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Look Here

Michael Leave a comment

Last week She of We was in an accident.  A car accident.  She’s fine.  You can’t really say she had an accident because her car was the innocent bystander. So we guess you have to say she was in an accident.  Nothing terrible.  Not even hardly bad.  But an accident none the less.  An accident caused by . . . distracted driving.

No, she wasn’t hit by anybody writing or reader a text message.  And there was no building involved.  Regular readers know we have been chronicling the ongoing incidents of vehicular buildingcide.  See Drive Through Service, Drive Through Part Two, and Drive Around Please while we continue to gather information for our fourth installment.  But we digress.

She of We was in an accident caused by distracted driving.  She was at a stop at the end of an exit ramp from one of the interstates leading into town when a lady rammed her SUV into the back of She’s SUV.  How did she not notice a two ton black vehicle in broad daylight at a complete stop in front of her?  She (the rammer) was rooting about for loose change to give to the homeless chap panhandling at the end of the ramp.

It seems the rammer lives not far from that exit and may see the vagabond on a regular basis.  Knowing he would be at his post with his cardboard sign, she wanted to be ready to toss him some change.  We said She of We wasn’t hit by anybody driving while texting but looking for change is just as distracted.

The next time you are in your driveway, with your car turned off, time yourself to see how long it takes to look toward your cupholder and determine if there is any change in it.  One second?  Two?  Three?  Let’s say 2 seconds.  At 60 miles per hour your car would have traveled 176 feet in two seconds.  That’s 11 times the length of a Chevy Impala, 12 times that of a Toyota Camry, almost 15 times the length of a Mini Cooper.  In two seconds you would have driven over half the length of a football field and never seen any of it.

There are some pretty good public service announcements out there about not texting while driving but you have to remember that’s not the only way you can become distracted.  Remember that the next time you are dialing your phone because you haven’t set up your voice dial yet, checking the display on your satellite radio, or reading the bumper sticker on the car in the lane next to you.

She of We wasn’t hurt when the distracted driver drove into her rear bumper.  Don’t you become the next distracted driver to get to say “thank goodness you’re not hurt.”

That’s not a bad public service announcement.

Now, that’s what we think.  Really.  How ‘bout you?

 

Do you take this chicken…

Michael Leave a comment

So they say it’s not a gay marriage issue, that if they left the order stand for 100 chicken sandwiches that would be all anybody talked about instead of the issues.  So what do they talk about instead?  They talk about how that rich person who bought 100 chicken sandwiches has decided to change his catering choice for an upcoming political meeting and donate 90 of the sandwiches to a local homeless shelter and keep 10 for himself to see what they taste like.  In a roughly 500 word article in Newsday posted on August 19, some 3 weeks since a private individual voiced his views on gay marriage all that was printed was chicken sandwiches and gay marriage.  That sounds like us somebody isn’t talking about the issues.

Well here’s something to talk about.  Maybe that is the issue that nobody wants to talk about while everybody else is busy ignoring the elephant in the living room.  No, not gay marriage and not chicken sandwiches.  Stay with us here. 

Do you know if you type “Supporting Gay Marriage” into your Google search bar you will be returned over 9.6 million results including a 600Kb article in Wikipedia that includes a list of everybody who has come out in public support?  A search “Opposing Gay Marriage” returns only a few fewer than 2 million results.  Clearly more people support it so we can assume it must be right.   Keep staying with us.  If you type in “Supporting child pornography” you get 128 million results.  “Opposing child pornography” yields only 1.99 million results.  I think we can rethink our previous assumption.  Don’t go away yet.

That exercise illustrates that the more controversial an idea is the more people will want to talk about it. And there isn’t a clear right or wrong as often as there is no question what it right or wrong. 

The only clear right in any of this is that we all have to right to express our opinion.  Unfortunately there are many issues that because they are the “darling” issue of the media or those with access to the media, many people will want to make certain their views match those of the famous and sometimes infamous.

If the short order cook at your neighborhood bar, the one who makes the chicken sandwiches, came out in opposition to gay marriage you’d probably say, “who cares?” and move on.  But because someone who has made a fortune out of making chicken sandwiches remarks how he interprets the Bible’s view on marriage some other rich guy is going to give away 90 sandwiches instead of feeding them to the local politicians.  And that becomes news.

It’s not about gay marriage.  It’s about finding fault with someone who seems to be successful without the help of the ACLU.  It’s about following the crowd instead of finding your own opinion. 

And it’s about deciding that becoming outraged over shootings, snipers, unemployment, lost savings, and foreclosures is more important than chicken sandwiches.

Now, that’s what we think.  Really.  How ‘bout you?

 

Bon Appetite

Michael Leave a comment

We’re used to being a day late.  We’re usually much more than a dollar short.  But we still like our food and one of the best foodies hit her milestone yesterday, even if she wasn’t around to celebrate it. 

Julia turned 100.

For many, Julia Child never died.  Neither did Lucille Ball, John Wayne, Marilyn Monroe, or Dean Martin.  As long as television reruns and movies on demand, DVDs and U-Tube, video archives and PBS are around, so will be our favorite chefs, singers, actors, and whats have you.

How often have you held this conversation in your house when you heard of the death and/or the upcoming concert of a celebrity?  “I thought he was dead already.”  We aren’t sure if it’s a good thing or not.  We go on watching cooking shows every Saturday morning never even considering how old the show might be.  It doesn’t matter if it was taped in 1967, 1987, or 2007.  Cooking doesn’t change much.  With cooking shows because the hosts are usually wearing aprons, you don’t even have the cues of fashion to narrow things down to a decade.  (Now in the real, real old ones the hair can still give it away and that rarely leaves you muttering “they don’t make ‘em like that anymore.”)  (The hair, that is.)

But they still make a few like our girl Julia.  You can probably still catch the shows with Julia and Jacques Pepin (who is a very youthful and quite alive 76) and would wonder who will out-compliment the other.  Now there are two people on television who you wish could come out of that box and make us dinner.  But we think we’d like them to do it one at a time.  We can double our pleasure that way.  

John Folse (a veritable television child at 66) could make us dinner also.   His choice of protein might be a bit unusual.  Not often do you see a television chef make goose cacciatore or squirrel with pan gravy but he does and does it in a manner that leaves you wondering “I bet that’s even good with plain old chicken.” 

John’s twists on the prizes of Louisiana leave us thinking a bit of Justin Wilson but with a more understandable accent.  There wasn’t a crawfish that Justin Wilson didn’t like and even though we aren’t sure if we like them, how could you turn down dinner and a show when the show comes in the form of the stories that made Chef Wilson the “Louisiana Original.”  You’ll still see Justin on U-Tube and hear him on radio and he would be closing in on 99 if he was still around to close in on anything.

There are some younger television chefs – yep, even younger than 60! – who we wouldn’t mind if they pulled into our driveways, knocked on the front doors, and greeted us with “Dinner’s on me tonight.”  But we’ll wait a few years before we reveal them.  There’s not as much fun in it if you can’t ask, “isn’t he dead yet?”

Now, that’s what we think.  Really.  How ‘bout you?

 

None Of The Above

Michael 1 Comment

About a week ago, She of We received a phone survey regarding the upcoming Presidential election.  Buried among other questions was the crux of the survey, and the crux of the matter. “If the election was held today, would you vote for Barack Obama or Mitt Romney?”  Why only two choices?

That’s the problem with this entire election.  This and several before.  We are presented with two candidates for a job neither has the qualifications for.  And we have to make a choice.  So here is our choice.  None of the above, but far from nobody.

In the beginning, all ballots were written, and all candidates were write-in.  Even then there were political parties but the emphasis 230-some years ago was policy, not party.  Those who voted did so for a person and his policy, not for how slick the party made their candidate sound or how incompetent they attempted to make others appear.  And when the elector determined for whom he would cast his ballot, he placed pen to paper and committed his vote to writing. 

We want to bring it back.  Not just the write-in part, but the whole thought behind the election process.  This is supposed to be our head of state.  Do we want our solver of domestic problems, our representative to the world determined by a sound bite, a hair color, a slogan, or an accusation?  We fully intend to consider all the possible candidates – everyone who has ever said at some point that he or she intends to serve the American public and then acted in a manner that reflected true selfless service.  We will fully consider our priorities for the executive process.  It probably won’t be health care, gay marriage, or who has more friends on his or her Facebook page.  It will be what affects us.  It will be probably what affects everybody if everybody would listen to themselves rather than the party campaign ads.  Then when we find who will work to our best interest, will we cast our vote.  It will certainly be a write in.

Will this really prove anything?  If two people spend a lot of time and effort and write in two very serious leaders, no, it won’t prove anything.  But if you join us we can be heard.  If you really don’t like the choices the parties have given you, then don’t vote for them.  But please, don’t just not vote.  Do your research.  Find your best leader.  Then cast your vote for your best choice.

If you can convince a few others to do likewise, then do it.  On Election Day we could have a million people, maybe 10 million people voting for a leader rather than for the less of two evils.  Vote for the greatest candidate you know.   We know we won’t all vote for the same person.  There could be 10 million different write in candidates.  But that will be 10 million people who have told the parties that we are through with their idea of electability.  We don’t need a candidate.  We need a President.  We need a leader.

If we vote like it really matters we can make a difference, and we have to start voting like it really matters.

Now, that’s what we think.  Really.  How ‘bout you?

 

What We Did During the Summer Olympics

Michael Leave a comment

After Missy Franklin’s record breaking 200 meter backstroke victory, the interviewer reminded us that she is still a high schooler returning to classes in less than a month when she remarked to the swimmer, “When they ask you what you did on your summer vacation you’re going to have some stories.”  

And so will we.  We’ve learned a lot from sitting in front of the television each evening watching the stories and the competitions.  And there’s still more to come.  So what have we learned so far?

The swim team seems more like a team than the women’s gymnastics team.  Their smiles came more easily and seemed more genuine.

We know hockey.  Field hockey is not hockey.

The women’s gymnastics teams should be called the girls’ gymnastics teams.

Even though the television commentators won their share of medals in past games they can’t pick a winner any better than we can.

We want to see the rules for water polo.

The women beach volleyball squads hug after almost every point.  The indoor volleyball squads barely hug after each game.  Must be because of less sun indoors.

We want something on the screen to tell us if a race or game or bout is a preliminary heat or a medal round.  Please.

Wow that diving platform is high!

Some of the men gymnasts have more upper body strength than some of the weightlifters.

Those berets are still stupid.

Not everyone’s a winner.  But the ones who don’t get a medal are almost always gracious towards the winner and runners-up. 

Maybe everyone is a winner after all.

Now, that’s what we think.  Really.  How ‘bout you?

 

No Comment

Michael Leave a comment

Is this happening where you live?  Some significant local news story breaks – a shooting, arson, bank robbery.  The local reporter corners an eye-witness.  “Tell us what you saw,” and the eye witness breaks into details so significant you can hear the District Attorney breathing harder.  But, the witness doesn’t want to appear on camera or give his/her/its name.  So the camera man focuses on the tattoo on the witness’s lower leg that says “I Love Brunettes” in Olde English lettering surrounding a cheesecake portrait of Stephanie Powers in her 1980’s TV role in Hart to Hart, perhaps a portrait tattoo of the witness’s seven children, or the inscription “Jane Doe Loves John Smith (crossed out) Joe Jones (crossed out) Mary Queen of Scots.”  Nothing too unique.

It wasn’t that long ago that we saw on the evening news just that.  The TV reporter telling us that the witness didn’t want her face shown but the cameraman had a clear shot of the snake tattoo climbing from her foot (with the green nail polish) up past the ankle encircling her shin.  Haven’t these people ever heard of the phrase “No comment?”  Or is he lure of being on television, even without being identified by name, too much for them?

We used to wonder about the intelligence of the TV eye-witness back when all you had to go on was the lack of front teeth, the baseball hat proclaiming the last tractor pull world championship, and the t-shirt with the logo and leftover barbecue sauce from the rib cook-off of four years previous.  Now those people were at least colorful.

Recently we saw an eye-witness to a break-in across the street from the witness’s house where he was ‘just sitting” on the porch.  He didn’t have a silly hat.  He didn’t have a dirty t-shirt.  He didn’t’ have a tattoo that we could see and we could see a lot because he didn’t have any shirt on.  But he also didn’t mind his face being shown.  It was a good counter-point to his shirtless body that the cameraman was having a tough time capturing all in one frame without his wide lens.

Don’t these people know they are going to be on television?  Didn’t anybody tell them that when the truck with the call letters and the guy with camera and the lady with the microphone show up there would be a chance that a few people might be watching the film at 11?  It significantly lessens the impact of the details that we now wonder if they were really that observant or were they fantasizing in whatever drug or alcohol haze they were in.

We used to think that the eye-witnesses who didn’t want to show their faces but let the cameras roam over their fairly unique and identifiable tattoos were just stupid.  Actually we still do.  Sorry, Mr. District Attorney.  You can stop breathing hard now.

Now, that’s what we think.  Really.  How ‘bout you?

 

How Would You Like Your Toast?

Michael 1 Comment

It’s probably us.  We seem to bring out the stories in the most harmless of activities.  Not long ago, Both of We and Child of He were out to a diner for a Sunday breakfast.  A real, honest to gosh diner.  The kind where the food is going to be fabulous if you order nothing more than tea and toast.  Well, let us tell you about this toast.

We have to begin at the beginning as we were seated at a table and asked the ritualistic “what would you like to drink?”  Coffee and tea and ice water for three please.  And yes, we’ll need some time to peruse the menu.  It wasn’t that it was too big like some, but it took a little reading because it had things we aren’t used to in the twenty-first century.  Things like sausage gravy and other offerings whose calorie counts were in triple digits.  Among the choices were several four egg omelets. 

After a couple of false starts of “are you ready?” by Waitress #1 we somehow were advanced to Waiter #2.  A pleasant enough young man at home from college for the summer.  On his first trip we figured we’re ready enough if those who know what they want order first and slowly and let those still deciding decide for a few more moments.  He of We went first with a decisive blow to the cholesterol watchers, the aforementioned sausage gravy with biscuits plus two eggs and a side of hash browns.  Two or three swipes with the pen and young Waiter had the order.  Then Child of He is up.  Both of We have seen her eat the equivalent of a lunch intended for a full firehouse but even Child draws the line at four eggs.  That’s nearly a week’s work of one chicken for just one meal.  “Can I have a smaller omelet?” was the innocent enough question.  “Of course, here it is on the smaller plates menu,” pointed out the Boy Waiter.  And there it was, a two egg cheese omelet.  But, Child didn’t want just cheese.  “Instead of just cheese can I have a veggie please,” and Young Waiter Man made a few more marks with his pen and we moved on to She of We.  A straightforward eggs, toast, hash brown, pancake combination order. 

We’re just about through the ordering phase of our breakfast when the waiter asked the question that in our combined whole lot of years we’ve never heard before.  “How would you like your toast?”  She of We was so taken aback that even she, the unflappable She of We, the unquestionable clearest of all clear order givers, was left speechless.  And so, he actually repeated, “How would you like your toast?”  He of We was just about ready to answer over-easy when She of We and Waiter of Three finally got their telepathy going and She of We suggested “umm, do you mean what kind of toast?”

To make a long story short, and after some light hearted kidding of Young Waiter, we settled in and waited for our meals to be prepared and presented.  And not much later an entourage marched down the aisle with several plates that could only be ours.  And as they were all settled in front of us, having finally gotten over “How would you like your toast?” the last dish to be dropped was the omelet for Child of He.  And when it hit the table we all were again rendered as thoroughly speechless as She of We was with the now infamous toast question.  For there, before Child of He sat a plate with a two egg, cheese omelet, her selection of toast, and nuzzled between them, a serving of . . . corn.  Child of He was the first to find her voice.  “Corn?”  “Yes,” young Waiter Man said,” that’s your cheese omelet with a veggie.”  Clearly, the vegetable of the day was . . . corn.

Eventually all was sorted out.  Child of He got her veggie omelet.  She of We enjoyed her toast.  He of We got to hear his arteries clog.  And a fine meal was had by all.

So our advice to you, if you should ever be questioned with “How would you like your toast?” is to answer poached and then mentally review the rest of the order for verbal land mines.

Now, that’s what we think.  Really.  How ‘bout you?

 

The Real Reality Summer Wardrobe Rules for Real People

Michael 1 Comment

Summer is in full swing.  Hot, humid, sunny, temperatures in the mid 80’s to mid 90’s.  And people are taking full advantage of those summer rules – or disadvantage. 

We had the opportunity not long ago to attend an all day, outdoor music festival.  We were graced with a rather comfortable day.  In between days reaching into the upper 90’s and days of ponderous rains leading to flash floods, we managed to pick the one day of the three day festival to attend that had temperatures staying in the 70’s, no rain, dappled sunshine through broken clouds, and a very slight breeze.  The perfect day for outdoor festing.  Except for the other people there.

To be fair, not all of them detracted from an otherwise enjoyable afternoon and evening.  Just the ones who left their fashion sense at home.  After a day of watching what people consider appropriate public attire we are forced to invoke the Real Reality Wardrobe Rules.

 

For Men:

Sleeves are mandatory.  Not areas formerly occupied by sleeves, the entire sleeve.  They are the cross pieces that put the T in T-Shirt.  They are needed.  They are required. 

In that sleeves are mandatory, so are the shirts that they come on.  Nobody wants to see anybody other than a cute infant half naked in public.  Even in guys that haven’t traded in their six-pack for a quarter keg, the shirtless look just isn’t a good one other than at poolside or if necessary, in your own man cave.  We don’t expect women to wander about with their nipples exposed, men shouldn’t either.

Hair long enough to be in a ponytail on a male only looks good on a male pony.  And only at the tail.  You’re old.  You’re gray.  You’re bald.  Don’t add to the insanity by having hair halfway down your back and certainly not in braids!  Shave it off, put your shirt on, and move along. 

Flip flops are not shoes.  Leave them at the pool, with your shirt.  Mandals are fine, but like the rest of you, grooming is essential.  Just because your feet are the farthest away from your brain, don’t be brainless about your feet.  Well groomed, trimmed, washed, and buffed feet are also healthy feet.

 

For Women:

For different reasons, but the just as above, nobody wants to see you half naked in public.  Check your hems, watch your buttons.  Unintentional flashes of skin is sexy.   Intentional undressing is slutty.

Have someone check your behind from behind when you’re sitting down on the grass.  Just say no to crack. 

Swimsuits are for swimming, or for backyard tanning.  Would you go to a production of the local symphony wearing a tankini?  You’re outside, in public, whether at a concert or at the grocery store.  Grow up, wear clothes.  (If you’re having difficulty with that, see For Women, Rule #1.)

High Heels and soft grass do not mix. If you are at an outside wedding and you are dressed to the nines, you’ll have to move slowly and carefully.  Accidents can happen but they don’t have to.  If you are at an outdoor concert with 10,000 people in shorts and t-shirts, wear something lawn-appropriate.  Aerating the amphitheater grounds with your stilettos will not get you a discount to the next show.

Tattoos can be art.  If you have a back full of body art, ask somebody besides one of your friends to give you’re an opinion of the quality of the work.  If it’s art, flaunt it.  Go ahead and wear that backless sun dress.  If it’s of poor quality, badly composed and inexpertly executed, cover it up until you find a good artist to fix it.    

 

It’s hot out there.  You can be too.  Pay a little attention to the person in the mirror and watch how many pay attention to you on the outside.       

Now, that’s what we think.  Really.  How ‘bout you?

 

A Real, Real Reality Show

Michael Leave a comment

In just a matter of hours, the real, real reality show begins.  The thirtieth Olympiad has already begun and the opening ceremony is just a day away.  It’s a spectacle like no other.  But why?  What captures the world’s attention so that these games will be the talk of the sports world, the fashion world, the travel world, the diplomatic world for four more years?

For 120 years, modern man has emulated the ancient Greeks in their pursuit of excellence.  What seems trite to one generation is full of hope for another, very real for still another, and full of memories for another yet. 

There is a pursuit for excellence.  Every year countries all over the world host athletic competitions based on ancient programs.  But these, the games that arise every four years combine them all to find the greatest.  On the track, in the field, on the courts, athletes strive to be the fastest runners, highest jumpers, strongest wrestlers, the most flexible gymnasts.  These combine with modern events like basketball and volleyball to find the teams who know the difference between good and excellent.

The competitors go beyond sports.  They represent their countries and their countries’ hopes to prove they are the best in peaceful competitions.  But competitions they are.  There will be no points awarded for a good sob story.  Nobody will be granted extra time because of a hard childhood.  No one will be spotted a lead for having a challenged child.  The victory will be because the challenger is the best.  Period. 

The biggest competition is about to begin on the biggest stage in front of the biggest field of spectators.  May it be the best competition on the best stage in front of the best spectators.  Period.

Now, that’s what we think.  Really.  How ‘bout you?

 

Three Little Words

Michael Leave a comment

We’ve been thinking about this for a while and have come to a conclusion.  There is only one instruction in the English language that people actually pay attention to.  It is not:

Speed Limit = (XX) MPH.  Speed limits are barely suggestions anymore.

Not dishwasher safe.  Everything is safe in the top rack.

Capacity = 20 People, particularly in an elevator, particularly at 9am

Cook at 350 degrees for 45 minutes which really means cook at 450 for 20.  We’re hungry!

No Turn on Red and other traffic suggestions that control movement at intersections. 

Allow to stand for 20 minutes.  Nothing good happens after the first 5 minutes.

Inflate to 23 PSI Front, 21 PSI Rear.  Tires, right?  Just blow them up till the pump stops.

Coupon Expires January 31, 2012.  If you tear it at just the right angle across the top…

Lather. Rinse. Repeat.  Really?

Tools required: Adjustable Wrench, Allen Wrench, Sultry Wrench.  What, no hammer?

Do Not Use After: xx/xx/xxxx.  Come on.  Yogurt is already milk gone bad.

Hand Wash.  Then why do they put a delicate setting on the washer?

Do not mix batteries.  Does anybody even know what this is supposed to mean?

Bulb max = 40 Watt.  For what?  Night blindness?

No, it’s none of these.  Yet there is a rule, a law, a regulation, an instruction that puts fear in Americans.  The one instruction the American public actually follows is:

Dry Clean Only.

It’s on the only clothes that people actually sort on laundry day.  It’s the only instruction that parents pass on to their children when they move out into the world on their own.  In fact, we know people who have actually not purchased clothes because of this instruction.  Although we hesitate to admit it, She of We has actual personal experience that Dry Clean Only means Dry Clean Only.  (In fairness though, she does prefer to send out white blouses and shirts to a Dry Cleaner because they always come back so nice and crisp.)  

Yes, these are the most powerful three words in the English language.  Dry.  Clean.  Only. 

Now, that’s what we think.  Really.  How ‘bout you?