As the debate rages over how much governmental regulation is too much, I recall my first personal encounter with that bullying Federal bureaucracy.
Forty-five years ago, I spent summer working in a meat packing house. The intent was to demonstrate my fate should I flunk out of college. "It's either beer, babes, and books or blood, beef, and bologna, your choice!"
The FDA regulates meat packing. We never knew when he was coming, but at least once every week, the inspector would appear. He would check general sanitation, take temperature readings and pull samples for lab analysis. It didn't prevent us from exercising our Constitutional right to soak the wooden barrels so Oscar Mayer got 370 instead of 375 pounds of meat in each one or add 30 instead of 25 pounds of salt to each barrel going to Seltzer's Lebanon Bologna. It didn't even cause us to throw out the morning's quota of hamburger when Old Smokey lost a fingertip in the grinder and didn't realize it until lunchtime. Smokey's fingertips were all scar tissue anyway.
It did stop us from slipping sliced beef lungs into the bottom of the barrel though and we had to show that we were throwing out the bones, suet, and spoiled meat in order to keep our precious "USDA Approved" seal. By the way, the FDA required that the seal be dipped in concentrated grape juice to make its mark. To this day, I can't look Welch's Concord Grape Jelly in the eye without my stomach turning.
In short, the government infringed on our right to maximize our profit, but it served the public good.
Last Friday, BP's drilling permit application for that well in the Gulf was made public. BP stated that a blow-out was "unlikely" and they had a Blow-Out Preventer planned anyway. The government granted the permit and everyone apparently went out for a beer afterwards. Those interfering bureaucrats failed to ask, "Unlikely as it is, what if the Preventer fails? Maybe you could put a redundant BOP in there or test the first one at the depths and pressures that it will experience. If Blow Out Preventers can't handle the conditions they will experience, how about drilling that "relief well" in parallel with the original instead of months after the first one fails and we give the Gulf Coast an oil bath?"
Old Smokey's fingertip floating in someone's chili is one thing. Wiping out the Louisiana Coast is another.
Monday, May 31, 2010
Friday, May 28, 2010
The Zac Effect
Last night's Freddy Awards marked the end of an era in local high school theater.
Previously, the ladies dominated. The highlight of the Freddys was always the "sing-off" between the six nominees for Outstanding Lead Performance by an Actress. Those years of voice lessons paid off. Each was better than the last. Simon Cowell would be doing backflips by the time the last girl sang.
The guys were somewhat less inspiring. Their "sing-off" would have a couple of decent performances, but a high school kid really can't do a convincing "If I Were A Rich Man". Simon would be at his snarkiest in reviewing their effort.
The 2010 Freddies broke that paradigm. The guys were at least as good as the girls last night. There can only be one explanation - The Zac Efron Effect. These kids grew up with "High School Musical". For the first time, it was cool for guys to sing on stage. You can be the star of the basketball team, but you won't smooching Vanessa Hudgins unless you can sing. "Your head may be in the game, but your heart must be in the song" as the lyric goes.
It took innumerable repeats of the three "High School Musical" movies on Disney Channel, but the revolution finally reached Lehigh Valley high school stages. Guys, it's OK to trade a spot on the basketball team bench for a lead role in the play. Your teammates / castmates will be better-looking and smell a whole lot better, too. Plus, would you rather do wind sprints after school or sing scales? It's a no-brainer.
I spent my high school days as a mediocre athlete and had essentially zero social life. Had the Zac Effect been in force way back then, I might have devoted my energies to the stage and walked the halls hand-in-hand with some luscious babe from the cast. It could have changed my life.
Previously, the ladies dominated. The highlight of the Freddys was always the "sing-off" between the six nominees for Outstanding Lead Performance by an Actress. Those years of voice lessons paid off. Each was better than the last. Simon Cowell would be doing backflips by the time the last girl sang.
The guys were somewhat less inspiring. Their "sing-off" would have a couple of decent performances, but a high school kid really can't do a convincing "If I Were A Rich Man". Simon would be at his snarkiest in reviewing their effort.
The 2010 Freddies broke that paradigm. The guys were at least as good as the girls last night. There can only be one explanation - The Zac Efron Effect. These kids grew up with "High School Musical". For the first time, it was cool for guys to sing on stage. You can be the star of the basketball team, but you won't smooching Vanessa Hudgins unless you can sing. "Your head may be in the game, but your heart must be in the song" as the lyric goes.
It took innumerable repeats of the three "High School Musical" movies on Disney Channel, but the revolution finally reached Lehigh Valley high school stages. Guys, it's OK to trade a spot on the basketball team bench for a lead role in the play. Your teammates / castmates will be better-looking and smell a whole lot better, too. Plus, would you rather do wind sprints after school or sing scales? It's a no-brainer.
I spent my high school days as a mediocre athlete and had essentially zero social life. Had the Zac Effect been in force way back then, I might have devoted my energies to the stage and walked the halls hand-in-hand with some luscious babe from the cast. It could have changed my life.
Thursday, May 27, 2010
With a Z
Half the fun of being a sports fan is ruminating on the names of the athletes. In baseball, Derek Jeter is a strong moniker. The guy has to be good. Someone named Josh Willingham should be lounging alongside the first tee at the country club as opposed to being in the batting cage. In football, Quentin Jammer is an all-Pro defensive back. With a tough-sounding name like that, receivers run the other way to avoid him. Fellow footballer Chad Pennington is an oft-injured quarterback who is about as scary as Ty Pennington building homes for the downtrodden. In hockey, our Flyers would not be in the Stanley Cup finals without Chris Pronger. "Keep your head up on the ice, or Chris will "prong" you." Michel "Bunny" LaRoque never won a Cup as goalie for the Canadiens though his would be a great name for an exotic dancer. While listening to Sports Radio yesterday, I heard what may be the Greatest Sports Name Of All Time. Hercules Gomez was among those chosen for the US World Cup soccer team. Now there's a name. I envisioned a bearded giant clad in a lion skin and carrying a giant club - the classic Hercules. Or perhaps the muscular movie star of the 50s whose dialogue never quite matched his lip movements - Steve Reeves. Or even the sensitive, though still "ripped" 90s TV Hercules - Kevin Sorbo. Any of these three Hercules would totally intimidate those wimpy foreigners and bring the World Cup to The Land of the Free.
My hopes were shattered when today's newspaper showed the actual spelling of Mr Gomez's name. It's Herculez, with a z. He might as well be named Britney, Caitlyn, or Krystal. Unique name spelling may raise a child's sense of self-worth ("I'm different from all the other Brittany(s) in my class!") but it does not intimidate on the field of play. The last great hope for American soccer is foiled by a single "z".
My hopes were shattered when today's newspaper showed the actual spelling of Mr Gomez's name. It's Herculez, with a z. He might as well be named Britney, Caitlyn, or Krystal. Unique name spelling may raise a child's sense of self-worth ("I'm different from all the other Brittany(s) in my class!") but it does not intimidate on the field of play. The last great hope for American soccer is foiled by a single "z".
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
View With Alarm
Most any occurrence can be "viewed with alarm" to advance a particular point of view.
A local family awakened Monday morning to find a bear and three cubs rooting about the birdfeeders in the front yard of their suburban home. Animal Control, police, and the news media gathered. After two and a half hours, the bears were humanely removed.
The next day's newspaper showed the gun lobby "viewing with alarm" - "This is why we need a bear hunting season in New Jersey! Soon bruins will be marching down our suburban streets hungry not for sunflower seeds, but for small children!" Environmentalists also viewed with alarm - "Our ursine friends have nowhere else to go now that their habitat is paved over with housing developments and strip malls! Until Petco stocks bear kibble and Mama Bear makes a decent wage so she can afford it, this will continue. We must restore wilderness areas."
I also have a cause to advance - the pathetic state of the modern household pet. According to the newspaper article, "The family dog, Sophie (great name that), couldn't be bothered. After a couple of obligatory barks when she spotted the bears outside the window, Sophie went to a back room to lie down."
I therefore view with alarm. This is a prime example of what is wrong with 21st century text-messaging, on-line game playing, slacker pets! Back in the 50s, we had Lassie rescuing Timmy and/or Gramps from the abandoned well each and every week. We had Rin Tin Tin holding off the Apache horde until Lt Rip Masters and the cavalry could save those homesteaders. More to the point, we had Old Yeller giving his life to protect Tommy Kirk from that cougar (back when cougars were man-eating cats as opposed to man-eating middle-aged divorcees).
Now those were dogs that earned their Alpo! Lassie, Rinty, or Old Yeller wouldn't give a couple of obligatory barks and then take a nap when faced with a bear in their front yard. They might get mauled, but they would protect that precious bird seed. As Doctor Phil would warn, "Pet owners, you are the enablers. Take away those cell phones from your pets. Limit their computer time to Obedience School assignments. Make sure the entire family eats meals together. Your pet will thank you for it, and eventually so will the bears as Fido sets boundaries for them."
A local family awakened Monday morning to find a bear and three cubs rooting about the birdfeeders in the front yard of their suburban home. Animal Control, police, and the news media gathered. After two and a half hours, the bears were humanely removed.
The next day's newspaper showed the gun lobby "viewing with alarm" - "This is why we need a bear hunting season in New Jersey! Soon bruins will be marching down our suburban streets hungry not for sunflower seeds, but for small children!" Environmentalists also viewed with alarm - "Our ursine friends have nowhere else to go now that their habitat is paved over with housing developments and strip malls! Until Petco stocks bear kibble and Mama Bear makes a decent wage so she can afford it, this will continue. We must restore wilderness areas."
I also have a cause to advance - the pathetic state of the modern household pet. According to the newspaper article, "The family dog, Sophie (great name that), couldn't be bothered. After a couple of obligatory barks when she spotted the bears outside the window, Sophie went to a back room to lie down."
I therefore view with alarm. This is a prime example of what is wrong with 21st century text-messaging, on-line game playing, slacker pets! Back in the 50s, we had Lassie rescuing Timmy and/or Gramps from the abandoned well each and every week. We had Rin Tin Tin holding off the Apache horde until Lt Rip Masters and the cavalry could save those homesteaders. More to the point, we had Old Yeller giving his life to protect Tommy Kirk from that cougar (back when cougars were man-eating cats as opposed to man-eating middle-aged divorcees).
Now those were dogs that earned their Alpo! Lassie, Rinty, or Old Yeller wouldn't give a couple of obligatory barks and then take a nap when faced with a bear in their front yard. They might get mauled, but they would protect that precious bird seed. As Doctor Phil would warn, "Pet owners, you are the enablers. Take away those cell phones from your pets. Limit their computer time to Obedience School assignments. Make sure the entire family eats meals together. Your pet will thank you for it, and eventually so will the bears as Fido sets boundaries for them."
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
Oh, Canada!
With Memorial Day right around the corner and 90 degree temperatures forecast for later this week, the sports fan's thoughts naturally turn toward ice hockey. Except for the Olympics, we pretty much ignored the sport all winter long, but what better way to spend a steamy May evening than in a packed arena over a melting expanse of ice watching a bunch of Canadians batter each other senseless.
There are certain proud, uniquely Canadian traditions involved in the NHL playoffs:
Playoff beards - To promote team unity, the players refuse to shave until their team is eliminated. In years past, coaches attempted to enforce a "no sex during the playoffs" rule. Cavorting with females is worse for a player's stamina than smoking. It was difficult to monitor, so they substituted the playoff beard tradition. Canadian women might consort with a bruised and battered, toothless hockey player. That's why we have light switches and room-darkening shades. But canoodling with a scratchy beard may explain why Canada's birth rate declines 40 weeks after the hockey playoffs.
Playoff beards also provide comic relief. Wispy facial follicles combine with the typical Canadian mullet to give that 80s porn star look to the younger players. "Goal by Dirk Diggler!"
Instant Dentistry - Last Sunday, a Chicago Black Hawk stopped a slap shot with his face, depositing eight teeth and a considerable amount of blood on the ice. Remarkably, he returned to the game twenty minutes later. Those of us south of the border demand anaesthesia or Novocaine for tooth removal and take the rest of the day off from work. This may explain why we lost the Olympic Hockey Final.
Post-Game Handshake - After the final game of the series, the teams line up and shake hands on the ice. Alas, this sort of sportsmanship ceases in US athletics when we get past the level where it is immediately followed by team snacks provided by someone's Mom. Last night, Philly's Chris Pronger hacked at a Montreal players face with his stick. Since he drew blood, a penalty was called. Had he just knocked a few teeth loose, it would have been "Play on". In the post-game line up, Pronger and the Montreal player not only shook hands but did the awkward "man hug". "A few inches higher on that stick slash and it would be your eyeball rolling on the ice, but we're cool, eh? How about a Labatt's sometime?"
And you wonder why we couldn't successfully invade these guys in 1812? Canadians are tough!
There are certain proud, uniquely Canadian traditions involved in the NHL playoffs:
Playoff beards - To promote team unity, the players refuse to shave until their team is eliminated. In years past, coaches attempted to enforce a "no sex during the playoffs" rule. Cavorting with females is worse for a player's stamina than smoking. It was difficult to monitor, so they substituted the playoff beard tradition. Canadian women might consort with a bruised and battered, toothless hockey player. That's why we have light switches and room-darkening shades. But canoodling with a scratchy beard may explain why Canada's birth rate declines 40 weeks after the hockey playoffs.
Playoff beards also provide comic relief. Wispy facial follicles combine with the typical Canadian mullet to give that 80s porn star look to the younger players. "Goal by Dirk Diggler!"
Instant Dentistry - Last Sunday, a Chicago Black Hawk stopped a slap shot with his face, depositing eight teeth and a considerable amount of blood on the ice. Remarkably, he returned to the game twenty minutes later. Those of us south of the border demand anaesthesia or Novocaine for tooth removal and take the rest of the day off from work. This may explain why we lost the Olympic Hockey Final.
Post-Game Handshake - After the final game of the series, the teams line up and shake hands on the ice. Alas, this sort of sportsmanship ceases in US athletics when we get past the level where it is immediately followed by team snacks provided by someone's Mom. Last night, Philly's Chris Pronger hacked at a Montreal players face with his stick. Since he drew blood, a penalty was called. Had he just knocked a few teeth loose, it would have been "Play on". In the post-game line up, Pronger and the Montreal player not only shook hands but did the awkward "man hug". "A few inches higher on that stick slash and it would be your eyeball rolling on the ice, but we're cool, eh? How about a Labatt's sometime?"
And you wonder why we couldn't successfully invade these guys in 1812? Canadians are tough!
Monday, May 24, 2010
Ronald vs. The King
The Marlboro Man and Joe Camel have gone by the boards. Now those Goody Two Shoes out there have set their sights on Ronald McDonald. Corporate Accountability International stated, "Ronald McDonald is a pied piper drawing youngsters all over the world to food that is high in fat, sodium, and calories. On the surface, he is there to give children enjoyment in all sorts of ways, but Ronald McDonald is dangerous, sending insidious messages to young people!"
Darwin's Theory of Natural Selection tells us that children who follow a clown to fat, sodium, and calorie-laden foods will not survive to reproduce. This problem will take care of itself. In time, Mayor McCheese will have no constituency,
Alas, Ronald has been around for nearly 50 years. Preservatives in those fries and Shamrock Shakes must be overcoming that fat and sodium to allow new generations to enter the Golden Arches.
McDonald's CEO responded with a stirring endorsement of America's Favorite Clown, "Ronald communicates effectively with children and families around balanced, active lifestyles. He does not hawk food."
I've not seen a Ronald McDonald TV commercial in some time. Perhaps, he is touting balanced, active lifestyles nowadays. Could it be that the true Pied Piper leading our children to obesity and a questionable lifestyle is Ronald's chief competitor - the Burger King? I've seen plenty of TV commercials where the BK places money in people's pockets, breaks into McDonald's HQ to steal recipes, and generally causes mayhem while clad in white tights and Mary Jane shoes, his face hidden behind a plastic mask.
Is this the message to send to our youth? Is it OK for a fully-grown man to dress like a 3 year old girl on Christmas Eve? Bear in mind that if those Mary Janes are patent leather, the reflection allows perverts to see right up your skirt (or tunic, in this case). The plastic mask is a subliminal endorsement of botox. When that first crow's foot appears, kids, it's time to freeze your face like Joan Rivers!
Perhaps, Corporate Accountability International is barking up the wrong tree. I'd rather see future generations of our fat, sodium, and calorie-consuming youth admiring a clown than a gender-confused, botox-obsessed, mime "king".
Darwin's Theory of Natural Selection tells us that children who follow a clown to fat, sodium, and calorie-laden foods will not survive to reproduce. This problem will take care of itself. In time, Mayor McCheese will have no constituency,
Alas, Ronald has been around for nearly 50 years. Preservatives in those fries and Shamrock Shakes must be overcoming that fat and sodium to allow new generations to enter the Golden Arches.
McDonald's CEO responded with a stirring endorsement of America's Favorite Clown, "Ronald communicates effectively with children and families around balanced, active lifestyles. He does not hawk food."
I've not seen a Ronald McDonald TV commercial in some time. Perhaps, he is touting balanced, active lifestyles nowadays. Could it be that the true Pied Piper leading our children to obesity and a questionable lifestyle is Ronald's chief competitor - the Burger King? I've seen plenty of TV commercials where the BK places money in people's pockets, breaks into McDonald's HQ to steal recipes, and generally causes mayhem while clad in white tights and Mary Jane shoes, his face hidden behind a plastic mask.
Is this the message to send to our youth? Is it OK for a fully-grown man to dress like a 3 year old girl on Christmas Eve? Bear in mind that if those Mary Janes are patent leather, the reflection allows perverts to see right up your skirt (or tunic, in this case). The plastic mask is a subliminal endorsement of botox. When that first crow's foot appears, kids, it's time to freeze your face like Joan Rivers!
Perhaps, Corporate Accountability International is barking up the wrong tree. I'd rather see future generations of our fat, sodium, and calorie-consuming youth admiring a clown than a gender-confused, botox-obsessed, mime "king".
Friday, May 21, 2010
Syrup Footprint
I have a love / hate relationship with pancakes. The Army cooks I served with never quite got the hang of eliminating lumps in the batter. Fluffy goodness was ruined by granular solids mid-chew. Fortunately, a strong infusion of syrup made it all palatable. It's likely that my "syrup footprint" is a contributor to global warming though. How many maple trees had to sacrifice their precious sap and failed to cover Vermont mountainsides just because I didn't want batter between my teeth? It's the moral equivalent of driving a Hummer to pick up the mail at the end of the driveway. I swore off pancakes.
The folks at International House of Pancakes may bring me back into the fold. Recent TV commercials show IHOP's Cheescake Pancakes, in essence a pancake sandwich with conventional flapjacks surrounding a thick layer of cheesecake innards and topped with what appears to be whipped cream and a fruit compote.
Though IHOP is noted for four (count 'em, four) syrups available on each and every table top, no syrup is required for this new menu item. Syrup plus cheesecake, whipped cream, and fruit would put Gandhi into diabetic shock. Maple trees of the world rejoice! Keep your sap. Grow strong and tall. Purify our air and provide shelter for those adorable woodland creatures.
Also, IHOP's profits are sure to zoom due to decreased syrup costs. It's a true win - win - win. Good for the environment, good for business and a boon to mediocre cooks everywhere.
The folks at International House of Pancakes may bring me back into the fold. Recent TV commercials show IHOP's Cheescake Pancakes, in essence a pancake sandwich with conventional flapjacks surrounding a thick layer of cheesecake innards and topped with what appears to be whipped cream and a fruit compote.
Though IHOP is noted for four (count 'em, four) syrups available on each and every table top, no syrup is required for this new menu item. Syrup plus cheesecake, whipped cream, and fruit would put Gandhi into diabetic shock. Maple trees of the world rejoice! Keep your sap. Grow strong and tall. Purify our air and provide shelter for those adorable woodland creatures.
Also, IHOP's profits are sure to zoom due to decreased syrup costs. It's a true win - win - win. Good for the environment, good for business and a boon to mediocre cooks everywhere.
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