Tag Behavior

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?

The Meaning of Life – No, I’m Not Kidding!

Michael Leave a comment

Some day I have to figure out how my mind works. Not my brain. I have that figure out. Seven years of school better have taught me something. No, what I can’t figure out is how my mind works. That unfathomable piece of consciousness that works on its own stream and might or might not let us in.

Monday I woke up with a sore back. Check that. I woke up with a back that hurt like all the gods on Olympus and in the Coliseum (or wherever the Roman gods lived) were mad at it. I called my doctor; he worked me into his schedule, poked, prodded, and ordered some x-rays and gave me some muscle relaxers. Monday night I took some muscle relaxers and Tuesday woke up and did my normal morning stuff, sore but not in outright pain. Tuesday night I took more muscle relaxers and Wednesday woke up even less sore and certain I wasted my doctor’s time on Monday. Wednesday afternoon he called and told me I have three compression fractures in my spine. All of a sudden I can’t sit still I’m in such pain.

Normally I walk with a cane. I’m not too weak to walk but if I don’t use some support I wobble. In fact, without it I look for all the world like I’ve had one bourbon too many. (Yes, I used to also believe that was a contradiction in terms but you really can have one too many. Try not to spread it around.) Every morning I walk a couple of miles and if it’s not raining I go to the pool for an hour or so. To get to my pool I go out the door, through the breezeway, across the courtyard and up a flight of stairs. Since the stairs have a railing and to get to them is a short walk I usually leave my cane behind. Yesterday, before I found out that my back is living on borrowed time, on the way in from the pool I detoured down the front walk to the mailbox. The mailman was just dropping off the day’s haul but he hung around long enough to comment that it looked a little early to be “hitting it” (aka “the bottle”). I immediately felt bad to be out in public like that. It was only after he was pulling away for the next mailbox that I realized how little I had to be feeling foolish of.

Why do we put so much stock into what others say? Nothing changed in my back between Tuesday and Wednesday other than the doctor confirming what other doctors had already told me several years ago. I hadn’t removed the cap from the Marker’s Mark for a couple of weeks when I fortified the glaze for a steak I put on the grill. Yet I was willing to change how I felt, indeed how I was, based on what others – one supposedly learned and one supposedly a federal employee – had to say. (How many people work for the federal government? About half of them.) (Sorry, I couldn’t resist.)

Quite some time ago I found this, printed it, framed, it and took it to heart. Since then I’ve Lifechanged. I got an incurable condition. I got cancer. I beat cancer. I still have an incurable condition. Through it all I see this every morning. I have to. It’s on the wall above my toilet tank. It’s a great place for a bit of inspiration. At first I misinterpreted it to mean that if we want to live life to its fullest we have to physically beat the odds. We have to literally skid in sideways. Not so! As long as we don’t give in we won’t give up. I sort of like that expression. Maybe I’ll hang that on the wall too.

As long as you don’t give in, you won’t give up.

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

Life should not be a journey to the grave with the intention
of arriving in an attractive and well preserved body,
but rather to skid in sideways, chocolate in one hand, martini in the other,
thoroughly used up, totally worn out and screaming
“Woo hoo, what a ride!”

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?

 

Do You Believe In Chocolate?

Michael Leave a comment

Happy World Chocolate Day all you chocolate lovers! The appropriate method of celebration is, naturally, eating chocolate. So don’t just sit there. Go grab a chocolate bar while I regale you with tales from the dark side of chocolate.

The first tale to be told is yes, today is indeed World Chocolate Day, aka International Chocolate Day.  True chocolate lovers, and there have to be at least 7 billion cChocNuggetshoco-locos out of the 7.4 billion generally assumed to be wandering the earth about now, are certain that we had a chocolate day of some sort already, or not yet, or both. And all three are right!

Pay attention here. Things might get a little crazy. February 9, April 22, July 7, September 12, October 27, and October 28 all lay claim to Chocolate Day. Want some crazier? Bittersweet Chocolate gets its own day on January 10, Milk Chocolate Day is July 28, and September 22 is White Chocolate Day.  And let’s not forget special days for Chocolate Souffle (Feb. 28), Chocolate Mousse (May 2), Chocolate Chips (May 15), Chocolate Eclairs (June 22), and Chocolate Cup Cakes (Oct. 18). And those are only the ones that I’ve ever been able to track down. Yes, I’ll look high and low for any reason to add chocolate to my diet even if for just a day. (or two) (or thirty)

Oddly enough, none of the aforementioned days are sponsored by any chocolate or confection company. A couple are the brainchildren of a trade group or another and the September date does correspond with Milton Hershey’s birthday, but none are blatantly commercial.

Can there be truly one official Chocolate Day. Well, today actually commemorates the introduction of chocolate to Europe in 1550 by the explorers to Central and South America. So they say.

Good enough for me. Have a bar!

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

 

Bombs Bursting ‘n’at

Michael Leave a comment

I couldn’t wait for the Fourth of July this year. It is a Monday and that coincides with RRSB day and I knew exactly what to say. I was going to let all those people who think they know they’re way around the Constitution and the Bill of Rights and elections and the “noboby’s taking my rights away from me” crowd a thing or two. And then this 0730102118 (2)weekend I read a letter to the editor and darned if it didn’t make all that seem as trivial as it really is.

Many Americans will be out tonight enjoying a fireworks display. Some of us will be in boats on rivers or lakes looking up at them, some will be on mountains and overlooks looking down at them, some will be in recliners watching them in living color on big screen TVs, and some in bleachers or on park lawns watching them across the way. And we’ll truly enjoy them.

At some point, we’ll make our ways home and many of the many will want to continue the celebration and will pull out our home stashes of fireworks, the kind made by the company the letter writer works for. And that’s where his letter comes in. If I may quote from it:

As the Independence Day holiday approaches, Phantom Fireworks would like to remind its customers, friends and all those who use consumer fireworks to be mindful of the fact that some veterans can be startled and upset by the noise of fireworks.

Chelsey Zoldan, a licensed clinical mental health counselor and special consultant to Phantom Fireworks, advises that there is the potential for some veterans to be reminded of combat situations when they hear the loud sounds of gunfire and fireworks. Combat veteran Henry Jiminez, on a broadcast news piece aired on KABB-TV in San Antonio, Texas, indicated he found the unexpected blasts to be the worst. … Zoldan indicated that unexpected fireworks booms can cause some veterans increased anxiety that could be difficult and challenging for them. …

The bottom line is that giving veterans a heads up that you will be lighting fireworks seems to be the most helpful. Vets aren’t necessarily scared of or by the noises but the unexpected can trigger unwanted symptoms and distress. Please show courtesy to those military veterans who served so your freedoms could be protected.

William Weimer Youngstown, Ohio
The writer is vice president of Phantom Fireworks.

From: The Tribune Review, Pittsburgh Edition, Trib Total Media, Inc., July 1, 2016 (A7).

(Read the whole letter here.)

So let the air be filled with the colors and sounds of these rockets of joy as reminders of the rights that we have to celebrate as we wish. But remember also how we got and keep those rights.

Happy Independence Day!

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

On the Road – 2016 Style

Michael Leave a comment

I just got back form a little road trip. It’s been a while since I’ve been on the road for so long or so far. Things have changed – and some haven’t.

In general people still haven’t figured out the fine art of driving. Speed limits are optional, turn signals must be broken, brakes apparently don’t work nearly as well as horns, and lanes are merely a suggestion of vehicular placement. I recall when everybody went to driver’s ed in high school. Now nobody goes. And it shows! But no school will pay the cost of a car, a teacher’s extra time (for some reason it was always a gym teacher), and the outrageous insurance it must cost when the only authorized drivers are unlicensed teenagers and a gym teacher.

Rest stops have gotten dirtier, with less real food and more unreal people. And they are farther apart. When many highways were being built in the 1950s the cars were big but of suspect power. In the east and the west where mountains rule the terrain, all roads had stops at the peaks. This allowed the motoring public a chance to stretch their legs, enjoy the views, and allow their cars to cool down after doing their imitations of an asthmatic billy goat. And there the rest stops stayed. The ones that weren’t torn down.  Today’s cars are much more powerful and can easily make it up three or four thousand feet. And much too easily they then make it back down the other side. I feel sorry for the people who live in the flat middle of the country and don’t get to enjoy the experience of plummeting down a mountain around bends often only feet from all too real sheer drops, bending, twisting, turning, ducking into tunnels then back into the sunlight only to plunge into the new darkness of a companion tunnel then thrust back out for another few miles of downhill slaloming all at a speed for which breakneck is too mild an adjective. We don’t need rest stops at the top of the mountains; we need them at the bottom. With liquor licenses. And underwear changing stations.

Gas stations are being augmented by charging stations for electric cars. A great idea. I saw a half-dozen charging stations at each stop I visited.  Even at the smallest of the stops where I stopped there stood the usual six charging stands. For the entire four days on the road I encountered one electric car. Perhaps someday there will be lines for them also.

A new nicety at rest stops is the farmers’ market. I love farmers’ markets and have posted a few thoughts on them. But I don’t understand why they are there. Except for the few RVers still on the road, how many people pick up a peck of fresh veggies for dinner while on vacation?

In the 1970s everybody reduced the speed limit to 55mph to save gas since prices had skyrocketed to a whopping 59 cents per gallon. Even though gas today is cheap at $2.50 a gallon, speed limits keep getting higher. Except for whoever is driving in the left lane. For some reason as soon as I pull out to pass a slower vehicle the car that just sped past me discovers that his brakes indeed brake.

And perhaps someday somebody will be able to explain why there are handicap lanes at the toll plazas. I didn’t use them. But there they were, and that might be this week’s newest, greatest mystery.

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

 

Faster Than a Speeding Steam Shovel

Michael Leave a comment

Some years ago I posted a series of tales featuring the dubious driving abilities of those who had managed to plow their vehicles into unsuspecting, immovable buildings. (Enter “Cars” and “Building” into the site search window and you’ll find those contributions.) With the exception of one follow-up a year ago I stopped such posts not because I stopped finding them in the local news but that they had become so commonplace that I feared if I continued you’d develop a less than admirable perception of drivers from my part of the country. But even that can’t stop this installment.

Among last Monday morning’s news stories which included two separate car vs building scuffles and one report of a garbage truck assailing a house in an early morning sneak attack (apparently even the driver was unaware of it at the time) was a related incident. But first, we should take a moment and explore how one directs a vehicle under his or her control into a quite stationary, often multi-storied structure.

I don’t buy the excuse of “I thought I was hitting the brakes.” The pedal configuration in automobiles has been the same for roughly 110 years. That’s longer than anybody who has run into a building has been driving. It’s longer even than anybody who has run into a building has been breathing. No, you don’t suddenly “forget” which pedal is which. I also don’t buy the excuse that “I was distracted.” Distracted driving is indeed a real thing. Many accidents and unfortunately many accidental deaths have been caused by distracted drivers. That I am not disputing. But to hit a building you must leave the roadway, climb over curbs, drive through hedgerows and/or parking meters, flush quail and other small animals often including startled, screaming human beings before striking an object with force enough to propel your vehicle through it. I might buy operator death while driving but since all of the reports that I have seen end with “the driver claimed he (or she) thought he (or she) was hitting his (or her) brakes” and/or “the driver claims to have been distracted,” death clearly has been ruled out.

So now that we’ve explored how one directs a vehicle into a non-vehicle we know no more about the mental state of these drivers than we did before said exploration other than to say they are mental.

SS1And that brings us to my latest report. A man drove his back hoe into the living room of a house. He then drove off! Fortunately (that’s how the local police chief described it, “fortunately”) the homeowner got a good description of the vehicle and officers who were on patrol nearby were able to track down the alleged operator. Fortunately (yes, “fortunately”) they had that good description and they were able to stop the correct backhoe driving down the road. It would have been quite embarrassing to stop the wrong one with pieces of picture window frame hanging from it.

Thank God he didn’t drive around to window #2!

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

 

Put me in, Coach!

Michael Leave a comment

If you can, find a news clip of a baseball game from 1960. Although then commonplace it looks funny as all get out to see men wearing suits and hats while they root, root, rooted for the home team. Today anything goes in the stands at sporting events. There are t-shirts, sweatshirts, jerseys, hats, jackets, and don’t forget the big foam fingers. And those are just the fans that actually wear clothes. But the other day at a ball game I saw a suit of a different cut.

There in a field level seat just past the dugout was a young man in complete home team paraphernalia (and not the mascot I should add) – replica jersey, hat, glove, even those funny looking pants with the high socks. He could have been wearing spikes on his shoes for all that I was able to tell from my vantage point. I wonder what went through his mind when he was “dressing” for the game. Could it be that if the team gets into trouble he might step in as savior? Might he be in consideration for this year’s MVP award after coming out of nowhere? Quite literally, out of nowhere.

Let’s listen in to the coaching staff as we head into the 21st inning.

Bench coach: I haven’t seen such a masterful use of the entire roster since that 7-1/2 hour 23 inning marathon in New York 12 years ago.

Manager: Yeah, but we’re still tied and if I pull this pitcher I don’t have anybody left to pinch hit. If we don’t get a run in with one of the first two batters up we’re in deep doo-doo.

Bench Coach: On no we’re not. Check it out. Sitting in section 102. Third row, 4th seat from the aisle.

Manager: Yeah, he’s a natural! Hey you, number 00! Yeah you! Grab a bat and get on deck! Let’s put this thing to bed!

Peanuts

And that’s when the alarm clock went off.

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

…and the living is easy

Michael Leave a comment

Today is the first day of summer. (If you are reading this south of the Equator please feel free to bookmark it and come back in six months or equally feel free to keep reading. Your choice.) I hate to sound like one of those guys who thinks everything was easier “back then” but I swear the seasons were easier back then. I seem to recall in my youth summer always starting on June 21. Now it came be as early as the 20th or as late as June 23. It’s all so precise they even narrow it down to the very minute “it” happens. 6:34 pm. This year. Oh, that’s Eastern Time. Eastern Daylight Saving Time. Like the sun is worried about an extra hour of daylight. And that’s just astrological summer. Meteorological summer started on June 1.Every year. (For those reading this on any nearby meteors.)

Anyway, today is the first day of summer so if you haven’t done your spring cleaning yet, you’re in luck. You have nine months off until you have to tackle that particular project again. Same goes for anyone not yet having a fling or putting one in your step. Don’t thank me. Thank the relentless march of time or your own procrastination. On the other hand, it’s now officially too late to take a break but at least you have made it through another season without getting the feverSummer

Now that all that stuff is off the table, what is there to do? Well summer can usher in some lovin’, you can do some saulting, or be having a hot time in the city or a lazy, hazy, crazy, day just about anywhere else. When you do you can post what you did on your summer vacation but don’t be surprised if someone doesn’t come up to you and say “I know what you did last summer” after they read it.

Whatever you do, do it now. It may feel like a long, hot summer but you only have until September 22. After that, no more hot fun in the summertime. (Unless you are reading this south of the Equator.) And please stay upbeat for the next three months. You realize there ain’t no cure for the summertime blues now don’t you?

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

Rant

Michael Leave a comment

I’ve started writing something witty for this post no less than 6 times. Each time I get through the first sentence and I drift into an annoying (even for me) rant about that which annoys the daylights out of me. Since it looks like I’m not going to get to right anything witty today I might as well rant along. I’ll try not to get too annoying.

It’s not mid-June, the general election is 5 months away, and attack ads for the Senate seat on the ballot have already begun. Oh joy. Imagine the next time you are applying for a job you spend your entire interview (which you force yourself into rather than waiting for the invitation) on the reasons why your competition should not get the job and never describe your qualifications for the position.

Speaking of job interviews, the newly hired school superintendent of the local school district (that pays over $210,000 a year) held his first press conference to explain some discrepancies in his resume. Of course they weren’t really discrepancies. They were merely accomplishments of his that weren’t as accomplished as he said. When they say to proof your resume most people figure they mean to look for typos, not to make sure you have proof of what you wrote.

Speaking of school superintendents, the one at a different district (one where two teachers have pled guilty and are now in jail for having sex with students and one teacher is awaiting trial for having sex with students and another teacher has been charged with witness intimidation in one of the cases of one of the teachers having sex with students) was told he had to, pending an investigation regarding all these teachers having sex with all these students, voluntarily take leave of absence with pay or the school board would be forced to involuntarily put him on leave of absence with pay. He wouldn’t so they did. With pay.

Speaking of leaves of absence with pay, a local police officer charged with using excessive force after he was caught on a security camera beating the living daylights out of a high school kid, successfully sued the city for lost overtime he probably would have earned had he not been suspended. With pay.

Speaking of pay, our state’s attorney general (who had her law license suspended but refuses to step down claiming she doesn’t need a law license to be an attorney) is being sued by her sister, the chief deputy attorney general, for sex discrimination claiming she is being paid 17 to 37 percent less than her male counterparts. If that’s true then somebody will soon be suing claiming that he or she is being paid 20 percent less than some other part.

Speaking of claims, it’s time for somebody who claims to be in charge to take charge. Please.

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