Ode to the Demise of a Holiday Season.

The Holiday Season again has passed; gone for another year. Pumpkins, turkeys, and Christmas Cheer were never meant to last,

but celebrations are always near, and others'll take their place... So put away your Halloweeny face,

...and get out your King Day gear!

Walkin' the Floor Over Goo.

As I continue to clamor for floor relief, I keep my eyes peeled for any labor-saving household help, mechanized and otherwise. Over next to the Snuggies in a local market, I caught a glimpse of the "Slipper Genie" pictured at left. Who needs a vacuum cleaner when you can put on these special socks and walk away the dirt? 'Course, if that's plan "A", that's probably gonna be a pretty dirty floor, no? Hope they're disposable.

Everything Reminds me of Food...

I saw a stash of failed fountain pens in an office waste basket the other day. Made me hungry. No, I'm not a pen chewer. It's just that, where a lot of folks would just see a pile of pens; I saw food. Specifically, I thought of last week's stirfry. Check it out below:

See what I mean? Tell me you're not at least a little hungry?

You Might Be an Observant Muslim if...

Most folks in these parts are fans of Jeff Foxworthy and his "You Might Be a Redneck if..." routines... and mugs... and calendars. My brother, the Amazing AndyMan, got me a "You Might Be a Reckneck If..." calendar last Christmas. There are some good ones, some okay ones, and some "365 days is a lot of days to come up with a different You Might Be a Redneck If joke" ones. I've gotten a bit behind in both my posts and in my calendar adjustments, so I was going through a couple of weeks of calendar readings this morning, when I caught the one for Friday, October 26th, pictured at left. I'd put it in the "okay" category. It's mildly amusing: You Might Be a Redneck If... Sitting on your sofa means waking a relative." But wait, what's that little observance notation above the date?


Go ahead and look below.

  

It says Eid al-Adha. I know President's Day, Christmas, Hannukah, and even Canada's "Boxing Day", but what the heck is Eid al-Adha? Apparently,  Eid al-Adha is a Muslim Holiday in remembrance of Abraham's obedience to God's demand to sacrifice his son, who is spared when God sends a substitute ram at the last minute (you can read about that in Genesis, if you want. It's in the Bible, so Jewish folks and Christians are stuck with it, but most of the priests that I've heard talk about this one sort of hem and haw. Islam, apparently, celebrates it. You gotta figure that family reunions at Abraham's place were, uh, strained. Abraham, "Isaac, could you please pass the yams? Isaac, "Sure, Dad, as long as I get to carve the turkey. You know how you get when you get hold of a knife!" Gales of laughter ensue.) Anyhow, I never thought of any of the Four Horses of The Blue Collar Comedy Tour as messenger of Muhammad. But then, maybe I'm a Redneck.

Whither Vain?

As I puttered into work today, I noticed a vanity tag imprinted thusly: FRMRGRL. After a moments' reflection, I figured that the owner meant to imply that she was an agriculturally minded woman: a "Farmer Girl"; however, my mind was in a strange place, and my first thought was that the owner was a dude that used to be a dame: a "Former Girl". This chain of thoughts led me to think about "The Princess Bride", and this bit:



Farmer Girl or Former Girl? Only her plastic surgeon knows for sure.

Glory to Deodorant in the Highest.

Well, if Gloria in excelsis Deo is Latin for "Glory to God in the Highest", then this stuff must smell awfully good. The Gloria's mighty pretty, but Dizzy Gillespie's got a "Deo" thing going, too.

Obvious Headline Alert, Part I

As opposed to what? Squid? Peanut butter?

What am I, like, Twelve?

Up on Griffith Observatory, high above L.A., there are some interesting views. You can see the sprawl that is the greater Los Angeles area; you can see the Hollywood sign; you can see interesting local flora. If you think like a twelve year old, and you're paying attention, you can also see some pretty funny stuff. Take a look at the picture at left. Lady Di is to the upper right, looking at me disapprovingly. Why? Well, she knows me, you see. Look at the foreground at the bottom of the picture. There's a plaque. I'll give you a better picture of the plaque in a minute. Now look behind Lady Di, to her left, more or less in a line from the plaque. See that couple there?




That's them, up close. I saw the girl and the plaque at nearly the same time. So, what does the plaque say?









Now, just think how funny that'd be if you were a twelve-year old boy. Welcome to my world.

Socks Appeal.

I like Dr. Seuss. I was raised on Dr. Seuss, and I raised four kids on Dr. Seuss. I also like running; though I haven't done a lot of it, of late. One of the things I like about running is that normally sane dudes are allowed to wear togs that are, well, not so normal. If Tim Burton were to adapt Dr. Seuss's classic "Fox in Socks" for running apparel, he might've come up with something like the the items I picked up over the weekend:

Okay, maybe that's a wolf. I still dig the socks, though. Like I said: with running apparel, allowances are made. Now I just gotta start running again.

Stupid Signs, Part 9

I observed this sign in a Charleston location of a large home-improvement chain. The sign is not "per se" stupid, just useless. I asked the person at the department where this sign is posted if anyone in the store could read or speak Japanese, French or whatever that other language on the sign is, and he said, in clear English, that neither he, nor anyone else in the store read or spoke any of the languages- other than English- on the sign. Pity the poor Japanese tourist beaming with expectation as he approaches customer service...

Ambiguous Headline Alert.

I really, really hope they mean shooting BY co-eds.

Holiday Ornery-ments.

We've survived Thanksgiving, and we're crashing head-long into Christmas. Time to decorate the tree and remind ourselves of the joy and goodwill that the Season promises. Here we go...

Santa and toys got to be a joyful thing, right? Wait... Since when does Santa carry a soldier (toy or not) that's bigger than he is? Times have changed, I guess. If you're gonna be busting in to people's houses, you probably ought to be packing heat.

What's wrong with this one? Well, in a nutshell, I'd say that Baby Huey here is totally lacking in Holiday Spirit. Shoot, he (or she. A blue or pink blanket might've helped here) looks more like Susan Smith's other child than Moses in the bullrushes. 'Course, I've been wrong before. Maybe that's why the Santa Nazi is lurking in the background.


Whoa! Who ticked her off? The idea of an Blonde Alpine skier is not so bad, but she is clearly not in the Christmas spirit.

Well, this one's actually kinda nice. Peaceful looking manger scene. The guys that made this clearly understand the real meaning of Christmas. Wonder who made it?

Oops. China isn't exactly a hotbed of Christianity, with numbers somewhere between 3/4 of a percent and 4 percent of the population, depending on whom you ask. At least they aren't snarling.

Cleaning Out My Closet.

My junk tray is getting kinda full. Time to clean it out. Stuff's not that old, right? Now, let's see... Couple of old cell phones. Can I recycle those? Probably not. Throw 'em in the garbage. Belk's bill from a few months ago. I might oughta pay that. Hey! Free tickets for the Boro's only bowling alley! Uh, they apparently expired two months ago. Pitch 'em. An Einstein Bagels receipt from the Detroit Metro Airport. My server was Khalil. I wonder if Khalil knows Einstein was Jewish? "86" it. A CVS receipt. I got it marked "recorded". Wonder why I saved it. Ah, there's a coupon for a $25.00 gift card. Shoot, that'll come in handy for Christmas. Let's see how long I got to use it... Oops, expired in July. Into the wastebasket with you (does anyone ever say "wastebasket" anymore? My grandmother, Baba, I think used to say that. Perfectly fine word. No need to throw it out). Ooh, a warning ticket from the Charleston County Aviation Authority Police for Careless Driving. Musta been when I almost mowed over that pilot. Hey, it's not MY fault he was in the cross-walk when I was circling the airport waiting for Diane's brother to fly in from Seattle. Those pilots (and members of Congress) don't have to get those "up close and personal" patdowns. Perhaps I was prospectively harboring a little resentment. Wonder where that comes from? Eminem knows (Speaking of "warnings", you know Eminem's a fairly controversial rapper, right? Probably not a good idea to play the following video if you don't like that sort of stuff).

Teen Girl Squad.

Among the more bizarre fads to which oldest son Davis introduced me was Teen Girl Squad. You can click on the link if you want, but I won't try to explain it. As my Pop used to say, "if I have to explain it, it isn't funny" (Dad had many ways to brush me off. Sending me to the dictionary to look up things like sesquipedalian was one that stuck with me. I ended up learning lots of useless words from Dad's irritation). Anyway, it's been a couple of years since I gave TGS any thought, and it was kinda cool to see the bumpersticker at left.

Here's Your Sign, Again.

"Woe unto you wicked generation that seeks after a sign" is, I think, a little severe. I seek stupid signs all the time. Over the past few weeks, I found more than a few. Here's a sampling:

I saw this one outside a store. You've heard of stores, right? It's where they try to sell stuff. This one apparently must not sell much, because they're crowing about one sale. Imagine the pressure on that poor clerk if the customer backs out!


Hey, how'd these folks know I was speeding? Okay, I'll slow down. Is 40 m.p.h. too fast for a parking garage?


Let's see. A beer exchange and you don't have a bathroom? What are you exchanging it with?


If I'm hunting for wading fountains, I'm not sure that I like that rules four and five are merely advisory.

Take Me Home, I'm Stupid.

Just got back to the Boro today after a week of lots of sun, fun and, well... fun and sun. Yeah, I know. I said there'd be lots of wedding and Honeymoon photos. That's mostly Facebook stuff, but I'll post something in the next few days ('course, I've got tons of work to get caught up on, but I'll post something). Anyhow, after a memorable and all to brief stay in Charleston, Lady Di and I went cruisin'.
Which cruiseline? You mighta seen the commercials showing the bright red fin at the back of the boat. No? Well, apparently a smokestack is as good a selling point as any. And it is as fine a looking smokestack as you're ever likely to see. So fine, in fact...
...that they made a mascot out of it. Meet Fun Ship Freddy. Say, that little fella looks familiar. Where have I seen this guy before? Oh, wait. I know.

Hellboy.

South Carolina's Got the Blues.

A few weeks ago, I was travelling about the Palmetto State with Oldest Son. It was Sunday morning, and we popped into a Columbia unit of a national chain to pick up a few items. To our amazement, not everything that the store sold was available for purchase on account of State Blue Laws. I was already aware that buying booze on Sunday was verboten, but this was too much. Half the store was roped-off to save me from myself. The classification system was... puzzling.


If I'm not gonna be in Church, I'd better not try eat Hershey's chocolate. Linde candy is, apparently, not so sinful.


Davis got his contact lens solution, but he was interrogated in line. "You didn't get that on the other side of the rope, did you?". "No, Ma'am. I'd never do such a thing". Never on Sunday.

What's Up?

Now that I've got a chance to catch my breath, I'm getting caught up on some "me" stuff, including- ugh!- a colonoscopy consult for a couple of weeks from now. Ah, the joys of middle-age.

It's Nuts.

After a brutal two-week stretch (two murder trials (one guilty, one not guilty), and lots of kid-related issues (not out of the woods yet, but improving)), things are settling down a bit. I've at least gotten a chance to catch my breath. And to, once again, note the ridiculous stuff that abounds.

For example: It is accepted lore that America is litigious. That's actually a testament to the freedom we have here, and is generally a good thing, but even I have some limits. Toby Keith mentions the infamous coffee case in "American Ride". Some lady spilled coffee on her lap, and got a ton of money suing a fast-food restaurant for not warning her that coffee is, well, hot. I've looked into that matter a little, and, it's not as stupid as it seems. Most people like their morning coffee hot; however, during that time years ago, that particular restaurant chain had increased the temperature well above "drinking" hot so that it would be "drinking" hot ten minutes or so later when you got the coffee home. That's not just "hot"; that's scalding hot. Something the folks at management apparently knew from some previous incidents they'd had nationally. The lady was apparently burned pretty badly, and the high verdict also included some punitive damages (which still, as I understand it, represented, like, one day's coffee sales from that chain). Anyway, having said that, even I have my limits.

Hence, the peanuts. Some people are allergic to peanuts, and they get sick if they get exposed to them. Sometimes peanuts are used in recipes and allergic folks are unaware of it, and they get sick. those folks should be given a heads-up if their Chinese chicken is packing peanuts. But if you ask your flight attendant for a pack of peanuts, do you still need a warning? See? I got these on an airplane last month (I really should go through my stuff more often...). You know they're peanuts because the package says "peanuts".

This is the back of the pack (something with which I am familiar as a runner). It's got the nutrition information on it, and, in case you didn't read the much larger information on the front, the ingredients: Peanuts, salt. You figure that be enough. But, no.

I was shocked- SHOCKED!- to learn that my pack of peanuts, consisting of peanuts and salt, was "produced at a facility that processes peanuts and other nuts". Sheesh.

Nailed.

Okay, some days I just don't have a lot to say.