Rock of ages.

You know, you don't have to hit Social Security age to realize you just don't bounce back the way you used to. A couple of weeks ago I was putting down some nice store-bought rocks around the front-yard bushes to make the place look nicer, hoping to entire a buyer for the house. I had already distributed mulch and dug up weeds, and so far all was well. 

Then the irony. 

Because while it's called egg rock, it was I that broke.

Well, not broken eggactly (har!). I lifted properly, showed good form, but then I turned in a funny way, and my body took a funny turn. It was one of those muscle pulls that you feel as it happens, and it happens that I felt it. 

It didn't seem that bad at first, but it was pretty painful. When I was a strapping young lad (well, not that strapping) I could bounce back in a couple of days from this kind of thing. But it took me most of a week to stop groaning every time I bent over or stood up. Worse, my ability to twist to the right was severely impacted -- there, the pain was so bad it was almost impossible to force myself to do it. You never know how often you make a particular motion until it hurts every time you do it. 

I'm glad to have recovered now, and the place does look a bit better with the new rocks. 

All this got me thinking about getting older, and thus about an elderly friend of mine who retired to The Villages in Florida. If you are not familiar with that particular patch of real estate, it is a community for people 55 and up about 20 miles south of Ocala, Florida. In the year 2000 it had about eight thousand people, but now almost EIGHTY THOUSAND people live there. 

My friend tells me that on Friday nights the widow women still doll themselves up and go to the bars (people get around by trolley and golf cart, I hear). A couple of years ago the place was labeled "The STD Capital of America," although that turned out to be a myth. However, I'm willing to bet there's a lot of shenanigans afoot all the same. It may be a foot that needs podiatric care, but afoot all the same. 

My question is: Why is there no reality show about The Villages? It's a natural! And it would appeal to the people who still use cable for most of their TV watching -- that is, the 55+ folks. 

I think it would be huge. People would get caught up in the drama. Who's sleeping with whom? Whose kids are visiting and likely to cause trouble? Which guys are doing drunk wheelchair races in the middle of the night? Which black widow is looking to land a rich dude with one foot in the grave and the other on a banana peel? 

It'd be a regular Polident Place. The Old and the Restless. Medicare Hospital. All My Great Grandchildren. Dwindling Days of Our Lives. Insert your own jokes in the comments. 

I can only assume that the governing body of the tri-county Villages frowns on such coverage. Well, more's the pity. Not that I'd watch the show -- at least, not until I'm riding a wheelchair myself. Which, if I keep fooling around with these sacks of rocks, could happen sooner than I think. 

The Unknown IMF Mission.

"We have an extremely difficult mission this time, and I want to make sure you understand how dangerous it is before any of you agrees to it."

"Come on, Jim -- the government didn't name this the Possible Missions Force. We know what we signed up to do." 

"Thanks, Barney. All right -- here are the basics. You may have heard that the nation of Lmnopystan has been refining radioactive material in the hope of creating nuclear weapons to threaten Western targets. The Secretary says that we have managed to stop their acquisitions, but our mission is to retrieve their stockpile. Sources tell us that it is hidden in a leaden vault in Fort Stunckenholff.

"Within two days we will be in position. Roland and Cinnamon, your job will be to infiltrate the fort using the false identities of Major General Hrump and his wife, Sheila. The actual Hrump family has been detained in Milan. I will be stationed in a safe house fifteen miles from the fort. When you get the passcodes, you will radio them to me. Then Willy will deliver a truck full of supplies, including Barney."

"Yeah, man, in a box again, I dig it."

"Barney will be able to crack the vault that holds the safe, and Willy, well, he can lift heavy things. You will signal me when the vault is on the truck; I will signal Roland, and you will meet at the gate. Naturally there is a very good chance you will be detected soon after exiting."

"So we make a run for the border?"

"That's the problem, Roland. Look at the map. We will be meeting a ship to take us out of country. Our rondezvous point is here, at Port Snyegrump, five hours away from the fort, on heavily policed highways and through multiple checkpoints. And to make the ship we will have to get to the port in just two hours."

"They'll be all over us. I say it can't be done."

"Well, Willy, that's why I've called in a special operative for this mission, a fast driver with a faster car who can draw off and lose the authorities while you shoot through with the truck. Allow me to introduce the Bandit."

"Hiya, boys. And girl."

"I'm riding back with him."

Christmas roundup.

The thermometer says it is no degrees outside -- yes, friends, we are at Absolute Zero -- so it's winter! And that means Christmas is coming. It's practically here! 

Today I offer a brief roundup of some memes and candy that have popped up on my radar lately. Sweetness abounds. 

I thought this was hilarious, but I had to explain it to a couple of people. It took me a moment also, to be fair. 

I love this one because I never liked the movie and I hated the book. 

Chico had the Man's number, I think.

Next up, further proof that one day all the memes will join together into one Mega Meme. 

Guess what I found in my local supermarket on Saturday, December 20? That's right -- Valentine's Day Candy!

TV listing from Sunday -- tell me you've never see the special without telling me. 

I think AI is writing them now. 

And that brings us to a visit with longtime friend of this blog: PEEPS

Yes, we've reviewed Peeps and Peep Accessories many times on this page -- even other Christmas-themed Peeps, a decade ago. But we've never seen Gingerbread (or, as the yellow box notes, "Gingerbread FLAVORED") Peeps before. I'm a fan of the plucky little Just Born company of Bethlehem, Pennsylvania, but I am cautious. Can these possibly be any good?

Verdict: Yes, if you like marshmallow and you like the flavor of gingerbread and you think they'd work well together. Unbelievably sweet, of course, as the outer flavoring is also sugared, much as so many pumpkin spice treats in the fall include sugar. I think you need it; lightly melted sugar helps other flavorings stick, first of all, and second, sugar has a lovely and underrated texture all its own. But man, this is sweet. 

You might drop one of these dudes in a cup of (mostly unsweetened) cocoa and let him melt; I think that would taste good, although you hate to see a friendly face get the Wicked Witch treatment. 

So there's some hot and cold takes for this last Monday before Christmas. Hope to post tomorrow, but definitely on Christmas Day. 

Cheesesteaks vs. Cheeseheads.

I'm still not following football much, because football continues to impoverish its fans, promote degenerate gambling, and employ wokester-in-chief Roger Goodell as commissioner of the NFL. Dumdum Goodell was doubtless the brains behind the decision to put the first game of the season, between strong contenders from Green Bay and Philly, in South America, and force North Americans who wanted to watch the game to use Peacock, NBC's streaming service, which is somewhere in popularity between endodontic surgery and CNN+. 

Old habits die hard, though, and I had to check in this morning, hoping to see that the Eagles had lost. Alas, that was not the case. 

Still, I have some fellow feeling for the citizens of Philadelphia. In 2022, recall, they lost the Super Bowl by 3 points to the Kansas City Chiefs, and then in October lost the World Series to the Houston Shenanigans. 

But the year was actually even worse. The Philadelphia Union, the city's soccer team, also made it to the championship match and also lost, to Los Angeles. The Flyers finished dead last in the Metropolitan Division of the NHL, which means eighth out of eight, and accomplished the impressive feat of missing the NHL playoffs, which takes some doing. The 76ers got to the second round of the NBA playoffs but lost to Miami. One might look in vain for joy from the Wings (lacrosse) or the Soul (arena football, off and on), but no joy was to be had in 2022. 

The Phillies are having another great season currently, and one can only hope that they get overconfident and crap out soon. As for football, the NFL can move all their games to Peacock and have them played in other parts of the world for all I care, places where they think footballs are round and it's okay to pretend to be hurt when you aren't. I don't care.

Unless the Cowboys are good this year. Then I'll have a rooting interest -- against someone. 

Electro Wagon and Batmobile!

I still remember that day in 2013 very fondly -- walking across Midtown Manhattan to get to work and seeing the Batmobile parked on the street. 

 

I was thinking about TV's Batmobile this week, because the subject came up online about George Barris, history's greatest car customizer. You don't think so? Ha ha ha! I laugh. He's the man who also gave us the Hirohata Merc, the Munster Koach and the Drug-U-La, the Beverly Hillbillies' truck, versions of KITT from Knight Rider, a gold Rolls for Zsa Zsa Gabor, and many customized celebrity golf carts. George passed away in 2015, but his company, Barris Kustom, still makes replicas of these and other famous vehicles for deep-pocketed fans. 

But I have to think that none of those fans have yet asked for this:

George still has a lot of followers, but even they were not sure that the great man had designed this vehicle. Electra Woman and Dyna Girl was a wacko Krofft brothers' Saturday morning adventure show starring the lovely Deidre Hall (later a staple on Days of Our Lives) as Electra Woman, and as Dyna Girl Judy Strangis, for whom grown men still harbor a secret crush. This very campy, very Kroffty adventure show had special effects that made Doctor Who is its era look like modern Marvel movies, and mostly non-violent action that was very unsatisfying to the kids who loved the Batman show. Still, it was made with love, as only Sid and Marty could. 

But no one was sure who made the car, until a fan on Reddit noticed that Barris was mentioned in the closing credits as the creator of the Electracar. The titular heroes might have done better chasing crooks in one of Barris's golf carts. 

Barris's Batmobile, constructed on a Lincoln Futura, is my favorite of all the various Batcars we have seen on the screen. It's sleek, it has very cool styling, it has room for all kinds of gizmos, and it looks like a blast to drive. The ones from the Batman movies look more realistic in some ways -- they are vicious vehicles that a man who is a vigilante might drive, as the police would not look kindly on a weaponized race car or tank roaming through Gotham City. But on the campy TV show, Batman was a duly authorized agent of the law, so he could prowl the streets in his hot rod Lincoln. When I saw the Batmobile that day in 2013, I almost wanted to steal it. If only they'd left the Bat-key in the Bat-ignition!

But the Electracar? Ugh. Barris probably had a budget of $100 to make the Electracar. It has a three-wheel design with the odd wheel in front, the very design that caused horrendous accidents on ATVs. With the big disc it might not flip over, but its handling had to be awful. Worst, our electrifying heroines were zooming toward villains' lairs with no windshield. They wore no eye protection in the clips I saw, let alone masks to keep the bugs out of their 10,000-watt smiles. The car could convert into an airplane, too, thanks to the miracle of bad visual effects—I sure hope it had a windshield for that option.

Still, it was eye-catching, and however silly it may have been as a law-enforcement vehicle, it was much less silly than some of the vehicles we saw on Saturday morning hero shows. 

So there's that. 

Boy, I would still love to drive that 1966 Batmobile, just once. C'mon, Bat-owner, please? I promise not to use the Bat Beam or the Ejector Seats! 

Racism and MSG.

I’m not sure why the late Anthony Bourdain is regarded as such a hero. He was an opinionated loudmouth, for one thing, yet the people who hate Trump for that loved Bourdain for it. He always seemed pissed off. Like we'd all failed to meet his precious standards.

Tony was satisfied to buy whatever protein was cheap, sear it in a hot pan, baste it with a lot of butter, and then serve it up, presuming that the customers didn’t care and would never know the difference. He was smugly dismissive: Everything and everybody was expendable. I was right there with him and angrily dismissed him. This wasn’t a near miss, this was a story of roads diverged. My anger was further fueled by what I found to be his pretentious demeanor. One expression of that was he no longer went by Tony. He was now only Anthony—Anthony Bourdain.

That quote comes from chef Peter Hoffman, who came up in the business with Bourdain. In his book What's Good? A Memoir in Fourteen Ingredients, Hoffman spares no horses in lambasting the man in his youth, as above, but does express sorrow that they never reconciled later in life, when they saw eye-to-eye on a lot of issues.  

I never watched Bourdain on TV (I prefer Andrew Zimmern if I want to see a guy travel the world and eat bugs), but I get the feeling he was often talking through his hat. For example, he went on a rant during his 2016 show about MSG: 

Bourdain, who traveled the world and showcased an extraordinary diversity of cultures and cuisines, was more explicit. “I think (MSG) is good stuff,” he said in a 2016 episode of “Parts Unknown” filmed in China. “I don’t react to it – nobody does. It’s a lie.”

“You know what causes Chinese restaurant syndrome?” he added as he walked through the streets of Sichuan. “Racism.”

Thanks for adding to the paranoia in the world, Tony.  

As far back as 1971, a study in Biochemical Medicine stated that "The signs and symptoms following the ingestion of monosodium glutamate (MSG) were found strikingly similar to those induced by acetylcholine (ACh). The effects of anticholinergic and cholinesterase (ChE) inhibitor support the hypothesis that Chinese restaurant syndrome is a 'transient acetylcholinosis'." 

And what does ACh do to you? According to the CDC, "Excess acetylcholine produces a predictable cholinergic syndrome consisting of copious respiratory and oral secretions, diarrhea and vomiting, sweating, altered mental status, autonomic instability, and generalized weakness that can progress to paralysis and respiratory arrest." 

I guess Drs. Ghadimi, Kumar, and Abaci of the Department of Pediatrics, Methodist Hospital of Brooklyn, who did the Biochemical Medicine study, were all Chinese-hating racists. Probably the CDC too.  

It's racist because only Asians use MSG.

I remember the eighties, when the fear of MSG was a real thing, and everyone or her cousin got sick after getting takeout from the Chinese place. Was it overblown? Almost certainly, but no more than the current health scares that show up every week. My theory is that fear of bisphenol A will be racist next, because so many things made in China contain it. 

Worries about MSG were not just from people seething with racism and making themselves sick; there were legitimate studies done and results indicated there was cause for concern. In 1986, the FDA said that MSG was "generally recognized as safe" but noted that some people seemed to be sensitive to it. In 2012 they backtracked, saying that studies did not find any consistency among people who reported sensitivity, which would seem to contradict the 1971 findings. Who knows? In 2025 they may find something in support of MSG sensitivity again, and then I guess the FDA will be racist. 

My ear doctor notes that monosodium means sodium. Sodium can cause a flareup of Meniere's syndrome, so it's a concern in his practice. Considering that we're all eating too much sodium, does that make us racist for wanting to cut down? He cautions that Chinese takeout is known for having high sodium content; he even singles out P.F. Chang's frozen dinners. And indeed, Chang's Chicken Fried Rice Bowl (a lunch-size portion) contains 1,040 milligrams of sodium -- almost half the 2,300 mg or less of the daily intake recommended by the health pushers. Eating Well magazine notes that too much salt can cause headaches, nausea, dizziness, and vomiting -- which sounds like a lot of the so-called Chinese Restaurant Syndrome symptoms. Maybe it was not the Chinese in the Chinese food that was causing the problem for all those racists; it was the overload of sodium. I think it's a plausible explanation anyway. 

The damage is done, though. Hating on MSG is racist. In his book Damn Good Chinese Food, chef Chris Cheung writes, 

My friend, the late great Anthony Bourdain, called racism on this and I have to agree with him. I have professionally cooked Japanese food, Thai food, and American food, and MSG was used in all of these kitchens, but I have only ever seen the request, “please, no MSG” when cooking at a Chinese restaurant. I feel the message they are trying to send is that Chinese people are trying to make you sick through their food. 

Feelings aren't facts, Mr. Cheung. When the MSG scare began, the only Asian cuisine most Americans were only familiar with was Chinese food; Japanese food was almost entirely confined to the West Coast. Otherwise, Japanese and Thais would have gotten blamed too. Would that make you feel better? If you really want to find a hotbed of anti-Asian hate, I suggest you focus on Ivy League university admissions offices.

Racism is stupid, vile, ignorant, and lazy. You know what else is? Slapping the "racist" label on things because they annoy you, without knowing anything about why things are the way they are. Our main cultural problem is probably ignorance, and the overweening pride that makes it impenetrable. 

Sike?

Honestly, I wonder what kids are thinking. I didn't know what they were thinking when I was one, to be frank, so you can imagine how bad I am at it now. 

Today's complaint concerns the abuse of an interjection that my generation made great, a tagline so profound and so much fun that it arose from nowhere and became universal in no time. 

Of course, I am referring to

PSYCH! 

It seems that youngsters, who literally know nothing, are rendering the word as "Sike!" Which is inscrutably dumb. If they aren't doing this as some parody of Gen X, which Occam suggests is not the case, then they are making a silly mistake. 

Psych! as an exclamation, of course, is something one says as to indicate that the other has been fooled, gulled, pranked, or otherwise tricked -- from the expression psych out. I think Webster's errs in listing as synonyms for psych (out) words like terrorize, frighten, and discourage. Psych out was and is a less serious term in common use, at worst meant to intimidate or distract an opponent, not drive him into the fetal position. 

Obviously this term comes from psychology, "from scientific Latin psychologia 'the study of the mind and behavior,' derived from Greek psychē 'soul, mind' and Greek -logia 'science, study,'" according to Webster. Pretty common terms, especially in this over-analyzed era, no? Been around in English since at least 1749. And yet the youth of the country has to make up some strange spelling for psych?  

If only there'd been a popular TV show, one that lasted, say, eight seasons, using the term as a title; perhaps a show featuring a fake psychic, a member of Gen X; a show titled after the term that would have the double meaning of psychic and psyching out (since the hero is a fake). Perhaps the show's theme song might even use the expression "psych you out". 

Maybe then, kids today might remember how to spell the word. Oh, who knows. Probably not. 

Sharks, sharps, flats.

We played a lot of card games in my house when I was growing up, and if someone were to have a particularly good run my mother might call him a card shark. Interesting to note that was kind of a misnomer, except it wasn't. 

The term card shark is well-known, and was the name of a popular game show, but it doesn't make much sense. While the term shark is used for someone very driven at work (especially lawyers), we don't usually append the term shark to an activity to show someone is good at it. A good cook is not a kitchen shark; a great writer is not a word shark. But a pool shark is someone really good at pool, and for the same reason as the card shark -- it comes from cheating.  

We're gonna need a bigger pot.

In centuries past, sharks were not considered the magnificent beasts that the aquariums tell us they are now, but rather were considered parasites, ones that fed on others, as with loan sharks. So we might think that a card shark is either a mighty beast or a parasite that lives on smaller prey, but that may not be how the term originated. 

The word sharper as a noun likely came to the English language from the German schärfen, for sharpen, a way of calling someone a cheater, at least according to Grammarist. I suspect it may come from cheaters doctoring card decks by trimming or notching particular cards in a subtle way so they could tell what their opponents were holding. Oddly, I haven't seen that possible explanation online, but we know that deck doctoring is why new cards come in sealed boxes -- to avoid such tricks. 

Over time the card sharp, a kind of odd phrase, seems to have accidentally become card shark. But while the card sharp may be a cheat, a card shark is more often someone who's just really good at card games. (Different dictionaries, however, will define the terms differently.) It has been my experience in the real world that calling someone a card sharp is an accusation of cheating, but calling him a card shark is not. Whether the player is a card sharp or shark, though, he's not someone you want to go up against. Or at least, you'd best be a master at either method of play to go against him. 

Personally, that's why gambling has been the one vice that's had limited attraction for me -- there is no limit to the amount you can lose, and in a short time. What fun is that? I work too hard for my dough.

Nimrod.

When I was a kid, if you wanted to call someone stupid and had run through the greatest hits already (stupid, moron, retard, idiot, dumb, dimwit, brainless, dim bulb, dumbass, birdbrain) you might ultimately land on nimrod. We had no idea we were calling him this guy.

Real Nimrod

Poor Nimrod. We don't know too much about him, but in the Book of Genesis (chapter 10), we learn the reputation for which he was remembered for thousands of years:  

8 And Cush begat Nimrod: he began to be a mighty one in the earth.

9 He was a mighty hunter before the Lord: wherefore it is said, Even as Nimrod the mighty hunter before the Lord.

10 And the beginning of his kingdom was Babel, and Erech, and Accad, and Calneh, in the land of Shinar.

Thus Nimrod was a mighty hunter, a king and the founder of great cities. 1 Chronicles 1:10 reiterates his fame, and Micah 5:6 refers to the long-gone king's area as "the land of Nimrod." 

He was probably as famous as Orion the Hunter was in Greek mythology. Orion got in a lot of trouble, but wound up as a constellation, so he had that going for him. You wouldn't imagine someone saying "You're such an Orion!" 

The name Nimrod was even more cemented in the public consciousness than Orion's, back when we were a Bible-studying culture. H. D. Rawnsley's 1903 reminiscences, Lake Country Sketches, mentions Sir John Crozier, who owned a fox-hunting lodge in that bucolic English area. Crozier is remembered as "a North Country Nimrod."

The North Country Nimrod in question

 

Hobart Caunter's book Legendary & Romantic Tales of Indian History (1885) has a chapter called "The Mahomedan Nimrod," concerning "Mujahid, the son of Mahomed Shah, sovereign of the Deccan," who "was remarkable for his courage and amazing strength of body." Not someone to call a Nimrod, if the name was insulting. 

And let us not forget that Ernest Shackleton, a great explorer of the frozen wastes, sailed a mighty whaler named Nimrod on his 1908 expedition to Antarctica -- one of many intrepid vessels by that name.  

So what happened so unjustly to Nimrod? You probably know. As Ken Zurski noted on the site Unremembered History, in the 1940 Looney Tune cartoon "A Wild Hare," "a wise-cracking rabbit named Bugs Bunny called his nemesis Elmer Fudd a 'poor little nimrod,' a sarcastic reference to Fudd’s skills as a hunter." In fact (and was disputed online quite a bit), the line does not appear in that cartoon. It was not Bugs that called Elmer "my little Nimrod" -- that heap of irony apparently came first from Daffy Duck, in the 1948 short "What Makes Daffy Duck." 

Neither I nor any other kid knew who Nimrod was -- even kids from churchgoing families might be expected to miss a name so briefly mentioned in the Bible -- and Daffy's snottiness seals the deal. The phonemes of NIMrod trip easily off the tongue with disdain, so a kid who didn't know better would just take it as an insult. Plus, it rhymes with dimwad, which sounds very much like a euphemism for dickhead.

Fake Nimrod

In much the same way as irony turned "Entrance of the Gladiators" from a thrilling scene -- mighty warriors prepared to face dismemberment and death in battle -- into clown music, so did the ironic use of the name Nimrod in a Warner Brothers' cartoon turn the mighty hunter into a clown himself. 

I very much doubt that anyone will ever film a biblical epic in the English language entitled Nimrod at this late date. Even Merriam-Webster has as a definition for the name "Idiot, Jerk (slang)".

Alas, poor Nimrod! How unfair is life! To start out a mighty hunter and king, and end up as a Fudd due to ignorance and irony. 

Oh, Nimrod! Oh, humanity! 

Electric heels.

One of the things I miss least about working in an office is getting to the office and getting home from same. Since most of my career was spent commuting via public transportation and shoe leather, the winter was the worst. Heavy coat, heavy boots, sloppy streets, grumpy New Yorkers. A regular winter wonderland. 

In those days I would keep a cheap pair of loafers in my desk -- one of those Payless pairs or the like that seemed to be made of compressed Hefty bags. That way I wouldn't be clomping around the place all day in my boots. The downside was that the plastic shoes, combined with winter air so lacking in humidity that it actually sucked water out of our skin, plus industrial carpeting, made the static electricity awful. I would carry a quarter in my pocket to tap against door handles to avoid getting shocked. The sparks between quarter and handle were often quite visible. I'd think, Isn't this how the Electric Eel on Underdog got his powers?

Believe me when I say how happy I was to not have a job that required working outdoors on such days. The reward of working outside on lovely days instead of being stuck in an office did not make up for having to labor in the freezing cold and rain and snow on tough days. But still, the static electricity was annoying. I think you could have stuck balloons on the wall without even rubbing them on your hair. Just carry one around for a while. 

Of course, my imagination and lack of scientific rigor expected more spectacular effects -- people's hair on end like they were hugging Van de Graaff generators; laptops shorting out at desks in a shower of sparks; the network being brought down by massive power surges; the combination of shocks and polyester clothes and negative humidity causing spontaneous human combustion. Fortunately real-world science is a little more forgiving than that. 

Winter still has lots of perils, so be careful out there, especially if you live in a land of ice and snow as I do. And if you work in an office, be careful in there. I'm not saying spontaneous human combustion is an actual danger, but the odds may be a titch north of zero. 

Run run Rudolph.

One of my very earliest memories was standing on line at preschool, desperately excited to tell the teacher something of great importance. I remember that I liked her, although I do not recall her name or face; I remember the room, but not one other student; and I remember we were all on line so she could inspect us, whether for proper dress or lice or what I have no idea. My focus on was telling this person that I had seen Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer on TV the night before. The Rankin-Bass special had been running for a while by then, but to me it was new, and I was so excited I wanted to tell someone, anyone! 

So I did, and she gave me a "That's delightful" or something while giving me the check, then sent me on my way. I could hardly believe it was possible that someone wouldn't have been equally excited about Rudolph, but adults were always weird and inscrutable. 

The reason I write about this today is I realized this is the first year to have passed without me seeing one single Rankin-Bass Christmas special, nor anything by Rankin and Bass, nor in fact any of the childhood favorites at all (Charlie Brown, Grinch, and so on). Even when I was a single, happenin' young dude I would always make time for the classics. It just didn't happen this year.  

It's true that I've been really busy, and also true that the dog hardly ever chills out long enough for me to just sit down and watch a TV show. (If the TV was in the backyard, I could watch epic movies out there.) And certainly, having seen these specials dozens of times, I think I'm familiar enough with them that I feel no overwhelming urge to engage with them now. Nostalgia is a strong pull at Christmastime, though. So where were they? 

Since I was a wee tot, the atomization of common culture has marched along, first slowly, then at rocket speed. Whereas everyone once watched the same handful of VHF networks (and were derided as dummies by the intelligentsia for it), there soon arose decent UHF, followed by cable, followed by home video machinery, and now online streaming. It's pretty rare that anyone watches the same thing at the same time in any large numbers now. TV networks used to try to fight for space by going big -- now they go cheap. Reality shows are the order of the day. But what could be cheaper than a 60-year-old animation? 

Ah, but in the interim, all those old specials went to videotape, DVD, and now posted online and to streaming services. Sure, the old Rankin-Bass specials might pop up on Disney's "Freeform" (once the Family Channel, when Disney cared about the family), but they are treated like poor relations coming around looking for a handout. Instead, we can watch green Jim Carrey steal presents and fat Tim Allen deliver them and that creepy train movie again and again. Seems weird to me, but I guess they know their business. 

Freedom of choice is a good thing, but the culture has become so shattered that I wish we still had some things we enjoyed in common. Taylor Swift is not going to bring us all together, trust me. But once, long ago, a red-nosed reindeer did a pretty good job of it. 

What's up with Whos?

Something has been bothering me for many years, and it's about time I said something about it. Here we go:

What's the deal with the Whos? 

I was a pretty small kid the first time I saw the Chuck Jones adaptation of Dr. Seuss's How the Grinch Stole Christmas! Even then I was concerned about the ending. Because the fact is, if I woke up on Christmas morning to find that I'd not only gotten nothing from Santa Claus, but that all our decorations and stuff were missing, I would not drift out to the middle of town with my eyes closed in delight to start singing. I'd have given the Grinch exactly what he hoped to hear -- hysterics.

Santy Claus thinks I've been naughty!!!!! 😭

That seemed to me to be the flaw in the story: It only works if you believe that we, like the Whos, would react with holiness and brotherhood to the Grinch's massive heist. From early childhood, I had my doubts.

Imagine -- the whole town has had everything removed. The presents, all the decorations, the whole shebang. The Grinch didn't just take the food for the big feast, he took all the food, every morsel, every can of Who Hash. These people were in an isolated, snowbound community. They were going to be pretty damned hungry. 

What conclusions could the Whos draw? That not only had everyone in town been really naughty, they had in fact been so incredibly naughty that Santa took things that belonged to them already? What could cause THAT kind of Santa smackdown? I knew we shouldn't have collaborated with the Nazis!  

And that's assuming that Santa Claus is real in the Seussverse. If Mom and Pop had bought all the gifts, the police would be called. When the cops saw how widespread the emergency was, they'd probably figure it was the Grinch. Hmm, who do we know that hates everyone and hates Christmas? Everyone else lives in town and lost all their stuff. It's got to be the old green freak on the mountain! A raid would be ordered on Mount Crumpit, and the Grinch might die in a hail of bullets, defiant to the end. 

We hope Max would get a good home. 

What I'm saying is, I wish I could think of me and the other people I knew of as being like the Whos, who in the face of loss and maybe hunger, still go out to Dahoo Dores in the town square. 

I think in reality the Grinch would have been right on the money -- people would be upset. It doesn't mean that the Grinch is not a big fat jerk, because he is. It just means that home invasion, felony theft, property damage, and the removal of all food, in addition to ruining everyone's Christmas, is no laughing matter. 

It would be a real challenge for any population to resume its duty of faith and gather to praise God (or whatever the Whos were doing with that song) in the face of this situation. I do think normal human Christians would still want to follow their plans and go to church, but they would still be upset, and anyway they'd probably have to spend the day filling out police reports. They certainly would be hard pressed to act like nothing had happened, however devoted to the celebration of the Birth of the Savior. 

The Whos seem to be made of better stuff than we are, which is good for them, but as I say, undermines the story. Because if we were Whos and were just as confounded and hysterical as the Grinch had hoped, then the green a-hole would have felt justified in his Grand Theft Christmas. Which makes it seem like Seuss got it wrong, and we don't really know the true meaning of Christmas. 

Maybe we should view the story as aspirational. Maybe like the Grinch, we should bump up our own hearts a size or two and be more like the Whos. 

But with better presents. I never wanted any great big electro whocarnio flooks. Too loud, too complicated. 

UPDATE! Couldn't resist:

Look! Gettin' up there!

It's a bird! A plane! A sagging blimp!

No, it's the hottest superhero team to ever limp into comics -- the Geriatric League! 

Featuring:

POLLY GRIP! 

She looks ancient but what a wrestler! Polly Grip has the superstrength that helps her to take on all opponents. There's no challenge she won't sink her teeth into!

AMNESIOSO!

Ever forget why you went into a room? Maybe Amnesioso used his magic power of forgetfulness on you! He's been known to make an entire bank vault of supervillains forget what they went in there for. If you forget him, you'll regret him!

POPS!

What's that popping sound? Knees? Knuckles? All that and more! If Pops doesn't knock you flat with his sonic popping sounds, he'll slay you with his horrible dad jokes. Gotta have your Pops! 

JULIUS GEEZER!

A truly commanding presence, Julius Geezer is the public face of the GL. His strategic brilliance and his undeniable charisma assure friends and scatter foes. Together with him, the League will cross the Rubicon... of justice!

SLOTHMAN!

What's mightier than superspeed? How about superslowness? No one can get past Slothman, especially when he's doing 35 on the right lane of a 65. Inflicting slowness upon and causing infuriation in his enemies, Slothman is one of the most dreaded of these golden oldies. 

BINGO WINGS! 

She glides as gracefully as an eagle but strikes with the suddenness of an owl. If your number comes up, Bingo Wings, will swoop down and put her marker on you -- and that's BINGO! my friend. The early-bird special is Bad Guy Surprise.

And of course, we must not neglect the inspirational leader of the League, that super (old) patriot:

CAPTAIN PRO-STATE! 

Radioactive seeds unleashed the mighty powers of Captain Pro-State, and he uses them to fight for truth, justice, and the American way! The Captain never sleeps in his quest for righteousness -- he was not dozing! His eyes were open! 

Okay, so why am I dragging out yet another superhero parody that pokes fun at old timers? Probably because we still haven't cut cable and gone over to streaming, and because of that I am noticing the advertisers on cable seem to focus more and more on commercials for the elderly. I guess the feeling is that only old farts have not gone over to streaming video. 

So, after the hundredth drug commercial, fake drug commercial, reverse mortgage commercial, and medical help pendants, I just went nuts and decided that what this country needs is a bunch of old superheroes who will protect the rights of the feeble and incontinent. Plus, considering that the frontrunners for the job of US President in 2024 will have a combined age of 159 on election day, we may need the help of some superheroes to keep our country afloat. Why not older heroes? 

Not like they have to worry about keeping normal jobs in their secret identities. They're all retired! Superheroing just beats mall-walking, pickleball, and pestering the grandkids, that's all. 

It's dog-eat-dog out there.

 

Statements made while watching Antiques Roadshow.

"How can that be an antique? I'm older than it is!"

"This will be a good one. The appraiser specializes in rich people stuff."

"They're not commercials. They're sponsors who donate to PBS out of the goodness of their hearts."

"HOW much? The dog could paint better than that!"

"Why isn't Nick doing this appraisal? Nick is the man for majolica." 

"Look at her face. She thought it would be worth a lot more."

"Oooh, this is gonna be a biggie!" 

"Toys are never worth much."

"Apparently this Picasso print was from his Greenbacks Period."

"He washed off the patina. FOOL."

"Don't we have something like that in the basement?"

"Hey, it's Lark! This will be valuable."
"Unless it's a fake."
"He never gets fakes."

Lark E. Mason, not getting a fake

"The Civil War stuff is fun."
"It wasn't the first time around."

"All painters should be dead for three hundred years."

"This is a game show for old people with tote bags."

"Veneer!" [obligatory Frasier reference]

"Books are never worth much."

"Sorry, I can't focus on the poster. The appraiser's suit is blinding me."

"If it doesn't have the magic T word [Tiffany], it's crap."

"Hey, it's Bruce! This will be worthless."
"Unless it's real."
"He never gets real stuff."

"Guitars are always worth a LOT."

We've got a Godzilla for sale.

Thinkin' about Godzilla. 

I don't believe I've ever seen a full Godzilla movie. By the time I came along they had gotten pretty silly. The original 1954 Toho movie was pretty damn dark -- Godzilla's ruin of Tokyo would have revived some horrible memories for audiences who had lived through the real thing, with Allied firebombing less than ten years earlier. The Operation Meetinghouse bombing of March 9 through 10, 1945, "is the single most destructive bombing raid in human history," according to Dr. Wikipedia. And yet people packed the theaters in Tokyo to see Godzilla (or, as he was known then, Gojira) destroy the city all over again. 

I've written before how seeing the destruction of midtown Manhattan in The Avengers in 2012 was hardly entertaining to me, having been in midtown on September 11 while my wife was downtown. I wondered about all the non-player characters in all the buildings who were getting obliterated or crippled for life. Previous superhero movies had been all about preventing horrific damage to innocents; this one felt like it was reveling in it, and less than 11 years after the terrorist attacks. 

But no one else seemed to be bothered, so I guess I'm just a little delicate little lotus flower, too good for this world. I haven't bothered with any other superhero movies since the first Guardians of the Galaxy. Don't even mention the word Transformers to me.  

For high-body-count entertainment, though, Godzilla is king of the destroyers. When the children of the original Japanese audiences got older, Toho found that they loved Godzilla, and so movies got geared to younger viewers and it showed. Sure, cities and irreplaceable landmarks and presumably thousands of people got killed, but it was fun! There was even a promotion to design a robot for 1973's Godzilla vs, Megalon. The winning entry was Jet Jaguar! And you can't blame the kid who won for the name, because Jet Jaguar was the name the studio gave the robot. 

Come on, people now, smile on your brother
Everybody get together
Try to love one another right now

I've never even seen the entire Mystery Science Theater episode that covered that picture. 

Some of my friends were big fans of the Godzilla and Godzilla-adjacent movies, which typically ran on ABC's famous 4:30 Movie, films for post-school kids cut in half and run over two days. ABC seemed to program for boys -- it would always be kaiju movies or the Planet of the Apes or low-budget horror films or the 1966 Batman movie or the like. I don't think I had the patience for movies in those days. I could sit through hours of TV, don't get me wrong, but in 30-minute segments, please. 

These days ol' Lizard Eye is back and bigger than ever. (A friend of mine in college always wanted to make a Godzilla movie where the Big G would go up against a bunch of hillbillies who called him "ol' Lizard Eye.") I'm told that in the new films from Legendary Pictures, the good humans want to find a way to coexist with all the giant monsters. Seems like a pretty tall order to me. Every time one of the damn things sneezes, a billion dollars of infrastructure goes up in flames. This is why we can't have nice things! 

I will say this for Godzilla -- he inspired a pretty great song by Blue Öyster Cult. With a riff reminiscent of Godzilla's scream, a thumping drum footstep, and verse hammered out in iambic tetrameter, it's irresistible. 

I just don't find fun in death and destruction. But there will always be those who love the Big G, and good for them. Just don't get stepped on.   

Meme machine!

Yes, we had dueling deadlines here at the ranch Friday, plus a toner trip, so we're doing another meme Saturday at your daily dose! Trade them, sell them, NFT them for all I care! 

 

And finally, in the Wish I’d Done That Department…

The ancients.

When I get up in the morning and I feel a little ancient, I remind myself -- well, no, I'm too busy schlepping to the bathroom and wondering what time it is to remind myself of anything. But if it is a morning where I feel the aches and pains that begin in middle age and end five hours after death, I remind myself that age is only a number. An enormous number, but a number.

Of course, when applied to various things, ancient is a relative term. Here's a little list I drew up to show how the word ancient, when commonly applied, changes depending on the subject:

Actors - Richard Burbage

Actors to Americans - Edwin Booth

Actors to Millennials - Robert Downey Jr.

Religions - Hinduism

Rocks - Bedrock, Hudson Bay, Canada (4.28 billion years old a week from Friday)

Colleges - Oxford

Buildings -

Duh.

Authors - Aristophanes 

Novelists - Cervantes

Novelists to Millennials - Stephen King

Stars - Methuselah (age: 16 billion; looks not a day over 15 billion)

Music -  “Seikilos Epitaph,” 1st century AD

Pop Music - Britney Spears 

Medicine - Belladonna

Topical Medicine - Coal Tar

Medical Treatment - Leeches

Nations - Iceland

Automobiles - Model T

Bloggers - Instapundit

Websites - Amazon

Computer - ENIAC

Modern Computer - iMac

Telephone - Candlestick

Telephone to Millennials - Flip Phone

TV Sitcom - Father Knows Best

TV Sitcom to Millennials - Full House

👴👴👴

So you see, it's all relative. And speaking of relatives, I have some who are older than I am, so as long as they're still kicking I am not going to consider myself ancient. 

De-meme-ing! Part 1.

A friend of mine (let's call him Philbin) wanted to post my super-hilarious and super-dated meme about Tommy Chong and Foster Brooks on Facebook. Much to our mutual surprise, Facebook's idiot censors rejected the post, saying it was offensive (violating "community standards," which would imply that the "community" is made up of drooling morons).

So, as a public service, I thought I had better explain this joke. I figured that they didn't get it. I have often said that dissecting a joke is like dissecting a frog, in that you can do it, but don't expect the frog to jump afterward. Nevertheless, since our Social Betters are A) stupid and B) ten years old and "literally know nothing," I thought I had better explain it from top to bottom. 

Don't worry, Facebook censors -- I am typing this slowly because I know you don't read very fast. Okay, here goes:

1) Tommy Chong:

Tommy Chong is a comedian and comic actor, best known as part of the duo Cheech & Chong with Cheech Marin. Chong was born in 1938, so he's not exactly some brash newcomer of whom Facebook could not be aware. Cheech & Chong were famous for drug-centered humor, as witnessed in their first comedy album, 1971's Big Bambu. They later made the most marijuana-soaked film ever, 1978's Up in Smoke. The movie was well-regarded among connoisseurs (my elder cousins) for gags like the pot-smuggling van made entirely of compressed marijuana and the drug-sniffing dog that gets killed just smelling it. Chong wasn't just kidding around -- he became a marijuana activist and longtime fighter for legalization. So Chong's connection to marijuana has been pretty well established for more than fifty years. 

2) CBD:

As has been recounted on this blog, CBD, or cannabidiol, is the magic compound in marijuana that doesn't get you high (that's Delta-9-tetrahydrocannabinol, or THC) but supposedly cures everything. Maybe some people really have found relief from these CBD products, but the few people I know who tried them thought they were disappointing. I begin to suspect it was just a means of promoting the agriculture of marijuana, as George Washington Carver developed more than 300 uses for peanuts to help peanut agriculture. The difference is, most of Carver's inventions were useful. Be that as it may, Tommy Chong went all in on this, promoting his line of hemp-based products, notably those containing the magic ingredient CBD. So it's no offense to anyone that this former star stoner is promoting CBD; it's exactly the truth.

3) Foster Brooks:

Foster Brooks (1912-2001) was a comedian who had one schtick, but he was exceptionally good at it: He was a drunk. He had the knack for coming across as a cheerful, befuddled drunken man trying very hard not to appear drunk, and would stumble over words and make unusual statements in a way much funnier than any real drunk. In reality, Brooks was not a drinker, or had not been for many years when he became famous doing this bit. 

4) O'Doul's:

O'Doul's is one of the first successful U.S. brands of nonalcoholic beer, or rather beer with trace amounts of alcohol in it. This Anheuser Busch product has an alcohol content of .4%; a regular Budweiser has an alcohol content of 5%. So to get the buzz from one lousy can of Bud, you'd have to drink 12.5 cans of O'Doul's. It's still not recommended for people in recovery from alcohol addiction, but you can imagine how insanely difficult it would be to get loaded on O'Doul's. 

5) The Punch Line:

The comparison, then, is a simple one, that of a famous stoner who sells marijuana products that don't contain THC to a famous drunk selling beer that doesn't contain alcohol. Both guys were comedians who made a lot of comic hay playing people whose addictions were way out of control but were still funny to watch. So the meme is challenging others to disprove that this is a valid comparison. (This could be done by pointing out that Chong is still using pot while Brooks was not using alcohol, for one thing.)

6) Facebook:

So what's the problem? Does Facebook just not have a sense of humor? Well, no, it doesn't, because it's run by SJWs, but is that the whole problem?

Well, Philbin continued to investigate, and what he turned up is shocking! Tune in tomorrow for the revelation -- it's amazing! And if you disagree, change my mind! 

Frecoin Super Bowl Ad!

Well, friends, I hope you enjoyed the Super Bowl! Mostly of course I hope you enjoyed the Fredcoin ad that aired coast-to-coast during the game, and even in parts of Guam! It's sure to be on everyone's Top 10 Super Bowl LVII Commercials this morning. 

Did you miss it? I mean, it was right there, late in the fourth quarter. Actually, it was after the final whistle. A little bit. A couple of hours. Well, just in case you did, you'd better have a look at this baby, because everyone at the office is going to be talking about it this morning. 

 

Doesn't that just have the zingeroo? Gets the visual across with a catchy tune and leaves people wanting more. Like a lot of the ads, it doesn't waste time explaining the product. If you're not cool enough to know what we're talking about, well, I guess it sucks to be you. Or you could just look online and find out that Fredcoin is simply the fastest growing cryptocurrency mentioned in this post. It's true! 

I don't mind telling you we spent a pretty penny on that ad, yessir, a pretty penny. It was a 2018, exceptionally shiny. Minted in Denver, I believe. But it was totally worth it. Our agency, Wahoo Begonia, is simply amazing. Great work, guys! Is that Clio I smell? 

So thanks for all of you who supported us when we were just starting out, a far cry then from hitting the "Big Time." Remember, we're always here for you for all your crypto needs. We'll never get "too big for our britches." We're not even sure what "britches" are, but we'll never outgrow them. 

Oh, and I hope you liked the game. I heard one team beat the other one. That's probably for the best.