Wonderful Weirdos Day

Today is Wonderful Weirdos Day.

According to National Today, “Wonderful Weirdos Day is celebrated across America on September 9.” ¹

Why is it celebrated during an ordinary unit of time such as a day. Isn’t that boring and totally not weird? Wouldn’t it be more appropriate to designate it as Wonderful Weirdos Nychthemeron? ^{2, 3}

¹ https://nationaltoday.com/wonderful-weirdos-day/

² https://english.stackexchange.com/a/595618

³ https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nychthemeron

Ask Amy

The letter to Ask Amy from the mom of a 4-year-old girl that described how her daughter cut her own bangs and then lied about it¹ reminded me of my own hair cutting incident.

I was sick and tired of how my mom’s friends would fawn over my eyelashes.  “Oh, how long and pretty they are!”  “I’d give anything to have eyelashes like that!”  And so, you guessed it, I cut them.

At the dinner table, my mom noticed immediately and reacted strongly: “Did you cut your eyelashes!?  Why did you do that?  You could’ve poked your eye out!”  And so on.

Frankly I was surprised and insulted.  Surprised because I thought they were my eyelashes; why should it be anyone’s business?  And the “poke your eyes out” remark was utterly insulting.  I was anything but a klutz.  I was a “Little Professor” type of boy, always carefully coloring inside the lines, and I (literally) had excellent hand-eye coordination.

Two takeaways here are: children rarely are given the credit they deserve; and showing overt attention to a child can have unexpected consequences.

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¹https://www.chicagotribune.com/2024/04/26/ask-amy-sex-offender-lives-in-the-neighborhood/

Is it NOAA, or Noah?

My area has been experiencing severe and heavy rainfall lately.  So it occurred to me to wonder about the name of the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration.  Was the intent to have its acronym be a homophone of “Noah,” whom G-d entrusted to build the ark that saved him and his family and Earth’s animals from the Flood?

WIFE: "When is it ever gonna stop raining?"

SPG: "NOAA says it's supposed to rain all weekend."

Halloween 2019 -- The Litterbox Costume

I dressed up as a litterbox yesterday.  This was an easy, low-cost outfit.

• Cardboard box – free (with a delivery from Petco)
• Okocat non-clumping paper litter¹ – about $3 (It was marked down and I had a coupon)
• New pooper-scooper – 97 cents
• Safety glasses – free (Household item)
• Dust mask -- free (Household item)
• Zip-Lock bag – free (Household item)
• Tootsie Rolls -- about $3
• Other Assorted Chocolate -- free (Household items)

The Okocat paper litter was a good choice for this project.  It’s extremely light weight, and the granules aren’t so small as to leak through any gaps in the box or in my pants.  I had some lying around because I tried it out with the cats, and I found that it would quickly get saturated with pee.  The entire litterbox had to be emptied and refilled with fresh litter about once a week.  This reminds me, I’m planning on writing a review of cat litters soon.

So, did you dress up for Halloween?  What was your costume?

#NaBloPoMo2019

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¹ https://www.healthy-pet.com/products/dust-free-paper-natural-litter
² Photo credit: anonymous coworker

Book Review: “I Drink for a Reason,” David Cross

This is a review of “I Drink for a Reason,” by David Cross.

I was amused by this book as soon as I picked it up.  The tattoo of a cat butt on the author’s face totally cracked me up.  But then I laughed even harder when I realized it wasn’t a tattoo at all.  It was a small crescent-shaped stain from a bit of dried cat feces!  I didn’t realize it was cat feces right away – it wasn’t until I scraped it off with my thumbnail that I surmised what it was.

Now that I think about this, I was in the kitchen when this happened.  I hope I wasn’t eating at the time and that I remembered to wash my hands.

So then I started to actually read the book.  That’s when I really started laughing.  Because that was when I realized I could write a funny review about the book and mention how I found cat feces on the author’s face!

Now on to the actual review….  Can I say that I couldn’t put the book down?  No I honestly cannot say that.  That would be a lie.  Of course I could put the book down.  In fact, that’s how I preferred to read it.  I sat at the kitchen table and put the book down in front of me.  That way I could read it and have both hands free to fondle myself.  Unfortunately, the cat decided to lie on top of the book.  At that point I paid less attention to the book and more attention to the fondling.

But one time I had put the book down on top of the newspaper.  So when the cat went on top of the book, I was able to slide the newspaper out from underneath and read that instead.  I was hoping that if I then put the newspaper next to the book, the cat would get off the book and lie on top of the paper.  If there’s anything irresistible to a cat, it’s a newspaper, especially one that a human is trying to read.  But the cat showed total indifference to the newspaper, and I was unsuccessful getting my book back.  Well, at least I was able to read the newspaper that night, so the book proved to be quite valuable in that regard.  Next time, I hope to put the newspaper on top of the book.  And then when the cat lies on top of the newspaper, I’ll slide the book out and read it.  I really hope Mr Cross writes another book, so I can write another review and let you know how well the newspaper-on-top-of-book trick worked.

In every book review, I always like to write about my favorite part of the book.  I would have to say that my favorite part was the bit about how he wakes up and finds out that someone got into his bedroom and stole a beautiful gold cup.  He gets really bad ass crazy, like flying around, smashing things and roaring.  He’s not sure who did it, but he’s sure someone from town had something to do with it.  So he flies over to the town, screaming the whole time, lighting people’s houses on fire.  People run in all directions, especially into the lake to get away from all the flames.  All that unbridled anger and fury – it’s so wicked cool.  Unfortunately, there’s this guy who stays totally chill during the melee.  He shoots his lucky arrow at him, and hits him right in the chest where his scales are missing.  The arrow penetrates all the way in. He screeches in pain and fury, but it’s too late.  He plunges dead into the huge lake, making a great cloud of steam burst up.  I think this part could’ve been even better if he caught the arrow in mid air, lit it on fire and threw it back at the guy, hitting him right in the eye.  Yeah that would've been awesome.

Anyway, I think you’ll enjoy this book.  I’ll be returning it to the library tomorrow so that you can check it out next.

Triple Washed

Here's a slogan for producers of packaged lettuce:

"Our lettuce is triple-washed, ensuring that you get the cleanest bugs in the produce industry!"

Book Review: Poundstone's Search for Human Happiness

I started reading humor in earnest about one week after the November 2016 election.

When I came across “The Totally Unscientific Study of the Search for Human Happiness” I hadn't heard about Paula's first book yet, but I was accustomed to hearing her on NPR's Wait, Wait, Don' Tell Me, where she'd advocate for the humane treatment of Twinkies or extol the virtues of the Apple Cinnamon Pop Tart. So I was really excited to get my hands on it. The book, not the Pop Tart.

I won't say that I couldn't put the book down – that would be lying. And besides it's such a pathetic cliché. But I will say that I read the book in record time. And one night, while I was lying on my back in bed, holding the book above me so that I could read it, I picked it right back up again after I dozed off and dropped it on my face. (Note to self, avoid reading hardcover books while lying on back.)

I enjoyed the variety of humor. There's plenty of the self-effacing cracks that you'd expect from a comedian / cat lady. There's also a spot light on the thoughtlessness / stupidity all of us face as we navigate our day-to-day existence. For example, she tells how she needed to sign up online for a class on computers for absolute beginners. And, my favorite, the mental slapstick during her meditation class. All this undergirded by a bizarre unique, out-of-the-box thought process.

There were sections that made me uncomfortable, though. I kept worrying that she would smash the Lamborghini (or that it would get vandalized or stolen) even as I entertained the notion that she had somehow gotten her publisher to reimburse her for the rental fee. And the first “Get Organized” chapter was draining because it hit so close to home. I still remember how tedious and dreadful it was for me to declutter my home office, even though it was more than ten years ago. Personally I think she should've kept the underwear with all the holes in it. I find that “holey” underwear is nice on a hot day. And with global warming, the summers won't be getting much cooler for at least the next dozen or so epochs.

This is one of the few books that I was able to read the Acknowledgments section to completion. In most books, it's a seemingly endless string of shout-outs. But Paula's gratitude is genuine, if, perhaps, swamped with relief over having completed the book. Yet I'm surprised that she did not thank her sixteen cats – they deserve to be acknowledged for not peeing on the computer keyboard, or for not highlighting the file and stepping on the Delete key, before Paula sent the manuscript to the publisher. Or maybe they did, and Paula had a backup copy.

Regardless of intention, I think the book serves just as well as a self-help book as it does entertainment. Obviously the humor provides immediate relief from the doldrums. But then for extended relief, you'll benefit from Paula's findings, three of which are that: 1. Happiness from a fancy car is fleeting; B. Getting a good night's sleep does wonders for your outlook; π. Striving to make others happy brings happiness to yourself. So the book is like that dual-action, 12-hour Mucinex – immediate and long-acting relief.

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• This review was posted to LibraryThing on 2017-06-04.
• More reviews can be found here.
• I received a free copy of this book in order to write this review.

Crumbs

"A crumb is a great thing: If you break a crumb in half you don't get two half-crumbs, you get two crumbs.  Doesn't that violate some law of physics?"

- George Carlin

VIMH: Comedy Routine -- "Dworkin"

VIMH stands for "Voices In My Head" -- a new feature in this blog.  Like the "Dream" posts, the content will be from an alternate reality -- day dreams.

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All my life, I've had hundreds of significant thoughts every day. But lately my brain has been working overtime on elaborate monologues. Here's one in which I come out on stage to do a stand up comedy routine...

Thank you so much. How many of you have heard my routine before? Just clap if you have? [silence] Anyone? [more silence] Anyone at all? Ah ha, trick question! I actually don't have a routine. I just come out here on stage without any idea what of I'm about to say.

But before I launch into my non-routine, I have a sort of experiment I want to try. See, I used to be an engineer. But after about 25 years it occurred to me how boring it is. I'm still a bit of a gear head, though. I like data, finding patterns, making connections. Lately I'm into studying people named “Dworkin.”

Anyone out there named “Dworkin?” Yes, really? Okay, wow, that's great. Could you stand up please? [house lights gradually turn on] Both of you? Okay! This is exciting. Wow. Wait, hold on, are you female? Have you always been female? So you're married to a Dworkin? Or is that your brother or cousin? Or both? Maybe you married your cousin? Well, could be if you're from Kentucky...

Oh you married a Dworkin? Hmm, I'm not sure this will work. You know, I've never met a female Dworkin before. [looking them over appraisingly] Hmm. Ahh. Interesting. Could you move out into the aisle. I need to get a good look at you.

In the meantime, I'd like to point out to everyone how the house lights turned on. And I didn't even ask for that. That's wonderful. It means we have a great lighting crew here tonight. You know why they're great? They're paying attention, listening to the routine. Or non-routine. They could've just set a timer when I started my set and took a nap. But they didn't do that. They were listening. And then when I started in with the audience participation, they undimmed the lights. They didn't just click them on, blinding everyone. That would've sucked. No they were real artistic about it. [to the crew...] How many of you are there? Just blink the lights to show me. Three? Great. How many of you are male? Two? How many are female? Don't laugh. Ten years ago that would be a joke. Today it's a serious question, unless you're from North Carolina.

[Two Dworkins are standing in the aisle.] A good lighting crew goes unnoticed. A bad one can ruin your evening. Like the time I took my daughter to see her friend's ballet recital. I'm not a fan of ballet. And amateur ballet makes me anxious – I'm afraid someone's gonna fall. Or fart. Or fart after falling. My plan was to wait for the house lights to dim and then close my eyes. But they didn't dim. So if I closed my eyes, those girls on stage would see that I had my eyes closed. Maybe one would get upset and fall. Or fart. Even if I wanted to watch the performance like a normal fan, the glare from the lights was giving me a headache. Finally, after intermission, someone dimmed the lights.

[Two Dworkins are still standing in the aisle.] The point is, I'm not the only one working tonight. But I'm the one you're clapping for. Or heckling. The unseen performers that are here tonight are just as deserving of your adoration. There's the lighting crew. The folks doing audio; without them I'd be [moving lips as if talking] like an idiot. Security, too. They're out there, somewhere, packing a whole lot of heat, so don't get any ideas. Someone's got a finger on the thermostat too, making sure we're comfortable. And you wondered why you had to pay 30 bucks to get in. At least most of you paid. And I get only two dollars out of that.

So let's give our unsung heroes a round of applause.

[Two Dworkins are still standing in the aisle. Finally I notice them.] Hello there? What are you two doing standing there? Are your hemorrhoids giving you that much trouble? You do have tickets, don't you? Well then sit down! Otherwise I'll have to call Security.

Wait hold on. You 're not named “Dworkin” are you?

One of My Favorite TV Scenes

Thought you'd like to know, this is one of my favorite scenes from a current television series...

Carry My Stuff

I'm still thinking about My Personal Assistant, the post in which I list the chores I would prefer to delegate to a Personal Assistant.  Let me add one more: Carry My Stuff.

I am overwhelmed by My Stuff.  I can't handle it all.  I bring stuff to work; I bring it back home again.

What do I have?  Water.  Lunch.  Tablet.  Wallet.  Badge.  Hat.  Tissues.  Jacket.  Inhaler.  Pen.  Keys.  Snack.    ShoppingListOfMoreStuffToBuy.  SomethingToFaxForMyWife.^*  (Crap, I just remembered that I forgot to bring carrot sticks for my snack today.)

I cram all My Stuff haphazardly into a reusable shopping bag to make it easier to Carry.  But it's not easy.

It's a warm day, so I decide to Carry my jacket instead of wear it.  And I Carry the bag.  (Heck let's just call it a murse, okay?)  Now I also need to Carry the keys.  In my third hand.  In my dreams.

No, in my dreams, My Personal Assistant would Carry My Stuff.  As I leave for work, she somehow has already gathered It All and cheerfully follows me out the door with It.  Brrr, it's cold, so instantly she dresses me in my jacket.  The car is locked.  But she's got the keys, and deftly unlocks and opens the door.

At work the Pecan Pie that I ordered is delivered by a coworker's Boy Scout son.  My Personal Assistant brings it down to the cafeteria and places it in the freezer.

When it's time to leave for the day, My Personal Assistant actually remembers the pie (which I forgot three days in a row, so far) and adds it to all My Other Stuff.

We go to the store.  She carries the shopping list and ensures I get everything on the list.  Plus ice cream for herself, if she so chooses.  She brings it all to the car and stows it away, and she gets the tablet I accidentally left behind in the shopping cart as an added bonus.⁺

This is a wonderful dream.

Oh, and the Personal Assistant's name, if you haven't already guessed, is "Mommy."

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^* It is true that I do not have a cell phone.
⁺ I did this twice, so far.  I drove home from the supermarket, leaving my tablet in the shopping cart in the parking lot.

Why Are Shorts So Long?

I've been shopping for shorts to replenish my worn out summer wardrobe for years.  But every time I browse the racks I find "shorts" whose hemlines reach down to my knees.  Modern shorts resemble some sort of bastard children of Capri pants and Real Shorts.

The legs of Real Shorts stop three to five inches above the knee.  I like them that way because bastard shorts tickle my knees.  And besides, the long shorts give the impression that I'm wearing Real Shorts low on the hip and that underneath my shirt lies a bright gibbous moon.

I've examined a few bastard shorts with the idea that I could alter them to bring up the hemline.  Unfortunately they were cargo "shorts" with extra pockets that extend into where I'd place the hemline.  Either that, or the white inner lining of normal pockets would hang down below the new hemline.  Now that I contemplate this dilemma, I realize I could also alter the normal pockets to make them less deep.  But I shouldn't have to do this!

With the back-to-school season already in full swing in the world of retail, I'll make one last attempt to find something deeply discounted that I can alter into real shorts.  Or maybe I'll take a trip to the Salvation Army and find something from a few decades ago when shorts were Real Shorts.

The Bad Dog

In the movie, "A Christmas Story," there's a brief but memorable scene in which several dogs barge in and steal the roasted Christmas turkey prior to the meal.

We had our own ravenous dog scene, except that this involved just one dog and a three-quarter pound of leg of lamb for Thanksgiving that was left over after carving.  So fortunately, it didn't spoil the Thanksgiving meal because I'd already sliced most of it, but it did leave me without enough leftovers for lunch tomorrow.

The biggest problem is that the hunk of meat was still in the netting when he ate it.  And so the dog ate the netting, too.  A foreign object like string in a dog's digestive system can be a serious problem as this article describes.  I found some netting in his poop this morning, but I think there's more inside.  Hopefully he'll be okay.  He's eating well and pooping well, and I don't see blood in the stool.

That would be something -- mad at the dog for eating about $8 of meat plus having to pay for abdominal surgery on top of that.

Health Insurance

You can let food be your medicine, but don't expect insurance to cover it.

Likewise, medical research tells us that pets provide their owners with stress relief.  It also tells us that too much chronic stress leads to disease.  But show me an insurance company that will reimburse for pet food and vet bills, and I'll show you a three-legged duck.

The one alternative health care practice that insurance does cover is exercise.  They do this by paying for the cost of joining a gym.  Joining is covered; the monthly fees, however, are not.

What healthy lifestyle choice would you like to see covered?

Foodbook

The newsfeed I receive from Facebook is so cluttered with pictures of food, I think of it now as Foodbook.

Enticing pictures of food -- cheerful, colorful and sweet-looking food.  Food porn for a horny addict.

I like my cousins, and I want to keep in touch with them.  So I long for a way to filter out images by subject matter.  Pictures of people: OK.  Pictures of food: NO.  Pictures of people eating food? Uh...

These are my cousins, who, I understand, have the same general set of genes as me, with the same predisposition to diabetes festering silently inside them, like me.  The only difference between us is that they haven't realized just how deadly the food is that they're raving about.  Or they don't care.

I dropped my first hint a few weeks ago.  I posted "I think Facebook is turning into the Food Network."  And I got two Likes from that.

I relish thinking of other rebellious counterattacks to food porn.

First, I thought I'd start posting pictures of other addictive substances, such as shot glasses and sultry bottles of Jack, warmly glowing lit cigarettes, maybe even lines of coke waiting to be snorted.  Of course I'd have to find the images on the Internet -- I don't drink, smoke or do drugs -- so it won't be authentic.

Then I thought it would be neat to upload pictures of my feces.  I'd proudly state, "I made this the morning after a big bowl of three-bean chili."  Or, "Tacos yesterday!  Check this one out!"  I really like this idea, actually.  I've never seen any images of poop on Facebook yet, so the idea stands out on the basis of originality.  I like the extreme anti-social nature a poop post would represent.  And it would convey the simple but important message, "As goes in, so goes out."  The problem, of course, is that folks would be so revolted that they'd probably shut it out of their heads before considering any message.

So that leaves directly responding to food porn posts:

• "Love to eat that right before having my blood glucose tested."
• "I bet I'd completely lose my night vision after eating that."
• "That's the ticket to a wild blood sugar roller-coaster ride!"

Maybe I'll just start to de-friend the worst offenders and hope the others will fill in with the important goings ons of the family....

Not Too Young For AARP

I turned 50 this year.  Amid the few birthdays cards that I still get at my age was an "invitation" to join AARP¹.

In case you're very young or not from the USA, essentially AARP is the group you join when you reach retirement age, which, nowadays, is when you're too old to work.  Of course, there's very little mention of the words "old" and "elderly," or even "retired" on the AARP About page.  The reason for not mentioning the words "old," "elderly" and "retired" is simple.  They don't want people to wait until they're old and/or retired to join.  Baby boomers are dying off, so in order to increase membership, AARP frankly needs to seek younger members.

Also, they don't want people to freak out when they receive their first invitation to join AARP, as I did.

"Join AARP?!  I'm not Old!" I exclaimed out loud to my wife.

"You're eligible to join when you reach 50," my wife patiently explained to me.

"Grumble," I grumbled.

She's three years younger than me, so I can't wait until she gets her invitation, so I can gleefully say the same thing back to her.

My wife has been borrowing back issues of the AARP Magazine from the library.  I'm perplexed about why she would find the publication interesting, unless it's to see who's on the cover.  Of course, you don't need to borrow the entire magazine to see who's on the cover.  You can just walk by the magazine rack and glance at it.  But then once you see who's on the cover, you might want to read about why they're on the cover.  Recent issues that graced our coffee table featured such hotties as Gloria Estefan, Sharon Stone, and my all-time favorite-to-die-for Valerie Bertinelli.

Those women aren't necessarily hotties today, but they certainly were hotties way back when I divided the world population into "Women Who Are Hot" and "Everyone Else."  So to see them on a magazine for old folks is shocking, which is probably why they're on the cover.  I expect any day to see Miley Cyrus featured very soon.

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¹ The acronym once stood for "American Association of Retired Persons," but they don't seem to refer to it any more.

Shutdown

The clever blog post you were hoping to read has been postponed due to the shutdown of the U.S. federal government. 

Sorry for the inconvenience.

The Greatest Thing Since Sliced Bread

Long ago folks baked loaves of bread at home or bought them whole from a bakery.  At some point, it became possible to buy the bread pre-sliced.  The Wikipedia article on Sliced Bread describes the history of bread slicing and how the expression "The Greatest Thing Since Sliced Bread" came about. Apparently sliced bread was a wonderful breakthrough.  Today only artisan bread is sold whole.

I bought my first loaf of unsliced bread just a few years ago.  I really liked it!

First of all, it was not at all difficult to slice the bread with a proper bread knife.  And I could make the slices any thickness I desired.  I usually made them as thin as possible.  For small dense 100% rye bread, that's less than 1/2 cm (about 1/8 inch).  I'd allow for nearly a full 1 cm for more porous, airy loaves.  Compared to sliced bread, my slices are 25% to 50% thinner.

Second, sliced bread gets stale more quickly.  A whole loaf has a crust to protect the inner portion.  Once it's sliced, that protection is gone.  I keep my bread wrapped tightly in an intact plastic bag and refrigerated, so the loaves I buy last a few weeks.  (I don't eat much bread.)

So every time I slice bread, I smile and say to myself, "Unsliced bread is the greatest thing since sliced bread."

Who Does "Pinball Wizard?"

My wife and I were both at the kitchen table yesterday morning when the classic rock song "Pinball Wizard" started to play on the radio.

All I did was think to ask my wife, "Who does this song?" and I started laughing.

Naturally, she looked at me as if I were a moron and asked, "What's so funny?"

After another fit of laughter, I managed to say, "I was just thinking how funny it would be if I asked you, 'Who does this song?'"

"The Who does this song."

"No, no, you're supposed to say 'Yes.'"

"But Yes didn't do the song.  It was The Who," she said, earnestly.

The hilarity of the situation was more than I could bear.  Tears were forming in my eyes.  I couldn't speak, she was so stiflingly serious.

Annoyed she stated, "Well, I'm glad I don't have to occupy myself trying to keep you amused.  One less thing for me to worry about."

"But it's a joke!" I tried to explain, between gasps for air.

"It must be that anti-biotic you're taking.  Mental changes."

More laughter.

Eventually I managed to dry my eyes and leave for work.

You get it, don't you?

From Whence I Blog

I have two answers to "Where is your favorite place to blog?"

My first answer is rather superficial, and it assumes that blogging is the act of typing content into an editor and then uploading it to the blog.  I have no smart phone or tablet.  I blog at a computer.  The computer in my home office is the one I use most often, but I might also use the computer at work or occasionally the one at the library.  So my superficial answer is "My favorite place to blog is in my home office."

But that's not my final answer.  My final answer is more complicated.  I believe the idea for a blog post is just as important as the act of typing it.  My ideas come to me almost everywhere, usually when I'm doing a tedious chore.  I could compose content while preparing breakfast, or folding laundry or driving.  But for some reason, when I scoop the four litterboxes, I do not form ideas for blog entries.  Instead, I think about the "Karate Kid" movies.  So my final answer is "My favorite place to blog is everywhere."

I could end this post at two paragraphs.  But I'd like to mention that I thought about the previous post while brushing my teeth this morning, and I typed it in at the library computer while my daughter was at her karate lesson.

While I was using that library computer, I became aware of four very attractive teenage girls (or perhaps they were young adult women) looking in my direction and having a lively discussion that involved laughter.  I forced myself to remember that I'm nearly 50 years old and that I look much older.  Otherwise I'd lapse into reliving my high school fantasies.

It wasn't until I got up and left that computer that I realized what their commotion was all about.  They walked over to the area I'd just left and started to take photos.  I guess the seat I was in afforded them an ideal vantage point for their shots.  And their discussion was over which of the four was going to get stuck with asking me to move.