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. 

Size does matter.

 

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."

Options they don't allow us.

 

Confessions of a thief.

 

I was a petty thief, but I am trying not to be anymore. 

Which is good, because apparently I suck at stealing things unless I'm not trying to. Then I am the Napoleon of Crime. 

When I was a boy, my mom would let me wander the aisles of the supermarket while she was shopping. (Yes, kids, it was a different world then.) On some occasions I pocketed a roll of Rolos, my favorite candy. No one ever caught me at it. I probably thought I was pretty clever.  

As I look back, I think even then they had security cameras, and they probably saw me. But they probably figured it was worth a little candy to keep my mother shopping there. We were regulars; she even had her favorite cashier. If they'd busted me, Mom would have been embarrassed (furious, but also embarrassed) and we would have gone to some other supermarket. And now I figure the managers knew that. 

Later in life I got caught stealing a comic book. One of -- but far from the most -- humiliating moments of my life. It was clear that I was no master criminal. And a stupid comic book, full of heroes that fought crime! Ironic and embarrassing. I genuinely wanted to walk out into traffic when they let me go. The manager had gotten my name and phone number and I figured he'd call my parents (can you believe I coughed up the real number?) but he never did. I confessed to my folks anyway. 

I did not grow up in the most morally upright household. My dad's advice following the comic book incident was not: Don't steal. It was: Never steal anything small. The penalty is the same for small and large thefts at felony size, so if you're going to steal, make it worthwhile. My father was a taciturn man, not given to advising -- the only other piece of advice I remember him telling me is "Don't weaken. It's a great life if you don't weaken."

Alas, I continued to steal small. While I was in college I stole books (I really am a dork) from a publishing distributor for whom I worked on Sundays. He had to have figured it out. He would call me on Fridays to check my availability. One Friday he didn't call. He never called again. I really didn't seem to care at the time.

After that, there was less thievery. I took the Xerox subsidy at work later on, and stole postage to mail out manuscripts, but I eventually I stopped taking things that were not mine. Over time I seemed to have had the slowest, stupidest, most reluctant, most half-assed, but eventually effective spiritual awakening possible, and thank God I lived long enough for it. So I didn't steal anything anymore.  

Then I stole a skid of toilet paper. 

Just a couple of weeks ago.

It was a total accident. I was on the self-checkout line at Home Depot, with several things in a cart, including a 24-roll package of Charmin ($25 on sale). I was sure I had scanned everything with the scanning gun, but when I got home and looked at the receipt, I discovered that I had walked out the door without paying for the TP.

I had pulled that heist right in front of an employee who was watching me scan. Master thief!

It bothered me. My wife thought it was funny. A friend me mine called it "No big shit!" (hyuk hyuk). But I don't want to steal anything anymore. 

So, on Friday I went back for another $25 skid -- not like it will go stale -- and charged myself for two. The ledger is corrected, the inventory proper. Order and balance are restored.

Maybe no one noticed, no one cared. But I care. Because if I steal, I am a man who steals, but if I refuse to let myself steal I am not. Not anymore. I much prefer that.

Anyway, I have a lot of TP around, so if you stop by I can slip you a couple of rolls. Be my guest. 

Don't worry; it's paid for. 

Will Fred survive this burger?

The current CEO of McDonald's, Christopher Kempczinski, made internet infamy a couple of weeks back with what seems to be an ill-considered video of him trying the company's Big Arch, their most enormous hamburger to date, I believe. From most accounts (such as this one) it did not go too well. Mr. Kempczinski seems to be a man in good shape, one who does a lot of aerobic activity -- for all I know he rides a bike to work. He does not, in fact, look like someone who has ever set foot in a McDonald's restaurant. 

By contrast, when Donald Trump took a turn making fries and working the window of a McDonald's in 2024, he looked like he fit right in. 

But while Kempczinski was battered with many jests and parody videos, if his intention was to get people to hear about the Big Arch, he did succeed. The large burger is decribed thus: "two quarter-pound beef patties, three slices of white cheddar cheese, crispy onions, slivered onions, pickles, and a tangy new 'Big Arch sauce' on a sesame-and-poppy-seed bun." Available for a limited time.

Well, on Monday, because we had no time to cook, and we were out later than hoped, the mrs. and I decided to pick up a quick dinner to go from McD's. Even though I was not ravenous, I was curious, and I felt a little bad for the CEO, so I decided to try the monster sandwich. 

Buckle up! 

 

We start right off with the weird hybrid bun -- an holy marriage of sesame and poppy seeds. As neither of these provide much flavor, it seems like McDonald's is just showing off here. Julia Child once complained that the Big Mac had too much bread, and the Big Arch is also bread heavy (although lacking the center slice of the Mac). But I love bread, so no complaints on that score. 

As we take a much more considerable bite than the CEO did, we note that the "Arch Sauce" is not related to the "Dijonaisse" sauce from the failed Arch Deluxe of thirty years gone. This has a more orange look, a bit darker than the Special Sauce of the Big Mac but with a similar flavor. Maybe a little paprika makes the difference. 

(Notice I got the small fries with this burger rather than my usual medium fries; got to watch my figure, you know.)

I would say that if you like the way McDonald's makes hamburgers, this is that but more of it. I could have used more pickles to brighten it up, but that may have been an assembly line error. The crispy onions were tasty but kinda soggy. Since they were cooked, though, they were less gassy than raw onions.

So, I give the Big Arch the conditional thumb's-up.

The CEO claimed he was going to eat his Big Arch for lunch, but I would doubt that even if he had taken a real, manly bite instead of a nibble. I would never get a Big Arch for a meal if I had to be alert afterward. With a reported caloric load of 1,020–1,057 kcal, I would be much more inclined to take a nap.

I did feel afterward like I had consumed the tire off a city bus, and in fact still felt that way in the morning. But I'm no hungry teen -- and I knew some teen athletes in my youth who probably could have eaten two of these with fries and a shake, then wanted dessert. I'm well past that kind of chowhoundery. 

For the record, as hefty as the Big Arch is, it contains fewer calories than Five Guys' Bacon Cheeseburger (1,060), Wendy's Triple (1,195), or Applebee's O-M-Cheese Burger (1,900). That last one is in a class by itself, I think. So while large, and too much for lunch, the Big Arch is hardly the Godzilla-size sandwich it's made out to be. But it ain't health food, and the American Heart Association is probably devoting a page to it on its website as I write.