The commercial on Sports Radio touted Subway Fiery Footlong Subs as capable of "burning the wimp right out of you."
When I heard it, I was walking the dog with a bagful of poop in my hand and desperately in need of significant wimp retraction, fiery and painful though it may be. Would the macho act of consuming a Buffalo Chicken sandwich restore my masculinity? Would it cause the dog to fear my wrath to the extent that he would pick up his own poop? The commercial made it seem worth a try.
Returning home, the Phillies game featured a Subway commercial showing a gang of motorcyclists tooling through a desert "so hot that rattlesnakes combust" on their way to, you guessed it, a Subway where the fiery footlongs were even hotter than the desert. The message was clear. Consume a fiery footlong and you will be tougher than a Hell's Angel.
Business news reports last week noted that fast food sales are predominantly to young men ages 18 to 34. Some advertising genius decided that the best way to get this demographic's attention was to appeal to their masculinity. Let McDonald's brag on their salads, wraps, and frothy drinks, real men go to Subway, have the wimp burned right out of them, and roar into the desert sunset astride a Harley. Just thinking about it has hair sprouting from my nostrils and ears.
After consuming a fiery footlong, of course, your breath may be capable of peeling the paint off your imaginary Harley and your social life may suffer, but that's OK. If you're listening to Sports Radio or watching a mid-week Phillies game on TV, you probably don't have much of a social life anyway. On to Subway!
Friday, September 17, 2010
Thursday, September 16, 2010
Americanization Averted
Syndicated columnist Cal Thomas warned yesterday of "the Americanization of al-Queda leadership" which like the old Julie Andrews movie "The Americanization of Emily" involves foreigners infiltrating our fair land to spread fear and instability. After all these years, Julie Andrews still speaks with a British accent, you know. Drop the accent if you want to be a real American. Julie.
Cal points out that al-Queda is developing an embryonic recruitment infrastructure within the US involving immigrant and indigenous Muslims. Whatever shall we do? Cal recommends:
1. "Bar Muslim immigrants from Pakistan, Somalia, and Yemen." Solid thinking, Cal! Immigrants fleeing a totalitarian homeland have never worked out for America. We should never have allowed that Einstein guy in from Nazi Germany. Thomas Jefferson, John Adams, and Ben Franklin all descended form British-born parents when the UK was under that nasty King George. Who knows what they were really plotting in Independence Hall back in 1776? Come to think of it, every American except Sitting Bull (and, apparently, Cal Thomas) came here to escape oppression.
2. Ban "the uncontrolled construction of mosques as well as Islamic schools some of which have already sown the seeds from which future terrorists will be cultivated". Great grasp of history, Cal! Harvard and Yale were founded to train religious leaders and to this day have prominent Divinity Schools. Those hotbeds of religious radicalism are the alma mater of every current Supreme Court justice and we know what a bunch of radicals they are.
3. Stop "the large-scale conversion to Islam of prison inmates many of whom become radicalized and upon release enlist in al-Queda's army." Right on, Cal! It wasn't until after they were released from prison that Lenin and Hitler became radicalized and look what happened as a result. Or maybe they were fairly radical before prison, who knows?
Cal concludes his column on a chilling note. "Syria has asked imams for recordings of their Friday sermons and is closely monitoring what is taught in their religious schools... What does Syria know that we refuse to acknowledge out of fear of offending sensibilities?" Great idea, Cal! Let's establish a reverse Inquisition where the government tortures religious leaders if they don't parrot the party line. We can learn a lot from Syria.
Isn't Syria a Muslim country, though? Could it be that Islamofascism has less to do with Islam than with Fascism? Is every single one of the billion Muslims world-wide our sworn enemy? Let's not take any chances though. Keep them outside our borders. Don't allow their mosques or schools. Keep them away from our prisons. You tell 'em, Cal.
Cal points out that al-Queda is developing an embryonic recruitment infrastructure within the US involving immigrant and indigenous Muslims. Whatever shall we do? Cal recommends:
1. "Bar Muslim immigrants from Pakistan, Somalia, and Yemen." Solid thinking, Cal! Immigrants fleeing a totalitarian homeland have never worked out for America. We should never have allowed that Einstein guy in from Nazi Germany. Thomas Jefferson, John Adams, and Ben Franklin all descended form British-born parents when the UK was under that nasty King George. Who knows what they were really plotting in Independence Hall back in 1776? Come to think of it, every American except Sitting Bull (and, apparently, Cal Thomas) came here to escape oppression.
2. Ban "the uncontrolled construction of mosques as well as Islamic schools some of which have already sown the seeds from which future terrorists will be cultivated". Great grasp of history, Cal! Harvard and Yale were founded to train religious leaders and to this day have prominent Divinity Schools. Those hotbeds of religious radicalism are the alma mater of every current Supreme Court justice and we know what a bunch of radicals they are.
3. Stop "the large-scale conversion to Islam of prison inmates many of whom become radicalized and upon release enlist in al-Queda's army." Right on, Cal! It wasn't until after they were released from prison that Lenin and Hitler became radicalized and look what happened as a result. Or maybe they were fairly radical before prison, who knows?
Cal concludes his column on a chilling note. "Syria has asked imams for recordings of their Friday sermons and is closely monitoring what is taught in their religious schools... What does Syria know that we refuse to acknowledge out of fear of offending sensibilities?" Great idea, Cal! Let's establish a reverse Inquisition where the government tortures religious leaders if they don't parrot the party line. We can learn a lot from Syria.
Isn't Syria a Muslim country, though? Could it be that Islamofascism has less to do with Islam than with Fascism? Is every single one of the billion Muslims world-wide our sworn enemy? Let's not take any chances though. Keep them outside our borders. Don't allow their mosques or schools. Keep them away from our prisons. You tell 'em, Cal.
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
Saving Bikini Season
A scene from TV's "House, M.D.":
CUDDY: "House, here's an unusual one and right up your alley. An 18 year old girl came in to the ER today with an unsightly brown mark on her upper thigh. It's almost bikini season and she is panicking."
HOUSE: "I will assemble my staff, listen to their diagnoses, mock them, start treatment, almost kill the patient, and just before the show is over, notice something totally irrelevant relating to the personal lives of the patient, me, or my staff, and come up with a miracle cure. Hey, it's worked for six seasons, innumerable reruns, and won me an Emmy. Let's go!"
WILSON: "That unsightly brown mark could be skin cancer. I'd recommend immediate radiation and chemo."
HOUSE: "Cancer, cancer, cancer. It's always cancer with you, Wilson. If your nose hairs need trimming, it must be The Big C! Next."
CHASE: "It could be the reverse of that thing that Michael Jackson had with white skin turning black instead of the other way around. If our patient can't sing or Moonwalk and wears two sequined gloves, she might have Reverse Michael Jackson Syndrome."
HOUSE: "Great idea, Chase. Let's pump her full of painkillers and send her off on tour. That worked so well for MJ. Next."
CAMERON: "I think that it's a rare capillary disease where the tiny blood vessels burst. This gives us a chance to show the viewers those cool "inside the body" CGI effects."
HOUSE: "That rare capillary disease is known as bruising, Cameron. The patient is not going "ouch" when we touch the area, so it's' not a bruise. Plus, bruises heal slowly and we've only got an hour of TV time."
HOUSE glances at the computer on his desk and smiles enigmatically.
HOUSE: "Did anyone think to ask the young lady whether she owns a laptop? A Pennsylvania dermatologist diagnosed a similar case as "Erythma ab igne", a rash from localized heat exposure usually found in nursing home patients who slept with a hot water bottle (or with a hot nurse as Groucho would say). The laptop's battery emits enough heat to cause a permanent rash. Give her an old-fashioned "tower" computer and some pancake make-up. Bikini season will be saved!"
THE NEXT DAY
CUDDY: "Your diagnosis was correct, House, but the patient tipped over the "tower" computer on her lap and it shattered her pelvis leading to hemorrhage."
HOUSE: "Great, that's the near-fatal scare that we do every episode. Bring in my staff again and stoke up the CGI effects. We've got the rest of the hour to fill."
By the way, the laptop rash thing is actually true. It was published in "Contemporary Pediatrics" and featured in newsppaer articles.
CUDDY: "House, here's an unusual one and right up your alley. An 18 year old girl came in to the ER today with an unsightly brown mark on her upper thigh. It's almost bikini season and she is panicking."
HOUSE: "I will assemble my staff, listen to their diagnoses, mock them, start treatment, almost kill the patient, and just before the show is over, notice something totally irrelevant relating to the personal lives of the patient, me, or my staff, and come up with a miracle cure. Hey, it's worked for six seasons, innumerable reruns, and won me an Emmy. Let's go!"
WILSON: "That unsightly brown mark could be skin cancer. I'd recommend immediate radiation and chemo."
HOUSE: "Cancer, cancer, cancer. It's always cancer with you, Wilson. If your nose hairs need trimming, it must be The Big C! Next."
CHASE: "It could be the reverse of that thing that Michael Jackson had with white skin turning black instead of the other way around. If our patient can't sing or Moonwalk and wears two sequined gloves, she might have Reverse Michael Jackson Syndrome."
HOUSE: "Great idea, Chase. Let's pump her full of painkillers and send her off on tour. That worked so well for MJ. Next."
CAMERON: "I think that it's a rare capillary disease where the tiny blood vessels burst. This gives us a chance to show the viewers those cool "inside the body" CGI effects."
HOUSE: "That rare capillary disease is known as bruising, Cameron. The patient is not going "ouch" when we touch the area, so it's' not a bruise. Plus, bruises heal slowly and we've only got an hour of TV time."
HOUSE glances at the computer on his desk and smiles enigmatically.
HOUSE: "Did anyone think to ask the young lady whether she owns a laptop? A Pennsylvania dermatologist diagnosed a similar case as "Erythma ab igne", a rash from localized heat exposure usually found in nursing home patients who slept with a hot water bottle (or with a hot nurse as Groucho would say). The laptop's battery emits enough heat to cause a permanent rash. Give her an old-fashioned "tower" computer and some pancake make-up. Bikini season will be saved!"
THE NEXT DAY
CUDDY: "Your diagnosis was correct, House, but the patient tipped over the "tower" computer on her lap and it shattered her pelvis leading to hemorrhage."
HOUSE: "Great, that's the near-fatal scare that we do every episode. Bring in my staff again and stoke up the CGI effects. We've got the rest of the hour to fill."
By the way, the laptop rash thing is actually true. It was published in "Contemporary Pediatrics" and featured in newsppaer articles.
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
Confessions of an Anti-Dentite
Random thoughts while undergoing my semi-annual Dental Exam / Cleaning / Prophylaxis:
Prophylaxis sounds vaguely obscene. With a name like that, it should be a fun "forbidden fruit" sort of thing rather than an ordeal.
What the hell do I look at while the Hygienist is poking around my mouth? I can't look at her. That would make me some sort of pervert. The acoustical ceiling tile gets really boring after a while. Some day, progressive dentists will have DVDs projected on the ceiling to keep patients calm much like parents have DVD screens in the back of the family minivan to keep the little ones occupied during long trips.
My sinuses are draining and clogging my airway. I'm going to suffocate here on the dentist's chair! At my funeral, they will all say, "The Organ Donor Bank refused his corneas and kidneys, but they took his bicuspids. He gave the gift of chewing to some poor soul in West Virginia."
If that modern ultrasonic tartar-bashing thingie that the Hygienist just used is so great, why is she scraping away on my teeth with that stainless steel pick anyway? Is she scraping away good tooth enamel so that I will have cavities there next time? Not that I'm paranoid, but it's an ADA plot. All the dentists do it.
Where does my tongue go now? Don't stab it with that pick! Just tell me, I'll do anything you say.
Why does that spit suction thingie hang over my front teeth when my head is tilted back and all my saliva is draining back toward my throat (and, by the way, choking me). Liquids flow downhill, or didn't they teach you that in Dental School?
In the words of Kramer, "I'm a raving anti-Dentite."
It's all over, you say? Damn, my mouth feels good. See you in six months!
Prophylaxis sounds vaguely obscene. With a name like that, it should be a fun "forbidden fruit" sort of thing rather than an ordeal.
What the hell do I look at while the Hygienist is poking around my mouth? I can't look at her. That would make me some sort of pervert. The acoustical ceiling tile gets really boring after a while. Some day, progressive dentists will have DVDs projected on the ceiling to keep patients calm much like parents have DVD screens in the back of the family minivan to keep the little ones occupied during long trips.
My sinuses are draining and clogging my airway. I'm going to suffocate here on the dentist's chair! At my funeral, they will all say, "The Organ Donor Bank refused his corneas and kidneys, but they took his bicuspids. He gave the gift of chewing to some poor soul in West Virginia."
If that modern ultrasonic tartar-bashing thingie that the Hygienist just used is so great, why is she scraping away on my teeth with that stainless steel pick anyway? Is she scraping away good tooth enamel so that I will have cavities there next time? Not that I'm paranoid, but it's an ADA plot. All the dentists do it.
Where does my tongue go now? Don't stab it with that pick! Just tell me, I'll do anything you say.
Why does that spit suction thingie hang over my front teeth when my head is tilted back and all my saliva is draining back toward my throat (and, by the way, choking me). Liquids flow downhill, or didn't they teach you that in Dental School?
In the words of Kramer, "I'm a raving anti-Dentite."
It's all over, you say? Damn, my mouth feels good. See you in six months!
Monday, September 13, 2010
A Lehigh Valley Comeback
Why don't newspapers print "good" news? The daily litany of explosions in California, deaths in Afghanistan, and our beloved Eagles going down to injury and defeat is enough to curdle the milk over our Cheerios. Then, a plucky 14 year-old from Allentown added joy to our morning coffee.
Marlee Senderowitz is one of twenty finalists in the "Live! With Regis & Kelly Wild & Wacky Talent Contest". Marlee has won $2,500 to date and is eligible to win the grand prize of $20,000 and a lifetime supply of Trident gum. Considering that she may have 70 more years of chewing, that could be a whole lot of gum. "Congratulations on your victory, Marlee. I'll just back this tractor trailer full of gum to your garage and dump all those packs of pure breath-freshening goodness in there. You may want to invite some friends over for a chewing party if you ever want to get your car out."
And what is Marlee's Wild & Wacky Talent? It's inflating a balloon by blowing air through her nose. She has wowed her audiences at summer camp and at family gatherings. "After her sister plays 'Fur Elise' on the piano and we've hopefully digested our dessert, Marlee will blow up a balloon through her nose. Use the little brown bags alongside your seat if you feel queasy."
The Wild & Wacky Talent Competition is tough this year. Marlee's rivals include a woman who whistles with her toes (I never could master that two-fingers-in-the-mouth super-shrill whistling technique. If I'd tried two-toes-in-the-mouth, I might have had better luck.), a girl who plays the piano backwards (Big deal! That no-talent Mozart did it 200 years ago if we believe the film "Amadeus"), and an amazing basketball shooter (Amazing? Let's see him make a free throw propelling the ball from his nose).
It's up to us, Lehigh Valley. We can vote on-line to bring Marlee to victory. America no longer looks at the Lehigh Valley and thinks of Bethlehem Steel, Mack Trucks, or Dixie Cups. After Marlee's win, we will be the Wild & Wacky Talent Capital of the USA. Let's see every mile marker on Route 22 festooned with a nasally-inflated balloon. Now, that would be a "good news" story for our morning paper.
Marlee Senderowitz is one of twenty finalists in the "Live! With Regis & Kelly Wild & Wacky Talent Contest". Marlee has won $2,500 to date and is eligible to win the grand prize of $20,000 and a lifetime supply of Trident gum. Considering that she may have 70 more years of chewing, that could be a whole lot of gum. "Congratulations on your victory, Marlee. I'll just back this tractor trailer full of gum to your garage and dump all those packs of pure breath-freshening goodness in there. You may want to invite some friends over for a chewing party if you ever want to get your car out."
And what is Marlee's Wild & Wacky Talent? It's inflating a balloon by blowing air through her nose. She has wowed her audiences at summer camp and at family gatherings. "After her sister plays 'Fur Elise' on the piano and we've hopefully digested our dessert, Marlee will blow up a balloon through her nose. Use the little brown bags alongside your seat if you feel queasy."
The Wild & Wacky Talent Competition is tough this year. Marlee's rivals include a woman who whistles with her toes (I never could master that two-fingers-in-the-mouth super-shrill whistling technique. If I'd tried two-toes-in-the-mouth, I might have had better luck.), a girl who plays the piano backwards (Big deal! That no-talent Mozart did it 200 years ago if we believe the film "Amadeus"), and an amazing basketball shooter (Amazing? Let's see him make a free throw propelling the ball from his nose).
It's up to us, Lehigh Valley. We can vote on-line to bring Marlee to victory. America no longer looks at the Lehigh Valley and thinks of Bethlehem Steel, Mack Trucks, or Dixie Cups. After Marlee's win, we will be the Wild & Wacky Talent Capital of the USA. Let's see every mile marker on Route 22 festooned with a nasally-inflated balloon. Now, that would be a "good news" story for our morning paper.
Friday, September 10, 2010
Dirty Polka-ing
The Associated Press reported today that Jan Lewan, "Pennsylvania's Polka King", is "getting the old band back together" now that he has been released from a five year prison term for securities fraud.
"Getting the old band back together", eh? Perhaps "on a mission from God"? Why does this sound familiar? It's the plot of "The Blues Brothers" come to real-life thirty years later to a spritely polka beat. I see an updated sequel!
One imagines Jan and his lesser-known brother clad in the polka equivalent of Belushi and Ackroyd's black suits, fedoras, and shades (sequined polyester shirts, satin pants, and boots) roaming the Pennsylvania coal country in search of their former bandmates. They enter St Stanislaus Church in Hazleton where the priest who strongly resembles the polka equivalent of James Brown (Jimmy Sturr, since James doesn't do polka and is no longer with us) causes them "to see the light". Jan does backflips down the church aisle to the amazement of the congregation.
Now they must get the band's instruments out of hock. The pawnbroker, a Ray Charles look-alike (Weird Al Yankovic since he can play any role and legendary, blind polka stars are in short supply) sings a song and cuts them a break.
Alas, one former bandmate is now married and running a successful Polka Soul Food (Halupkies and Kielbasa, All You Can Eat) Restaurant in Wilkes-Barre. His wife, played by one of the legendary Pany Sisters, belts out Aretha Franklin's "Think" to a polka beat, but he joins Jan and the boys anyway.
Car chases and assorted mayhem ensue. After many tribulations, the boys regain their previous success and save the orphanage or pay off Jan's defrauded creditors depending on which ending trial movie audiences prefer.
Previous sequels to "The Blues Brothers" were less successful than the original since they retained the same tired blues / soul format. Jan Lewan's updated version not only has a true-life documentary aspect but its soundtrack would be the same polka beat that has packed 'em in at Musik (with a k) fest for decades. There's a lot of anticipation for the final Harry Potter movie, but, for polka lovers, Jan Lewan's epic is the one we eagerly await.
"Getting the old band back together", eh? Perhaps "on a mission from God"? Why does this sound familiar? It's the plot of "The Blues Brothers" come to real-life thirty years later to a spritely polka beat. I see an updated sequel!
One imagines Jan and his lesser-known brother clad in the polka equivalent of Belushi and Ackroyd's black suits, fedoras, and shades (sequined polyester shirts, satin pants, and boots) roaming the Pennsylvania coal country in search of their former bandmates. They enter St Stanislaus Church in Hazleton where the priest who strongly resembles the polka equivalent of James Brown (Jimmy Sturr, since James doesn't do polka and is no longer with us) causes them "to see the light". Jan does backflips down the church aisle to the amazement of the congregation.
Now they must get the band's instruments out of hock. The pawnbroker, a Ray Charles look-alike (Weird Al Yankovic since he can play any role and legendary, blind polka stars are in short supply) sings a song and cuts them a break.
Alas, one former bandmate is now married and running a successful Polka Soul Food (Halupkies and Kielbasa, All You Can Eat) Restaurant in Wilkes-Barre. His wife, played by one of the legendary Pany Sisters, belts out Aretha Franklin's "Think" to a polka beat, but he joins Jan and the boys anyway.
Car chases and assorted mayhem ensue. After many tribulations, the boys regain their previous success and save the orphanage or pay off Jan's defrauded creditors depending on which ending trial movie audiences prefer.
Previous sequels to "The Blues Brothers" were less successful than the original since they retained the same tired blues / soul format. Jan Lewan's updated version not only has a true-life documentary aspect but its soundtrack would be the same polka beat that has packed 'em in at Musik (with a k) fest for decades. There's a lot of anticipation for the final Harry Potter movie, but, for polka lovers, Jan Lewan's epic is the one we eagerly await.
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
Health and Well-Being
A wise man once said, "Money can't buy happiness". In a little-known codicil, he added, "But it can certainly rent it."
The Center for Health and Well-Being at Princeton University (And isn't Princeton the very center of health and well-being? Ask any Princetonian "How are you this fine day?" and the inevitable reply is "Very well, thank you." as opposed to Harvard or Yale where the reply is, "What's it to you?") surveyed 450,000 Americans on their day-to-day happiness and overall life satisfaction. The survey uncovered these shocking results:
1. Day-to-day happiness increases as income rises. So money CAN buy happiness? Warren Buffet has a bigger smile on his face than that guy dumpster-diving behind the McDonald's.
2. Happiness levels off at $75 K annual income. So the cubicle drone hauling down $75 K per year is just as happy as Derek Jeter who makes $75 K every day during baseball season? Evidently, that particular cubicle drone also dates Mischa Barton.
3. People are happier on weekends. Apparently, sleeping-in, avoiding a commute, and not having to put up with a domineering supervisor makes people happy. Who knew?
4. Someone actually makes a living conducting surveys that reveal obvious facts.
Having ignored the "health" portion of its title, The Center for Health and Well-Being will now determine at what level of "sickness" people become less happy than the un-sick. My guess is that it will turn out that lepers are less happy than folks with the sniffles who are probably equally happy as healthy people.
A wise man also said, "Health is wealth." Our friends at Princeton can combine these two surveys and see if Health, Wealth, and Happiness are transitive.
The Center for Health and Well-Being at Princeton University (And isn't Princeton the very center of health and well-being? Ask any Princetonian "How are you this fine day?" and the inevitable reply is "Very well, thank you." as opposed to Harvard or Yale where the reply is, "What's it to you?") surveyed 450,000 Americans on their day-to-day happiness and overall life satisfaction. The survey uncovered these shocking results:
1. Day-to-day happiness increases as income rises. So money CAN buy happiness? Warren Buffet has a bigger smile on his face than that guy dumpster-diving behind the McDonald's.
2. Happiness levels off at $75 K annual income. So the cubicle drone hauling down $75 K per year is just as happy as Derek Jeter who makes $75 K every day during baseball season? Evidently, that particular cubicle drone also dates Mischa Barton.
3. People are happier on weekends. Apparently, sleeping-in, avoiding a commute, and not having to put up with a domineering supervisor makes people happy. Who knew?
4. Someone actually makes a living conducting surveys that reveal obvious facts.
Having ignored the "health" portion of its title, The Center for Health and Well-Being will now determine at what level of "sickness" people become less happy than the un-sick. My guess is that it will turn out that lepers are less happy than folks with the sniffles who are probably equally happy as healthy people.
A wise man also said, "Health is wealth." Our friends at Princeton can combine these two surveys and see if Health, Wealth, and Happiness are transitive.
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