Don't taunt the man who hasn't had his coffee.

I want to thank everyone who chimed in when I mentioned that we were looking for a new coffeemaker in February: Cpl. Rock, Mr. Philbin, et al. You perked me up! (ha)

We decided after much dithering to go with a thermal drip pot from Cuisinart. We wanted to try a thermal pot, in the hope that we could go for a coffee after a couple of hours and not have it taste like it came out of one of those hospital vending machines they used to have, the kind that also dispense hot cocoa and chicken soup from the same nozzle. We wanted a 12-cup pot as well; some makers seem to focus on a 10 or smaller, and we're much too sleepy for a dose that small. We selected Cuisinart as we have had mostly good luck with the Cuisinart line. (What's that? Where did we go on it? No, you're thinking of Cunard, not Cuisinart, silly imaginary person.)

So yesterday I opened the box for the new pot, excited to give the old Mr. Coffee a furlough, and -- hey now! What's this? 

Yes, the top of the handle is missing a little slab of plastic that covers a hollow area. It's not a "some assembly required" thing; there'd be no reason to leave that out, and yes, I did check the box and the instructions to make sure. The piece that was supposed to go here never got there. It's tempting to call it a "you had one job" thing, like this classic:

But it may have been a robo assembly that failed to snap that last piece in place. I could say It had one job. But that's just not as satisfying.

Once I had convinced myself that the gap in the handle was indeed an error and not a slot that something was supposed to connect to, I contacted Cuisinart via e-mail (texting just seemed to brusque). They don't promise an answer within 24 hours like some places, or 48 or 72 or 5,542 hours for that matter. Anyway, I haven't heard back yet.

The Cuisinart pot cost $129,00 (we got it on sale, but still). This is looking cheap, Cuisinart, and I'm not happy. Little things mean a lot. You may have your products chucked together carelessly, but you don't want us knowing that. I demand satisfaction! And coffee!

Groaner.

Even in the old folks' home, Albert wouldn't stop making Dad jokes.

Film art.

A friend of mine recommended this short film, which stars a friend of his, and a friend of his, and was directed by a friend of theirs.

Does this count as nepotism?

Anyway, I recommend it to you. Few films of roughly three minutes deal so well with heavy issues such as drugs and death. Have a look.

Isn't that powerful? I think the Academy is going to want to remember this next year. For my friend, and his friend, and  his friend, and their friends, give it an upvote. If there's a worse way to get recognition than by writing, it's acting, and I am assured these are all pretty nice folks. Thanks!

Memotus to Parentus.

[Another "classic" from the old, nonfunctional Fred site.]

Dear Parents, Guardians, and Other Patroni:

We're all very excited for the new Varsity Gladiator season! I know you parents are almost as thrilled as your kids. And hello all you newcomers!

Meet the gang!

First, we'd like to welcome back our returning students from last year. Congratulations once more to Cassio Regulus of Regio VI, champion of his division! Cassio, who returns as a senior this year, was a starting retiarius who went on to the City Finals. We were all rooting for him, but unfortunately he only got to the first round --- bad luck, Cassio! We weren't the only ones impressed with his performance, though, and we'll never forget the cheers of the crowd calling to spare his life. Thumbs-up, Cass!

For incoming freshmen, we'll be running tryouts starting on Sextilis VII at IX o'clock. If you can bring your own equipment that's great, but an assortment of swords, armor, tridents, nets, shields, daggers, and other sporting goods will be available. While we're at it, let's give a quick shout-out to Mr. Cestus, our equipment manager, for keeping everything neat and clean. Great job, Benny!

We have heard some talk about only fast guys or strong guys making the squad, but folks, let me remind you that the beauty of this sport is that every type has an advantage, and our mission is to bring that out. We want to build strong children, but we mostly want to build strong character. Our program is grounded in a commitment to making men out of boys through fear and pain. Some call us old-fashioned. We like to remind them, though, that, as they say, the Battle of Alesia was won on the playing fields of Capua. The boys who survive our program today will be the men that beat the excrementum out of the Celts tomorrow.

On a more serious note, we would like to remind parents that while it is crucial to support their children in their athletic endeavors, we would really like to not have a repeat of the embarrassing incidents that marred our season last year. Of course we are referring to the riot following Principal Atticus's decision after the Aurelius/Carpus match. It was a fair fight and Carpus brought shame to himself. Parents need to understand that not every call is going to go their way. And please, this year, leave all cutlery at home!

Fees for students admitted to the program will be due on Sextilis XXVIII. Please make sure payment is on time and in the form of bronze.

Thanks, everybody.  and let's make this a bloody great season!

Morior Invictus,

Coach Felix Flavius

Imperial School 45

"Morituri te salutant!"

Let's go Pez truckin'.

Dunkin' Donuts, the evil chain that lures me in time and again with their wonderful coffee ("And while you're here, why not have a delicious doughnut?"), showed once again that they're tops in allying themselves with strange partners to deliver irresistible products. 

Dunkin' paired with Just Born, the company that makes Peeps, three years ago when it produced the Peeps doughnut. It has partnered with Nabisco to make hideously sweet Oreos doughnuts. 

But Pez?

No, they haven't come up with a doughnut that dispenses tasty Pez candies when you break it in half. It's actually a Pez dispenser in the shape of a Dunkin' Donuts delivery truck. 

Let's face it: These people are geniuses.

I have to hand it to them for partnering with small as well as large. Nabisco, or rather its parent company, the lousily named Mondelēz, is gigantic (2016 revenues: $26 billion), while Just Born is much smaller (looks like $170 million annual revenues) and privately owned. Pez is even smaller, still owned by the family that founded it in 1927. Its sales are about $82 million, presumably including trucks at Dunkin' Donuts.

You can bet this little item will make a showing at Pezmania, the world's largest gathering of Pez collectors, in Cleveland this July. And at the Burlingame Museum of Pez Memorabilia in California. And of course at the home office, the Pez Visitor Center at the Pez factory in Orange, Connecticut. Pez, that magical combination of candy and toy, seems to inspire people the way Coca-Cola does.

What I want to know is, why doesn't Dunkin' Donuts have a museum and visitor center at their home office in Canton, Massachusetts? From what I can see on the map, they don't even have a store in the office building, although there is one right down the block. Canton's only about four hours' drive from here; if they put in a Donut Hall of Fame or something I'd go visit. Wouldn't you? Of course you would.

Root root root for the home team, if they don't win....

...THEY SUCK!

Sorry, just getting ready for Mets opening day.

I'll be watching today, but my rooting muscles are stiff. Never did get to warm up much during spring training. The long-awaited United States victory in the World Baseball Classic might have gotten me into shape, if I'd known it was going on before it was over. Maybe if a game or two had been on TV somewhere I would have.

Other MLB teams started yesterday -- the Yankees not only lost their first game of the season, they lost the first game of the season, to Tampa. The Diamondbacks got a walkoff win against the Giants, and the Cards took a wild one from the Cubs. Today my team starts its drive to win its division.

More people are concerned with Gonzaga vs. NC tonight, but I've never been a fan of basketball or college sports. Maybe because my alma mater was not a Division I school. I think we played in a division so low it did not actually get a number. I think it was NCAA Division 😜.

I got excited about baseball when I was a little kid, but I had to learn how to watch it. No one in my family was into watching sports. I tried to enjoy it on my own, I really did, but I was kind of bored and no one explained to me the fine points of the game. Then the Mets went from being a powerhouse club to an embarrassment again and I gave up. Yet, despite this hardscrabble childhood I eventually came to love the game, although I have always been a terrible athlete.

You're wondering: how can such a fine hunk of manhood as myself be bad at sports? And yet it's true. It didn't help that no one around me taught me how to do anything sportswise -- there was precious little instruction in our public school and none at home. And I was a lazy kid anyway, preferring to read or watch the tube. To this day I have the coordination of a drunken panda with vertigo.

All this was the inspiration for a book you'll notice to the right, MacFinster II: MacFinster's Folly, the one with the big baseball on the cover. It's not a baseball book per se, but baseball is key to its comedic plot. Our hero, George Darmowycz, has one thing in common with me, and that's a complete inability to play the game. When he is chosen to participate in a million-dollar home-run hitting contest, he and his best pal Rex MacFinster wonder if it's some kind of setup.

As you can imagine, trouble ensues, and then some.

It's a sequel to MacFinster, but you don't need to read that to enjoy the second one. If you're of a mind, you could check out a sample chapter on Amazon or read the one I posted when it came out.

I am also considering running an essay in this space, one I wrote a few years back when an editor friend was looking for essays on baseball for a book he was compiling. His publisher ultimately passed on the project, and I've never done anything with it. It's got some painful memories and I've been a little reluctant to put it out on this blog, which I usually enjoy as a light or pensive project, not a gut-wrenching bleedathon. Still thinking about it.

Maybe if the Mets start the season poorly I'll want a gut-wrenching bleedathon. Failure is always an option for my boys in blue.

Confess!

A couple of weeks ago I whined about how poorly my Lent is going, and while perusing the archives I found I whined about the same thing two years ago. In both cases I note that I had not yet done my Easter duty, going to Confession. Guess what I still haven't done?

I have not been avoiding it, I really have not. Many Catholics I know do. This is how they tend to picture Confession:

And certainly that's the image most non-Catholics have of it.

This has not been my experience as a Catholic. I find Confession, or Reconciliation (its more modern, more friendly, and also accurate name), to be more like a psychologist's office, but with less judgment.

I'm not kidding about that. I've felt a lot more judgment at the gym than in Confession. I even felt more judgment at my old office, that kale-sucking barn of vocal fry and uptalking. People who say they don't make judgments are being untruthful, for everyone does, but Confession specifically focuses on the sin, not the sinner. Unlike at the gym.

My experience of Confession has always been positive, even with -- sometimes especially with -- the more old-fashioned rigorous priests. I don't go skipping out of church, the weight of the world shrugged off, as many of my coreligionists report. That's never happened to me. I suffer from perfectionism, and so I always feel I have been inadequate in holding up my end of the sacrament. But I feel forgiven, and a little more hopeful.

So why haven't I been yet? Scheduling problems -- really. I may try to sneak in during the week, but to arrange that I have to ask the priest. I'm more of a behind-the-screen confessor, enjoying the anonymity, and that's out the window if I have to ask in advance.

Our local parishes only do regular Confession on Saturdays, unfortunately. When I worked in Manhattan it was easy to go, since they had Confession at lunchtime during weekdays. They need more of it down there. They should probably have 24-hour round-the-clock Confession down there.