Ice Man Pleadeth

I do not particularly like snow but then again, other than food there are few things on earth I enjoy shoveling on a regular basis. However, when I do have to clear the white stuff from my walkways, I consider it a chance for a little extra exercise and an opportunity to breathe a fresher sack of smog into my stale lungs. But frozen water is another matter and it’s difficult not to harden my icy personality when the house, car, and driveway are all encased in the rime for all time.

  

While I appreciate the serene TV images of pretty icicles and glistening crystallized trees, the beauty soon turns beast and my skin wears too thin to walk on when subjected to this relentless frozen cocoon. To avoid becoming a REAL-life POP-sicle, retrieving the morning newspaper requires an armor plated carcass and noggin-topper defenses to dodge frozen stalactite daggers and other squirrel droppings. I have forgotten what parts of my driveway and curbs look like since they spend so much time hidden under glaciated moraines and towering ice parapets up to my armpits.

Clearly somebody around here forgot to light the pilot light or open up the check-book and pay the sun’s heating bill and guest appearance fee. Yes my permanently shaded and ill-fated igloo is now so haunted by ice sheets that I have decided to switch my bedding to plaid flannel and strap on figure skates before every bedtime. After relentless conditioning, even ice cubes clinking around in a cup give me the Pavlovian chill thrills and make me bark like a hot-trotting Siberian Husky in heat.

Hey I know at times I may be ‘Jerky’ but who said I want to live life like an old preserved hunk of mummy-meat at subzero temperatures? If that were the case, long ago I would have cozied up my fatty flank next to that biblically significant hunk of ground round in the back of my kitchen freezer. Please remember, whenever in the future I beg for the ‘double frosted’, I am ONLY referring to the icing on cupcakes and Pop Tarts – NOT the 32 and below H2O frozen flow that I have been facing heretofo'.

Burger Bum’s Bad Rap

When I shuffle up to a burger joint, occasionally I may go for a salad or soda, but it is probably a safe bet that MOST of the time, I’m looking to be ‘burgerfied’ in a big meaty way and am in need of a beast of a grease feast. Of course if I want a burpy burrito I will bridle one up and ride it to the Bell and if Pizza is in season I might gas up my gut with a trip to the Hut! So recently when my wife and I ventured into the land of the Whopper for my replacement paper crown, we were stunned to find this particular fast food cow kingdom beef-less and patty-free.

Really, no burgers at a burger joint – what have I done to receive such a Royal pain; is this some kind of juiced-up jocular jesters idea of a joke? I knew we couldn’t really be in the Twilight zone because it was pitch black outside and a few zombies zealots were still in line with me in search of fresh meat. I guess I can imagine running out of napkins, ketchup packets or those buns with the sesame seeds which stick to your lips, but when the product is not only featured on the menu but also on the giant 4 story sign outside too, how can you run out of THAT stuff? 

Ultimately bound for our buns, we had to settle for tepid ‘orangeish’ ovoid patties and tasteless breaded nuggets that smelled REAL ‘chicken-y’ but tasted far more like the scoop in the coop. Mmmm, nothing spells sanguine dining satisfaction like pale pressed chicken paste, form-fit to a dry hunk of bread n’ lettuce, all glued together with a squirt of day-old mayo does it? Thank goodness for the gallon jug of Kung Pao goo that we ordered too, which excites alive even the dullest of tounge-buds with an Asian taste sensation.

Oh no don’t worry my high-brow secret identity is not in crisis and my rumpled bum- tum will most certainly live on to see far beefier burgers and even a few real chicken parts in the near future. I don’t claim to be a snobby food critic, nor was this dining experience typical, especially since I do most of my truly elegant eating out of an alley vending machine BETWEEN the bus-stop and the corner 7-11. Though, thanks to new age preservatives, at least THERE I always know EXACTLY what form my nutrition will take … a satisfying ‘lickable’ Twinkie imprint or crumb defiantly stuck to the waxy cardboard and industrial plastic packaging. 

The SNUGGIE clause

Well it may be my repressed n’ all-wet, Brawny paper towel guy talking, but if there is one thing in life that my wife loves for the holidays, it’s big, bulky, plain-jane, oversized flannel jammies. Who can resist the soft downy touch of a pile of (preferably washed) perky plaid lumberjack duds? Despite the occasionally dicey run-ins with Paul’s bunions and other hairy guys in knitted caps with axes to grind, who doesn’t want to know what’s TRULY BEHIND the ‘trapdoor hatch’ in oh-so- cozy ‘onesie’ pajamas?

Let’s face it though, anything flannel should never be in close proximity to normal department store silky lingerie. Do you really think foot-draggers like myself, have any desire to slink through the lacy & racy store aisles unless we’re yelling for ‘Sanctuary’ and being hunted by ‘clip-on tie clerks’ with torches? Those underwear enclaves with their nasty hooks, wires, and strings are the things of tortured dreams. I’m threatened by garments which won’t rack right and their intentions protrude unnaturally into the path of my cart’s personal space. In these ‘cess-dens’ of black satin & nude-colored hosiery, women’s burning eyes will just stare at me with revulsion and fear - but I almost always leave their stupid louvered changing rooms when asked politely.

With winter upon us I recently decided to surprise the wife with a brand new set of flannel jams to brighten her smile and warm up all of her other dark parts. Searching for new heavyweight matching P.J.’s is a big responsibility and believe me I don’t take the task lightly. The only beaten dead horse around here is me, so there’s no way I’m going to saddle my best half’s flesh with just any old flannel from Bangladesh – she’s deserves the BEST thread count that 3rd world child labor can loom.

Little did I know that my minor ‘mission probable’ would turn into a major pain in the impossible. What retail marketing genius decided that this Christmas, everyone wants NON-matching, ‘licensed icon’, half-calf, sleep separates anyway? In between the floods, famine, and random wildlife wandering the streets, did all of Asia run out of the same NORMAL ‘flan-jam’ palette of muted pastel tints, lints, and twine? Geez for $40 bucks the spouse shouldn’t have to grouse about jams with flying Tabasco bottles, Daffy rocket ducks, or even Santa’s own sugar plum fairies dancing anywhere near her happy-lap. Anyway she’s already CONTRACTED with ME if she wants a hulking , plain, & furry softy to keep her warm . . . all she has to do is enforce the holiday flannel provision known as, the ‘SNUGGIE CLAUS’!

FOOD POLICE

What kind of world is this which chooses to limit food choices only to certain arbitrary time periods of the day. So what if I want chocolate cherries with my Cheerios or O.J. with my mayonnaise? As long as I don’t 'spew' on you, what do you care what I eat or when I eat it? Well apparently the ‘food police’ are in full force and spreading rumors that cookies are NOT a food group and candy should not be consumed PRIOR to dental exams?

Hey I know I have been accused of being a little cracked but it’s no ‘YOLK’ that I love scrambled ‘chicken droppings’ more than most folks. I can eat those little ‘Mork’-orb eggs most any time of day, though my wife insists that they are strictly ‘Breakfast’ food. Who wants to live with tyranny like this and under the repression of a some cluck’s hindquarters? Just because chickens lay eggs in the morning doesn’t mean they have also squeezed out an IRON-CLAD ‘ipso facto’ fair-use contract too (‘cause that would be painful)!

I recently ventured into a highly recommended Thai food joint to experience the eye-watering joy of the ‘Bhut Jolokia’ ghost pepper. Now trust me these blistering ‘Pepps’ are one of the top three hottest peppers grown and they are extremely spicy but I use Capsaicin as cologne so why worry right? In any case I had to endure the restaurant owner’s 10 minute liability lecture and sign a written release BEFORE I could eat my lunch. Now society is policing my food so what’s next important stuff like socks that match, toilet rings, or heaven forbid, my GUNS too?

Needless to say I finished my ‘hot’ lunch and am proud that, ‘Yes’ I avoided the $20 ‘clean-up puke‘ provision in my lucrative, yet gassy, contract. Who knew that we have evolved into a 'regurgitation-nation' where a dude’s intestinal fortitude must be reviewed, to keep YOU, from being sued? All these weird fuddy-duddy foodie rules have gone too far. Who needs this police state - as long as I am willing to pay for the gunk in my trunk then just leave me alone already. By the way in the END, I did pay for my extra-spicy Thai food, but don’t tell the ‘privy-patrol’ - the stuff was twice as costly six hours later!

Mixed Messages

This has been a tough week for mirth. My brand of blogging is at its best when poking fun at myself or observing absurdity in others in their daily lives. Obviously the Japanese calendar has not been kind recently as both of my sources of ‘fuel’ have been, to say the least, in short supply. I mean even that dumb parrot from the Aladdin movie got fired (or is it ‘gott FRIED’) for being tasteless. Trust me, when frying up parrots, poor taste is not at all that unusual because it’s like the old adage, they DO taste just like ‘CRACKER’.

My first REAL job out of college was with Ricoh Corporation, a giant Japanese multinational corporation. Except for ‘inventory time’, I loved nearly every minute of that work and the people that made the company great. My cadre of ‘handlers’ took great pride in trying to temper my American-bred individualism, intuition, and wide-eyed youth with the methodically measured steel of a Ninja’s best business practice. Sadly my bosses failed miserably, because at the end of my tenure, my golf handicap was barely in the teens and even after two years of night school, my Japanese was still only ‘short bus’ worthy. At the end of the day however, my Japanese counterparts and I DID truly understand and value each other’s respective ways in dealing DIFFERENTLY, with the same problems.

So given my self-indulgent resume, you might now better appreciate my comfort in speaking with compassion, criticism, and comedy all about the same tragic set of circumstances in Japan. The sheer loss of life and family toil repeated a thousand-fold across the country would bring even the hardest boiled egg down to his over-easy knees. No, there is nothing funny about the futility of dropping thimbles of water or shooting a fire truck squirt gun on a raging wildfire. Is Japan not the country with the most robots per capita in the entire world? You would think if that obnoxious bald dude and his handlebar mustachioed Mythbuster buddy can rig ANYTHING with a remote control, then Japan’s best and brightest could do so with a pumper truck or two as well?

I think the whole water option thing has been well tried and tested though since in great measure after the shaking stopped, isn't that the stuff that started this whole mess? It’s time to move on to the serious fire extinguishing alternatives like Mentos and Diet Coke fountains or jello and whipped cream. It also snows quite often in Northern Japan, which rumor has it is just as icy cold and wet as good old fashioned North American snow. You would think we could just set-up a couple of big circus tarps and funnel the white stuff onto the hot parts just like powdered sugar on a fairground-fresh fried Twinkie.

So the moral of this story is in times of unimaginable stress, feel free to mix-up your messages. You can cry, grieve, pray, and try harder than you have ever tried before. You can curse bad luck and praise good fortune, but do what feels right for you regardless of convention. Rarely solutions and solitude are born of political correctness and self flagellation. The Japanese know first-hand that in life, bad things unexpectedly will happen and try to test you. No matter how dark the night seems or how cold the wind blows, sometimes you just have to reach deep, re-group, and throw down the gloves to simply LAUGH in the face of pain – no matter how much it hurts.

You Dim Some you lose some

You know I can accept that the world is not flat and eggs actually DID come before chickens ( or is it the other way around?), but one fact I cannot grasp is that the light bulb as I once knew it is CHANGING??? Oh sure those freaky squiggle and LED bulbs may save some energy but I am not sure that they are either better or less costly in the long run? All I know is they sure look dumb sticking out of the ‘in the door’ lighted refrigerator water and ice dispenser.

I like my old fashioned bulbs. It was the one constant in my life that worked just as well when I was a kid as it does now. To this day I never tire of switching between all three levels of a 3-way bulb and basking in their warm glow as I am trying to spy through the neighbor’s mail. Now those squiggle lights start-up a little dim and then burn hot and glaringly stark for my taste.

I am also not a big fan of having to evacuate the premises if I drop one of the loopy lights due to the poisonous gas prize inside. LED lights are safe but always have a kind of cold bluish tint to them and can’t cast a wide beam. Why would ANY wife need something other than their husbands, when having to put up with something that is ‘dim’ and emits killer gas when treated improperly?

I hate buying light bulbs that are made in China over good ol’ fashioned globular American bulbs. We Yanks still love wall to wall carpeting and our space program is more mature than the Chinese, so logically we should know more about vacuums than anyone right? Now even though these new bulbs last longer and use a few cents less energy every day, when they do burn out they cost $5 to replace paid to a foreign manufacturer over a traditional 50 cent light bulb built domestically.

If this losing ‘False economy’ thinking continues to catch on, I expect we can export chopsticks to China at ten times what they are paying now (assuming we leave out the costly poison gas). Sadly I forgot though, the world is still not flat AND the Chinese are not 'dim' enough to ‘see the light’ my way - who would have 'thunk' it!

Robot wedding

I will always remember my wedding day as one of the true highlights of my life. Ordinarily I am not overly driven by tradition but I kind of like that I know how a typical wedding is going to unfold. You’ve got the flowers, the fancy clothes, the music – the priest. Whoa , now hold up there, who needs a priest anymore when you can have a robot preside over your big day.

Yes a real honest to goodness robot performed the nuptials at a ceremony in Japan. Makes sense since the Japanese own over 400,000 of the world’s 800,000 or so industrial robots. What’s wrong with Japan’s robo-domination of automation extending to the long established wedding industry too? I have linked the video here of the happy couple and their ‘short’ but sweet mechanical minister. Be forewarned it is a touching ceremony so have a sheet of foil handy to blow your Roomba’s nose if it happens to be watching between vacuuming.

Actually this wedding went just fine and seemed oddly traditional with Sarah Brightman’s ‘Ave Maria’ providing the background music. I liked the ceremony despite the unusual child-voiced, blinking robo-vicar literally sitting at the helm. I was a little distracted by the bot’s ‘I-Fairy’ brand name though. I don’t mean to be insensitive but is this the BEST name for ANY priest right now, even if it is a robot? I think that particular name would be much more appropriate for a pillow-packing, tooth-extracting Tinker-BOT!

So a brave new world is apparently on the horizon. If weddings are falling to the wiles of heavy machinery then you know funerals will soon follow. And let’s not forget the babies. As the gears turn, it is a natural progression that with all those robo marriages, there is bound to be a bounty of baby ‘begatting’ going on too. I’m sure these new robots can handle the midwife process technically, but we’ll have to do something about those cold, metal-feeling hands. Not the robots mind you - they use space age plastics and silicone fingers. I’m referring to human doctors and their infamous icy touch!

My Hang Up

It’s been nearly 25 years since I worked in production control management at Ricoh, a Japanese mega corporation. I enjoyed working there and learned many things. I practiced and preached a lot of line scheduling, supply chain management, fancy schmancy ‘just in time’ production, and oh yeah, how to HANG things up!

Well more to the point, I got things up off the production floor and learned to make room for ONLY the stuff that our company really needed to become efficient. Interestingly, it is my wife who NOW practices more of what I preached in those early days. She loves hanging things up and making everything efficient and easy to get to. In fact any long handled tool or pole, if I don’t intercede, will find itself being subjected to perforation by my wife and hung up on some wall. For the most part I love the organization and the relative ease to find any tool at any time.

Recently however, my wife went too far. In the garage, she drilled a hole in a TOILET PLUNGER, and mounted it at eye level so it is the very first thing that greets you when you enter the house. Now I’m realistic about this tool. I know that it is necessary on occasion to have this thing handy for the random 4 inch pipe constriction, but GEEEZ, why must it be easier to reach than a flashlight or a fire extinguisher? What kind of emergency is my wife expecting that requires ‘gunslinger’ access to a stinking potty plunger?

I don’t really think I am going out on a limb crying ‘foul’ here. Who wants a wet- wand in your face when you are groping around in the dark for a light switch? Why can’t this crappy commode un-clogger find a happy home, in some distant corner recess on the garage floor with the spiders, and THEIR restroom utensils? What kind of bathroom mass production is my wife expecting that requires a throne-thruster just in time, or any time, in THAT much of a hurry? Yes I may pout for awhile but I won’t plunge into a porcelain depression over this issue. Don’t worry my wife is privy to my concerns, but even though this ‘hang up’ of mine ‘sucks’, I CAN learn to go with the flow!

Obama’s Not So Foreign-feeling Policy

I remember looking back to over a year ago to when President Obama was in the final throws of his campaign. “Change” was the word of the day and a seemingly endless parade of nations the world-over, were downright ‘giddy’ at the prospects for a ‘New and Improved’ US foreign policy (whatever that meant?). Well its 2010 and the same old actors are STILL seething with contempt for the U.S. and its way of life. Oddly, with all of our President’s perceived charm offensive, we have even added a few new global grumps like Israel – and they used to actually like us?

Now honestly, unlike the President and some of his ‘super-fans’ I am not surprised by the world’s lack of attitude change or adulation. Except for handing the keys to Whitehouse and the Presidential limo, the world will ALWAYS complain about America’s foreign policy because, to put it bluntly, they’re JEALOUS.

Oh boy, now I have done it. Talk about the arrogance – who would make such unfair recriminations against the motive’s of other the countries of the world? Shouldn’t America consider the ‘feelings’ of all – not just its own people? Well as warm and cuddly as that all sounds and ‘feels’ the answer is a resounding ‘NO!’ and the President’s foreign policy team would serve themselves better if they understand why.

You can never make everyone happy. For many nations, their foreign policy objectives are exactly polar opposites of our own so there is no need to apologize or complain. Our nation should simply follow OUR best path which best fits OUR long term goals. This would equate to China’s recent frustration with U.S. arm sales to Taiwan. Obviously China someday wants to absorb Taiwan back into mainland China. It is counter to the United State’s best interests for this to happen and therefore we ‘risk confrontation’ with China but maintain our principles and relationship with Taiwan.

Policy decisions like this may seem to provoke China or other nations who disagree with America’s overseas objectives, however I think it is FAR BETTER to set clear principles for both allies and enemies and act accordingly.It's kind of like a RATIONAL parent when you were a child. You knew if you set your toys on fire there would be BAD consequences. You weren’t quite exactly sure what ‘BAD’ meant really, to your personal health and freedom, but you were smart enough NOT to light a match to find out. In other words, your parent’s reputation preceded them. You did not always understand the intimate details of their reward/punishment plan, but for the big stuff – you knew where the line was and in a funny way – that was comforting. Our friends and enemies don't have to always 'love' our methods BUT if they can consistently understand them, then foreign policy STABILITY is almost as helpful.

America’s foreign policy by definition should be of unapologetic motive to benefit AMERICANS! Why is this so hard for not only our own people to grasp, but for everyone else outside the borders as well? I think it is noble for nations to cooperate and come together in principle on how to behave. However, at the end of the day, the truth is, that it’s ‘every man (or nation) for himself’. Yes, I know you are recoiling at my abrupt cave-man grunt, devoid of convolution (oh great – its back again …). The point is that America can have high goals and ambitions which INCLUDE other nations. However, our foreign policy team should NEVER FORGET that our nation’s desires must always come FIRST. Yes, the United States makes errors in foreign policy decisions from time to time just like EVERY political entity has done since the beginning of time. But the difference is you don’t see other nations constantly falling over backwards apologizing, rejecting their nationalism, and putting off long term interests to quell the temporary criticism.

So I continue to be hopeful too that ‘Change’ is still on the horizon for Obama’s foreign policy. But my hope will NOT BE for more world cooperation and self-flagellation but conversely it will be for more SELF-RESPECT and blatant SELF-INTEREST. America is the strongest, richest and most generous nation on earth and we should not be ashamed or apologetic of our heritage of success. It’s understandable that the world is jealous – and it is America’s job to ensure they CONTINUE to feel that way!

Sprain Solutions

Invariably in an active life, you are sure to face a sprained joint or ankle at some point. In my coaching experience, when that happens, we call in the training staff who routinely ices the injury first and then wraps it tightly with athletic tape for temporary stability. The athlete is asked to keep weight off the ankle or excessive movement from the joint for the first day. Thereafter the goal is to begin slowly working the offending body part back up to normal activity levels over the next week or so.

In non-professional sports environments, this is the traditionally accepted and a generally reasonable plan of action. Obviously the trainers are expected to quickly deal with the immediate problem with limited time / resources and then refer longer term rehabilitation issues to outside specialists.

Except for ligament tearing or joint and bone fractures (which WILL REQUIRE surgical repair), most sprains, can be effectively rehabilitated by yourself with a little discipline and fortitude. Temporary pain is part of the process, however if you put the effort in now, in the long run, you will risk far fewer painful injuries and extended downtime.

First, while wrapping is fine to allow immediate mobility, as soon as you can, rest the injury, remove the compression to allow fluids to leave the affected area. Long term compression risks prolonging inflammation and pain. As soon as practical elevate the injury and slowly begin to flex it and stretch. You should accept some discomfort, but the idea is not to suffer excessive pain. Do work the injury as often as you can increasing flexibility and range of motion more and more with each rehabilitation cycle.

More severe sprains may include an alternating cycle of both, hot packs (or hot water) and ice (or ice water). Dr. Kim's attached link from last year, found here, will describe the theory and benefits of this procedure. The main idea is to limit nerve damage and get swelling down as soon as possible. Most of the typical turned-ankle type sprains I have encountered as a coach WILL NOT NEED protracted therapy of this type.

If you have suffered repeated ankle injuries, you may want to add a little Zen in the training regimen. Balance is the key ingredient in keeping active ankles healthy. As you complete a sprain rehab, add the following final steps to reduce weak ankle sprains over a lifetime. Simply close your eyes and practice standing still while perched on only one leg. Then repeat the process on the other leg. Continue the cycle until you can stand a full minute on each leg without wobbling to catch your balance. Now don’t get too cocky - repeat the same procedure again except this time try standing on a sofa pillow.

So there you have it – an easy, up to date, and comprehensive method for dealing with sprains. With a little luck and a few hours of Flamingo standing practice on your pillow, you may never have need for athletic tape again? Is anyone else feeling hungry? - oddly I have a sudden craving for a WRAP!

K2 Exposed! (Not the mountain or skis)

Most recently, K2 has become the ‘hot’ new term de jour in the Midwest. No the newsies are not talking about the mountain or famous ski gear; this is something new that has hijacked the same name – INCENSE? Uh-Oh I have lost you. There is no way you are going to trod through endless paragraphs to become enlightened about some holdover hippie olefactory delight right? Well I would be right with you abandoning ship if it were only the smell that made this topic NOSEworthy!

The geniuses buying this stuff are not satisfied with the faint whisp of the herbal splendor of embers which is the true nature of incense. No, these oh-so-cool dudes have decided that K2 is BEST when it is nefariously packed into a water or hookah pipe and the smoke is inhaled with asthmatic gusto. Apparently the ‘hot stuff’ gives the user a euphoric buzz akin to Marijuana though I have no experience first-hand in what that exactly means? Whenever I need a little extra jolt of euphoria that caffeine cannot provide, I simply lick the terminals of an Energizer 9 volt battery for an electrifying release of metallic flavored bliss!

I think it is safe to say that this “new use” of K2 is not being looked at kindly by legislators and local law enforcement for fear of losers going wiggy, or worse killing themselves. So far the stuff is legal to buy but that will probably change in the near future. I understand the pressures on society but at some point it becomes almost impossible to prevent people from finding new and creative ways to abuse themselves. Who still finds it a mystery that breathing in ANY TYPE OF SMOKE is probably a bad idea? Have these Rhodes scholars ever been around a campfire when the wind shifts? I mean just about anything you burn and breathe in is absolutely revulsed by the untrained body and respiratory system.

I am further irritated that K2, a perfectly safe and gentle name with properly established conventions, has been co-opted and stained by some lowly wanna-be street punk drug of ’doobie-us’ reputation. After all, I have spent many a happy hour deftly (why are you laughing?) cutting a swath through fresh powder on ultra-famous K2 skis. The name is supposed to call to mind the vision of the ultimate majestic and famous Karakoram mountain at some 28,000+ feet of oxygen-free elevation.

I mean if the romance alone of scaling a big rock with the second highest climber fatality rate (1 death for every 4 attempts) isn’t enough, as a bonus, the thing is hanging above Pakistan. As if gasping for air, facing unbearable cold, and a savage climb isn’t enough to kill you – then those Bin Laden looking drones hanging around probably will.

Hmmm, maybe I should re-think the consumption of this new designer Mary Jane, incense peyote? It is starting to sound far safer than my obviously dangerous geology fetish. I guess my predicament is what’s called “being between a rock and a space case”?