Category Humor

I’ll Drink to That

Michael Leave a comment

Remember the McDonald hot coffee lawsuit from back in the 90’s? Some batty old lady spilled coffee in her lap, got burned, went to the hospital, went to a lawyer, went to trial, went to jury, and won! The verdict was something like $160,000 for medical expenses and $2.7 million (!) in punitive damages. Punitive means punishment; McDonald’s was punished for serving hot coffee.

Yesterday, a California judge dismissed a case against Starbuck’s for misrepresenting the size of their iced drinks because they contain, in addition to the drink, ice. Apparently the legal system runs hot and cold when it comes to frivolous lawsuits.

But wait! Lawyers have long argued that the McDonald Coffee Case was far from frivolous. It was a wake up cup err, call to the damaging practice of big business putting profits over safety. And the public has the efforts of the tireless lawyer people to thank for seeing that those danger-mongers pay for their negligence. Yeah, right.

I’m sure lawyers serve some purpose. Unfortunately the very visible fruits of their labors have been left out to rot. Over the last several months I, and some hundreds of thousands others, have gotten e-mails about settlements reached that protected my rights and punished companies that have taken advantage of me. I got about $12 from Barnes and Noble because somebody claimed they overcharged for e-books or some such thing. I can get $5 from Angie’s List because they might have taken money for ads from service providers, and I got two free tickets for one or several concerts that have no available seats from Ticketmaster for them being Ticketmaster. My “damages” come to a whopping not quite twenty bucks.

I would thank the lawyers who worked so diligently to get me my double sawbuck. I worked hard for my money and I didn’t appreciate those big, bad companies taking advantage of me. Of course it’s only right that they get some of the windfall. As near as I’ve been able to figure, those lawyers who worked on just these three cases made about $281 million.

I don’t know about you but if I ever figure out how to use that Ticketmaster free ticket voucher and can actually score two free tickets to something, I’m bringing a lawyer!

That’s what I think. Really. How ‘bout you?

 

Crème de la Crème

Michael 1 Comment

It took me most of my adult life, which is to say most of my life, to perfect scrambled eggs. It’s easy to make good scrambled eggs, not that hard to make very good scrambled eggs, but damn near impossible to make perfect scrambled eggs. Perfect little pillows of bright, yellow deliciousness light enough to float off the plate into your mouth where they melt over your tongue into a symphony of wonderful. That kind of perfect.

When you get down to it, scrambled eggs require only three things – eggs, fat, and heat. It is the combination of those three things that make the difference between meh and perfect. About a year ago I found the perfect combination for perfect scrambled eggs and I’ve been making them the same way ever since. Two eggs, a half ounce of half-and-half, beat until my arm is tired, then rest (the eggs, not the arm) while a half tablespoonful of butter melts in a seven inch omelet pan over medium heat. Once the butter is melted and fragrant, pour in the eggs then start moving them around the pan with a heat proof spatula, turning down the heat to low. Keep turning the eggs until they are almost set then pull them off the heat. Add any desired herbs, salt, and pepper; give them one final turn around the pan and transfer them to a nearby plate allowing them to rest just long enough to carry them to the table where coffee, juice, toast, and the morning paper wait. Alternately you can just stand over the kitchen counter and eat them right from the skillet but you will miss out on the daily crossword puzzle.

Three, four, maybe five times a week I start my day like that. The days I don’t are there just to make the scrambled egg days even more special. Yesterday was a scrambled egg day. Yesterday sucked. When I ended up with watery clumps of yuckiness my first thought was that I had a sudden brain fart severe enough to make me forgot how to cook. I almost convinced myself of that except everything else – coffee, juice, toast, newspaper – came out just fine. And my socks matched. Then I spotted the culprit. On the counter, waiting to go back into the refrigerator was the carton of half-and-half (or half-cream as the Europeans might call it). Except it wasn’t. Apparently I indeed had suffered some brain issue but it was when I was at the supermarket the day before. Apparently, that’s when I picked up a carton of fat-free half-and-half.

Who the hell makes fat-free half-and-half? What the hell is fat-free half-and-half? Half-and-half is half milk, half cream. That’s two components whose defining ingredient is fat. Real half-and-half is about 12 percent fat. I took a look at the ingredient label on the imposter. “Skim milk, corn syrup, cream*.” I looked for the asterisk and found “* Not a significant source of fat.” In other words, so little cream compared to the skim milk and corn syrup that it might have been in the same county as a cow for a short while. American skim milk is less than 0.2% fat or essentially white water.I had unwittingly tried to make my fluffy yellow clouds not with thick, rich, creamy half-and-half but with thickened water.

My shopping blunder resulted in me making scrambled eggs (which you recall require eggs, fat, and heat) with two out of three ingredients. When it comes to scrambled eggs, two out of three is bad. I’ll be going to the store again in a couple of days and I’ll replace my ersatz half-and-half with the real deal. As for the remainder of the fake stuff, I suppose I can use it on oatmeal. That’s supposed to be good for you, too.

That’s what I think. Really. How ‘bout you?

 

Down Two, Then Left

Michael Leave a comment

It’s not usual for me to miss such an important day. Particularly one of such personal significance. But somehow I did. Why weren’t you keeping an eye out for it for me? I know. You don’t have to tell me. It’s because it’s no big deal.

You can tell it’s no big deal because the world hasn’t paid a bit of attention to us since the dawn of man. Who are us? And what it is that isn’t such a big deal? We’re the left handers of the world and last Saturday was International Left Handers’ Day.

It’s clearly not a priority with the rest of the world. In this time of extreme tolerance and political correctness to every special interest, no such consideration is given to the left handed who often feel left out. We also feel fear, anger, and embarrassment probably because almost everything made for manual use is best used by the other hand.

Since we all have two hands available when deciding which hand will be handier, logic would seem to determine that they should be close to an even division of left and right handers. Since logic is usually associated more with right handedness you can see where that argument was going to go. In fact, only about 10 percent of the global population is left handed. I know as a child I had been “encouraged” by teachers to use my right hand since everything at school, and everywhere else I would eventually learn, was designed for right handers. I resisted but often wondered how many of the 90 percent who use their other hand were born tending to their left.

Here we may account for only 10 percent of the population but at one point our closest celestial neighbor boasted 100% left handed inhabitants when Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin walked on the moon in July 1969. (Michael Collins who continued to orbit the Moon while his fellow astronauts were doing their moon walks is also a left hander.) But then in November, William “Pete” Conrad became the first other hander to occupy the Moon. As best as I can tell it took until April 1972 when Charles Duke became the third and last left hander of the 12 men who had or would land on another world other than the world.

So if those guys were able to accomplish what they did, I guess I can manage with ball point pens and kitchen shears designed to be operated by a right hand. And I’ll be content in the knowledge that if our personal worlds are indeed controlled by a cross-wired brain, then I am undoubtedly in my right mind.

That’s what I think. Really. How ‘bout you?

 

GYM? I thought you said GIN!

Michael Leave a comment

The Olympics are here! The Olympics are here! Oh, wait, that’s how I began the last post. It still applies. I’ve noticed that since the Olympic coverage started on TV that the gym has been getting a real work out. (Yeah, I know. That was terrible. Sorry.) I may be wrong but I think the former definitely has something to do with the latter.

I remember as a young boy being taken by the Olympic spirit every 4 years. At least I was once or twice every 4 years before it settled in just how much work it took to land on the front of a Wheaties box. While the 1964 Olympic cycling events were being dominated by the Italians, this young Italian was pedaling his way through his own backyard qualifying heats. I didn’t fare much better than the 18 Americans who made it to Tokyo that October but my newspaper route never got delivered faster than during those two weeks.

How long have parents been trying to get their children outside for some physical activity – before the Pokémon Go craze even? For generations the Olympics gave parents a hand doing just that. Personally, I think it’s cool that the exercise bug is biting a slightly older crowd now.

Maybe we’re just getting to be a slightly more physical people and that’s why more folks are exercising. Or it could be that old drive to see oneself immortalized in breakfast food that is driving so many people to the fitness center. All I know is that where once I had my pick of machines I now have to arrive early lest I am forced to tackle my cycling on the outside on a bicycle that actually goes somewhere. I mean, sure, I have one of those but I haven’t seen my paper bag for years now.

That’s what I think. Really. How ‘bout you?

The Thrill of Victory, Modified

Michael Leave a comment

The Olympics are here! The Olympics are here! Sports junkies around the globe can take a breath, sweat a brow, pop a cold one, and enjoy the games. I just wish there were more of them. Well, maybe not so much more of them as different ones of them.

Four years ago I pitched the idea of Olympic Bocce right here on these pages, err screens, umm electrons. (See “The Sport the Olympics Didn’t Think of,” August 30, 2012.) I thought it was a terrific new sport that would complement the old world-ism the Olympics have been missing ever since Beach Volleyball was introduced.  (But then, beach volleyball is about as close as you can get to the ancient Olympic tradition of competing in the nude, wrestling notwithstanding.) Bottom line, another Olympics and still no bocce. We got Golf instead.

To many, golf is a wonderful game. Yet I don’t see many gods on Olympus arguing who’s “away” and I know for sure they wouldn’t abide someone else carrying the equipment around for the athletes. Still, somebody decided golf is more of a sport than bocce. Fine. I would think that any game that includes a pit stop for snacks and a pint of lager halfway through is more recreation than sport but then the same could be said for the aforementioned beach volleyball.

Actually, if you look at the modern Olympic schedule you see events more often associated with country clubs than sports arena. Sure we have swimming, track and field, and weightlifting.  Archery, shooting, and the equestrian events harken to days of having to compete with nature for survival. Fencing, boxing, and gymnastics are examples of strength and grace in single presentations. But consider some of the others. Tennis? Handball? Badminton?

That got me thinking; it was no wonder the IOC didn’t care to include bocce. They obviously are interested in more genteel undertakings. So with that in mind I present this year’s proposal for inclusion in upcoming Olympiads – Shuffleboard!

It epitomizes civility. It doesn’t take much space. It is a boon for the older athlete. And like bocce, it has a natural winter game counterpoint in curling.

If I start practicing now I can be the first Olympic Shuffleboard Gold Medalist! I can see myself on that chair-lift assisted podium waving to the politely appreciative crowd. All I have to do is find a sponsor to book me on seniors’ cruises for training from now until August 2020. Tokyo here I come!

That’s what I think. Really. How ‘bout you?

 

Change for the Better

Michael Leave a comment

Who said, “Oh please don’t change?” Change is good! The only constant is change. Change makes things happens. You know what I mean by change. Loose change. Pocket change. Coins.

Yes, coins. Every night I empty my pocket of change. I don’t specifically hoard change. During the day if I can spend change I use those coins. Sometimes I might even drop a few into the “Need A Penny Take A Penny” dish at the cash register at the farm market up the road. But at the end of the day I relieve myself of my metallic burden and each morning I start with empty pockets – some mornings more easily than others.

Does it ever amount to anything? Well, there is a new commercial on TV during the daytime that proposes that if you are between 50 and 85 you can come up with enough spare change to buy life insurance for a month. I don’t spend mine quite so impulsively.

About twice a year I sit down with my Mason jar wherein I toss my daily haul. Back when I was working and was spending more time on irresponsible buying I used a big old pickle jar like you’d see on a counter of an old-fashioned country general store. But I digress. Last weekend we had a couple rainy days so I spent my indoor time putting off rolling coins for a while. After sufficient procrastination I broke down and counted and stacked and rolled. And when I added it up I’ll head off to the bank in the next couple days with about $134.00.

It’s not much but enough that I refuse to spend it on food or shelter. I’ll find something to blow it on and sometime after New Year I’ll do it again and I’ll blow that wad.

Now let’s see. What can I get with this new found money? A field level seat at the ball game? A couple of tickets to a play? A round trip to one of a few destinations on a low-price budget airline with advance purchase? Sixty-five round trips to several destinations on Mega-Bus with advance purchase? A really, really cheap cruise? Half a TV? Quarter of a phone? More life insurance? Whatever It is I’ll probably write about it some time. Stay tuned. Change is exciting!

That’s what I think. Really. How ‘bout you?

A Matter of Opinion

Michael Leave a comment

Last night I was reading when this feeling came over me. Hunger! Not just any hunger. Something specific. Something a little chewy, a little crunchy, a little sweet. Cookies!!!

There must be cookies somewhere. Checking the kitchen cabinets I found no cookies, no Twinkies, no cakes, Danishes, donuts, ice cream sandwiches, or overly sweet chocolate flavored breakfast cereal. I did find an empty PopTart box and that is so not like me. Must have been a previous Cookies!!! craving.

I did however find brown sugar, honey, cinnamon, eggs, butter, flour, and oatmeal – aka Cookies!!! the DIY version. Unfortunately the butter was frozen, all the measuring devices, bowls, and baking doodads were in the dishwasher for their semi-annual “good” cleaning, and I had graciously donated my stand mixer to my daughter’s kitchen. Roughly an hour later the butter was softened by sitting under the grow lamps in the seed starter that had been sitting empty in the corner of the dining room since the herbs got transplanted to the patio pots, the bowls and other necessary doodads were dry
ing in the rack (and would be redeposited into the dishwasher upon completion of their appointed tasks), and I found a hand mixer buried in the bottom cabinet behind the counter top fryer that someday I have to find counter toCookiep space for.

I spare you the measuring, mixing, dropping, b
aking, cooling details. Suffice it to say that roughly another hour later I
was reading when I dribbled cookie crumbs into the book’s gutter when this feeling came over me. I never had dinner. No wonder I was hungry before. That’s ok. I just marked the food diary that indeed I had dinner – oatmeal with a splash of honey and a few raisins. Sounds healthier than the burger and fries I probably would have had.

That’s what I think. Really. How ‘bout you?

 

Word

Michael Leave a comment

The other day I was reading the dictionary – because…yes, I really do have that kind of time [sigh] – and I was taking note of this year’s new words.  It seems “they” came up with a few hundred new words yet they still seem to be missing some that are quite desperately needed.

It’s always fashionable to address fashion fashionably. Another way to put it would be that it’s always in style to address style stylishly. Thus each year must have this year’s just right word or words to go along with this year’s just right trend or trends. Personally I think the new “mom jeans” meaning unattractive women’s denim is as tasteless as “granny panties” from a generation ago but it probably will be the one to stick. If you’re going to lobby for a word describing ugly ladies’ fashion (that’s ugly fashion, not ugly ladies) somebody better be working on what to call those pocket linings that stick out below the equally unattractive shorts that are so short the longest part of them is the zipper. A positive citation from the fashion police is the new modifier “athleisure” to describe athletic wear that can be pressed into service as casual wear. Much more useful than the “hostess wear” of the 60s in an attempt to make people believe lingerie can be turned into formal attire with the indiscriminate use of costume jewelry.

Although “manspread” has been around for a few years it formally made its way to legitimacy this year. So now we have a word to describe sitting with one’s legs apart to take up too much space on a shared seat. But we still don’t have a word for the spread of humanity when a mom walks down a grocery store aisle pushing a shopping cart with two small children each holding onto opposite sides of the cart and attempt to pull cart, and mom, apart. I propose “familyspread” but I don’t see it catching on.

“Misgender” is the official term for calling an individual by a “noun, pronoun, or adjective that inadequately represents the person’s gender.” Inadequately? According to what I read the definition notes it is especially applicable when addressing a transgender individual but I know people who have been calling “ma’ams” “sir” and vice versa for decades especially when speaking on the phone representing a marketing firm and when the improperly addressed individual is a 3 pack a day smoker (sir for ma’am) or an anabolic steroid abuser (miss for sir). We still don’t have a word for calling an individual by a noun, pronoun, or adjective that inadequately represents when a person isn’t pregnant but is asked when she is due.

My favorite new word is an activity I had taken part in many, many times. “Al desco” is the long awaited, accepted term for eating lunch at one’s desk. This year’s most useful and most memorable new word.  Now I think the only furniture related word we are missing is one for the impressions left in the carpet when you re-arrange your living room. I propose “furnident.”

That’s what I think. Really. How ‘bout you?

All Dogs Go To Heaven

Michael 1 Comment

Dog gone it if it isn’t the most useful day of the year. Today, the third Monday of July, in the midst of the dog days of summer, is … hold that thought for a minute.

I have spent no telling how many electrons celebrating useful, special days that only a special interest group could dream up. There are days that deserve to be recognized and often get left in the shadows, like Groundhog Day (Feb. 2). There are days to honor those who truly should be but the governments of the world collectively have dismissed them, like First Responders (there are First Responders Appreciation Days and they vary by state and whether it’s an election year but Sept. 27 seems to be a popular choice). There are days to honor people you’d think could do with just their salaries as honor enough like Talk Show Host Day (Oct. 23). There are so many special days that 365 calendar days aren’t nearly enough so just about every day has multiple recognitions although sometimes you wonder if whoever assembled them had really wanted a special day to commemorate irony (like April 7 which combines National Beer Day with National Alcohol Screening Day (technically the first Thursday in the first full week of April, and isn’t that a designation that only the collective governments could come up with, which this year happened also to be April 7).

All of them worthy of being called special – if for nothing else than their dog and pony show aspects – but certainly not all commendable for their usefulness. So what about today would make one jump up and shout “Hot Diggity Dog!” It is in the recognition that even though you may not be able to teach an old dog new tricks, you can make sure that every dog has its day. And today that lucky dog is the one that is up to his neck in doggie doo.

The one in your dog house is today’s luckiest dog because today is Get Out of the Doghouse Day. For today to work the one who done the wrong has to do the heavy lifting. You know who you are. Put down the bone and apologize. While you’re at it, put down your cell phone unless you are going to use it to actually make a call. You don’t want to trust a chance to get back in somebody’s good graces to an e-mail, a text, or (Heavens, don’t even think about it) a tweet. You need a personal touch.

It’s a dog eat dog world out there. Let sleeping dogs lie and get back in the fight. You might have to work like a dog today but if you end up being man’s – or woman’s best friend again, it’s all worth it!

That’s what I think. Really. How ‘bout you?

Lather, Rinse, Stop

Michael Leave a comment

Did you know that the second most followed direction (“Dry Clean Only” is the first) is disappearing?! (Or would that be “…disappearing!?” I’m never sure which is right and that’s a style the Chicagoans haven’t addressed.) (I think.) Anyway, the second most followed direction in the whole world isn’t there anymore – sort of. “Lather, rinse, repeat” is vanishing from shampoo bottles throughout the hair care aisle at mega-marts all over! I discovered this last week when I was checking out the labels of all the personal grooming products at home and at the supermarket – because I have that kind of time.

It struck me as odd that of all that needs to be primped on our bodies, only hair requires multiple goes. My shaving cream doesn’t say “lather, shave, repeat,” nor does my deodorant instruct me to “swipe, wipe, repeat.” And the soap and shower gel expect me to work up a generous lather but say nothing of doing it more than once.

I thought that perhaps it’s not grooming items that harbor this expectation of duplication of application but it’s the soap based products that are insufficient to do their thing the first time around. So I checked the dish soap and found nothing but “not to be taken internally” under the picture of the oranges on the label. The window cleaner is sure enough of itself to read simply to spray and wipe clean. Tub and tile cleaner need only be sprayed on and wiped off with a wet cloth or sponge. (And if used on stainless steel it wants to be rinsed with plain water. I did not know that.) Although the toilet cleaner has more instructions than the car wash cleaner regarding how uncontaminated you want the end result, each direction need be followed but one time.

My mind was reeling. How can it be that one, and only this one aid to readying for our day requires multiple applications? A simple as the three steps are (lather, rinse, repeat -remember), is it really necessary to do them four times (lather, rinse, lather, rinse)? I pulled out my own bottle of shampoo and gave the label a good looking over. And there they were –

“Directions for use: Apply to hair. Lather then rinse.”

Wait. Lather then rinse? What happened to repeat? Had I been imagining step three. I couldn’t have been. Jokes were built upon it; campaigns were written for it. Do this. Do that. Repeat. I hadn’t imagined an entire pop culture. If I had, where are my royalties?! (or !?)

That’s when I took my quest to the street. Or to the aisle as it was. And there I was, in that aisle, selecting a product, reading the label, saying “hmm,” replacing the product, and moving on. Bottle after bottle. After bottle. After another. And so on. And on. And this is what I found –

Lather? Yes. Rinse? Yes again. Repeat? Well… Sometimes.

The mid-range, middle of the road, mass marketed, recognizable brands now bore the legend, “Lather then rinse.” Those brands aimed to the men’s market had no directions. (We wouldn’t follow them anyway.) High end “designer” shampoos informed the user that to achieve best results use with other products in that particular designer’s line including (but I would imagine not limited to) conditioner, deep conditioner, instant conditioner, conditioning mousse, styling gel, and light to the touch, extra hold finishing spray. Store brands proclaimed themselves to be the “Best Value!!!”

Lather? Yes. Rinse? Yes. Where is Repeat?

Finally I found it. On the dandruff and medicated shampoo shelves was the elusive thirst step – Lather, Rinse, Repeat. Buoyed by my discovery I pressed on.

There is a similar wording on the higher side of the mass marketed crowd, the ones not quite as expensive as the designer series of products but more than those aimed at Mr., Mrs., and Ms. Jo(e) Normal. They are the ones that include the product description and directions in French. Those advise the user to “Lather, Rinse, and Repeat if desired.” (Faire mousser, rincer et répéter si vous le souhaitez.)

So I wasn’t imagining it. Lather Rinse Repeat is still out there but in moderation. That’s the best way to take things anyway. With a little moderation. And repeat if desired.

That’s what I think. Really. How ‘bout you?