Bad game shows.

I was trading notes on the Globle, the game that does for geography what Wordle does for five-letter words, with my old friends, and the question of Micronesia came up. Country or not? I remembered that it had once been administered by the United States, but has been independent for some time (official since 1990, as it turns out). I remembered that prior to full independence from the United States, there was a syndicated late-night game show that sent its winners on vacation there. I will be doggoned if I can remember or find the name of the show, but Micronesia has stuck with me. 

Anyway, it reminded me that there have been many lame game shows through the years. And yet, I can think of many lamer ones that never got made. Here are a few. 

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Bowling for Flounder

The Bong Show

Name That Rationalist Philosopher

What's In Your Fridge?

Wheel of Mishegoss    

Three Rounds with the Mike Tyson

Snot Potato!

Clinical Study

Eat Your Weight

Russian Roulette

The Recently Divorced Game

Three-Card Monte on Avenue D

Clean That Bathroom!

Girl or Drag Queen?

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Personally, I think I'll buy my own ticket to Micronesia, thanks. If I ever want to go to Micronesia. 

Return of Fredcoin!

Yes, friends, it's another plug for everyone's favorite cryptocurrency, Fredcoin! 

It's occurred to me that some of you out there in the virtual world still haven't invested your worthless U.S. dollars in rock-solid Fredcoin, and I wonder why. If you find yourself unaccountably reluctant, just look at this notarized list of 15 reasons to put your money in Fredcoin, and I'm sure you will come around. 

1. At Fredcoin, we never fight about whether someone on the bill fought Indians or owned slaves or otherized the bi-gendered in the Gilded Age. We just put Fred on all the documentation and ignore all that trouble. 

2. You can cash in your Fredcoin for S&H Green Stamps anytime you like. 

3. Fredcoin has 25% of your daily requirement of magnesium. 

4. You can't be suckered into losing your Fredcoin in a pachinko machine. 

5. Unlike other crypto guys, I will never forget the password that keeps Fredcoin secure. It's PASSWORD. Isn't that clever?

6. Fredcoin can be used to treat lumbago and has few side effects. 

7. On St. Patrick's Day, ask your bartender if he takes O'Fredcoin, our special issue for the holiday!

8. The word Fredcoin has only eight letters and two syllables. 

9. We're on track to make Fredcoin the first cryptocurrency on the moon!

10. Congress is printing money like crazy people, but not Fredcoin! Who would you rather trust, our insane Congress or ol' reliable Fred?

11. We expect to nail down our sponsorship of the Fredapalooza Festival this year, featuring great acts like the Flangepart Five, Hookers & Lookers, and Smiley Jim and His Magic Accordion. 

12. Wombats prefer Fredcoin two-to-one over regular money.

13. Bitcoin is common as dirt. Fredcoin is for the rarified smart set.

14. Fredcoin is available in Regular and Menthol.

15.  Chuck Norris's birth name is Fred Nioc, which you'll notice is Fredcoin spelled sideways, sort of.

So make Fredcoin part of your complete breakfast!

Finally, a friendly reminder that Daylight Savings Time has begun, so it's time to set those clocks ahead one hour! It's easier to push them forward one hour than to go all around the dial to push them back an hour. It's the only place in life where it's easier to spring forward than to fall behind. 

Gone fishin'.

 

An ice guy.

It's truly said that there are two kinds of guys who go from a nice warm bed to the frigid winter cold in under five minutes -- guys whose house is on fire and guys who own dogs. 

I'd much rather be the latter than the former, but some days it feels like a close thing.

This was particularly true on Wednesday night, when we had what was among the last and prettiest snowfalls of this winter. 

It snowed lightly, then heavily; it didn't coat the lawn, but then it did; it didn't stick on the driveway and roads, then it stuck to everything. On the whole it didn't amount to much, not even enough to warrant the use of a snowblower or call in the plow. 

Then large dog Fazzy had to go out multiple times in the night. I know not why. He didn't eat something unusual, at least not from us. He eats mud. He thinks it's full of minerals or something, I don't know. Maybe he's been reading Goop. I think he's too smart for that, though. The point is, between bedtime and the wee hours, the damp snow froze from the bottom up, leaving a slippery mess on top and a slick disaster on the bottom. 

I'm sorry to say I lost my temper with the dog, because it was A) the middle of the night and B) no time to be fooling around, which he was, in addition to doing what he had to do, when he got around to it. Apologies to everyone on the block for the crazy person threatening to murder a dog at that late hour. I slipped several times, but did not fall, thank heaven. But it put the fear into me, and I got mad. Mean mad. 

Thursday the temperature rose to 48, and the sidewalk that almost was a slidewalk became clear and dry by noon. 

It was beautiful morning, so people said; my wife and one other person mentioned that it looked like a Christmas card out there. And so it did. But we know what that was all about. 

In March, Winter puts on her most lovely outfit, makes up her hair and face, and slinks to the door, saying, "You're going to miss me when I'm gone, sugar."

And I say, "You almost caused me five concussions, two broken bones, and a permanent limp. Beat it, sister -- you've overstayed your welcome."

P.S.: Two to four expected Saturday. Winter is vindictive.

Let them eat cake!

You may have seen the sad news posted yesterday -- the great Charles Entenmann passed away at the age of 92. Entenmann was the cake magnate who took his German-immigrant father's Long Island bakery and turned it into a national brand. 

Unfortunately, the family has since sold it to Bimbo, the Mexican conglomerate that also now owns Thomas', Arnold, Ball Park, Beefsteak, Boboli, Sara Lee, and a number of other American baking labels. Still, I shall always have a doughy-soft spot in my heart for Entenmann's. 

I always considered Entenmann's a New York phenomenon, a product line that could be found in any store in the city but not known elsewhere. The show Seinfeld reinforced that local pride. In the Frogger episode, Elaine replaces a piece of frozen cake from Edward VIII's wedding with a slice of Entenmann's cake. In the Audrey episode, date-of-the-week Audrey is apparently known to keep Entenmann's doughnuts in her purse. 

My dad would have sided with Audrey. He was a big fan of their chocolate glazed doughnuts. He would take a bite of one in the morning to get the stale cigarette taste out of his mouth. We could eat any sweets around the house, but Dad's Malomars, Hershey with Almonds, and Entenmann's doughnuts were off-limits. 

My mom and my aunt were wild for the Entenmann's crumb coffee cake. If the cake got a little stale, they'd just cut the crumb topping off and eat that. Sometimes they wouldn't wait for the cake to get stale. 

I always liked their soft chocolate chip cookies. They made a good booze-free fruitcake, too, although not as good as Freihofer's. Now Bimbo owns both brands and nobody makes fruitcake. 

While my family was loading up with Charles Entenmann's sweets, he wasn't. According to his son, "He didn’t eat Entenmann’s cake … He just wasn’t a dessert guy." Well, maybe that's one reason Charles made it to 92. But as the obit makes clear, he was a man who treated his employees with respect, whatever their job; he was generous; and he had a great sense of humor. He may not have eaten sweets, but it seems like he was a sweetheart anyway. Rest in peace. 

TIPL.

Yesterday in the comments section of the Great Lileks's Bleat, I offered TIPL to a joke. TIPL is The Inevitable Punch Line. In this case, the punch line was a modification of the gag about first prize being a week in Philadelphia, and second prize being two weeks in Philadelphia. 

TIPLs show up in any conversation where people are apt to make a comment that sounds like the set-up to a well-known joke. In this way they function as either a short version of the joke, or can even be a standalone joke.

Examples of the first sort include tidbits like this: 

"Last night the bartender threw a guy out for bringing in his dog."

"And the dog said, 'Do you think I shoulda said DiMaggio?'"

"Looks like we're heading for layoffs."
"What you mean 'we,' whitey?" 

"Geez, that guy looks like Quasimodo."

"Well, his face rings a bell."

"The ecumenical service had a priest, a minister, and a rabbi."
"And the rabbi says, 'Is this some kind of joke?'"

Examples of the standalone sort might be:

"Get the other hose. This one's isn't long enough."

"That's what she said!"

So beware, friends; if chatting in a witty group, anything you say can and will be used to trigger TIPL if it fits in any possible way. Look for the sign of the punching line! 

Puppy vs. Bumble.

Dear friends of ours gave our puppy Izzy a Bumble to destroy. He loved it. 

Technically the head of a Bumble.

The Bumble was part of a Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer collection from dog-themed subscription service BarkBox. It's not the kind of thing we would sign up for ourselves, which made it a great gift as a one-off. 

Izzy really loved this toy. We had to get it away from him sometimes so he would eat and sleep. He got supervised play every evening. And eventually it was destroyed. "Eventually" meant three days. But our previous toy-destroyer, the late great Nipper, would have destroyed it in fifteen minutes, so this was an improvement. 

BarkBox costs $35 month, for which you get treats and toys, but we can get a lot more than what they provide for the money. I applaud the company for the quality of the toy, though, and the little touches. For example, this is printed on the inside of the inside of toy's fabric:

"Time to Throw Me Away" and "All Good Things Must Come to an End." Both true, alas.

Inside the Bumble head was a squeaky ball, which was cool, because it meant that inside the toy was another toy. Kind of like playing with the bones after you eat the squirrel, I guess. 

Behold the skull of the Bumble

We also had another BarkBox toy; this didn't have a ball inside, but did have a squeaker, and the squeaker had another message for the dog owner:

"Game Over / Your Dog Won / Discard This Squeaker"

It's the little touches that make it fun for the humans. 

Izzy doesn't go for just any toy, but he really loved these. We were really grateful for the gifts. They gave him something to destroy that was not rugs, furniture, or shoes. And it was nice to know that Yukon Cornelius was right: Bumbles bounce.