Amateur Sports

I was at the park and saw some kids playing that kind of ragtag basketball that kids play at parks. A lot of bad guarding, rough, uncontrolled dribbling, and reckless shots.

I was thinking, too bad a professional ref doesn't come swooping in, striped shirt and all, to call a few fouls and some traveling calls. That'd teach them to be such amateurs.

Then closer to home, some guys were playing amateur soccer, or some variation on the theme. And there goes a major kick, and the ball goes rolling down the street. So the game had to stop for a minute or so while one of the kids ran and got the ball.

There's some kids in this neighborhood who spend more time running in the street to get their ball than they actually do playing with it. I don't know why they don't switch directions and play parallel to the road instead of having it for a backdrop. But it must not have ever occurred to them. Nor must it have occurred to their parents that the more they run in the road to get the ball the more likely it'll be that we'll see a disaster.

Bugs

What is it with the millions of bugs that are all over the place? It's ridiculous, you can't walk in your yard without them coming up from the grass in such numbers that it's like a plague.

They make a beeline right for the face, too, and that's very bad. We get over winter with all the inconveniences of that, and then there has to be this. I think there was one or two days in the spring when everything was just right.

It's the Goldilocks way of doing things. It's either too hot, too cold, or just right. But there's always some inconvenience in the way before you get to it.

The Jews Are Too Far Ahead Of Us

...meaning they're too far ahead of the rest of us.

Figure, in their time it's the year 5769 (or maybe 5770, I don't know which.)

But for the rest of us it's 2009 (or maybe 2010, I don't know which). That means they're around 3760 years ahead of us.

Jews definitely have the advantage, being so far in the future.

I joke. But in all seriousness, how are we supposed to compete with that?

Queasiness

I've got it tonight. Morose, listless, energy dissipated, feeling of unease in the middle.

Yawning, eyes lazy, down in the mouth, perturbed, tired.

I took my dog to the park and felt this bad feeling, also scared of mosquitoes.

There was a police officer there, like a community rep guy who buzzes around keeping an eye on the activities. So naturally I kept my dog on the leash. Another guy didn't. The officer was talking to me, chit chat, and said he needed to go tell that guy he needed a leash for the dog.

There I stood, innocent.

Release Your Inner Piranha

The way to do anything that maybe takes a challenge is to go at it with instinct and intensity. Release your inner piranha. Making love, decimating an enemy (like in sports), train yourself to the end and chow down.

How to do anything involving a weapon, let's say, make it part of your hand. Like David and the rock he flung at Goliath. When it leaves your hand, it's still in your hand all the way to the giant's forehead. Inner Piranha, away!

Greenhouse

I went to a greenhouse today ... which might more accurately be called a greenhouseplex, since there were probably eight or 10 greenhouses in the complex.

Wow, that's a lot of potted plants. I felt like getting a job there. Less stress while digging in the pots. But I didn't figure I'd qualify, since I don't know anything about botany. I could've said people say I have a green thumb, except no one says that.

I was thinking, What a vast spread of plants. What's the chances of all of them ever selling? Then I had my eye on a particular plant, yet went on to wander around and browse. Later I came back thinking I would get that plant, and guess what, it was gone, and they guy said that was the last one. Hmm, of all the plants in this vast place, that one particular plant sold right out from under my nose.

Shredding Frustration

I've been shredding old papers, class papers, personal stuff from the last 25 years. It turned out that I had numerous boxes of stuff. So it was piling up as I was making my way through it.

But shredding, unless you have one of those semi truck shredders, is a tough business. The little bucket quickly fills up. And my particular shredder has something wrong with it, so it doesn't turn off between things being shredded. Also it works well for about 10 minutes then overheats and turns off.

I was down to the last box, a heaping box, on this last go-round, and it was slow going, with all the emptying and the overheating. It's enough to make me want to tear my hair out and shred it.

So when it came to the last half of the last box, I just started grabbing stuff that wasn't too personal -- and even some that was -- and was ripping it in half and fourths and putting it in a recycling bag. There's no Social Security numbers on any of it, I'm pretty sure, or other account numbers. Just old documents from my ever-lengthening past. If anyone feels the need to root through it and put them back together to read my business, I guess I'm willing to take that risk. There's nothing terribly interesting in there!

There was of course some old bank statements, car registrations, crap like that, which I set aside and shredded. The shredder appreciates a smaller load. I really need some humongous shredder, one that goes into a basket the size of a stand-up copier. And one that shreds with enough force to handle a stack an inch thick.

These dainty shredders you get at Walmart -- they're great for a few things, but they're terrible for the big job.

Taco John's Reverie

I was telling someone a story of my recent visit to Taco John's. I got there and noticed a dog with a saddle tied to the hitching post.

I was very happy and cried out, "The monkey's here!" I went in and bought him a taco.

My friend said, "That didn't happen, because Taco John's doesn't have hitching posts."

So that's the part of the story that made you not believe it?

Cruising Cruising

I can hear the subtle rumble of cars going by. Once in a while a noisier one goes by. Like I said, I can hear that.

Here's the weird thing about sound, hearing it. I read this somewhere. Sound comes at you in waves. OK, it's something like this. The source of the sound makes a noise, in this case the rumbling of an engine. That noise takes the form then of waves coming toward you. Another way to think of them is that they're vibrations.

Here's the scary part. If you can hear them hitting your ears, they're hitting your ears as those vibratory waves. That wasn't the scary part. Here it is: If you can hear them, the same waves are affecting your house. The door is hearing them, in a sense, that the vibration is hitting it and disturbing it, however subtly. The mirror. Your computer. Everything that is in the path of those waves.

It would get scarier if you lived close to a railroad track. The vibrations then could make things shift around on your shelf. Or worse, could, over time, loosen up the foundation of your house. Then some night a train is cruising by and the foundation, loosened up, gives way and the ceiling falls on you.

Then when your house collapses it makes a terrible crashing noise, which affects everyone around within earshot. It may make their house collapse too, then that one the next one, and on and on, till the whole world at last gives way.

Woof Woof Woof

A while ago I was hearing the persistent background noise coming from the windows of "Woof, woof, woof," a neighbor's dog. Then below that, or filtering around the edges of that noise, I could hear a deeper and more distant (at least 30 feet further) "Woof, woof, woof," as a second dog added his piece.

My own dog was sitting on the couch with me. And I glanced down and could tell she was hearing the same woofing noise, but it wasn't rousing her to reply in kind. It's one of those things that we get familiar with outside. She knows they're just woofing to be woofing and that her own joining in wouldn't accomplish anything.

But it was remarkable that she heard a closer noise, not animal, not human (probably was human), someone dragging something by, perhaps, and she woofed three times. I said shut up, she woofed again, I said shut up again, and after one more poorly phrased woof she shut up.

Clang Clang

There's a regular clanging outside, like someone might be pounding a post to play horseshoes at. But probably not.

Maybe it's just a kid who found a piece of metal and is hammering at it. It doesn't sound loud enough or authoritative enough to be workmen.

Although it does sound like what it would sound like if you were out there doing vandalism to a fire hydrant. But that never happens.

I'm always amazed at vandals. They pick on the stuff down here, normal stuff at our level. But even though a fire hydrant is at our level, no one ever does anything to those. It's because we've seen them so regularly in our lives that we don't even see them.

Fire hydrants are not subject to vandalism because of familiarity, flying below the radar.

Iron King

I've been watching the obscure Japanese series "Iron King" for the last however long it's been during my morning and evening exercises.

Gentaro has a weird way with women, hitting them, letting them be killed, putting them off, lying to them, etc. But he has one important mission, and that is protecting Japan against this endless procession of robots and terrorists. He can't be like Goro, his friend, a big softy ... except when he's the Iron King.

Yet for all of Gentaro's ambivalence in dealing with the opposite sex, they seemed drawn to him, much like they're drawn to Kramer, the lure of the wild, the kevorka.

Watching it tonight was nice, after the scam that American Idol is. It's good to have these shows where the good guy wins.

Music Is Getting Old

I got a couple Glenn Miller CDs the other day. I was looking at them, as well as listening just a little.

He did his main work between the years of 1939-1942. That's a pretty tight time frame, since that's a lot of hits -- I don't even know how many. I'm nothing like an expert on this stuff.

1939, though, that's 70 years ago. This stuff is getting old. But what I was listening to still sounds fresh -- the recordings. As far as the style, the great vocals, etc., it sounds like something from a different world. I love it.

I'm surprised there aren't more older people who talk about their love for music. I've noticed this just about forever, that they don't do a lot of comparing of tracks, albums, why they liked a particular thing. It doesn't seem like they feel like discussing such things.

Toothpaste Like Caulk

I've never heard of toothpaste going bad. Yes, maybe if it falls into a box, is taken to the attic, and sets there for 10 years, probably then it wouldn't be any good. But just setting on the counter in the bathroom for a couple months? I've never heard of that.

But it happened. We had some Colgate toothpaste, two tubes that we were using. We basically got one real low, then I don't know how it happened -- we were on a trip or something and took the fuller one, then we kept using it, to the neglect of the other. The other set there no more than a couple months, around that.

The fuller one, as these things happen, became the less full one in time and that left the less full one to now be the fuller one. I started to use the new fuller one and guess what, the toothpaste had hardened to the point that I had to squeeze it with all my might, then just to get a very firm chunk of toothpaste that fell off the toothbrush. It landed with a plop. I tried another one and got the same thing. I tried to use the second piece and it had difficulty in there. Meaning I had to take drastic measures and throw the whole thing away.

This stuff was like the caulk that you use to seal up your bathtub. Although I'm thinking it would not have sustained itself if used like actual caulk.

C'mon, Colgate. What are you putting in your toothpaste. Another couple months and I would have had "Chalk In A Tube"

From Walker To Walker

You know those things that people use who have a hard time getting around, a walker? The things with tennis balls?

I had to pick up one of those and move it today. Then with it still in hand, I opened a door to turn off a light and turned and bumped it with my legs. I crunched against it and was afraid I might trip, but I was OK.

I had a very bad thought that I could've gotten hurt by a walker and then I would need a walker.

Wow, A Free Calculator

I saw an AARP commercial for switching your car insurance. Call now and we'll give you a free calculator! [Cut to the shot of your basic 99 cent calculator.]

Is a calculator that huge of an inducement these days? What is this, 1974?

Agreed On Texts

I've been asked now twice in the last month and a half, "What are you reading?" The first time I said nothing. The second time, having been prepared for this from the first time, I said something about the poems of Sir Walter Scott, even though I've pretty much abdicated from reading them. I need to get back to them.

I was sitting in a chair today -- worried as usual -- and thinking I should read something. There was a book I was thinking of but I didn't know where it was. So I'm sitting there another 10 minutes and glancing around, the very book was four feet in front of me, almost hidden in a stack. So I read from it. It didn't help very much but a little. The thing is I know something about this, and the whole point of that particular text, if you went to the very heart of it, is that you don't really need texts. The real text is in here (tapping my empty head).

So I'm sitting here now tapping out another empty text. These paragraphs and the others I've written today, like at Grandma Slump. I like the entry over there because it picks up on this feeling of worrying and being down. But once you've written it and read it you think, OK, that's done. That helped for that minute but now it's just a thought that came from my own head. It's hard to be entertained by thoughts that come from your own head. One thing about it is that what the text is is a very selective part of the thoughts that come from your head, like .0001% of the thoughts you have all the time.

Who really can be entertained by themselves? It's like Frank Sinatra who said he never listened to his own records. And why should he? The voice was in his throat somewhere, lurking with him all the time. He didn't need a needle to remind him.

But there are these texts that get to us collectively. The Bible is the biggest, most obvious one. I think the Bible is fantastic, but it's a dangerous book because of what people have done with it. It's like it's intentionally dangerous and wouldn't pass OSHA standards if someone wrote it now. It has enough stories with jagged edges that it keeps us perpetually fascinated. That's probably one of the keys to writing an agreed on text. Don't round the edges. Leave it rough. So it appeals to everyone, from the Sunday School child with a white hankie to the biggest flaming, psycho, apocalyptic kook in the world.

Dog's Bathroom Habits

I am scientifically astir tonight over a very interesting subject that is fraught with mystery. Dogs taking their potty breaks.

Sometimes I take my dog outside in the yard .... and sometimes I take her to the park. If I take her in the yard her output -- 1 and 2 -- is at one level. But if I take her to the park it is generally twice that or more.

This leads to the obvious question. Are dogs just storing it up and still feeling comfortable while walking around inside? Doesn't it stand to reason that when you go out -- whether in the yard or at the park -- the output would have to be pretty much the same?

I need a good website to research this stuff at.

American Idol

Here's hoping that Adam Lambert pulls through OK tonight on the results show. I'm assuming he will. I'll be very upset if he doesn't.

But that means that one of these guys -- who both did pretty well -- Danny Gokey or Kris Allen -- has to be kicked out. I'm hoping it's Danny. Even though he's talented I've never warmed up to him.

Flip a coin, though, either one. Again, if it's Adam, the fur will fly. It better not be.

Possible Explanation

I was in a motel the other night, and morning was coming on. It was rainy and thunder was rumbling through the area. All at once there was one of the loudest cracks of thunder I've ever heard, like the lightning must have been within 100 feet.

I looked outside and was astonished to see an empty parking space next to my car. When I went to bed there was a truck there. But with that sudden lightning and enormous thunder, it was gone! That is powerful. My own car was undamaged, which is also remarkable.

Iron King

I saw an interesting looking series on DVD the other day and got it. Now I'm in the process of watching it. It's called "Iron King" and it's a Japanese series from 1972.

It's in the Godzilla family, then the Space Giants genre. Big robots tromping buildings and frantic Japanese running for their lives. It's got 26 episodes and four discs. My copy happens to have the DVD case nubs broken, so I don't know what caused that. Maybe the robots inside were agitating it too much.

I'm up to episode 4. So far the episodes are following a distinct pattern. There's a clan in Japan that's been scheming for 2000 years to get their revenge on the rest of society and to go into the ascendancy. They have ready many different kinds of robot monsters, mostly for the apparently impossible task of killing this one guy, one of the stars of the show, Gentaro. He's not Iron King, by the way. He seems to be simply a mortal, but one with all kinds of fighting ability.

Iron King is the giant/robot alter ego of Goro, a comic kind of guy who travels with Gentaro. Gentaro doesn't realize that Goro is Iron King. He appears when he's needed for the fight, by saying the words "Shock, Shock, Iron Shock" in English. His one downfall, very much a bummer, is that his body fluid -- water -- goes down like a dropped brick. So he can't fight very long till he's wiped out. Then when he becomes Goro again, a normal human being, he's parched and is going after water in an insane way. Gentaro hasn't figured this out yet but he knows all about Iron King's trouble with losing water.

The pattern is that they're traveling. The clan seeks to kill Gentaro. They send forth a robot. The robot fights, then recedes. They regather and attack again. I won't say what happens to the robot in each episode, but by the end of the episode the clan is preparing the next robot to try. Every stranger they meet is a member of this clan.

I like it so far.

The Purpose Of Flowers

I used to be a big romantic when it came to nature. I think I still am, to a certain extent, but this is one of those areas where any amount of learning you do decreases your romanticism by the same amount.

When you think things are just there for some innocent reason it's one thing. When you take a class or someone tells you the actual truth, you go, "Oh, really?" It changes your mindset. So if you want to be truly happy, stay as stupid as possible. But now that I think of it, maybe you can just forget what you've learned and insist on the innocent reasons.

One example. Why not believe that flowers are just there to make God smile? Or to keep bees from being depressed? Those are good things. Then you're out in nature and you see a bunch of flowers, you think, Oh, how nice, God is smiling. Or the bees in this area must be very well adjusted.

I had it pointed out to me that the purpose of flowers is simply to make more flowers. It's like the sex life of flowers -- doing whatever, however they do it. The pistil is hot for the bulb or something. They have a three way with a bee. I don't know. I think I might've had a botany class but I don't remember precisely. Had to dissect a tulip one time. The teacher stuck a pin in its stem to put it to sleep. Standing there one second, the pin goes in, it conked out. I could barely look.

Now whenever I see flowers I'm thinking they're just there to make more flowers. It's a depressing thought, because you want them to be prideful along the way, not so extremely goal-oriented.

Nostalgia

Maybe I'm in the mood for thinking of old times. I'm getting old enough to remember the past.

Once upon a time we had a nostalgia craze. We need a resurgence of nostalgia. Maybe we have it, we just don't call it that anymore. We have retro, throwback, and vintage.

Nostalgia fever hit the nation, I'm thinking around the year 1972. It was noted for Deco typefaces, something like the Broadway typeface that is on lots of computers. And a few others. It was a time -- maybe going along in some way with the "That's Entertainment" movies.

But I definitely remember seeing the word "nostalgia" back then all the time, a lot more than you see it now. Magazines covered it. Old movies were shown more often.

And, not coincidentally, that was when the whole "collectibles" and "collector's item" boom took off. Which led me to speak those immortal words, "If it's really a collector's item you don't need to put the phrase 'collector's item' on it. Collectors will know."

You may remember when Stevie Wonder's "Songs In The Key Of Life" album came out it had printed on the front "Collector's Album." I was at a flea market and this idiot dealer had records for sale. Let's say they were $1 each, just to make a point. This guy had the Stevie album like five or 10 times the price. I asked him why. He said because it was a "Collector's Album," since it said right on the front! I asked him why it was a collector's album and he said, "I don't know. Maybe he died or something."

Whatever Happened To Generic Stuff?

In the '70s there was a big boom in generic stuff, usually adorned with plain white packaging and plain black lettering. Cereal, pancake mix, I don't know about orange juice.

When it came to design, they definitely skimped on the cost. Maybe art and design expenses are where all the big expense is when it comes to products. I know I could use more of a stripped down approach when it comes to packaging electronics items, like battery rechargers. It's hard to get them opened.

But it seemed like as fast as generic-everything was on the market, within a couple years anyway, it was all gone. Then the closest thing to generic was the store brands. But even they don't just say "Raisin Bran" but come up with a name like "Always Save Raisin Bran."

I believe there was even a few records that did at least a take-off of the black/white generic craze. What they were, I don't know. Just plain old "Music," probably. Maybe someone out there has a large collection of generic packaging. It would've been a good idea. But I didn't think of it at the time. One thing, you don't expect it to go away.

Emergency TP

We've been having trouble keeping the bathrooms stocked with enough toilet paper. If you're downstairs, there's not any. Then if you're upstairs, there's not any. We buy a big thing of 24 rolls -- or you can get 12 double rolls. But then somehow they're not evenly distributed.

My big solution is to put a couple behind glass with a little hammer. Break glass in case of emergency. But then of course I need a little whisk broom and dustpan behind another glass case, to break in case there's broken glass in the area.

A Prescription

Our local pharmacy sells a lot of things besides just drugs, including now refilling printer cartridges, which seems like it'd be a great service. But as far as I'm concerned they have it overly complicated.

You expect it when you go in to refill your pills, they need to see the prescription. But does their policy on refilling printer cartridges really make any sense, that they need to see a prescription from a computer repairman?

They need to rethink this. There's something wrong there.

A Restaurant Museum

We were talking about a restaurant that was recently gutted, like either they went out of business or are remodeling, or they've given up their lease and the owner of the building is making it fresh for a new tenant.

One solution would be just to make a museum out of it. Like if it's a sandwich and chips kind of place, just leave all the furniture and food and packages and menus. Put up some velvet ropes and charge people to come in and look at it.

At first no one much would want to see it, but as times changed, and as restaurants evolved, they'd get that nostalgic feeling and want to see what it was like in the old days. If you have patience you can just wait it out ... and eventually make money.

The Last Of...

We've all heard of the Last of the Mohicans. But what if it was the Mesquakie tribe? The Last of the Mesqueakins?

Exercise And Tension

I'm thinking of going and exercising vigorously. I've been neglectful of my exercising duties, and that means that money I'm paying for the health club is being wasted.

But I have some tension, and was thinking I ought to go and do an hour -- an entire hour (unheard of) -- on the treadmill. That sounds like a very long time. But I just might do it. Don't push me. I might.

I have the time. I could do it. There's nothing standing in my way. Except the block in my mind saying, "Ugh!"

OK ... I'm going to hit the button to "Publish" this, then I'm going!

May Day!

Darn, yesterday I forgot my favorite-most joke in the whole wide world! Now I have to wait a whole 'nother year to play it again.

It was May 1st, right? OK, that's the set up. Heh heh. And here's the joke:

You call 911 and, all excited, you say, "May Day! May Day!"

Of course the emergency worker is all upset. "Please calm down, sir. What is wrong?"

And then you go all loose, "Nothing, just wanted to wish you a pleasant May Day."

[Don't really try this, because 911 calls are for emergencies only. Plus, the police will show up and you'll be spending the day after May Day in jail. This blog post is for entertainment purposes only ... blah blah blah ... insert sufficiently worded disclaimer here.]]

Handwriting Of The Dead

In my cleaning and digging into my old papers -- stuff from the basement -- I came across some old Christmas cards today in a box.

I was looking through them and noticed that several of them were from people who are no longer alive. I think of these cards differently than I did when they were alive. I wonder why.

It's like there's something of them left ... in just their signature. I'm not going to keep them, since I'm thinning things out. But since I'm digitizing this stuff, at least with a camera aimed at it, I'll have it on my hard drive until it quits working.

A little too sentimental, I know.