The Truth Shall Set You Free

You know those stylized signs that hint at a function? A crooked arrow suggests a turn, or an illuminated stick figure let's you know it's okay to cross the street. Those signs suggest a reality. The sign at left, advertizing restrooms in Central Michigan dig a little deeper. By the time you get there, the truth is evident.

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.

Stop Your Wining!

I've turned into a winer. I don't drink alcoholic beverages much, anymore, but when I do, generally I'll have a glass- or maybe two- of wine. In the Church year, it's Lent. Lent is a time of reflection and atonement in preparation for Holy Week, as I've mentioned a time or three before. It's also a time when many folks give up unnecessary or frivolous things, such as sweets or alcoholic beverages. Yesterday, I was feeling kinda sanctimonious and, maybe, just maybe, I wanted to get my smug on, I announced that I'd all but decided to give up wine for Lent...


but then I got a sign that maybe I ought to reconsider. The sign? Well, I was reading the Psalms and hit the following in Psalm_104: "Praise the LORD, my soul... He makes ... wine that gladdens human hearts" Or, maybe you prefer King James: "wine that maketh glad the heart of man". Now, I'm not saying God told me to drink! After all, John the Baptist, who worked hard for the Big Guy, didn't touch the stuff, and a lot of folks have trouble with alcohol and really do need to leave it alone. I AM saying I'm pretty sure God doesn't want anyone using him to Lord it over folks. Even during Lent.

Stupid Signs, Part XV.

Yellow? These guys need to consult their kindergarten color wheel: that truck is orange.


Well, yeah...


Nah, that's a helmet.

Out to Lunch.

I was briefly- very briefly- in Marine Officer Candidates School. Attention to detail, they hollered, could be the difference between life and death. Fortunately, daily life rarely offers such dire consequences for inattention.


Lady Di just spoke in Charleston to a national gathering of Health Administration professors.

Looks like a fair amount of work went into her name tag (and the "It's all about ME" is pretty funny). Sadly, they got her name and degree wrong: The name was accurate a year ago, but not currently, and her degree is a Master of Science, not of Arts (though I think she got an upgrade, she strongly disagrees).


Here's a lovely sentiment, beautifully painted, but... Well, all things are possible on a painted license tag, except spell-check.

Signs, Chapter 12

I'm not sure I understand what all of the traffic signs mean. They're supposed to warn us of stuff, or tell us what to do, right? The one at left, for example: What, exactly, does it mean? Are they warning mean of something, or telling me what to do? I'm confused.
What am I supposed to do with this one? Do I even want to know?

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.

Stupid Signs, Part 10

Apparently new shoes and shirts don't taste as good.

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.

I Think That I Shall Never See...

Okay, I'm no Joyce Kilmer, but I like a tree as much as the next person. Actually, I like trees more than the next person, since the person (next to) next door is mowing down a mess of 'em.

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.

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.

Winning isn't everything; sometimes there's candy!

The University of South Carolina, as you may have heard, are the 2009-2010 NCAA baseball champions. The Gamecocks whipped up on perennial sports champions University of California at Los Angeles to take the crown. Announcers through the College World Series repeatedly pointed out that UCLA had won more college sports championships than any other college- something like 109 of 'em- in various sports. The only other championship that South Carolina had ever won before, according to So. Car's website, is the 2005 national equestrian championship. This got me thinking: how can USC capitalize on this? Well, sports merchandise, for sure; but, maybe now, finally, we can do what the 2009-2010 National Hockey League Champion Chicago Blackhawks did:

We can shill for penny candy!


Let's hear it for Lemon Head!

Human Billboards, Part One

You gotta love a democracy. Unlike systems based on merit, money, or religion, democracy is supposed to be "rule by the people". You can be dumb as a rock, but you still get to speak your mind. Consequently, I get to post blog stuff about things like dogs, food, and other serious stuff. Mostly what's on my mind is pretty much nothing. I've discovered in my saunter through life that "mindless" is pretty common. Tee-shirts seem to be the medium of choice for "mindless". I saw a "I like a good dump" tee-shirt today. I hope that it was a recycling center pun, but I was kind of afraid to ask the dude.

Russ Turns Fifty.

As I've reported plenty in the past, the Baggetts were my "second family" as I was growing up in Tampa. I've known Russ since fifth grade. We went to Morgan Woods Elementary, Webb Junior High School, and Leto High School together, and later were housemates at Florida State University. I was shocked to discover that he decided to turn fifty last week. His sister, Sarah, set up a surprise party for him at his aunt's place near his house in Panama City, Florida. Fiancee Diane was all set for a road trip, and off we went.

Hmmm. Tire pressure's a little low. Better get Diane to put some air in 'em.

We stayed in Marinna, FL, about an hour North of Panama City, smack in the middle of Florida's "pan handle". Marianna is not big. Neither was its newspaper, The Jackson County Floridian, though its price was up there with the big boys. The lead story was that the turnout for the Christmas parade was low. The local population musta been applying for one of the four jobs listed as "now available" just above the headline.

The party was fun. Alligator hunter Phil came up from Tampa with fellow Leto H.S. Falcon Terrie; Pee Wee league Viking teammate Tommy Ostertag came over from Tallahassee, and lots of Russ' family were in attendance. Sister Sarah, Diane, and Russ and Sarah's mom (and my "second mom") Frandy, pictured at left, visited. Frandy and Diane hit it off, as I'd hoped they would. The barbecue and cake were mighty tasty, and it seemed like folks had fun.

The next day we checked out of the Fairfield and headed East on I-10.

I won't tell you where I saw this sign, but my first thought on seeing it was, "Uh, not since diapers".


We stopped in Jacksonville to visit with friends from the Boro, Jim and Gale.

What Kinda Church is this, Anyway?

Really? They need a conference for that? Guess that's where they're getting all those created miracles for the daycare.

Signs, 10

Seen at the airport. "Excuse me, Miss. Will that be pedophile or non-pedophile seating?"

Cross Training.

Got General Sessions criminal court for the next two weeks. They're supposed to be picking on somebody else next week, so I might find some time to post, but I can't be sure. I've also got stuff going on this weekend. S'posed to run 10 miles tomorrow morning, then limp over to the Church for weekend festivities. "Episcopal revival" sounds like an oxymoron, but then again, I'm pretty oxymoronic. Reminds me of a car I saw in Beaufort one weekend. Based on his bumperstickers, it was obvious that the dude had two main interests: distance running, and his Christian faith. Bunch of stickers advertizing both. A baseball cap by the dude's rear window contained a slogan apparently mixing the two, but it came off just sounding... wrong. Hat had the phrase "Running for Jesus". I saw it and thought, "I didn't know there was a vacancy". I wondered why anyone would want the job, anyhow. All the loaves and fishes you want, but, well, they kill you just a few years into it.

Signs, 8

Is she a hairdresser? Or merely a psychopath? Only her clients know for sure.