign contributions" on hold pending the outcome.
Yet, working within what appears to be a flawed system, our elected representatives have come up with civil rights, poverty relief, environmental, and labor legislation that gives us an equitable, free society. It's not all sawdust and entrails that go into the democratic sausage. Bismarck probably would be pleased.
The Iron Chancellor would be pleased (or perhaps appalled) that things haven't changed very much. The current issue of Time includes the following "Back & Forth" from the floor of the Senate as it debates the proposed Health Care Reform Bill.
Jon Kyl, Arizona Republican - "I don't need maternity care so requiring that to be in my insurance plan would would make my policy more expensive."
Debbie Stabenow, Michigan Democrat - "I think your mom probably needed it though."
So we've gone from "Death Panels" to abortion coverage to illegal immigrant eligibility to maternity care for males. One wonders how laws are ever passed what with 535 cooks stirring the pot and millions of dollars of potential "campaign contributions" on hold pending the outcome.
Yet, working within what appears to be a flawed system, our elected representatives have come up with civil rights, poverty relief, environmental, and labor legislation that gives us an equitable, free society. It's not all sawdust and entrails that go into the democratic sausage. Bismarck probably would be pleased.
Friday, October 2, 2009
Doctor Dan
As a chemical engineering major, my undergraduate courses included Physical, Inorganic, and Organic Chemistry. The toughest of the three was Organic Chemistry because all those aspiring Marcus Welby pre-med types shared the course with us. They absolutely, positively had to ace "Organic" to get a shot at med school and would devote uncounted hours to memorizing the difference between alkanes, alkenes, and alkynes, thus skewing "the grading curve", sending us closer to a mid-term "F" and the dreaded "We will notify your Draft Board on your lack of academic progress."
Apparently, doctors aren't as chemically literate as they were back in the day. "Doctor Dan" writes to the automotive advice column, "Click & Clack Talk Cars":
"You mentioned in a recent column that ethylene glycol (anti-freeze) is toxic to animals. Is it also toxic to humans? I'm a doctor and I prescribe a medicine for my patients that cleans out their colon. Its main ingredient is polyethylene glycol which sounds an awful lot like ethylene glycol. So when I prescribe this, am I really prescribing anti-freeze? Could I just tell my patients to down a gallon of Prestone and save themselves a trip to the pharmacy?"
Click & Clack correctly point out that after downing a gallon of anti-freeze, your annual colonoscopy is the last thing you need to worry about. Immediate heart failure and, if you survive that, kidney damage might be more pressing issues.
My response to "Doctor Dan" would be:
"Good question, Dan-o! Those chemists and their confusing, similar-sounding names for things! Let's discuss this over a shot or two of methyl alcohol. It's just one letter more than the ethyl alcohol that makes up half of Cuervo tequila and has the added advantage of causing blindness and respiratory failure. To do it right, we'll need a lick of salt and a squeeze of lemon. If we can't find any sodium chloride table salt, we'll go with calcium chloride de-icing salt. They "sound an awful lot" alike and it's not as if the calcium chloride will scar your trachea every time. If lemons are out of season, their critical ingredient is citric acid. Let's just change the first letter to "n". A squeeze of Nitric Acid and that harsh tequila taste will go right away. In fact, you won't taste anything ever again because the acid will dissolve your tongue.
By the way, Doctor Dan, it's probably a good idea to have some concept of the chemical properties of what you prescribe for your patients."
Apparently, doctors aren't as chemically literate as they were back in the day. "Doctor Dan" writes to the automotive advice column, "Click & Clack Talk Cars":
"You mentioned in a recent column that ethylene glycol (anti-freeze) is toxic to animals. Is it also toxic to humans? I'm a doctor and I prescribe a medicine for my patients that cleans out their colon. Its main ingredient is polyethylene glycol which sounds an awful lot like ethylene glycol. So when I prescribe this, am I really prescribing anti-freeze? Could I just tell my patients to down a gallon of Prestone and save themselves a trip to the pharmacy?"
Click & Clack correctly point out that after downing a gallon of anti-freeze, your annual colonoscopy is the last thing you need to worry about. Immediate heart failure and, if you survive that, kidney damage might be more pressing issues.
My response to "Doctor Dan" would be:
"Good question, Dan-o! Those chemists and their confusing, similar-sounding names for things! Let's discuss this over a shot or two of methyl alcohol. It's just one letter more than the ethyl alcohol that makes up half of Cuervo tequila and has the added advantage of causing blindness and respiratory failure. To do it right, we'll need a lick of salt and a squeeze of lemon. If we can't find any sodium chloride table salt, we'll go with calcium chloride de-icing salt. They "sound an awful lot" alike and it's not as if the calcium chloride will scar your trachea every time. If lemons are out of season, their critical ingredient is citric acid. Let's just change the first letter to "n". A squeeze of Nitric Acid and that harsh tequila taste will go right away. In fact, you won't taste anything ever again because the acid will dissolve your tongue.
By the way, Doctor Dan, it's probably a good idea to have some concept of the chemical properties of what you prescribe for your patients."
Thursday, October 1, 2009
Semantics
When one word or phrase with the same meaning is substituted for another, it is referred to as a matter of semantics.
Semantics can be benign. Asphalt, blacktop, macadam, and flexible paving all mean the same thing and can be freely substituted.
Semantics can be inflammatory. Courtesan, lady of the evening, prostitute, and whore all mean the same thing but have different connotations.
Semantics can also be unintentionally comical. In last Sunday's 49ers - Vikings game, the Minnesota defense called false audibles and jumped back and forth in an attempt to get the San Francisco offense to jump off-side. Referee Jerome Boger (Poor soul. Imagine the mockery he endured in middle school. "Yo, Booger Boger! Ha-ha!") correctly signalled a delay-of-game penalty against the Vikings. He then switched on his microphone and announced to a national TV audience, "Delay of game. Five yards. Minnesota was committing an unnatural act."
According to the NFL Rulebook, the term for this foul is actually "disconcerting activity" which is comical in its own right but certainly doesn't bring the same mental image to an audience (particularly one in San Francisco) as "unnatural act".
Somewhere, Mr Roget is saying, "It's time to update that Thesaurus. In my original edition, I never thought of "disconcerting activity" and "unnatural act" as synonyms, but times change. Semantics is an evolving science."
Semantics can be benign. Asphalt, blacktop, macadam, and flexible paving all mean the same thing and can be freely substituted.
Semantics can be inflammatory. Courtesan, lady of the evening, prostitute, and whore all mean the same thing but have different connotations.
Semantics can also be unintentionally comical. In last Sunday's 49ers - Vikings game, the Minnesota defense called false audibles and jumped back and forth in an attempt to get the San Francisco offense to jump off-side. Referee Jerome Boger (Poor soul. Imagine the mockery he endured in middle school. "Yo, Booger Boger! Ha-ha!") correctly signalled a delay-of-game penalty against the Vikings. He then switched on his microphone and announced to a national TV audience, "Delay of game. Five yards. Minnesota was committing an unnatural act."
According to the NFL Rulebook, the term for this foul is actually "disconcerting activity" which is comical in its own right but certainly doesn't bring the same mental image to an audience (particularly one in San Francisco) as "unnatural act".
Somewhere, Mr Roget is saying, "It's time to update that Thesaurus. In my original edition, I never thought of "disconcerting activity" and "unnatural act" as synonyms, but times change. Semantics is an evolving science."
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Pizza Worship
"Pizza worship has swept New York," a New York Times headline proclaimed recently.
"Pizza lovers", the Times announced, "have elevated their passion to a vocation, sending pizza into a whole new stratosphere of respect. It isn't just loved, and it isn't just devoured. It's scrutinized and fetishized, with a Palin-esque power to polarize." Pizza is like Sarah Palin? Like a fetishized Sarah Palin? Leave it to the liberal media to inject politics into a food article.
The article went on to say that there are now "classically trained" pizza chefs (perhaps who can play baroque concertos), that pizza is "an art" that fosters "a cult," (though presumably less fanatical than that Jim Jones group with Kool Aid in Guyana), that crust too often "lacks character" (maybe the crusts are seeing someone in Argentina instead of hiking the Appalachian Trail), and that the New York pizza craze began in exactly 2004. (Not before or after. The question remains - On what day in 2004?)
Like all proper religions, if pizza is to be worshipped, it requires (not to go all Judeo-Christian) Commandments. Four are sufficient:
1. Thou shalt not consume pizza prepared south of the Mason-Dixon Line or west of Chicago. It is an abomination to thine taste buds.
2. Thou shalt not place pineapple or any other foodstuff not native to Italy on a pizza.
3. Thou shalt not order pizza from a national chain. Like snowflakes, no two local pizzas are alike, but all are good.
4. Thou shalt not order delivery pizza. Half the fun of the Pizza Experience is the breathless race home before the pie congeals into barely-edible coldness. Plus, there's nothing like that pizza aroma embedded in your car's upholstery forever.
"Pizza lovers", the Times announced, "have elevated their passion to a vocation, sending pizza into a whole new stratosphere of respect. It isn't just loved, and it isn't just devoured. It's scrutinized and fetishized, with a Palin-esque power to polarize." Pizza is like Sarah Palin? Like a fetishized Sarah Palin? Leave it to the liberal media to inject politics into a food article.
The article went on to say that there are now "classically trained" pizza chefs (perhaps who can play baroque concertos), that pizza is "an art" that fosters "a cult," (though presumably less fanatical than that Jim Jones group with Kool Aid in Guyana), that crust too often "lacks character" (maybe the crusts are seeing someone in Argentina instead of hiking the Appalachian Trail), and that the New York pizza craze began in exactly 2004. (Not before or after. The question remains - On what day in 2004?)
Like all proper religions, if pizza is to be worshipped, it requires (not to go all Judeo-Christian) Commandments. Four are sufficient:
1. Thou shalt not consume pizza prepared south of the Mason-Dixon Line or west of Chicago. It is an abomination to thine taste buds.
2. Thou shalt not place pineapple or any other foodstuff not native to Italy on a pizza.
3. Thou shalt not order pizza from a national chain. Like snowflakes, no two local pizzas are alike, but all are good.
4. Thou shalt not order delivery pizza. Half the fun of the Pizza Experience is the breathless race home before the pie congeals into barely-edible coldness. Plus, there's nothing like that pizza aroma embedded in your car's upholstery forever.
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Going Rogue
only Tarzan (or possibly the NRA) can save us!
With Sarah shackled to her author's desk, who is watching the Bering Straits for those Russian invaders? I'm not sure I trust the current Alaska governor / National Guard commander-in-chief.
Did Sarah finish the book in time to get out in the woods for moose hunting season? To quote Homer Simpson, "Mooseburgers...m-m-m".
These answers to these questions and many more will, no doubt, be revealed in Sarah's blockbuster best-seller. Dan Brown, eat your heart out. I know what book I'll be curling up with come December.
With Sarah shackled to her author's desk, who is watching the Bering Straits for those Russian invaders? I'm not sure I trust the current Alaska governor / National Guard commander-in-chief.
Did Sarah finish the book in time to get out in the woods for moose hunting season? To quote Homer Simpson, "Mooseburgers...m-m-m".
These answers to these questions and many more will, no doubt, be revealed in Sarah's blockbuster best-seller. Dan Brown, eat your heart out. I know what book I'll be curling up with come December.
Monday, September 28, 2009
Money Back Guarantee
MONEY BACK GUARANTEE
A MODERN FABLE
Scene - A typical suburban living room. Middle-aged Harry is watching football in front of a big screen TV with beer and snacks close at hand. His wife Louise enters carrying car keys and a large shopping bag.
HARRY - E - A - G - L - E - S, Iggles!!! That Andy Reid, what a genius! Of course, coaching the Iggles was his #2 career choice. He couldn't fit into the Jabba the Hutt costume for the road company of "Star Wars On Ice". It had only a 62 inch waist. Louise, are you going shopping or something? Can you bring back more beer and Cheetos?
LOUISE - You'd best slow down on the brewski consumption there, Big Guy. I've got a lot of stops to make on this trip. First, there's Wal-Mart to return this size 4 dress...
HARRY - You haven't been a size 4 since Grade 4
LOUISE - I know, but I really haven't worn it that much since 1958 and I saved the sales slip. Wal-Mart is really good about returning things. Money back guarantee, you know. Next stop will be McDonald's to return this Shamrock Shake...
HARRY - Come on, Louise. St Patty's Day was six months ago. Plus, you finished drinking it.
LOUISE - Yes, but I didn't enjoy it. McDonald's money back guarantee, here I come. Then, it's off to the Chevy dealer to return our new Cobalt...
HARRY - That will cost us a fortune! We just bought that car last month. We put 5,000 miles on it and the dog covered over the "new car smell" with an odor more to his liking. We'll never get our money back
LOUISE - Yes, we will. Look at that commercial on the TV...
PAN TO THE BIG SCREEN TV. THE CEO OF GENERAL MOTORS STRIDES PAST NEW GM CARS IN A SHOWROOM.
GM CEO - When I took over here at General Motors, I was surprised at how great GM cars really are. They are almost as good as the Rolls and Bentleys that I'm used to as a rich CEO. I decided to use a marketing ploy from my days as CEO of AT&T. GM offers a money-back guarantee! Bring back your new Chevy, Buick or Cadillac within 60 days and we'll refund the full purchase price, no questions asked. This worked out great when we offered it on those AT&T personal computers back in the 80s. That's why you see so many AT&T PCs out there today. I'm sure it will do just as well for cars. If not, I'll just cash in my stock options and leave. I'm sure that the government can find another new CEO for GM with zero car experience and zany ideas. How about that guy who sells the Sham Wow?
LOUISE - See, Harry? It's like Cash for Clunkers on steroids. While I'm there, I'll pick up a Corvette and put it on the old credit card. By the time payment is due, we can return the 'Vette and we'll have a month or two of free driving.
HARRY - Geez, Louise. You're a genius.
A MODERN FABLE
Scene - A typical suburban living room. Middle-aged Harry is watching football in front of a big screen TV with beer and snacks close at hand. His wife Louise enters carrying car keys and a large shopping bag.
HARRY - E - A - G - L - E - S, Iggles!!! That Andy Reid, what a genius! Of course, coaching the Iggles was his #2 career choice. He couldn't fit into the Jabba the Hutt costume for the road company of "Star Wars On Ice". It had only a 62 inch waist. Louise, are you going shopping or something? Can you bring back more beer and Cheetos?
LOUISE - You'd best slow down on the brewski consumption there, Big Guy. I've got a lot of stops to make on this trip. First, there's Wal-Mart to return this size 4 dress...
HARRY - You haven't been a size 4 since Grade 4
LOUISE - I know, but I really haven't worn it that much since 1958 and I saved the sales slip. Wal-Mart is really good about returning things. Money back guarantee, you know. Next stop will be McDonald's to return this Shamrock Shake...
HARRY - Come on, Louise. St Patty's Day was six months ago. Plus, you finished drinking it.
LOUISE - Yes, but I didn't enjoy it. McDonald's money back guarantee, here I come. Then, it's off to the Chevy dealer to return our new Cobalt...
HARRY - That will cost us a fortune! We just bought that car last month. We put 5,000 miles on it and the dog covered over the "new car smell" with an odor more to his liking. We'll never get our money back
LOUISE - Yes, we will. Look at that commercial on the TV...
PAN TO THE BIG SCREEN TV. THE CEO OF GENERAL MOTORS STRIDES PAST NEW GM CARS IN A SHOWROOM.
GM CEO - When I took over here at General Motors, I was surprised at how great GM cars really are. They are almost as good as the Rolls and Bentleys that I'm used to as a rich CEO. I decided to use a marketing ploy from my days as CEO of AT&T. GM offers a money-back guarantee! Bring back your new Chevy, Buick or Cadillac within 60 days and we'll refund the full purchase price, no questions asked. This worked out great when we offered it on those AT&T personal computers back in the 80s. That's why you see so many AT&T PCs out there today. I'm sure it will do just as well for cars. If not, I'll just cash in my stock options and leave. I'm sure that the government can find another new CEO for GM with zero car experience and zany ideas. How about that guy who sells the Sham Wow?
LOUISE - See, Harry? It's like Cash for Clunkers on steroids. While I'm there, I'll pick up a Corvette and put it on the old credit card. By the time payment is due, we can return the 'Vette and we'll have a month or two of free driving.
HARRY - Geez, Louise. You're a genius.
Friday, September 25, 2009
The Perfect Tease
The local newscast is a cash cow for TV stations. The tried and true means to retain viewers after the 10 PM network showing of "Law and Order - Something or Other" (This week, the team puts aside the sexual tension between its attractive members who resemble no policepersons and DAs that ever existed to solve yet another crime ripped from the fears and anxieties of today's headlines and/or urban myths) is a 10 second local news teaser. The camera pans to the well-coiffed lead newscaster who solemnly intones:
"Tonight at 11, what you NEED to know about (fill in the blank)", or
"Tonight at 11, what the big (fill in the blank) companies DON'T WANT you to know about (fill in the blank)", or,
"In a world where passions run rampant and nothing is the way it seems, MGM presents the cinematic achievement of the year!" Well, maybe not this one.
Last night, the news teaser on Channel 10, repeated every half hour, was, "Tonight, what you NEED to know before you go for a root canal." This was the perfect tease. The thousand or so Philadelphians scheduled for a root canal the next day would certainly suffer through an hour of Jay Leno and stay up past 11 PM so they can intelligently criticize their dentist's technique.
As for the rest of us, who knows when a root canal may be required? Forewarned is forearmed! So I lose a little sleep, I NEED to know.
From Channel 10's perspective, the root canal bit is innocuous enough to keep viewers watching "The Office" and away from 24 hour cable news.
Had the teaser been, "What you NEED to know about the Islamofascist terrorists in the basement of your kid's school", remotes would instantly click to Fox News. Had the teaser been, "What you NEED to know about Lindsay Lohan and Bigfoot's love child", E!'s ratings would instantly skyrocket and no one would wait for Channel 10's reportage at 11.
Perfection is rare and to be cherished. Good job, Channel 10.
"Tonight at 11, what you NEED to know about (fill in the blank)", or
"Tonight at 11, what the big (fill in the blank) companies DON'T WANT you to know about (fill in the blank)", or,
"In a world where passions run rampant and nothing is the way it seems, MGM presents the cinematic achievement of the year!" Well, maybe not this one.
Last night, the news teaser on Channel 10, repeated every half hour, was, "Tonight, what you NEED to know before you go for a root canal." This was the perfect tease. The thousand or so Philadelphians scheduled for a root canal the next day would certainly suffer through an hour of Jay Leno and stay up past 11 PM so they can intelligently criticize their dentist's technique.
As for the rest of us, who knows when a root canal may be required? Forewarned is forearmed! So I lose a little sleep, I NEED to know.
From Channel 10's perspective, the root canal bit is innocuous enough to keep viewers watching "The Office" and away from 24 hour cable news.
Had the teaser been, "What you NEED to know about the Islamofascist terrorists in the basement of your kid's school", remotes would instantly click to Fox News. Had the teaser been, "What you NEED to know about Lindsay Lohan and Bigfoot's love child", E!'s ratings would instantly skyrocket and no one would wait for Channel 10's reportage at 11.
Perfection is rare and to be cherished. Good job, Channel 10.
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