Halloweaned

Sadly as I have gotten older and my permanently mounted gray mask has gotten scarier, it seems my interest in Halloween has waned a bit. This is particularly irritating given the fact that the rest of the world seems to be turning toward the orange light and embracing the pseudo holiday with invigorated fervor. Why now is everyone showing up so late to this party since when I was on board, my Mummy used to preach to me about my impaired judgment for handing out candy to kids from the back of my van.

I really did not see the problem since children scare me every other day of the year so what’s the big deal with putting out a little pay-back every 31^st of October? What else am I to do with that big bag of five year old fun-sized bars of chalky chocolate and a dusty dish of ribbon candy from last Christmas? You don’t expect me to feed that stuff to my pet llama do you because I’m almost positive he will spit it out at me.

Who really likes this season of the pumpkin except for the reason it gives to make tasty pie crusts, play with cans of aerosol whipped cream, and lord over locker room sunflowers with the sheer size of their seeds? I don’t need some ghost holiday to tell me that being hopped up on sugar and glowing in the dark is a little more fun than a carefully regulated lifestyle. Hey I already know a little something about being a ‘batty’ pagan, irresponsibly wolfing down a week’s worth of overpriced chocolate in a day, and hanging out on the web so what’s so special about All Hallows Eve?   

You see geezer-creatures like me naturally lose interest in celebrating one dumb day a year of terror, since every day already feels like Halloween as I repulse reflexively at mirrors due to my bloodshot vision and a plethora of personal hygiene nightmares. It’s one thing to appear more and more like those moldy n’ craggy sleepy hollowed out pumpkins heading for a REAL crypt, but it’s quite another to smell like them too. So it’s probably best that I continue to act my age and avoid ‘going over the top’ with my inner-Weener; but believe me it’s difficult since every October a little part of me still dreams of donning a hockey mask, fake machete and a ‘too loose’ pair of PANTS!

High DEAF and Coddled

I don’t know how the world functioned before the advent of high definition TV to show us what REAL life is supposed to look like. Did media REALLY used to only come in two colors – grey and greyer, where we had to guess which one of the fifty shades Flipper actually was or worse, LISTEN to his persistent twitter feed?  I mean honestly, who can survive today without a daily dose of good glowing visual stimuli like zits, pits, and craggy faces to deliver the bad news every morning. 

In those caves, our ancient ancestors must have been truly in the dark without today’s modern rainbow of weather maps to guide them through typical tasks of daily bargain hunting and coupon gathering. Poor hairy cretins actually had to shove their matted mugs out into the open atmosphere and breathe unprocessed air to forecast a typical day of  'just a touch of famine and a high probability of death'. Now self-absorbed and chamois-soft meteorologists mutter monotonously, and tell us more than we want to know about their humid warm ‘lows’ and icy cold fronts – why can’t they forget their pants and just talk about the weather instead?

Isn’t it in the Bill of Rights somewhere that no one should be subjected to low fidelity scratchy speakers, ‘free-see’ TV and analog radio programming since digital satellite crystal bliss is LITERALLY gracing our fingertips. Anyway who wants to use their precious time to bend those rascally rabbit’s ears when it’s so much more fun putting that ‘check-signing’ hand to better use, paying for recurring overpriced subscription services. Better still why wait to grow old and go deaf slowly the old fashioned way, when all that ‘hear-clear-over-here’ sounds now makes it so much easier for today’s budding brainy teens to blast 100 decibels of bass directly into their ear canals daily.

Hey I know I am slower than a snail when it comes to adopting new fashionable trends and cleaning up after my own coddled slime trails from kitchen to privy. I’m just not sure if I’m ready to commit 100% of actual LIVING life to learn everything about anything by simply sitting on my tufted tuchis and matching tush cushion, staring blankly at a beckoning bag of noisy electronic conveniences.  Anyway I have heard that seductive siren’s song all before which wickedly works in mysterious ways to  make one deaf, dumb and ‘quarter-less’ in REAL life  - Can you HEAR me now PAC MAN? 

THE morning paper

Every morning I quietly hobble from my coffin to retrieve not one, but TWO different newspapers. I have to keep up with the daily demand for wrapping up wedding gifts, lining bird cages with paper mache and of course the never-ending need for dead fish n’ chips grease absorbing diapers . Oh sure I peruse the headlines for the important stuff too like the movie start times or the daily horror-scope. But primarily I just like to see how tall a Jenga tower of newsprint I can build to test my wife’s forklift skills on the way to the recycle bin.

We have a love/hate relationship with our paper boy even though he is actually a 40 year old man who drives an even older van in the wee wee hours of the morning. On the one hand he does give us our daily fix of inane news along with an array of conversation starters during our Pop Tart time. But you would think the guy would have the decency to place the papers neatly on my doorstep instead of ejecting papers out of the window anywhere but on the giant driveway landing zone. I think he purposely spaces his nightly emissions as far apart as possible and plants them in the wet grass, muddy gutter, or up in the trees so I can play ‘Where’s Waldo’ every morning in a 6 A.M. stupor.

The paper-pusher is just bitter because he is STILL dealing to newsprint junkies even when most of his peers have moved up in the publishing cartels to become octopi ink-milkers or ‘blah-blah’ blogging barons. It also may be due to the fact that nobody else on our street gets a morning paper anymore so he has to drive far out of his way to throw stuff ONLY at our house. Except for the ‘newsies’, what other career allows you the luxury of pitching softballs at interviewees, hitting the comic books to do research, or throwing high priced yet worthless pre-paid projectiles at your clients’ houses.

As gasoline prices rise and the route delivery biz dies, I try to keep abreast of the changes afoot for those parts as well as the rest of the lifeless body of the newspaper industry. Despite the waning few of of us die-hard, hard-headed Cro-Magnons who still need to let our knuckles do the dragging through WalMart ads, I’m afraid the ‘dailies’ destiny is dier . Yes as soon as wireless bandwidth makes that next big speed leap for the finish line, the paperless e-book revolution will definitely spell doom for my newspaper dude and his ‘van-do’ attitude. This foreboding change to my breakfast ritual may seem alien at first. But luckily in our shack's litter box, I can always take pillow-soft comfort in at least one close morning encounter, of THE paper kind!

LINCOLN’S MOTHER’S DOCTOR’S DOG

That title might sound silly to you. If so, you’re right. But I’ll explain the brilliant reasoning behind it: Several years ago I read about a survey of American reading habits. It said the four topics that would attract the most American readers were “Lincoln, Mothers, Doctors, and Dogs." Gee, we must have been straight-laced back then! Now it would probably be more slanted to movie and sports stars plus debt and taxes. Dogs still might make the list. Even in supposedly tough times I see more people with two or more dogs, most stopping to leave tributes on my lawn. I don’t mind the lawn-defiling so much, but scraping my lawnmower tire treads could make a dirty stick my Man’s Best Friend!

Now since lots of writers read blogs, let’s think about this: How many times do we find titles that give us FOUR chances to write a Best Seller? So why not use that title, just as-is, (or as-was) and write your own version of Lincoln’s Mother’s Doctor’s Dog? Most people don’t even know much about his mother, and less about his doctor and nothing about any dog he might have had. Or the stick he used to. . . well, you know. And we will ALL know all those people and dogs when you enlighten us with your tale. No fear of perjury, as titles are not copyrightable, unless you’re usurping a famous one and trying to pass off “Gone With the Wind” as your own.

I’ve already messed with the “Dog” part, which I hope will get you started ‘scraping up stuff’ for the three human subjects. Anything you might find that Lincoln said or did should likely come next. His mother and doctor are harder, so I leave that up to you. I do see a framework for a soap-opera plot there, because what mother isn’t attracted to doctors? Even if no more scandalous than only for their sons to become or their daughters to marry.

It is easy to find quotes from famous folk, whether they said them or not. Yogi Berra must be continually surprised when he reads brand new made-up quotes that sound like his “Poils of Wisdumb.” Will Rogers’ zingers could fill books, and does so. But Rogers made his living being a ‘communicator,’ while so many “great names” rarely said much worth archiving. Henry Ford’s statement that fascinates me the most was one he took a lot of guff about: “History is Bunk!” If you’ve ever read a news story of something you saw or experienced you will likely agree with him. I’ve found at least a name or a place spelled wrong, or a typo error in most events I witnessed -- and where the reporter didn’t seem to have been there! Now compare the new (and more expensive) copy of a high school or college history text. See how so many “facts” and heroes have changed to meet the new more trendy viewpoints of what academia wants kids to believe NOW, instead of “last year’s slant.”

But wait! Re-thinking the Henry Ford quote about History - - If it really IS bunk, then maybe he never said that! I am “History” myself! I am “Raker.” Welcome back, Willie!

The REAL 'Vloggers' of Orange County

I don’t have pay television but when I am travelling or at friend’s homes who do have cable and satellite, I enjoy bouncing around the channels to see what’s on that’s different. On one of those occasions a few years ago, I noted a show called the ‘Real Housewives of Orange County’ and found it intriguing like a dead bug. Low and behold the dead bug is alive and well and now apparently in reruns on my broadcast channels this television season.

No don’t worry, I have not got sucked up in the artificial lifestyle vortex of the Southern California ‘Glam and Fab’. I now have too much fun foraging for my next buffet in the ‘Slab and Flab’ bar-b-que tornado called the Midwest. Anyway I already did my time in Orange County for nearly 20 years. As different as the place was, you’ll be happy to know the ‘REAL’ people that live there are not anything like ‘weird-sters’ portrayed on the TV show – they’re like me … WEIRDER!

I’m kidding of course, but I have to say that because I have many friends and family who happily reside and are still ‘California dreaming’, despite their regular cold sweats and feverish nightmares. The place has changed from the glory days of orange groves, endless blue skies, and future promises but that’s another story. But this whole TV show thing got me thinking, they probably need to make a television series about the challenging and exciting lives of ‘Real’ bloggers too, right?

I mean Blog-Geeks talk about literally anything and everything. Our soap opera lives unfold day after day with thrilling adventures and artfully colored words, pictorials, and better yet, even without soap! You would think that Bloggers represent and relay the ‘REAL’ things that most humans encounter at some point, if not daily, in their lives, so where’s their freakish 15 minutes of Hollywood fame? If misfits like me want to stare at a SINGLE ‘dead bug’, once you break into the fertile blogosphere, it’ll be like viewing a WHOLE TRAY of dead bugs from one of those screened ‘bluish’ restaurant lights. Wow, on second thought, this idea is TOO BLUE for regular cable … I think we had better go “PAY PER VLOG”

GHOST WRITER for the Spook Who writes this blog.

Hi friends and followers of PJ Monoblogs. I'm known as "Raker." Since our 'Roving Riter' is roving over the roads on a several-day trip to Texas, I will be Guest-Blogger until he comes back. So you could say I will be filling in for him while he fills himself in with "road food." Not the cheaper kind he finds (or causes) lying on the road, but the kind you buy from "America's Roadside Diners." If I know him, and I have for years, he will resume his lifelong quest for the elusive rarity of "An Unhealthful Food He Doesn't Love."

I prepared myself for this (unpaid) job by studying the comments he gets. I also linked to many of the blogs the commentators produce. Nice to find not only good sense but good senses of humor mixed in. Plus so many followers of this show themselves to be members of what WCC gets accused of: “WORDSMITHERY." And you count whether a creator or an appreciator of "writing that leaps and cavorts like a cage of demented, mischievous monkeys." Not always enlightening to read, won't earn you a college degree or a CEO job, but at least keeps you from falling asleep. Heck, I haven't been able to sleep ever since I started reading these PJ Monoblogs! (Or sometimes even EAT.) The PJM Diet?

Though this post is mainly to introduce myself and try to put you at ease that "HE SHALL RETURN, and SOON," I would feel remiss without leaving you with something of value. So I will mention some ideas or links that I've found handy or helpful. Or, if well-financed and actually put to use, will positively SAVE THE WORLD and VANQUISH ALL ITS PROBLEMS. (Just checking to see if you went to sleep with me doing the writing.)

So here is something small to start with for today. In case you might want to actually HEAR what people are saying about you in foreign languages, now you can. There is an excellent free online program where you can type in almost any word in any language, then wait a second. If you have your speakers on you will hear the word pronounced correctly. Now no more frowns from Frenchmen or corrections from Alex Trebeck when you use YOUR native pronunciation instead of THEIRS. Or maybe you'll just want to say "Thank you" in proper Chinese for the money they've loaned us. Or perhaps "You're welcome" for all the money we Americans have given to others in the world. Add that "There's more where that came from -- we print it by the bushel." Click HERE to give the "Howjsay.com" site a try. Glad to meet you in our Pajama Monoblogs. Now get dressed! -- Raker.

Shoot me!

No don’t worry I have not fallen off the wagon so far as to wish harm to myself – I'm sure there are plenty of other people with better aim that can hold down that job. I am referring to the fine art of photography and my genuine lack of skill in the same subject. I have always had an interest in trying to record images for posterity, but the problem is, even if I get a great shot, I shoot 40 bad pictures along with it, and I’ll never find the good one again.

Thank goodness for the advent of digital cameras. I always felt kind of guilty going to the store to develop literally dozens of horrid photos which at the time were costing close to 30 cents each to process. My wife was tolerant because usually we would get a couple of ‘album worthy’ pictures of the kid for the trouble. Now with digital, I may take hundreds of pictures and guess what – still only a couple are decent? The real irritation now is, though I don’t waste money printing pictures I don’t want, it still feels wrong to delete bad digital prints because it feels like I am deleting memories too? Regardless of format, good shots or not, it all just gets filed away on some hard drive or dumped in a memory box somewhere anyway.

I always thought it would be easier with film and then later video tape. But no, I have had the same problem as I will record endless amounts of data but have no concept of what is on various tapes and how to organize all that stuff. Oh yes, I know I still pan too quickly, the audio is atrocious, and the lighting is bad but that’s ok because I admit it, I’m a rank amateur ( as opposed to a good smelling professional).

So eventually when I stop blowing into straws to make milk bubbles, and start blowing in them to drive a wheelchair around, I hopefully will find some time to organize all of these images. By then, if I’m lucky, I might have a service monkey to help me sort through the endless boxes of memorabilia, or at least pick out my ties, fleas, and bellybutton lint. Oh wait I forgot, I had a kid quite awhile back. That means, if I time things just right, by then my daughter may let me borrow her ‘disobedient chimp’ to help old ‘Grumpy Grampy’ organize photos. But of course I will need to capture ‘THAT’ moment too on film so naturally it will lead to even more crates of disorganized pictures … you know what I've changed my mind – go ahead ... JUST SHOOT ME!

5 out of 7 continents recommend this blog

I try not to take too many things personally especially when it comes to my writing. Yeah it is great when somebody ‘gets it’ but honestly half the time after I finish a paragraph, I don’t understand what I just wrote so it is unrealistic to expect ‘outsiders’ to willingly decipher my insanity.

Now like any ‘blah blah blogger’ wanna-be, I have tried to keep up with some general statistics to analyze reader growth, where and what types of posts are most popular, and how long folks stick around to read and stomach my tripe. After 4 months of exhaustive research and literally thousands of data points, I can honestly tell you that I have learned ‘NOTHING’, except that South Americans and the occupants of Antarctica HATE ME?

Hey I am not being over-sensitive here and I know I don’t have mirror site for the Monoblogs in the Spanish language or native Penguin. But you would think after closing in on my 5th month of posts, some ex-patriot drug dealer, retired in the Costa Rican jungle would have the decency to stop by and say ‘Buenos Dias’ Duuude? I even recently took a trip to the zoo to visit their “Penguin Cove” exhibit and have a stern ‘beak to beak’ with the ‘Emperor’ about this unacceptable penguin disrespect. Despite my generous offering of sardines, crackers, and krill, the zoo-keepers still refused to let me see the ‘King’ and marched him away. Can I help it that when unshaven and donning my dapper spotted jacket, I bear a strong resemblance to a fat leopard seal?

In any case, it is obvious that I have my bloggy work cut out for me. I am going to have to step it up a notch if I ever hope to be read (uh ok – maybe black n’ blue) on every continent. I believe there are well over a dozen species of Penguin in the world and untold dialects of Espanol. I could dominate the Antarctic demographic, If only I could get Batman to take care of those pesky ‘snow birds’ and Robin to lay on their eggs. Then South America is a sure-fire snap for satisfying stats, if I simply snag that ‘She Wolf’ Shakira, to seductively guest-blog - or at least ‘SHAKE’ up my readership a bit.

I Peeve Freely

Since it is the weekend and nobody with a social life is reading anyway, I am going to reveal a peeve of mine. Now you know that this is a special problem because it is not just a peeve, but a PET peeve. People presumably actually care about their pets or they would not have them right? Therefore, you must assume that I really care about this complaint to call it a ‘Pet Peeve’.

Maybe I’m slow but I think I need help understanding this ‘peevishness scale’ or P.S. for short. If I am concerned enough about this ‘fret’ to call it my pet, why is it a peeve at all? Maybe it should actually be downgraded to around the level of a ‘snipe’ or a ‘squawk’, but probably not quite as low as a ‘beef’ or a ‘bother’.

Clearly I have a ‘bone to pick’ with whoever decided that a ‘Pet Peeve’ is a higher level grievance on the P.S. than just your average everyday ‘abomination’. Why, I would think even a run of the mill ‘extreme annoyance’ or ‘abhorrence’ is far more peevish than any ol’ plain vanilla peeve - pet or otherwise.

Ok, it is not my intention to pester or ‘pick on’ people who huff, puff, and grouse about their pet peeves but never actually define their gripe precisely. Rather, it is my mission to ‘crow’ about my complaint clearly, but at an accurate level of petulance. So NOW I understand - my ‘bellyache’ is more accurately representative of a ‘miff’ that I care about deeply – or in layman’s terms a ‘PET miff’.



P.S. Oh yeah, I almost forgot - my ‘pet miff’ is misplacing or losing tools and things that I need like a Thesaurus or obviously ... my MIND!

Suicide Sauces

Obviously blogging stuff should be an outlet, not a chore. So of course I remember sitting down to write at 9:30AM and still by 1:30PM I had not finished a single post for the day. Yes, I was up and down, distracted, too cold, hot, thirsty, tired … well you have probably been there a few times too. It is not my favorite part of the ‘creative’ process but when I get into a grind, I try to move around a lot, percolate, and do anything else than write, to mix-up the syrup in the synapses.

So as the sun irritatingly kept changing positions in the sky, I could tell it was well past Noon. Despite my lack of finished production, I decided a break for a big bowl of applesauce was in order. Please don’t mock me just because my lunch is on par with most 3 year olds. I know it is actually more sugar than apples, but secretly I LIKE thinking blueberry PopTarts and Strawberry Twizzlers ARE also healthy eating.

Anyway, the refrigerator is filled with Styrofoam take-home containers because my daughter brings home stuff every day from the restaurant where she works. That is great except those bulky foam things are always in the way of my applesauce. With a deftness worthy of those bomb-defusing spacemen in the Hurt Locker, I maneuvered the plastic jar of 'apple-pablum ecstasy' to a small opening in the front of the fridge. Sure enough at the last moment, the jar caught a small, translucent take-home cup of some kind of red sauce and it fell to the tile below. I was relieved to see that since the sauce was capped, there was no collateral damage and the floor was perfectly clean and the red stuff still edible.

Without hesitation, I temporarily suspended my rescue mission of the applesauce jug and tucked it innocently back into its burrow. Unbeknownst to me the applesauce jar’s lip was actually resting at a launching angle on top of a shiny slick ranch dip tub. As I let go of the portly jug of applesauce and began to bend down to retrieve the little red sauce, the obviously jealous-jug immediately slid off its perch and hurled itself out of the refrigerator to the ground below.

Now you know the ending to this story already don’t you? I mean, if you have ever sat through the slapstick hilarity of Abbott and Costello or the Three Stooges, you HAVE to know where that 2 pound jar of applesauce hit right? Yes indeed, the jug whizzed by my head in mid-flight, then completely flattened and obliterated that puny see-thru cup of red stuff. It was like Fat Albert had just done a cannonball on a Roma Tomato HOLDING onto a Cherry tomato.

My beautiful tile floor, table, walls, pant legs – you name it, they all instantly looked like a crime scene. Any C.S.I. could have analyzed the accident through the sauce splatter and oblong droplet patterns up to 6 feet away. This was definitely blunt force trauma, and the clean-up job was best left to our resident professional, my daughter the “Crushed Sauce Investigator". Remember, my kid works in a restaurant and has seen her share of horrific food tragedies – but why do they ONLY happen when I’m at HOME blogging?

Big Fat MASTHEAD

My daughter was telling me that you have about 7 seconds to make a good first impression and capture your ‘victim’s’ attention. With statistics like that, is it any wonder that TV and news shows hop around so much? Being magnanimous (or challenged) as I am, I usually give people a minute or two before I start making judgments about them. Ok, I am pulling your leg just a little – the clock actually starts at about 30 seconds.

The point is, until people spend more quality time with you, or the ‘stink’ has cleared,(whichever comes first), the very first thing you present to the world is likely how you’ll be remembered. Thus enter my new blog masthead. I know, it actually says NOTHING differently than before. But in reality, hopefully the new banner DOES provide a more representative first impression of my typical blog posts.

So if you are thinking this blog is now ‘bigger, bolder, and more bewildered – well all of those adjectives could probably fit the BILL. I’m usually all of those things at least once during the day, so as long as my writing veers away from the generic and mundane, I will be happy with THAT lasting, first impression.

As for the photo – ok give me a break it was late and like my profile picture, most of the time people only take pictures of me when weird stuff is stuck to my big fat face or I’m in a police line-up. I can’t help it if the camera has 20:20 vision. (adds 20 pounds and 20 years of age). I’ll eventually find a better snap to enhance your NEXT first impression of me. That will be the photo where I weigh 20 lbs less, have a bounty of brown hair AGAIN, and sadly still blissfully bewildered.

THE DISNEY LOCKBOX

Remember when Disney VHS videos were all the rage? In fact they were so special, Disney had a policy of re-releasing its ANIMATED classics only once every ten years to limit supply, increase demand and create scarcity. This policy doesn’t apply to live action, Pixar, or other co-branded productions. So gee I guess all that macroeconomics I studied in college really was ‘kids play’; because even at the ‘Happiest Place on Earth’, CARTOONS heed the basics.

Why I started thinking about this topic was that I purchased a Toy Story 2 VHS video in its original oversized plastic case from a garage sale for a buck. I am not particularly in love with the movie or seeking it to complete my valuable collection. It just seemed kind of ‘dishonored’ among the piles of valueless junk and I thought I should give it a home.

Disney though fairly late to the DVD game due to their hedged bet with DivX, continues to preserve their most famous animated titles in the famed Disney vault. Similar to the VHS video policy, DVD’s are released for a limited time as ‘special editions’ or some similar language, before production ceases for up to ten years. This release period is a very short 60 days so of course demand is quite high and top dollar can be charged for the product.

What will be interesting is, since the degradation rate of DVD technology is much slower than VHS tape, what will Disney do if there is too much product floating around of a vaulted video over the next ten years? With VHS, you could assume that half the product would be lost to wear and accidents alone. Of the remaining half, a good portion is archived by collectors and just old Disney ‘softees’ like me, saving some good memories from the junk heap. Wow, if Disney would REALLY release Wall-E every 10 years, he could help me clean-up all of my accumulated and antiquated VALUELESS video junk . . . for my wife, that would REALLY be special.

Tied up in NOTS

I think I am the last remaining man on earth who likes to wear ties. I see more women these days wearing ties than men though, which kind of makes me wonder about myself? Ties are still sold in every store I go into, so I have to believe somebody is buying them for work – but who is wearing them?

I kind of consider ties as my definition of a work uniform or something more formal than just hanging out and eating cheese doodles while surfing the net. No I don’t wear a tie at home while writing but it might not be a bad idea for something to dab my furrowed brow. The only problem is that I do not have any perfect ties that will compliment my particular shade of underwear.

My first job out of college REQUIRED me to wear a suit and tie every day. Once at the office, I would then switch into a perfectly bleached white and pressed smock which was also required. Most of the ladies in the office hated putting on a smock of any color after they had spent all that time dressing to the nines before arriving. But I loved wearing that smock with my tie underneath because I looked dressed for business, but I could get messy whenever the job required it.

Once I wore my smock out of the office and went to fill up my car at a gas station. As I got out of the car and fumbled with the gas nozzle, a woman came up to me with a worried look. She asked ‘is something wrong with the gasoline’? She thought I was some lab monkey that had escaped and was testing the fuel at the station. Lucky I had not worn a bow tie with the get-up or she may have asked me the weather too?

Other than at weddings or with a tux, I never wear bow ties just for fun, though if I had a spinning one I might? Let’s hope the ladies do NOT follow the men down that path too. I am NOT sure if it is safe for girls with spinning bows on their bushy heads . All of that hair flying around will NOT look good tightly tied up in nasty kNOTs.

Frying Pan Opportunities – Don’t knock it!

I had a great time last night. I was invited to attend a BBQ / bon-fire with some of my robot-creating colleagues. Actually that is a fancy way of saying that some techno-geek students and their parents had me over to engage in two of my most favorite activities - ‘playing with fire’ and eating charred meat! Many in this gang have put up with my family for years and willingly subjected their children to my warped influences and pickled pinhead.

Beyond the food and the obvious camaraderie that only informal parties can bring, I looked around and was impressed at our motley collection of TRUE individuals. How can all of these lucky people be in this one tiny gathering? Each one, young and old, ALREADY have chalked up endless experiences and will continue to face countless future opportunities if embraced when least expected. Amazing – not a bum in the group (well ok, maybe one bum, but as long as I blog nice things I could stay).

Conversation included wide ranging topics such as firing machine guns for recreation to collecting Hot Wheels and classic toys. We pondered autism to speech therapy; cake-baking to the best marinade for chicken wings. After admiring the huge hunk of wood that fueled the bon-fire, naturally the topic turned from cutting down big trees without dying, then on to making homemade root beer, wine, and money on the internet.

As I drove home, my mind was reeling with a myriad of ideas, new interests, stuff I wanted to read, learn, try and obviously write about. This iconic handful of common everyday people, who each of us know and interact with daily in our own lives, are teeming with meandering opportunity. Who knows what the next ‘BIG’ idea will be or who will design, write, or sell it to the masses for billions? Even at play our lives are filled with these untapped reserves of opportunity at literally every turn. So the moral is don’t be afraid to learn and try new things with new people. It’s quite easy really. . . Just stop playing with the fire and jump head-first right into the frying pan.

McBlogger Pilot

Ok just so you don’t think I am a lifeless vampire who never leaves the confines of my bat cave to blog, I actually took a little road trip yesterday. Yes I drove 160 miles one way to track down my wife who is flying all over the ‘right’ half of the country in an air race.

I am not complaining as it was nice to get away from my hutch and see some of the countryside in full summer bloom. Fortunately the air conditioning in the car was working though as it was just plain sweaty hot everywhere I went. I found the wife under the plane studying bug stains or something pilots have to worry about. She was airing out the cockpit and herself as the crew flies ‘ventless’ to increase airspeed. So that’s why all those egocentric pilots think they’re so ‘ HOT’.

I took lots of photos and we got a chance to chat for an hour or so while the airport fueled the beast and the crew waited for favorable tailwinds between Chicago thunderstorms. It was actually a pleasure to pay $250 for fuel this time since the credit card company midway through the race DECLINED the card. They had suspected fraud because how could somebody be using the same credit card in 4 or 5 states in less than 24 hours? It is not so hard to do when life literally ‘flies’ by!

After the wife and her partner took off and buzzed the tower to officially start the race clock, I got back in my much slower and delightfully chilly car. Shortly thereafter, I drove to a local McDonalds to upload my pictures and post to the air race blog. I kind of liked the different atmosphere of sitting in public, looking out the McWindow while I typed. It feels strangely liberating to be free and wireless in a foreign place but doing very familiar things – sort of like a pilot only a lot COOLER!

I need a GPS fix

I honestly am a GPS junkie but on the verge of an overdose. I love those little satellite suckers especially since they are now easier to use than the machines of the first couple of generations. It is also would be kind of nice if they could actually get me to where I want to go without confusion. That however, still is a tall order for not only the talking black boxes, but for my graying brain matter as well.

Now don’t get me wrong, moving through life would be FAR WORSE without satellite navigation. But I just wish that the map companies that build the databases were as interested in providing accurate maps as they are in getting recurring fees for map updates. Also as soon as I get my nifty new $100 software update, somebody in the highway department never gets the memo. So of course, hundreds of men in orange hats and vests flow onto the roads and start moving things around. I think it is some sort of conspiracy to sell more GPS maps and more orange cones.

I don’t know about you but I am still not happy with the computer voice in my GPS either? I think the British Company Tom Tom offers add-on celebrity voices to help guide your car around town. It’s not bad enough to be yelled at by an annoying and confusing computer voice so now we have to add the muddled ramblings of a British actor to the mix? Why not have the thing bark at me in Klingon while you’re at it or better yet just ‘Tase’ me – I’m sure the Trekkies will be BEAMING with excitement at the mere thought.

At last count, I own an amazing 8 GPS units (not including cell phones) all of which are absolutely fantastic and amazingly irritating in their own way. Some are just for cars, some are for aviation, one is for running, and another is for hiking. I use them all, but each still confuses me at times. None of their mapped locations ever matches exactly where my house REALLY is. When I’m driving, they either don’t talk enough and I will take a wrong turn or they badger me endlessly, so you guessed it – I still make a wrong turn. The bottom line is with old fashioned maps I’d get lost too but with GPS navigation at least I EVENTUALLY get to the right place. So I guess I really am a GPS addict. Fortunately as long as that constellation of satellites keeps loitering around empty space, like the brain in my skull, I will always be able to get a FIX!

Ham and Turkey

I was reflecting on how complex technology used to be. My in-laws are in town and they always come packing a personal computer, a couple of cell phones and irritatingly, MORE knowledge and ability than me, when it comes to how to use all that stuff. My Father and Father-in-law both use the web for stocks and financial data research. So as a blogger, I am the runt of the litter when it comes to USEFUL computer skills.

For the in-laws, that new fangled Skype website has become their preferred communication method to stay in touch with friends and family. They have established regular ‘meeting’ times on-line to make and place video phone calls. I am not knocking this discipline or the savings that it no-doubt generates as compared to traditional long distance. I am in fact very impressed that even the oldsters in my life have gained quick understanding of the technologies available, and have incorporated them quickly into their normal routines.

What amazes me actually is how all of this ‘NEW’ stuff reminds me of some very ‘OLD’ tech stuff that I used to do except for that it was on Ham radio. We had TV and packet email too but it was via a ‘beamed’ radio signal. We could make REAL phone calls as well but it was over a ‘patch’ repeater and only for personal business – never to make money.

It took so much complicated equipment to accomplish all that we take for granted now. It also took a TEST which would rapidly kill the internet if it were required today. My wife and I still maintain our amateur licenses for emergency situations. However it is clear, if our parents are mastering the net, then there is clearly nothing better for basic, inexpensive, and almost universally available communications now. Yes, I may be a little wistful for the challenge and lost days of radio but who am I to complain? Remember, then I was only a HAM, and now as a blogger, I have been promoted to a TURKEY TOO!

The power of Advertising

NOTE: This was written when I was fairly HAPPY with Google's eBlogger. But since then, over the last 16 hours, their administration functions have prevented me from posting per my normal blog schedule which was very frustrating. Sorry for the lapse - but it was beyond my control - W.C.C..

When I decided to start a blog I went ahead and allowed Google-provided advertising on my page. The reasoning behind this was three-fold. Obviously if I provide content that people actually want to read, then eventually such ads might produce some coin for my trouble. Secondly, by dedicating sidebars on my site I have placeholders for interesting widgets like the debt clock or maybe something I design myself in the future. Third, let’s face it , just like in grade school, the bigger the borders and margins, sometimes you can fool the teacher into thinking you have written a lot more ‘good stuff’ than you really have – are you fooled yet?

Anyway, I have been basically happy with the idea of limited advertising on my blog. It is not too intrusive and especially since I write on a wide variety of topics, Google constantly feeds ‘content-relevant’ ads which might be beneficial to my readers. The truth is that more often than not, the ads will pique MY interest far more than any of you. For example, If I write on ‘the magic of toilets’, Google will send me ads about toilet accessories or magic tricks. If I write a post on brass, then Google will send my site ads on metal cleaners to marching band supplies. Oddly, I am the type of person who is legitimately interested in learning more about ALL of these things.

The problem is of course is that we who sign-on to Ad Sense revenue, agree to a strict contract which does not allow us to click on any ‘pushed’ ads on our OWN websites. While sometimes frustrating, this is totally understandable. Even web advertising can be expensive so it would be inherently unfair to sign on every day and just start clicking ads to boost hit counts for stuff I have no interest in. However, more than once, I actually HAVE had to leave my site and look up whatever an advertiser is selling, BUT AWAY from my blog. I have never bought anything yet, but at least the little ads are doing their job generating interest … MINE!

But today, on my blog, something new with the side-bar ads, gave me moment to pause and an even longer moment to laugh. The content sensitive crawler that Google’s Ad Sense uses to send my blog ads, posted an advertisement something akin to: “ Lesbian love potions …”. I refreshed my ‘canned meat’ article in disbelief and the ads switched over to accounting and other mundane topics. I refreshed the page again and THERE WAS MORE??? - “Meet Local Lesbians”.

Now I honestly do not know what ‘cute’ phrase or keyword pairing that I wrote which triggered such provocative ads? Would anyone in love really respond to the notion of being playfully referred to as ‘canned meat’? Could It have been the liberal use of phrases like ‘buttered bread’ or ‘special handling’. Regardless, if you ever decide to click on my blog ads or even monetize your own website, you are now in the know. People with alternative lifestyles APPARENTLY love canned meat just like ME! I can’t wait to tell my wife … she’ll will finally be so happy that after all these years, I have finally found a group with which I can truly identify!

Old TIMER'S Radio

You know one thing I was a little too young to take advantage of much was old time radio shows. Throughout the late 1930’s, 40’s, and 50’s, these short plays and comedy acts were THE biggest of the big deal of their day. Yes before television, internet, and satellite programming, radio drama and comedy were the top dogs on the block. Now talk radio is king but it tends to be repetitive, argumentative, and makes for anything but stress-free fun.

By 1960, most U.S produced radio dramas and fun comedy programs were canceled as TV quickly seized control of our lives with a bloodless coup. As a teen, on Sunday nights, one radio station in California would re-broadcast old time radio shows for only one hour. I would try to listen as often as I could and enjoy the colorful way the actors brought a script to life with inflection, emotion, and sound effects.

Apparently Sundays too, were the days with the least amount of radio listeners for normal music programming, because I remember my folks allowing me to listen to the very experimental Dr. Demento radio show. The program featured comedy, music, bawdy drinking songs, and anything goofy, weird and UN-television. Dr. Demento hangs on in relative anonymity today with his web presence and limited terrestrial radio audience. However in the homogenized 70’s, I think the show appealed to me with its irreverent humor and sophomoric innuendo which I embarrassingly still draw on today in my writing.

Despite worldwide media’s huge turn toward internet entertainment, television, and large budget motion pictures, radio still happily lives on today. Obviously with the advent of talk radio, mostly of a political tone, commercial markets in the United States, have boomed over the last 20 years . Still to this day Britain’s BBC media giant, produces NEW regularly scheduled radio dramas and soap operas for their European markets. Many of these programs air daily, or on weekends and are sometimes available through internet podcasts.

Now these days, whenever stuck in my motorized appliance, I have the good fortune of a satellite radio on board for audio entertainment. The XM/Sirius folks provide a whole channel dedicated to JUST old time radio shows. I love listening to the ‘Shadow’, or ‘X minus 1’, George Burns, Abbott and Costello – you name it. All the shows are not rip-roaring funny, or deceptively mysterious, but for anyone who spends as much time with words as I do, they are ALL very entertaining. If you are interested in a taste of the ‘good ol’ days’ then check out this site for true old time stress-free radio programming. Give them a listen, and you may never go back to your redundant talk radio station again.

Extension Cords - Prime 9 uses

I recently wrote about all the reasons that extension cords and I do not get along. I kind of got a lot of pushback hate mail from extension cord fans (along with other small appliances too) who seem to really benefit from the mobility that longer cords bring. So in the interest of fairness and equal time. I now submit for your approval, the Prime Nine alternative uses for extension cords:

1) An anchor line for an Electric boat

2) The business end of a really REALLY big string trimmer

3) Dental floss for the Mountain Dew drinkin’, gap-toothed smilin’, Deliverance folks

4) Fishing line for stupid fat catfish of the evening who’ll ‘noodle’ ANYTHING, even fingers

5) For a high-powered 120 volt Electric Fence (Ha - Too Easy)

6) Hanging that really gauche black felt artwork with the real working car headlights

7) A modern swinging vine for a high tech Tarzan & his blue tooth connected chimp, 'Cheeta'

8) Use as a lasso by Robert Redford’s Electric Horseman to electrocute Jane Fonda

9) A clothesline for only SHORTS & wind BREAKERS (the JACKETS … nothing else)

There you have it - my ‘prime 9’ homage to alternative uses for stupid electrical extension cords. I am sure you have a few clever ideas of your own so do feel free to enLIGHTEN us all. Whatever you do though don’t get distracted from this post to do something else. Because if you do that is a clear sign you probably have ‘Extension Deficit Disorder ‘!