Happy pants!

Sorry I was so low yesterday. I took steps to remediate it. Actually, I got right to it and put on my happy pants! 

You can't go around looking glum with bright red sweatpants on. You just look like an idiot. It's the same reason I used to wear amusing neckties to the office when I was unhappy -- if someone would cheese me off or something would fill me with disgust or discomfort, I'd look down and see I had on a tie with Warner Brothers critters or cartoon elephants or something, and I'd have to turn that frown upside down. It was my Sun-Will-Come-Out-Tomorrow, Give-a-Little-Whistle, Fake-It-Till-You-Make-It, Whistle-a-Happy-Tune, even Smile-Though-Your-Heart-Is-Breaking moment, and it would get me through the day. Then I'd take the tie off and scowl all the way home. But I'd made it to five!

The bright red sweatpants were a bit of an error. I love Jockey's sweatpants, and while ordering a couple of pairs I noticed the red ones were on sale. They looked red on screen, but they looked REALLY red on my legs. I'm not one to wear bright colors, being more old-fashioned in my couture, so this was a surprise for my wife. I had to explain that my cheapness had brought about this change in style.

I do wear these semi-clown sweats at times other than needed to cheer myself up. I dig out my New York Giants cap and wear the sweats with a blue shirt to annoy my Cowboys-fan neighbor. I think that wearing them with a blue shirt and white socks (as pictured) also makes me look like a Great Value Golden Age Superhero. Sweatsman! And Panty, the Wonder Pooch!

And then there's Santa. It's warm now, but Christmas morning was freezing. I put on a Santa hat, my red sweatpants, and the Stay-Puft Marshmallow Man coat that I only wear when it gets close to zero. It was very early, and figured maybe some kiddies might like to see Santa out walking his dog. Or I'd just tell them I was an elf, since I have no beard. "Yeah, all us elves actually are about my height. A lot of us own dogs, sure. Only friendly ones. Santa uses the dog crap when he stuffs the stockings of Congressmen."

Well, I didn't see a soul -- it was really early and really cold -- but the next day I had the same getup on when I got up, and a pickup truck honked at me. Local utility company truck, I think. Anyway, I gave him a Merry Christmas salute as he went by. 

Red pants: The cure for mopeyness. 

Crymate change.

Is the rooster facing the wrong way on this weathervane clip art? 

I'm not sure if I'm dealing with seasonal affective disorder or post-Christmas blahs or what, but our unseasonably warm temperatures haven't lifted my spirits. Maybe I like the fighting with the snow that usually comes in January. Takes my mind off things. I don't think I'd miss the snow much if I moved south and never ran into it again. But a good fight can bring a guy some pride.

As usual, most of our neighbors couldn't wait to get all their Christmas decorations down, as if the whole thing had been a big mistake and they wanted to forget it and move on. The rest have been taking them down one by one, or just not lighting up anymore. Not us. We're lit till Epiphany, boys! Technically that's today, but it's not celebrated until Mass on Sunday. Then we return to Ordinary Time. (I always hear the voice of Lili from Blazing Saddles: "Oh . . . how ordinawy.") 

If we're the last house with lights on through Sunday night, so be it. I'll clear the outdoor stuff Monday. There's no blizzard on the way. 

Work is starting to rev up again -- a little slow off the starting blocks this week with the freelance assignments, but we're getting there. Meanwhile there's always the sense that No One Likes Me Anymore and I'm Going to Have to Live in a Box. Not that I worry about things.

Fighting snow, fighting through a pile of editorial work, keeping body and soul together and house intact through the winter -- maybe it does give a man a sense of purpose. That's one way to fight the January blues. I don't know what people do in the south. Enjoy themselves, maybe. I don't know how to do that.

Licence to veil.

James Bond's car in Goldfinger was the greatest. Machine guns in front, oil slick, smoke screen, bulletproof shield, tire-slashers, ejector seat -- every other Bond car after that one was just okay, even if it had silly things like an underwater mode, exploding theft prevention, remote control, or invisibility. That Aston Martin D85 was the gold standard.

One of its lesser features, but perhaps the one many of us would want in real life, was the automatic license plate changer. At the push of a button, the plates would change, the identity of the car thus obscured. "Hmm! I was chasing an exceptionally expensive silver sportscar down this country lane, but it had different plates than the one up ahead. I shall look elsewhere for the one I want." Okay, maybe it wasn't the greatest -- but if I'm driving a dull gray Honda and switch the plates, it might keep me from being caught by the law if my car has been tagged as belonging to an undesirable. 

So it's a clever device. This? I'm thinking not so smart. 

I was behind this Dodge with its blackout windows and, at a light, examined its blackout license plate cover. What the hell is this? In the old Hardy Boys days, crooks would just splash mud on the license plate to obscure it and provide plausible deniability if the cops noticed. (It was a trick used in almost every book.) But completely covering the plate?

Apparently in New York you can tint the hell out of the rear window as long as the side mirrors give the driver a clear view of what's behind him. And this guy's rear window looked like it had been painted black. But what about the plate?

Sure enough, smoke-tinted plate covers are a thing--easily found on Amazon and eBay--but there's got to be a catch, right? First of all, what legit reason would make you want to tint your license plate cover? Worried about the glare? It's supposed to have one; maybe other states are different, but in New York the plates are reflective to make them more legible at night. Afraid to damage your precious license plate? Are you kidding? If something hits you that hard, you're going to have much worse trouble than the condition of your plate. Want to preserve your beautiful plate from sun and weather damage? What, and then cover it up so no one can admire its beauty anyway?

Sure enough, the Q&A section of one Amazon seller notes that these covers are illegal to use except on the front vanity plate in a one-plate state (despite the fact that most of these covers are sold in two-packs). So this driver in front of me was totally breaking the law. Why? Probably to avoid paying tolls, as it turns out. He's not a mob hitman; he's just a damn cheapskate.

I have to suppose that this is a wink-wink situation, like all those years that bongs and hookahs were being sold at record shops for "tobacco use." But why wouldn't the police pull over someone for obvious misuse of an obscuring product?

I hate when the government is oppressive, and I hate being pulled over by cops, but were I a policeman, I would pull over any driver with one of these. There's a reason people put up with license plates on their vehicles, and that's because bad actors can cause a lot of harm in an automobile. Someone trying to mask his car is a bad actor or wants to look like one. That's not James Bond driving a Durango in front of me. 

And hell, the way our so-called intelligence community has been acting toward innocent US citizens while letting known wolves go about their business, if it was one of their agents, he ought to get a ticket just on general principles.

Wacky li'l boxes.

Americans of a certain age will remember Wacky Packages, a line of cards and later stickers that parodied consumer products in a very MAD magazine style. In fact, they featured the work of some MAD creators like Drew Friedman. Wacky Packages were made by Topps, the premier baseball card company, and if memory serves also came with a stick of that lousy gum. Wacky Packages were one generation back from the Garbage Pail Kids, with that same gross-out humor.

I had plenty of the stickers, but never used them except on my loose-leaf binder and the like. A friend of mine plastered his bedroom door with Wacky Packages stickers (Comic Book Heroes stickers too, also made by Topps). That kind of thing didn't fly in my house. My dad wouldn't have killed me, but the disgust and disappointment radiating off him while he gently scraped the stickers off my door would have made me glow with shame for days. 

Nevertheless, I was amused to see this box of fun at the checkout at Walmart. 

Topps, through Super Impulse, has released the classic Wacky Packages as packages, tiny little 3-D replicas sold in containers like this. You get five products in a package for six bucks, which may be overpriced, but who cares? It's nostalgia! (Super Impulse, by the way, also makes a whole lot of fun stuff in small form, including the miniature Pac-Man console I got as a stocking stuffer a couple of years ago.) 

Let's see what Wacky Packages came in this set. (Thanks to the Wacky Packages fanpage and mall for historical information.) This is what's stuffed in the box:

No gum.

First, there's the paperwork --  a checklist so you can collect 'em all! It even notes which ones are rare, meaning they're holding back production to increase collectability and value on a handful. 

On to my packages! You'll note that no products have been updated; some of the actual products parodied on the checklist don't even exist anymore, like Duz detergent, Mr. Big bread, and Chun King foods. The packaging for the others has changed a lot since then. But these are still the same wacky parodies they were in the '60s, '70s, and '80s. Otherwise, what's nostalgia for? 

First, for old times' sake we have an actual sticker, a miniature replica of the Grazin' Bran from the fourth original series. 

In the packages themselves, we have 

Liptorn, one of the very first products from the 1967 trading-card era, before they were stickers.

Windaxe is fun -- "Break Glass to Remove Axe." From the 13th series. 

Saran Wrap as Sorry Wrap, 7th series. 

A takeoff of Birdseye's International Recipes from the period, specifically the Bavarian Style Beans & Spaetzle (11th series).

Hey, I got a rare one! Pupsi-Cola (original sticker: 10th series) was called Rare on the Super Impulse checklist. I'm rich! Let's see... Nah, looks like I didn't get the really rare red sparkle edition. Meh -- best offer?

It was a fun trip down memory lane, although seeing these Wacky Packages and others online reminded me that most of the humor came from the shock value of looking at brands adults valued treated like garbage. Some are more clever than others, but most are kinda dumb. Nothing wrong with a dumb joke, though. Never stopped me!

I doubt I'll be holding on to these. Except for books -- and I want to trim down that library whenever we move -- I don't collect anything on purpose anymore. Ever since I had to sell my comic books in a hurry before my parents moved (I had no room in my little apartment), the collecting bug has gone out of me. But like so many things, it was fun while it lasted. 

Trouble on day 3.

Rejected from the Roses.

Today is the Tournament of Roses and the Rose Parade, which has mostly been going on since 1890, barring a few interruptions like World War II and the Chinese Death Virus. Normally it's held on January 1, but not if New Year's Day falls on a Sunday; in that case it's moved to Monday -- today! And here we are.

Many fraternal, professional, and business groups organize the popular floats for the parade, which are generally festooned with flowers and must be covered with organic materials. Equestrian groups also ride, marching bands march, and some dignitaries wave from flower-bedecked automobiles. What's not known is that over the years, the parade has refused entry from a few groups for various reasons. Here are six interesting cases.

1901: The Mighty Cowmalazoo Marching Society

A combination marching band / bovine act had hoped to be featured in the parade -- a large group from Kalamazoo, Michigan, who played their instruments while riding cattle. Of especial interest was the cow-mounted pianos played by the 88 Keys Joy Squad. Officials ultimately deemed the act too messy, too disruptive, possibly dangerous, and not nice to the cows.

1939: The German American Bund

The pro-Nazi German American Bund asked to appear in the parade, sending some of its bigwigs in one of those newfangled "people's cars" that the Germans had introduced, a vehicle they called the Liebe Käfer. Parade officials said no, that only their own officials were allowed to ride in cars. Oh, and also: Nazis.

It would take almost thirty years for this type of "Love Bug" to be seen on American streets.

1955: The Potrzebie Special 

A float called the Potrzebie Special was registered with the parade by one A. E. Neuman. When asked to explain the theme of the float and who would be constructing it, a return telegram from Mr. Neuman in New York replied "please buy this magazine" and "the usual gang of idiots." When pressed about the design for the Potrzebie Special, Neuman would only say it would be "completely covered in nuts." Suspicious, officials declined to allow the Potzebie to participate.

1979: Disco Demolition Float

A group from Chicago asked to construct a float made in the likeness of popular disco records of the day, and blow it up as it completed the parade route on Paloma Street. Officials determined that the group was serious about using explosives and denied entry. The Chicago group ultimately decided to host a disco demo event in their home city later that year. 

2000: The Last Float Ever

The Y2K Last Float Ever was proposed by a group from Silicon Valley who anticipated that with the end of the world coming on 1/1/00, thanks to the Y2K bug, we all might as well go out with a bang and have the parade as the world fell into chaos. The parade officials informed them that in the event of Apocalypse, the parade would be canceled or at least postponed. 

2021: The High & the Mighty

A float completely made of pot was the theme of the High & the Mighty, sponsored by the California Marijuana Association Dudes. Officials bickered over whether a recreational drug themed float would conform to or contradict the parade's theme that year of "The Power of Hope." With the COVID outbreak, the decision was made to cancel the event anyway. By the time the parade returned in 2022, the Dudes had lost interest, deciding instead to sit on the sofa and play World of Tanks. 

Look back in irritation.

So here we are, at the start of a new year. 

This is it!

Before we go charging into 2023, I thought I'd have one last glance backward. I thought that, rather than a roundup of the things that made me and many others absolutely insane with fear or fury this year, I'd just note a few things that were memorably annoying, at least as far as I am concerned. As they say (and Benny Hill once quoted), it's the little things that hurt. You can sit on top of a mountain, but you can't sit on top of a pin. 

In no particular order: 

😠 Americans can't pronounce monsieur

This one's for my wife. The French makeup company Lancôme (part of Paris-based L'Oréal) released a new mascara called Monsieur Big, and all her favorite online influencers have been pronouncing the first word MON-sewer. Even one in Louisiana, a state founded by French people, where they don't pronounce Baton Rouge BAYten ROOgee. Merriam-Webster has no other pronunciation for monsieur except slight variations of the French meh-syeur. What happened? Doesn't anyone take French in high school anymore? 

😠 Whoop/whup

Ain't these people never watched wrestling? When you want to beat someone up, you want to whup him, not whoop him. To whoop is "to utter a whoop in expression of eagerness, enthusiasm, or enjoyment". If someone says he wants to whoop somebody's ass, it sounds more like he wants carnal knowledge of said end, not to leave the imprint of a boot on it. The whoop/whup menace is not as common as the inability to spell whoa that I mentioned early in December, but it's always a show of ignorance. Whup too is in the dictionary -- let's resolve to look words up before we use them this year!

😠 Political infection 

Twice I have dropped out of groups on social media that specifically demanded NO POLITICS of their memberships. People can't help themselves. In one case it was a group dedicated to old comic books, and Trump seemed to still own these people's thoughts a year after he left office. In the other, a group about the history of my home town, one member who was also a moderator kept slipping in PETA propaganda. It's like a mania. 

😠 Loving villains

Disney has been leading the pack on this, of course; in its efforts to squeeze every nickel from every bit of intellectual property it owns, it's been doing films, novels, graphic novels, and whatnot celebrating the bad guys. We've also seen it with films like Joker and Black Adam. The bad guys never seem to choose wickedness out of overwrought ambition or greed or even the left's favorite hatred to hate, prejudice; they're forced into being evil. Great, now do Hitler. 

😠 Recipe introductions 

You go online for a mac & cheese recipe -- a recipe that takes five ingredients and four numbered instructions -- and the author first has to tell her life's story. Thanks for the recipe, but I don't understand why you went to all that trouble, writing all that. I almost gave up hope until I saw the header INGREDIENTS and realized I was saved. The personal touch is great, but usually a paragraph or two is plenty. 

😠 Affirmation dumps

Don't get me wrong -- I much prefer people who want to spread hope and cheer to those who want to cackle as the world burns. But you can't just dump and run. People say the darndest things about expecting the universe to magically respond to their desires if they desire them enough. If I politely explain that this is not my experience, or ask a question, I get ignored or brushed off. You have to be able to defend those posts to an honest inquiry, not just put them out there to perfume the air. 

😠 Owned truth

This one goes back to Jim McGreevey's shameful exit in New Jersey -- anytime someone introduces "my truth" or dismisses your facts as "your truth," expect a humungous pile of crap to follow. If it's not the truth, it is a lie. This seems to get worse every year.

😠 Really bad portmanteaux

Kidult. Manscaping. Beergarita. Foodlegger. Caucacity. Some are fine and fill a niche. Most, like these, have little wit and less sense. Unless beergaritas are really good; you'll have to tell me. 

😠 Christmas cards

I'm sorry, but I think we have to let this one go. Every year I send them out and get fewer back as people just give up. We all can stay in touch online, at least enough to know who's alive. Most of the cards we get aren't even signed, and may have been ordered through something like Shutterfly. Mine may be the first human hands to hold the card. Maybe we can send out a handful of cards for people we really can't stay in touch with without mail (old folks in the home, for example, or people working at Port Lockroy), but for the rest, I think this is one tradition we ought to drop.

That's my list, and I'd love to hear your pet peeves. I have a longer list of things that are really awful, but I'd guess most of those are on your list, too. On to 2023, which I can only hope will be no more tragic and horrible, and less annoying.