I've just finished taking the dog for a walk. An interesting critter this chihuahua, a strange combination of fierce protector and latent coward. Earlier this evening, step-son Warren took the dog out for a few minutes and came back complaining that the dog wouldn't quit barking at a much larger dog they had encountered. I've seen it before. The mighty chihuahua thinks that he's about twice the size of any other dog. But if the encounter is with something else, well, the dog shows his yellow streak.
Take what happened this evening.
Here we were, walking down the street when a small, unleashed animal comes loping toward us. It wasn't a rabbit or a squirrel... the dog loves to chase after rabbits and squirrels - it was an opossum. A simple opossum. The dog watched as the animal loped nearer, then availed himself of the services of a nearby storm sewer to hide from us. The dog didn't know what to do. It was one of those moments when he couldn't figure out whether to s*** or go blind (a favourite expression I'll credit to the late Steve Crabtree - but that's another story).
There's lots of critters in the area. The first time I saw an opossum was after son Stuart saw the thing from my apartment balcony and loudly exclaimed "WHAT IS THAT???" I could hardly blame his question for I hadn't seen an opossum in North Texas prior to that evening.
We'd seen armadillos, lots and lots of armadillos, mostly dead in the middle of the road. Our first live encounter with an armadillo was in Dinosaur Valley State Park. We were off the beaten track returning from a cache hunt when we heard this scratching. It was an armadillo trying desperately to hide from us by digging into a bank as quickly as it could. We stepped around the armadillo to give it enough room to quit feeling fear from the approaching humans.
Coyotes are another critter which seem to thrive in this area. In a previous life in another part of town they tended to wander seemingly at will and I would see them occasionally while on walks with the dog-du-jour. One night the dog went nuts in the middle of the night and when I investigated I found that there was a coyote doing figure 8s in front of our house in full view of the dog.
The same park where the coyotes had been seen was home to at least one road runner seen on a drive through the park, raccoons which lived in the storm sewers and a bobcat which showed himself from time to time between eating rabbits and squirrels.
Then there are the hawks and owls. I've seen both in the immediate neighborhood. There was at least one owl in a tree in the adjacent yard which pleasantly surprized the lovely Miss Carol at one point soon after we moved here. Hawks live in the small copse along Park Place within sight of our front door. Beautiful creatures, hawks. Just love to watch them fly. Good thing that they seem to be abundant in the area.
Squirrels, well, they seem to be abundant, too. Squirrels are cute, that is until they find that hole which leads to one's attic and start scratching in the middle of the night. Thankfully I was able to oust the squirrels in our attic and repair the hole. We quit feeding them in our back yard and they finally got the message.
Living in a rapidly expanding suburban area has some advantages for people, but the critters get the short end of the stick, being ousted from their homes in order that we may live in ours. I am somewhat thankful that we live in an older neighborhood where the displacement has mostly been completed and the critters have found their own niches in which they can live and thrive... and occasionally confuse the snot out of a small chihuahua on a nice January night.
Be Seeing You!
Monday, January 25, 2010
Thursday, January 21, 2010
Stunts
Considering some of the stunts which I pulled in my youth, I'm lucky to be alive.
Yesterday afternoon I spent some time attempting to clear out the garage my attention was distracted by a group of youth driving down the street hanging out the windows of an SUV. Less than 5 minutes later the same SUV with the same group of kids drove by again with even more kids added, these hanging on for the ride by the roof rack. I briefly considered calling the local Black and White - being concerned about the accident which could have happened on the one hand and not being concerned that perhaps there would be a thinning of the gene pool. Third time the kids were stopped and put in their place by a person appearing to be a mentor. Better off that way in the long run, I thought, as a mentor would be more effective in getting the point across than the men in the Black and Whites. Besides, I've been involved in a few similar situations which could have landed me in a boat-load of trouble.
Like the time I went to see the dinosaurs.
For the New York World's Fair in 1964/65, Sinclair Oil re-created some life-sized dinosaurs for their exhibit. When the World's Fair shut down, Sinclair took the creatures on a tour around the country so that people could experience the exhibit without having to go to New York to the World's Fair. Here I was, 12 year old kid, summertime, and the dinosaurs were going to be appearing at the Southland Shopping Center just up the road from us. No one would take me (one car family at the time and mom was wrestling with six of us), so I went myself. No partner in crime, just me, a busy four lane road and a bicycle. I made it there and back, but I kept the trip secret for fear that I wouldn't be able to sit down for a week. I finally confessed to my escapade a little over 35 years later after discovering that the same dinosaurs I had seen in the Cleveland area in the mid-'60s were on exhibit in Texas at Dinosaur Valley State Park. Mom was amused.
Then there were the trains.
There was a main line of the B&O system which ran on the edge of Yoctangee Park in Chillicothe. My buddy Greg from down the street and I made numerous, um, shall we say, unauthorized trips to walk along the rail lines and to put coins on the tracks so that the trains would flatten them as they went by. Ah, images of being cut down in my prime by train derailed by my desire to have a train-flattened nickle!
There were the car rides, too.
Dave Schirtzinger and I spent a little over an hour at his father's office taking off the hood, left front fender and driver's door off of one of the Cutlass station wagons. Outside it was 20 degrees with a wicked wind and once the car was to that particular point of disassembly, we decided that we deserved a break and a trip to Greazy Mel's (McDonald's). Bundled up with the heater running full blast, well, it was still colder than the proverbial brass monkey.
Went to Regional Orchestra in Gahanna. It had snowed and a bunch of us went along the streets of Gahanna and Columbus "snow skiing" by hanging on the open door of the car we had been riding and gliding in the snow on the soles of our feet.
Those were at the tip of the iceberg.
In our youth, we were all indestructable, we were invincible and we could do nothing wrong. We became aware of how lucky we were by whatever tragedy happened to befall someone at least once during our High School/College careers. Our epiphany happened about a mile west of where Greg Meng and I placed coins on the track to see what the train did to them. It was the Superintendant of Schools' daughter who didn't make it across the tracks in time in the car she was in which cast at least a temporary pall over our celebrations of being High School Seniors in our last weeks of school. Many of us came to the conclusion that we were mortal after all and that life was coming our way faster than we realized. The idea of having grief counselors coming into school wasn't even thought about at that time. We dealt with it and moved on. We still had stunts left in us, but they became much more measured.
As far as the kids yesterday, let 'em have their fun to a degree, but at the same time I was darn glad that someone that they respect was able to slow them down without involving the Police, or an Ambulance, or a Hearse. I made it to this point despite my stupid stunts, hopefully they'll make it to this point, too.
In one piece.
Be Seeing You!
Yesterday afternoon I spent some time attempting to clear out the garage my attention was distracted by a group of youth driving down the street hanging out the windows of an SUV. Less than 5 minutes later the same SUV with the same group of kids drove by again with even more kids added, these hanging on for the ride by the roof rack. I briefly considered calling the local Black and White - being concerned about the accident which could have happened on the one hand and not being concerned that perhaps there would be a thinning of the gene pool. Third time the kids were stopped and put in their place by a person appearing to be a mentor. Better off that way in the long run, I thought, as a mentor would be more effective in getting the point across than the men in the Black and Whites. Besides, I've been involved in a few similar situations which could have landed me in a boat-load of trouble.
Like the time I went to see the dinosaurs.
For the New York World's Fair in 1964/65, Sinclair Oil re-created some life-sized dinosaurs for their exhibit. When the World's Fair shut down, Sinclair took the creatures on a tour around the country so that people could experience the exhibit without having to go to New York to the World's Fair. Here I was, 12 year old kid, summertime, and the dinosaurs were going to be appearing at the Southland Shopping Center just up the road from us. No one would take me (one car family at the time and mom was wrestling with six of us), so I went myself. No partner in crime, just me, a busy four lane road and a bicycle. I made it there and back, but I kept the trip secret for fear that I wouldn't be able to sit down for a week. I finally confessed to my escapade a little over 35 years later after discovering that the same dinosaurs I had seen in the Cleveland area in the mid-'60s were on exhibit in Texas at Dinosaur Valley State Park. Mom was amused.
Then there were the trains.
There was a main line of the B&O system which ran on the edge of Yoctangee Park in Chillicothe. My buddy Greg from down the street and I made numerous, um, shall we say, unauthorized trips to walk along the rail lines and to put coins on the tracks so that the trains would flatten them as they went by. Ah, images of being cut down in my prime by train derailed by my desire to have a train-flattened nickle!
There were the car rides, too.
Dave Schirtzinger and I spent a little over an hour at his father's office taking off the hood, left front fender and driver's door off of one of the Cutlass station wagons. Outside it was 20 degrees with a wicked wind and once the car was to that particular point of disassembly, we decided that we deserved a break and a trip to Greazy Mel's (McDonald's). Bundled up with the heater running full blast, well, it was still colder than the proverbial brass monkey.
Went to Regional Orchestra in Gahanna. It had snowed and a bunch of us went along the streets of Gahanna and Columbus "snow skiing" by hanging on the open door of the car we had been riding and gliding in the snow on the soles of our feet.
Those were at the tip of the iceberg.
In our youth, we were all indestructable, we were invincible and we could do nothing wrong. We became aware of how lucky we were by whatever tragedy happened to befall someone at least once during our High School/College careers. Our epiphany happened about a mile west of where Greg Meng and I placed coins on the track to see what the train did to them. It was the Superintendant of Schools' daughter who didn't make it across the tracks in time in the car she was in which cast at least a temporary pall over our celebrations of being High School Seniors in our last weeks of school. Many of us came to the conclusion that we were mortal after all and that life was coming our way faster than we realized. The idea of having grief counselors coming into school wasn't even thought about at that time. We dealt with it and moved on. We still had stunts left in us, but they became much more measured.
As far as the kids yesterday, let 'em have their fun to a degree, but at the same time I was darn glad that someone that they respect was able to slow them down without involving the Police, or an Ambulance, or a Hearse. I made it to this point despite my stupid stunts, hopefully they'll make it to this point, too.
In one piece.
Be Seeing You!
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
Vampire
The question came up this past weekend regarding my deep and murky past. "Dad," asked my son Stuart, "what kind of vampire were you?"
Stuart had heard me tell, from time to time about my part in my Senior class play in High School when I played the title role in Bram Stoker's Dracula. At this point, some mmmfffftheeen years later, Dracula, all that should have remained of the play would be a distant memory and a picture or two in my yearbook, The Arrow. But there are some roles which never quit giving to those who play it, and apparently Dracula was one of those roles.
Bela Lugosi never lived down the role and I may not either.
I've seen Bela Lugosi as Dracula maybe twice, three times at most. Lugosi, so the story was told, was a respected actor who had played a number of roles prior to being king of the undead. Being Dracula was the actor's undoing. He was so convincing that he found that the only other movie offers he got from that point on was as some derivative of the Eastern European blood sucker. He was driven to drink, then driven further to become a full-blown drug addict (morphine, I believe) when schlock director Ed Wood found and exploited him in a series of really bad movies in the 1950s. Lugosi's last screen appearance, filmed not long before his death, was inserted into the classic movie stinker Plan 9 From Outer Space... a film so bad it's good. What a shameful end to someone who had been considered an excellent actor.
I wasn't that good an actor, nor was I a bad actor, either. I was a teenager in a smallish Ohio city who played the classic villain. Smallish Ohio city should say it all. As part of the build up to the classic play, I did a couple of promotional appearances on the local media. Both stayed with me for quite some time to come.
For one, I went up to radio station WBEX and finagled some public service announcements to air for the week leading up to the performance. My announcement was recorded by WBEX morning man Bill Spahr. Bill was taken by my abilities and when I came looking for a job later that year, Bill hired me. I worked for Bill off and on for a number of years and was in contact with him from time to time almost until he died. Bill always called me Dracula, or Drac, or something of the sort. Always.
The other finagle was an appearance on Channel 2 News. Chillicothe had cable TV long before a lot of other cities and part of the deal was that Channel 2 was the local channel. And what's a local television station without local news and by golly we had local news reported by Jim Kennard and Gene Minney. Now, I didn't have to finagle too far to get on Channel 2. By the time Dracula came up, I had a part-time job at Channel 2 running cameras, schlepping equipment to ball games and city council meetings, and I had a 15 minute segment every other week with a television show presented on behalf of our High School Student Council.
Mr. Minney thought it would be a great idea to have me on a portion of Channel 2 news one evening to promote the play, which I dutifully did in costume and with my put-on Transylvanian accent. I don't know if it was him or me, but there arose a pun as an answer to a question... "Why, of corpse!"
For the rest of the time I worked at Channel 2, Gene would greet me saying "Why, of corpse!" I worked in and out of Chillicothe on radio for the better part of 25 years, and would meet Gene Minney from time to time and he would always greet me with "Why, of corpse!" I left the state and had lived in Texas for 11 years, went back last summer and met Gene Minney as he was going into the Cross Keys Tavern to play with the Goosetown Astonishers on a Thursday evening. He sees me and and the first thing out of his mouth after having not seen me for at least a decade was...
Mind you, I never disliked either man, Bill Spahr or Gene Minney, but both had me typecast as a monster from Transylvania for quite some time. In some ways I'm rather fond of the blood-sucking gent, and I'm much more able to relate to vampires than to zombies. But as one of my dear sisters pointed out, the vampire I played and the vampires which seem to be coming out of the woodwork these days are two entirely different undead creatures. Makes me sort of sad, really, to know that today's vampires are popular in a way that yesterday's vampires only dreamed of being.
My how times have changed.
Why, of corpse!
Be Seeing You!
Stuart had heard me tell, from time to time about my part in my Senior class play in High School when I played the title role in Bram Stoker's Dracula. At this point, some mmmfffftheeen years later, Dracula, all that should have remained of the play would be a distant memory and a picture or two in my yearbook, The Arrow. But there are some roles which never quit giving to those who play it, and apparently Dracula was one of those roles.
Bela Lugosi never lived down the role and I may not either.
I've seen Bela Lugosi as Dracula maybe twice, three times at most. Lugosi, so the story was told, was a respected actor who had played a number of roles prior to being king of the undead. Being Dracula was the actor's undoing. He was so convincing that he found that the only other movie offers he got from that point on was as some derivative of the Eastern European blood sucker. He was driven to drink, then driven further to become a full-blown drug addict (morphine, I believe) when schlock director Ed Wood found and exploited him in a series of really bad movies in the 1950s. Lugosi's last screen appearance, filmed not long before his death, was inserted into the classic movie stinker Plan 9 From Outer Space... a film so bad it's good. What a shameful end to someone who had been considered an excellent actor.
I wasn't that good an actor, nor was I a bad actor, either. I was a teenager in a smallish Ohio city who played the classic villain. Smallish Ohio city should say it all. As part of the build up to the classic play, I did a couple of promotional appearances on the local media. Both stayed with me for quite some time to come.
For one, I went up to radio station WBEX and finagled some public service announcements to air for the week leading up to the performance. My announcement was recorded by WBEX morning man Bill Spahr. Bill was taken by my abilities and when I came looking for a job later that year, Bill hired me. I worked for Bill off and on for a number of years and was in contact with him from time to time almost until he died. Bill always called me Dracula, or Drac, or something of the sort. Always.
The other finagle was an appearance on Channel 2 News. Chillicothe had cable TV long before a lot of other cities and part of the deal was that Channel 2 was the local channel. And what's a local television station without local news and by golly we had local news reported by Jim Kennard and Gene Minney. Now, I didn't have to finagle too far to get on Channel 2. By the time Dracula came up, I had a part-time job at Channel 2 running cameras, schlepping equipment to ball games and city council meetings, and I had a 15 minute segment every other week with a television show presented on behalf of our High School Student Council.
Mr. Minney thought it would be a great idea to have me on a portion of Channel 2 news one evening to promote the play, which I dutifully did in costume and with my put-on Transylvanian accent. I don't know if it was him or me, but there arose a pun as an answer to a question... "Why, of corpse!"
For the rest of the time I worked at Channel 2, Gene would greet me saying "Why, of corpse!" I worked in and out of Chillicothe on radio for the better part of 25 years, and would meet Gene Minney from time to time and he would always greet me with "Why, of corpse!" I left the state and had lived in Texas for 11 years, went back last summer and met Gene Minney as he was going into the Cross Keys Tavern to play with the Goosetown Astonishers on a Thursday evening. He sees me and and the first thing out of his mouth after having not seen me for at least a decade was...
Mind you, I never disliked either man, Bill Spahr or Gene Minney, but both had me typecast as a monster from Transylvania for quite some time. In some ways I'm rather fond of the blood-sucking gent, and I'm much more able to relate to vampires than to zombies. But as one of my dear sisters pointed out, the vampire I played and the vampires which seem to be coming out of the woodwork these days are two entirely different undead creatures. Makes me sort of sad, really, to know that today's vampires are popular in a way that yesterday's vampires only dreamed of being.
My how times have changed.
Why, of corpse!
Be Seeing You!
Friday, January 15, 2010
Dogs
At some point I suppose that many of us have a dog in our lives. Currently I'm on dog #3, a chihuahua named Chico.
Chico is a legacy in a roundabout way. He was obtained for my stepson by his father and stayed on at the place in Wilmer after the demise of the the elder Mr. Pendleton - Warren's siblings being in semi-charge of Chico until they suddenly decided to bail on the Wilmer house.
Chico had been literally cast aside - left to fend for himself with the departure of the humans. We came the day after everyone abandoned the house, not knowing if Chico was even there. I knew that there was a possibility that the dog would be there but was secretly hoping that somehow another tribe of humans would have felt sorry for him and had taken him in.
As it happened, the little one heard the lawnmower I had started to trim the overgrown yard. I caught him out of the corner of my eye high-tailing it to the front door of the house looking for his Warren. Being my mother's child, there was no way I was going to refuse the darn dog entrance to our cozy little family.
We drove the thing home the long way, stopping by a pet store to obtain a collar, a leash and a cage. In deference to Warren's preferences, both collar and leash were black, adorned with multiple skull and crossbones - a "goth" dog. The cage was a training tool. All indications were that the dog had not been toilet trained. The cage proved to be worth its weight in gold.
Of a sudden, Chico's lifestyle changed. Aside from a change in venue, the dog would have to learn to control his bodily functions until the appropriate time. In exchange, he was warm, he was dry and was living indoors. He adored Warren, tolerated Carol, didn't care for me. I was OK with that. Twice before I was adopted by a dog I really didn't care to have and I wasn't going to let it happen a third time.
Five months down the road, he's used to his new digs and knows when and where he needs to take care of his personal business. He is still warm, and he is still dry as the weather permits. He also has a new human in his collection. Yes, I have been adopted by another dog.
Dang.
This one isn't too bad and is, in fact, rather an amusing creature. Amusing in what he does and in what I want to project on him. For instance, he is about the same colour as a corny dog. I had this idea of spreading mustard down his back and presenting him as such at halloween. Didn't tell anyone about my plan until after the day came and went. At present I am considering renaming the dog "Peanut", again because of his colour and general shape. Bets that when Carol reads this she'll put a stop to that crazy plan, too.
Warren referred to the dog as being a stupid chihuahua. I've been discovering that the dog isn't quite as dumb as Warren claims it to be. He's relatively trainable despite being two and a half years of age. For that matter, I'm relatively trainable, too, despite being almost 56. Chico loves his "walks", knows what I am saying when I say the word "walk" and will literally jump me from behind, pushing my calf muscles, trying to push me to his leash, then the front door.
Once outside, Chico becomes the mighty hunter, lunging with all of his might to any hapless rabbit he might encounter along the way. He also tries to be a bit of a Casanova, preferring much larger dogs he might encounter on the way. There's a pit bull in the neighborhood who has been in heat lately... I'm discouraging walks in that direction for fear that the mighty Chico might be biting off more than he can chew.
All in all I am respectful of the little dog. He has a stump of a tail which was lost when he had an encounter with a door when he was a pup and every once in a while he shows a bit of a limp acquired when he had been at the business end of a bb gun. He hates sharp noises as a result. He is wary around strangers and he has a jealous streak, too. If he's around when I'm kissing Carol, he will try his darndest to get attention from either or both of us. He just doesn't like to be left out.
As was said a moment ago, nearly everyone has had a dog at one time or another. I wasn't looking for one when this one came along... now I'm wondering what to do about a dog when Warren takes this one away to college.
Be Seeing You!
Chico is a legacy in a roundabout way. He was obtained for my stepson by his father and stayed on at the place in Wilmer after the demise of the the elder Mr. Pendleton - Warren's siblings being in semi-charge of Chico until they suddenly decided to bail on the Wilmer house.
Chico had been literally cast aside - left to fend for himself with the departure of the humans. We came the day after everyone abandoned the house, not knowing if Chico was even there. I knew that there was a possibility that the dog would be there but was secretly hoping that somehow another tribe of humans would have felt sorry for him and had taken him in.
As it happened, the little one heard the lawnmower I had started to trim the overgrown yard. I caught him out of the corner of my eye high-tailing it to the front door of the house looking for his Warren. Being my mother's child, there was no way I was going to refuse the darn dog entrance to our cozy little family.
We drove the thing home the long way, stopping by a pet store to obtain a collar, a leash and a cage. In deference to Warren's preferences, both collar and leash were black, adorned with multiple skull and crossbones - a "goth" dog. The cage was a training tool. All indications were that the dog had not been toilet trained. The cage proved to be worth its weight in gold.
Of a sudden, Chico's lifestyle changed. Aside from a change in venue, the dog would have to learn to control his bodily functions until the appropriate time. In exchange, he was warm, he was dry and was living indoors. He adored Warren, tolerated Carol, didn't care for me. I was OK with that. Twice before I was adopted by a dog I really didn't care to have and I wasn't going to let it happen a third time.
Five months down the road, he's used to his new digs and knows when and where he needs to take care of his personal business. He is still warm, and he is still dry as the weather permits. He also has a new human in his collection. Yes, I have been adopted by another dog.
Dang.
This one isn't too bad and is, in fact, rather an amusing creature. Amusing in what he does and in what I want to project on him. For instance, he is about the same colour as a corny dog. I had this idea of spreading mustard down his back and presenting him as such at halloween. Didn't tell anyone about my plan until after the day came and went. At present I am considering renaming the dog "Peanut", again because of his colour and general shape. Bets that when Carol reads this she'll put a stop to that crazy plan, too.
Warren referred to the dog as being a stupid chihuahua. I've been discovering that the dog isn't quite as dumb as Warren claims it to be. He's relatively trainable despite being two and a half years of age. For that matter, I'm relatively trainable, too, despite being almost 56. Chico loves his "walks", knows what I am saying when I say the word "walk" and will literally jump me from behind, pushing my calf muscles, trying to push me to his leash, then the front door.
Once outside, Chico becomes the mighty hunter, lunging with all of his might to any hapless rabbit he might encounter along the way. He also tries to be a bit of a Casanova, preferring much larger dogs he might encounter on the way. There's a pit bull in the neighborhood who has been in heat lately... I'm discouraging walks in that direction for fear that the mighty Chico might be biting off more than he can chew.
All in all I am respectful of the little dog. He has a stump of a tail which was lost when he had an encounter with a door when he was a pup and every once in a while he shows a bit of a limp acquired when he had been at the business end of a bb gun. He hates sharp noises as a result. He is wary around strangers and he has a jealous streak, too. If he's around when I'm kissing Carol, he will try his darndest to get attention from either or both of us. He just doesn't like to be left out.
As was said a moment ago, nearly everyone has had a dog at one time or another. I wasn't looking for one when this one came along... now I'm wondering what to do about a dog when Warren takes this one away to college.
Be Seeing You!
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
Paying Attention
I wish that some people would pay attention. Seemingly there are enough folk around that are glad that some people don't.
Take for instance a woman who came in the store the other day who needed help in the rug aisle. She needed a piece which had become unnecessarily buried by an associate who was too darn busy to pay attention when he was stocking that particular rack. The customer and I started one of those conversations based on "the good old days". Within about 30 seconds, she had turned into a recording.
"I belong to a 'tea party' group."
"Really? Are you aware of the reason for the original Boston Tea Party?"
She launched into the whole "... taxation without representation..." routine which isn't quite what really happened. Had she been paying attention, she would have known that the original "Partiers" were smugglers who were dumping less expensive English tea (the tax was taken off well before the party, you see) in order to protect their business interests developed during the relatively short time that the tax had been in effect. No altruistic motives, here - just sort of eliminating the competition. Today's partiers? Well, I'm willing to make a small wager that if the money trail were followed it would lead back to people and organizations which would stand to lose if the status quo were to change. When the alternative view of what happened in advance of the Revolutionary War was presented, the other person decided that it was time to abruptly change the subject of the conversation.
"We need to find different politicians to put into office - except, of course, the people who represent us here in North Texas..."
God forbid that the local politicos should have the letter (D) instead of the letter (R) behind their names as they do now. Oooops, let's change the subject again....
"It's all the fault of the lawyers and those activist judges..."
I know, am related to and have known a few lawyers in my time and most of them are relatively decent people who try to uphold the laws of the land. As far as the judges, well, if they made decisions that you liked, you wouldn't be upset at their activism, would you? Start again.
"... The Constitution..."
Great document. Living, breathing... if you don't like the way it's being interpreted now, wait a few years. Wait a minute, how about...
"Liberals..."
Insert the word "Jew" every time you sneer the word "Liberal" and you'll start to sound like that Austrian with the funny moustache who caused so much trouble in the last century. Besides, Jesus was a liberal Jew...
"The media..."
I'll presume that you are including Fox in your rant?
And so it went. Any answer not in her 'script' was met with a sharp change in subject. Same thing with the "conservatives" on my e-mail lists. Send 'em an answer contrary to what they think it should be and by golly, they counter with a different subject.
What's really scary is that this trend isn't just between people who do the e-mail thing here in the United States - It's seemingly the same with the radical Islamists who are giving us so much trouble whenever the heck they feel like it. I started this morning quite early and found that there was wall to wall coverage of the crisis in Haiti. Those who pay attention to things will note that every time there is some sort of catastrophe, it is the people and the government of the United States who are there trying to pick up the pieces, to do the search and rescue, to feed, to care for and help those in need. You just have to pay attention to what's going on to appreciate it.
In amongst the coverage today of the catastrophe in Haiti were reports that Al-Queda is seriously considering another attack on the U.S. In amongst the coverage today of the catastrophe in Haiti was a report that Pat Robertson had declared the disaster the fault of a "Pact with Satan"... and he wasn't the only conservative talking head trying to get attention instead of paying attention. I don't know which is sadder, the plight of the Haitians or those attempting to make political or religious points at Haiti's expense. I rather suspect the latter.
Al-Queda, Pat Robertson and this so-called "Tea Party" would much rather people not pay attention and stick to the scripts that they write for their own purposes. Doesn't that make them all rather much the same?
***** Quick addition; before going to the hospital this morning for some adjustment, Carol paused for a few moments to jump on line to make a donation to the American Red Cross to help the people in Haiti. If she can do that at 5:15 in the morning after having had to put up with my snoring all night, you, dear reader, have no excuse not to do the same.
Be Seeing You!
Take for instance a woman who came in the store the other day who needed help in the rug aisle. She needed a piece which had become unnecessarily buried by an associate who was too darn busy to pay attention when he was stocking that particular rack. The customer and I started one of those conversations based on "the good old days". Within about 30 seconds, she had turned into a recording.
"I belong to a 'tea party' group."
"Really? Are you aware of the reason for the original Boston Tea Party?"
She launched into the whole "... taxation without representation..." routine which isn't quite what really happened. Had she been paying attention, she would have known that the original "Partiers" were smugglers who were dumping less expensive English tea (the tax was taken off well before the party, you see) in order to protect their business interests developed during the relatively short time that the tax had been in effect. No altruistic motives, here - just sort of eliminating the competition. Today's partiers? Well, I'm willing to make a small wager that if the money trail were followed it would lead back to people and organizations which would stand to lose if the status quo were to change. When the alternative view of what happened in advance of the Revolutionary War was presented, the other person decided that it was time to abruptly change the subject of the conversation.
"We need to find different politicians to put into office - except, of course, the people who represent us here in North Texas..."
God forbid that the local politicos should have the letter (D) instead of the letter (R) behind their names as they do now. Oooops, let's change the subject again....
"It's all the fault of the lawyers and those activist judges..."
I know, am related to and have known a few lawyers in my time and most of them are relatively decent people who try to uphold the laws of the land. As far as the judges, well, if they made decisions that you liked, you wouldn't be upset at their activism, would you? Start again.
"... The Constitution..."
Great document. Living, breathing... if you don't like the way it's being interpreted now, wait a few years. Wait a minute, how about...
"Liberals..."
Insert the word "Jew" every time you sneer the word "Liberal" and you'll start to sound like that Austrian with the funny moustache who caused so much trouble in the last century. Besides, Jesus was a liberal Jew...
"The media..."
I'll presume that you are including Fox in your rant?
And so it went. Any answer not in her 'script' was met with a sharp change in subject. Same thing with the "conservatives" on my e-mail lists. Send 'em an answer contrary to what they think it should be and by golly, they counter with a different subject.
What's really scary is that this trend isn't just between people who do the e-mail thing here in the United States - It's seemingly the same with the radical Islamists who are giving us so much trouble whenever the heck they feel like it. I started this morning quite early and found that there was wall to wall coverage of the crisis in Haiti. Those who pay attention to things will note that every time there is some sort of catastrophe, it is the people and the government of the United States who are there trying to pick up the pieces, to do the search and rescue, to feed, to care for and help those in need. You just have to pay attention to what's going on to appreciate it.
In amongst the coverage today of the catastrophe in Haiti were reports that Al-Queda is seriously considering another attack on the U.S. In amongst the coverage today of the catastrophe in Haiti was a report that Pat Robertson had declared the disaster the fault of a "Pact with Satan"... and he wasn't the only conservative talking head trying to get attention instead of paying attention. I don't know which is sadder, the plight of the Haitians or those attempting to make political or religious points at Haiti's expense. I rather suspect the latter.
Al-Queda, Pat Robertson and this so-called "Tea Party" would much rather people not pay attention and stick to the scripts that they write for their own purposes. Doesn't that make them all rather much the same?
***** Quick addition; before going to the hospital this morning for some adjustment, Carol paused for a few moments to jump on line to make a donation to the American Red Cross to help the people in Haiti. If she can do that at 5:15 in the morning after having had to put up with my snoring all night, you, dear reader, have no excuse not to do the same.
Be Seeing You!
Monday, January 11, 2010
Television
The resident teenager in the house occasionally becomes obsessed with certain tunes. Such has been the case in the past couple of evenings when he has entertained us with endless choruses of a song called "You Are a Pirate". Apparently the song was written for and performed on a television show called "Lazy Town", a children's program produced in... Iceland.
Yes, Iceland.
I've never thought of Iceland as being a hotbed of television production. Aside from National Geographic articles entitled something like "Iceland: Land of Fire and Ice", my only impressions of the island involved a joke about elevator operators in Mad Magazine, a sketch about "Icelandic Honey Week" on Monty Python's Flying Circus and an exchange student who arrived at the start of my senior year in High School and who quietly disappeared a month or so later.
But why not television produced in Iceland? It's done just about everywhere else and what with all of the abundant geothermal energy, there would be lots and lots of power for lights, cameras and action.
There's quite a bit of television going on in and around the Dallas area in general and here in Allen in particular. Like kid shows? Allen is where a certain purple dinosaur was 'born'. Barney is still being produced somewhere nearby - one of the costumed secondary dinosaurs (if you will) actually works in the same building that I do. The same company which brought you Barney also produced a show called Wishbone and shot the exteriors locally. When I first moved here, the flats for the little town where the primary story took place could be seen off to the west of Greenville Avenue just across from the bowling alley. Wishbone involved a Jack Russell Terrier named "Wishbone" who was dressed up in all sorts of cute or disgusting costumes (depending on your point of view). Wishbone the dog was apparently quite prolific, too. For a time, if I ran into an owner of a Jack Russell Terrier here in Allen, the owner would be quite specific as to how his or her dog was related to Wishbone and to what degree. That prompted me to tell visitors that Allen City Council had passed a law declaring that every third dog in the city had to be related in some way to the famous TV pooch or be put to sleep.
While not in Allen, proper, the Dallas ranch is within a 10 minute drive from the Harrell homestead. "Southfork Ranch", once far removed from suburbia at the time Dallas was in its prime, is now somewhat surrounded by tract homes. If a revival of the show is in the cards, the producer will have to take a careful look at camera angles just to avoid having tourists in every shot. Southfork has become a popular tourist attraction with busloads of folk popping in to see where JR Ewing and the clan once lived.
Walker, Texas Ranger was shot in the metroplex in general. You recall the show starring the guy whose picture is on Superman's pajamas... and if you don't remember the show, be prepared to face the wrath of Chuck Norris, or endure the endless stream of Chuck Norris jokes which, like a particular Pirate song, seems to be one of the obsessions of the teenager in the house.
Somehow, I have this feeling that in less than 6 months we'll be wishing that we were inj Iceland.
Be Seeing You!
Yes, Iceland.
I've never thought of Iceland as being a hotbed of television production. Aside from National Geographic articles entitled something like "Iceland: Land of Fire and Ice", my only impressions of the island involved a joke about elevator operators in Mad Magazine, a sketch about "Icelandic Honey Week" on Monty Python's Flying Circus and an exchange student who arrived at the start of my senior year in High School and who quietly disappeared a month or so later.
But why not television produced in Iceland? It's done just about everywhere else and what with all of the abundant geothermal energy, there would be lots and lots of power for lights, cameras and action.
There's quite a bit of television going on in and around the Dallas area in general and here in Allen in particular. Like kid shows? Allen is where a certain purple dinosaur was 'born'. Barney is still being produced somewhere nearby - one of the costumed secondary dinosaurs (if you will) actually works in the same building that I do. The same company which brought you Barney also produced a show called Wishbone and shot the exteriors locally. When I first moved here, the flats for the little town where the primary story took place could be seen off to the west of Greenville Avenue just across from the bowling alley. Wishbone involved a Jack Russell Terrier named "Wishbone" who was dressed up in all sorts of cute or disgusting costumes (depending on your point of view). Wishbone the dog was apparently quite prolific, too. For a time, if I ran into an owner of a Jack Russell Terrier here in Allen, the owner would be quite specific as to how his or her dog was related to Wishbone and to what degree. That prompted me to tell visitors that Allen City Council had passed a law declaring that every third dog in the city had to be related in some way to the famous TV pooch or be put to sleep.
While not in Allen, proper, the Dallas ranch is within a 10 minute drive from the Harrell homestead. "Southfork Ranch", once far removed from suburbia at the time Dallas was in its prime, is now somewhat surrounded by tract homes. If a revival of the show is in the cards, the producer will have to take a careful look at camera angles just to avoid having tourists in every shot. Southfork has become a popular tourist attraction with busloads of folk popping in to see where JR Ewing and the clan once lived.
Walker, Texas Ranger was shot in the metroplex in general. You recall the show starring the guy whose picture is on Superman's pajamas... and if you don't remember the show, be prepared to face the wrath of Chuck Norris, or endure the endless stream of Chuck Norris jokes which, like a particular Pirate song, seems to be one of the obsessions of the teenager in the house.
Somehow, I have this feeling that in less than 6 months we'll be wishing that we were inj Iceland.
Be Seeing You!
Wednesday, January 6, 2010
Vanquished
I started to write out a rant and rave on Tuesday regarding sitting in doctors' waiting rooms these days. I was sitting in a doctor's waiting room at the time. The gist of the blog was going to be how doctors' offices have changed over the years with positive comments about the availability of magazines aimed at men (Sports Illustrated, Automobile, etc.) in a women's breast health clinic. Further comment was going to be made about how the chairs were still uncomfortable but not as much so - and about the availability of a large chair for the obese in the waiting room in which I was waiting at the time.
I was interrupted by two events. First, the pen ran out of ink. I was about 2/3 the way down the page and had been writing with a pen which I had been daring to run out of ink for the past week.
Second, the lovely Miss Carol came out of the examination room and we headed home.
Oh, and she had the best news. She's clean.
The operation was a success, the cancer was localized and there was no trace of that tricky little devil in her body. To borrow a phrase from my daughter: "Hah! We win!"
Now, the process is not over. We had an appointment with the plastic surgeon earlier in the day and the plastic surgeon indicated the need for some follow up work due to some complication which happens primarily to red-heads. There's also the cosmetic side of the equation. Human vanity, you know.
And I am thankful. Thankful for the fact that the problem was found and corrected quickly. Thankful that the lovely Miss Carol won't have to go through chemotherapy. Thankful that we have this huge group of friends who have supported us with prayer in the past couple of months. Thankful that Carol is no longer living with the cancer.
I am also more aware than I was a year ago of the personal side of living with someone who has been diagnosed with breast cancer. I have known a few in the past... Barb, Madge, "Cookie"... and I have gotten stories from others who have either been through the experience or who have been close to someone who has been through the experience. I can't help but to admire the courage of the women who come out of the experience with their heads held high for having vanquished the monster growing in their own bodies.
There are many more victories in the battle than there are otherwise.
Hah! We all win!
Be Seeing You!
I was interrupted by two events. First, the pen ran out of ink. I was about 2/3 the way down the page and had been writing with a pen which I had been daring to run out of ink for the past week.
Second, the lovely Miss Carol came out of the examination room and we headed home.
Oh, and she had the best news. She's clean.
The operation was a success, the cancer was localized and there was no trace of that tricky little devil in her body. To borrow a phrase from my daughter: "Hah! We win!"
Now, the process is not over. We had an appointment with the plastic surgeon earlier in the day and the plastic surgeon indicated the need for some follow up work due to some complication which happens primarily to red-heads. There's also the cosmetic side of the equation. Human vanity, you know.
And I am thankful. Thankful for the fact that the problem was found and corrected quickly. Thankful that the lovely Miss Carol won't have to go through chemotherapy. Thankful that we have this huge group of friends who have supported us with prayer in the past couple of months. Thankful that Carol is no longer living with the cancer.
I am also more aware than I was a year ago of the personal side of living with someone who has been diagnosed with breast cancer. I have known a few in the past... Barb, Madge, "Cookie"... and I have gotten stories from others who have either been through the experience or who have been close to someone who has been through the experience. I can't help but to admire the courage of the women who come out of the experience with their heads held high for having vanquished the monster growing in their own bodies.
There are many more victories in the battle than there are otherwise.
Hah! We all win!
Be Seeing You!
Friday, January 1, 2010
Celebrity Death Watch
If you're like me, your eyes have been diverted while you were in line to check out at the grocery store by those sleazy tabloids with all of the latest gossip on the cover. One of them, and don't ask me which one, will occasionally have a picture and the headline "(So and so's) Tragic Last Days". The picture is of some celebrity looking like he or she is knocking on death's door. I would suppose that someone living in the spotlight would expect to be on the front page of the supermarket tabloids. Even when they're on death's door. They don't miss a trick. Gaining or losing a lot of weight? Front page. Doing drugs? Ditto. Divorcing wife #1, #2 or #3? Ditto, ditto, ditto. Being whisked to a Honolulu hospital with horrible chest pains? Ditto!!!
Haven't had the time to put the Corpulant Crusader on the front page of any tabloids yet. Look for it in the next edition. You know, the one after the "Former First Lady Gives Husband Final Last Ultimatum After His Love Letters To Former Cabinet Official Discovered". We may also see headlines with the words "Almost Died", or, "Died And Came Back To Life!". The Corpulant Crusader would like that one. Thinks he's God already, though. The headline would only encourage him.
Too bad that the Weekly World News is no longer being produced. We would find "Bat Boy" with the CC in the emergency room. "Space Alien" would have interrupted his photo shoot with the President and it would have been revealed that Nostradamus predicted the CC's heart attack way back when Nostradamus was doing his prediction thing. Oh, and Ed Anger would have been incensed that the President didn't drop everything including his vacation and follow "Space Alien" to the CC's bedside. Shame on you, Mr. President!
But I digress.
The tabloids have a way of stirring our emotions about those who have been chosen, or have been born into celebrity. Wife finds out about husband's philandering and chases him down the driveway with one of his golf clubs. We eat it up. A spokesperson for a sandwich chain gains weight after smiling and telling us about all the weight he lost by eating that chain's sandwiches. We love it! Wholesome TV mom reveals she is gay as a may pole. Bring it on! Some starlet we hardly know is found dead in her Hollywood apartment. More, please, more! Sales of the tabloid which prints the garbage go up in proportion to the offense. I'm willing to bet that if the Corpulant Crusader han been either the last celebrity of 2009 or the first celebrity of 2010 to take the eternal dirt nap, sales of the tabloids would skyrocket for months.
Makes me think that perhaps the tabloid people have some sort of a death watch going on. "Oh, nothing personal, but we're talking sales, here. Besides, all the major press organizations maintain pre-fabricated obituaries of the rich and famous in the event that one of them quits breathing for an extended period of time... why shouldn't we kind of, you know, try and push things along to boost our circulation?"
There's a reason the tabloids are sold where they are sold. Chances are good that they would sell considerably less if they were sold next to the likes of the Dallas Morning News or the Wall Street Journal. Sold where they are to what amounts to a captive audience and with stories which (to put it politely) offer the human side of the rich and the famous, they can't help but to sell.
The Corpulant Crusader would be in a bit of a pickle about coverage of his latest escapade. On one hand, he's a private citizen with a right to privacy. On the other, he's a public figure who advocates free enterprise - and what better example of free enterprise is there than to sell tons of tabloids based on the misfortunes of a public figure?
Ditto!!!
Be Seeing You!
Couple of side notes. Even though it was my job to listen for commercial cues during the Rush Limbaugh radio show so many years ago, I don't wish any harm to him. He won't be on my prayer list, for sure. Excuse me. You betcha!
Several blogs ago I mentioned a friend, Jerry Temples, with whom I disagree with politically while still enjoying him otherwise... Jerry was in hospital over Christmas, returned home about a week ago, and as I understand it is back in hospital now. Jerry is in my prayers.
Haven't had the time to put the Corpulant Crusader on the front page of any tabloids yet. Look for it in the next edition. You know, the one after the "Former First Lady Gives Husband Final Last Ultimatum After His Love Letters To Former Cabinet Official Discovered". We may also see headlines with the words "Almost Died", or, "Died And Came Back To Life!". The Corpulant Crusader would like that one. Thinks he's God already, though. The headline would only encourage him.
Too bad that the Weekly World News is no longer being produced. We would find "Bat Boy" with the CC in the emergency room. "Space Alien" would have interrupted his photo shoot with the President and it would have been revealed that Nostradamus predicted the CC's heart attack way back when Nostradamus was doing his prediction thing. Oh, and Ed Anger would have been incensed that the President didn't drop everything including his vacation and follow "Space Alien" to the CC's bedside. Shame on you, Mr. President!
But I digress.
The tabloids have a way of stirring our emotions about those who have been chosen, or have been born into celebrity. Wife finds out about husband's philandering and chases him down the driveway with one of his golf clubs. We eat it up. A spokesperson for a sandwich chain gains weight after smiling and telling us about all the weight he lost by eating that chain's sandwiches. We love it! Wholesome TV mom reveals she is gay as a may pole. Bring it on! Some starlet we hardly know is found dead in her Hollywood apartment. More, please, more! Sales of the tabloid which prints the garbage go up in proportion to the offense. I'm willing to bet that if the Corpulant Crusader han been either the last celebrity of 2009 or the first celebrity of 2010 to take the eternal dirt nap, sales of the tabloids would skyrocket for months.
Makes me think that perhaps the tabloid people have some sort of a death watch going on. "Oh, nothing personal, but we're talking sales, here. Besides, all the major press organizations maintain pre-fabricated obituaries of the rich and famous in the event that one of them quits breathing for an extended period of time... why shouldn't we kind of, you know, try and push things along to boost our circulation?"
There's a reason the tabloids are sold where they are sold. Chances are good that they would sell considerably less if they were sold next to the likes of the Dallas Morning News or the Wall Street Journal. Sold where they are to what amounts to a captive audience and with stories which (to put it politely) offer the human side of the rich and the famous, they can't help but to sell.
The Corpulant Crusader would be in a bit of a pickle about coverage of his latest escapade. On one hand, he's a private citizen with a right to privacy. On the other, he's a public figure who advocates free enterprise - and what better example of free enterprise is there than to sell tons of tabloids based on the misfortunes of a public figure?
Ditto!!!
Be Seeing You!
Couple of side notes. Even though it was my job to listen for commercial cues during the Rush Limbaugh radio show so many years ago, I don't wish any harm to him. He won't be on my prayer list, for sure. Excuse me. You betcha!
Several blogs ago I mentioned a friend, Jerry Temples, with whom I disagree with politically while still enjoying him otherwise... Jerry was in hospital over Christmas, returned home about a week ago, and as I understand it is back in hospital now. Jerry is in my prayers.
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