Real Life. Drama.

This is a show!

It's real, and it can be found on A&E.  Now for those not hip to the cable abbreves, A&E once stood for "Arts and Entertainment."  You be the judge.

You know why Kentucky Fried Chicken changed their name officially to KFC, right?  They wanted to get the word "fried" out of their name, and what they were serving could not legally be called chicken.  Likewise, McDonalds can't call their beverages "milkshakes," because they do not contain any milk.  This is why they are limited to the word "shakes" on their menu boards.  Sadly, these are all false claims, if one is to trust Snopes.com.  If you can't trust Snopes, then is there really a Nigerian prince that needs my help? (KFC link; McDonalds link)

We do have unequivocal proof, however, that A&E no longer deals in either the arts or the entertainments.  According to their own website, the top shows on A&E are currently:

1. Storage Wars
2. Duck Dynasty
3. Breakout Kings
4. Dog the Bounty Hunter
5. The First 48
6. Storage Wars: Texas

First, and maybe foremost, A&E published a list containing six items, and readers of this blog know that this can be unsettling.

I have lost a few hours watching Storage Wars and I am now a little fascinated by Duck Dynasty.  The word "entertainment" is a bit of a stretch, though.  The word "art" does not even enter the equation.

So now my DVR is currently filling up with gems like this:

If you take anything away from this post, let it be these words from A&E's website as they quote one of their biggest stars:

Don't forget to follow me on your Twitter-witter do-hickie.

Please note the Twitter link on the top of A&E's homepage.  They can be followed @aetv.

Remember the Blog Posts About Nice Weather?

Those were the days.

So my NCAA bracket got crushed a week ago, and my bird crap over/under did not go particularly well.  Nobody has yet to take me up on my next snowfall over/under, however.  April 10th is still the date.  Any takers?

Sorry Robert Kraft ... I Still Like the Patriots

The YouTube add for the Dollar Shave Club made me giggle.

The interwebs were abuzz about this startup at the beginning of the month, and the pitch made sense to me.  I hate electric razors, so I progressed from the dual blade I had as a teen, to a Mach 3, to a Gillette Fusion.  Two, three, and now five blades!  The Spishak Mach20 was next for me.  A package of twelve Fusion cartridges cost about thirty-six dollars, or a year's membership to the Dollar Shave Club (if you include shipping).  I have been spending a great deal of money on razors.  Now there are folks out there that have all sorts of tips about extending the life of razors, and I could probably make a single cartridge last a month.  I have a problem, however, spending more time cleaning and primping my razor than I do actually using it to shave.  I don't clip coupons, I don't buy the day-old donuts, and I do not soak my razors in rubbing alcohol and hang them upside-down on a daily basis, only to rub them against some old denim a few times a week.  Disposable water bottles and batteries irritate me, but I'm ok with some disposable items.  Top of my list: razors and diapers.  So I jumped on this Internet bandwagon.

I don't know if I was annoyed or encouraged when I got an email saying that due to heavy demand, my initial shipment was going to be delayed.  It took almost three weeks for my razors to arrive.  The ironic part was that I stopped buying my old razors, and had to make my final cartridge last longer than I normally would.  As a result, I was second-guessing my decision on a daily basis.  I could save money by stretching out the cartridges; it wasn't that difficult.  Just as I was about to give up hope, the razors came yesterday.

They look pretty dull compared to the shmancy razor I had been using for the last several years.  Less than half the blades in each cartridge; no ergonomically designed, super-cool grip; not even a plastic holder for the handle and box of cartridges.  The new handle feels pretty flimsy.  I felt like I got what I paid for.  A dollar's worth of shaving equipment.  After actually shaving, however, I felt better.  It's a good razor.  Nothing great, but it does the job.  In fact, I think only having two blades is less irritating to my skin than the what I have been doing for the last decade.  So I'm happy again and feeling better about being on the bandwagon.

What I now know, is that if you are paying more then three dollars a month on razors, you're doing it wrong.  This option could not be easier, but if you are a name brand snob and want a more intimidating looking razor in your hand each morning, it's not hard to make them last.  Find a way to keep the blades from rusting, and they'll stay sharp much longer than you think.

I also now appreciate just how much of a sucker I am for advertising.  I thought my DVR was protecting me from most commercials, but clearly Gillette dug their claws in me, and now this new startup.

We Almost Bought a Pair of Toyota Matrices

Best Parking Spot on Campus

My first car.  A 1996 Ford Explorer Sport, bought used shortly before starting my first job out of college.  Four-wheel drive and horrible gas mileage, it was a great car for a single guy that seldom needed to drive very far and lived in a time of moderate gas prices.

After a couple of years, the ignition system began to stick, so you had to jiggle the key just right or risk dislocating your thumb to start the thing.  My wife once walked back from the grocery store because it refused to budge.  That was the end of that car.

My lottery dreams at the time always involved the car, or cars, I would buy.  After repeatedly watching chase scenes from Ronin, I was hooked on an Audi S8.

Though it lacked the twelve cylinders of Audi's W12, it was still a beast.  Once Volkswagon teamed up with Lamborghini to modify a V10 and stick it in the Audi S8, fantasies became even more vibrant.

Well, the Audi was out of our price range, so we settled for a four-door Explorer.  Not as peppy, but we did get an unnecessarily inefficient, V8 model.  It was a great car, but then came our move to Connecticut.  We needed two cars and gas prices were on the rise.  The SUV was exchanged for a pair of Ford Foci.  The combined engine sizes of the two cars was smaller than the engine of the one Explorer we just got rid of (as well as the combined car payments).

It seems that I have been turned into a closeted environmentalist by our current cars.  Yes, the cars are a little cramped.  Transporting the family and required accessories for any extended vacations is a real-life application of Tetris.  On the other hand, I really like getting over thirty miles to the gallon.  Even though I am no longer commuting, it is nice to only have to fill the tank once a month.

So the S8 is no longer in my dreams, though I still watch Ronin on a regular basis.  I do think I would look good in one of these, however.

Whiplashing acceleration while still maintaining that family sedan vibe ...  oh, and no gas tank.  Maybe Elon Musk will give me one for promoting his product.  If that's too much, maybe a couple laps around the Earth ... for giggles?

I don't know if my lottery dreams are getting more or less practical.

The Right Lane Can Pay Off

You can almost smell the fryolators and urine cakes from here.

If the Walmart truck pulls forward a little, I can cut across two lanes, nudge the Prius out of the way, hop the curb, and Bingo!

There are worse things than being stopped in traffic.  For example, being stopped in traffic while just inches past the exit ramp to a rest stop located three lanes over.  

"Charlton Plaza" may be a bit grandiose of a title.  If you do a Google Image search of the word "plaza" ... this place doesn't make the cut.

Face it, when you are stopped in traffic, there are three possibilities that can occur individually or in combination.  You are hungry; your legs/butt are sore and you need to stand up for a while; and/or you need to go tinkles.   While your vehicle is in motion, these are minor irritants.  When stopped on a three-lane parking lot, they become a big deal.  To be so close and yet so far from a solution to all of these problems, well it just seems cruel.

So nobody has to ever suffer through this horror, I am proposing a business collaboration between The Ford Motor Company, Coleman, Reliance, and Jobar International.  There must be a way to combine the award winning properties of the Coleman FryWell InstaStart Portable Fryer, the Luggable Loo, and the JB5462 Air Compression Leg Massager into the passenger compartment of a Ford Focus.  One would almost welcome traffic if such corporate synergy existed.

So now you know how I spent part of my vacation.  Anybody interested in starting a business venture with me?  If we design it right, we can get the waste products to power the car, or at least the air compressor.

Pungent Thiols Hereafter

Fresh From the Grill

This ridiculous string of good weather has continued here in the Northeast.  So to forget about that unfortunate business with Florida State University, I pulled out the grill.  It was a strange feeling to be grilling in bare feet and a T-shirt, in the middle of March.  Yes, I was wearing pants too, pervert.

I got to use one of the best cooking accessories I have ever purchased.   It came from Home Depot.  "Was it the 4-Piece Stainless Steel Grilling Tool Set with Non-slip Grip?" you may ask.  No.  "Perhaps the Gas Grill Rotisserie?"  Sorry.    "It must be the Electric Port-A-Torch Kit!"  Wrong again.

Several years ago I bought a bundle of cedar shingles.  Soak one in water for an hour or so, throw a piece of fish on top, and then drop on the grill.  Dinner is done.  Be careful not to attempt this with painted or stained shingles.  Vinyl siding is also a bad idea.  (Consider that my public service announcement.  PTH is all about helping the people.)

If you insist on eating something green with your meal, I have another recommendation.

A bonus to this menu selection will come from your body breaking down and excreting the mercaptans found in the asparagus.   It is strange to me that only some people note the post-asparagus odor while visiting the loo.  There seems to be a debate about this issue.  Some feel that only a portion of the population break down the chemicals in asparagus to produce a foul smelling waste product, while the rest of humanity is unaffected.  Another argument is that everybody produces the odiferous compounds, but only certain people are actually sensitive to the smell.  Rest assured, science is on the case.

Maybe I should do a blog post on what happens after you eat beets.

Praying for Title Hopes

Hard for me to write anything right now.  I've picked Florida State to make it to the National Championship Game.  After a poor showing in the first round, they are now losing to a rather mediocre Cincinnati team.

OK, they just took the lead, but I should go.  I'm not feeling particularly good about this.

Persistently Tossing Hints

Don't Park Under Trees

Let me begin by congratulating Chris Hall and his Lehigh brethren.  I never doubted the outcome.

Though the Missouri loss has been a blow to my bracket, I am still in better shape than I was this time last year.  I had already lost a good chunk of my Sweet 16 teams by this point.  As far as other wagers go, I would have lost my bird dropping over/under.

The car lasted three days, not the four hours I originally proposed.

I did manage to do some more research about my daughter's birthday present today.

Perhaps if I win one of the pools I'm in or I convert my next snow over/under.  I'm currently ranked 1,160,933rd on ESPN's Tournament Challenge.

I think a down payment is in order.  I can at least start clearing off a spot on our coffee table so that the little one has a place to admire her new toy.

Pneumatic Tales & Histories

Help Me!

There were no childhood dreams of blogging.  When I undertook this venture a couple of weeks ago, I certainly had no aspirations of becoming a tire blogger.  But here I am, posting my third post about tires in less than a week's time.  Mother is so proud!

As I was stuck in a tire store for three hours today, it struck me.  I was captive.  I could wander around the shopping plaza, but without a functioning car, I was not going far.  I grabbed a bite to eat, walked up and down the aisles of the neighboring RadioShack, but eventually came back and sat in one of the hard plastic chairs next to the entrance of the tire store.  I endured it.  The invasive stench of vulcanized rubber, the elderly woman sitting two chairs down from me that was just audibly mumbling to herself for forty-five minutes, the running commentary from a ten-year-old watching an NCAA tournament game on the 17" TV in the corner as if his entire family's savings were riding on the fourth grade pool at the local grammar school, the waiting ... the waiting, I just sat there in that stiff, little chair.  I had my smartphone, and intermittent 3G service, but one can only check your Twitter feed and Google Reader so often before the mumbling old lady thinks you're crazy.

Customer after customer came in.  Some came in carrying flat tires.  Others inquired about the cost of replacement tires.  Others brought their cars in for balancing and/or alignment.  Each was given the same line, "The (service) normally takes about an hour, but today it would be more like ninety minutes."  For the most part, those predictions came true.  After two and a half hours, however, I asked about my car.  Apparently the car that was undergoing alignment before mine took much longer than expected, but I was next in line.

At some point while permanently pressing my backside into that chair, I came upon the idea.  What a great location for selling something.  People might temporarily wander away from you, but they will always come back.  Now others have clearly though about this, because "No Soliciting" signs were taped up in several locations.  What if we took this a step further?  What if we started a cult and used a tire store as a front?

The science fiction writer L. Ron Hubbard is often quoted as saying, "The way to make a million dollars is to start a religion."  So let's do it.  The easy part is coming up with the rules, ceremonies, and sacred text.  The tough part is converting people to your faith.  So I say, let's use tire stores!  If we're lazy about it, we could just sit in the waiting areas of various tire stores and quietly preach "The Gospel According to Akron."  Heck, Old Lady Mumbles might have been trying to do that to me today.  But if we are to be really ambitious, I suggest that we actually invest in a store of our own.  At the very least, people are in the store for an hour, and every now and then, some poor schmuck like me is stuck there all morning.  We would have complete control over the environment.  Suggestive music will be played over the store's speaker system.  Tires will be stacked in awe-inspiring geometries.  What better location to bring people to our way of thinking?  If conversions are going slowly, hallucinogenic gases can be piped in to make our "customers" more pliable; the stench of the tires will certainly cover up any other unnatural odors.  As a hook, we can offer "buy three tires and get the fourth tire free" deals to new members of our church or "free tire rotations" for the faithful.  As our numbers grow, we can franchise to new locations around the world.

Who's with me?!?  Let's get ... Oh, my car's ready.  Gotta go.

Let's Meet Up on March 11th at 2:30am

From Tuesday's post.

Have you ever reflected back upon something you just completed only to discover some horrific mistake you made but had previously overlooked?  Say, for example, you are a heart surgeon.  As you are stitching the patient up after a lengthy procedure, you replay the operation in your head.  Just as you are knotting the last suture, you realize that you left a sponge in the patient's chest cavity.

Yesterday afternoon there was another spam attack on President Obama's Google+ page.  I thought back to the previous blog entry I wrote on the subject ... and it hit me.  I had written about just such an event and claimed it occurred at 4:00pm EST on Monday.  This cyber attack did not happen at four o'clock Eastern Standard Time; it happened at four o'clock Eastern Daylight Time!  4:00pm EST did not exist on Monday.  It existed the previous Monday, but not this past Monday.  How could I forget Daylight Saving Time?  How could such a surgical sponge be left to fester in my blog post?  (Too hyperbolic?)

Daylight Saving Time is a creepy concept to me.  Tonight, stay up to 1:59am, be a rebel.  I promise you that a minute later will be 2:00am, and the minute following that will be 2:01am.  Check for yourself, if you don't believe me.  This past Sunday, however, that did not happen.  Time went from 1:59am to 3:01am in a span of just two, short minutes.  What happened in between?  Was it 2:00am and 3:00am simultaneously?  Yes!  It's the Schrodinger's Cat of chronology.  Where did the time from 2:00am to 2:59am go?  Was there a rift in the space-time continuum?  Does the arbitrary shift from Standard Time to Daylight Saving Time contradict everything we learned in physics?

I understand the concept behind Daylight Saving Time.  Josh Clark and Chuck Bryant from Stuff You Should Know did an excellent podcast explaining the history and rationale behind saving daylight.  Long story short, it seemed wasteful for people to be asleep while the sun was up only to have the sun set early in the evening.  The remedy, push the clocks ahead so that our daily schedules better match the solar schedule.  I don't understand, though, why we fall back?  Why not just save daylight all of the time?  Wouldn't it be nice to get off work and still have a little sunlight left on a December evening?  Are decreased productivity at work and the increased number of deaths caused by sleep confused drivers necessary every time we switch our clocks?

If you are a resident of American Samoa, Guam, Northern Mariana Islands, Puerto Rico, or the US Virgin Islands, I apologize for wasting your time.  You have no idea what Daylight Saving Time is, and you have little need.  If you are a resident of Arizona, you do not observe Daylight Saving Time either.  I can only assume that your legislators are too concerned with upholding the rights of all of your fellow citizens to be bothered with such trivial issues.  Instead, you keep your clocks the same and switch what timezone your state belongs to twice a year.  That's much less confusing for the rest of us.  How will our boarder protecting militia members know when to meet up with your boarder protecting militia members?

My favorite part about Daylight Saving in Arizona ... the Navajo Indian Reservation in Arizona does observe Daylight Saving Time.

Was there a Greek God of Bird Droppings?

Snow tires are safe and secure.

As promised on Monday, I took the plunge.  I declared winter to be officially over, and took off the snow tires.  I was (and still am) worried convinced that this was a rash and premature act ... a simple over-exuberance compelled by a spate of delightful weather.  (I have not used some of those words in a while and felt the need to throw them in.)  I have been encouraged to see that a number of individuals I respect have made similar pronouncements.

Chris Hall (of ChallTech fame) has declared the beginning of the Summer of 2012 from the campus of Lehigh University (I'm sure your boys will do just fine against Duke.)

Khaliq Gant (of Social Blendr fame) has not stored the snow tires, but has taken equally daring measures. He also seems to possess a talking wardrobe.

Finally, the ghost tweeter for Walt Frazier (of New York Knickerbocker fame, Just For Men pitchman, and star of a title role in this post) echoed Khaliq's sentiments just a few hours later.

Emboldened by such a noble company of men, I have decided to take my taunting of Mother Nature a step further.  I got my car washed today.  Step at me, Horae!

With everybody filling out their NCAA brackets and the US economy looking at an estimated loss of $192 million in productivity in the coming weeks, I offer two wagers.

First, when do you think the next measurable amount of snow accumulation will occur?  I'm placing the Over/Under at April 10th of this year.

Second, how long do you think it will take for a bird to crap on my newly cleaned windshield?

Ohh, Shiny!

Over/Under for this is four hours.

Happy Fun Times ... In Mandarin!

The Chinese are crazy for Women's College Hoops.

So this is for the two people on Google+.  Chinese citizens have been spamming President Obama's Google+ account for the last couple of days.  Here's how it works.  Google+ allows a maximum of 500 comments to be made on any one post.  Whenever the White House publishes something to +Barack Obama, the comments get flooded with Mandarin.  It generally takes just a few hours to reach the 500 comment maximum, at which point anybody else that would like to add their thoughts is shut out.

It's amazing to watch.  I was online today at 4:00pm EST EDT when pictures of a dinner with Barak and Michelle Obama were posted.  This was 4:00am in Beijing, and the floodgates opened.  If you want to to view a full example, check this one out.

It was posted yesterday at 3:37pm.  There were a handful of comments, mostly anticipating the onslaught that was about to happen.  Then at 4:03, it began.  You can see from the image below that the comments come in serious waves.

These are all public posts, so I don't feel the need to cover up the user names of anybody here.

It seems that a number are Chinese nationals using this forum as a virtual occupy movement.  By repressing the ability for Americans to comment on President Obama's actions, they are illustrating what it is like to live under the thumb of their government.  Perhaps people in China think that Americans actually use Google+, care about what the President has to say, and will be devastated if they cannot post their opinions online.

The rest of the comments fall into two other categories.  The majority seem to be Chinese kids playing a game.  It looks like they are trying to see who can post the 500th comment.  It's kind of like making a stopwatch stop at exactly 1.00 seconds.  The other comments come from Americans that are irked about having this public forum so brutally spammed. They repeatedly post comments asking people to stop (thus ticking the watch closer to 500), or ask that the comments be flagged as inappropriate (so the overlords at Google can supposedly block those Chinese accounts).

I like these requests the best.  American citizens are asking that a public protest against an overbearing government be squashed so that Americans can post comments about President Obama's dinner pictures and his picks for the NCAA Women's basketball tournament.  Granted, this is not a Woolworth's lunch counter we are talking about, but the irony is a little thick.

So I say... let's play along.  First, join Google+.  Next, follow +Barack Obama.  (This is not a liberal / conservative thing.  It's a social media game, like FarmVille.  The only people you annoy are uptight Americans, instead of your friends.)  Now wait for a post from the White House and comment away.  Let me know if you hit number 500.

This game is also more fun if you comment in Mandarin.  I use Google Translate and then copy and paste.

Now that you are on Google+, you can follow me directly, or get updates from this blog.  Tricked you!

Honey, We're Moving to New Bedford!

I know, I know ... global climate change is a bad thing.  People in the Southeast have been hammered by severe weather.  Some midwestern states are under tornado watches right now while others are under fire warnings.  The Northwest is experiencing significant snowfalls as I am typing.  Those are only the weather extremes that are happening in this country;  global headlines this winter have been truly unbelievable.

So with the utmost respect to all those that have been suffering through these difficult conditions ... today was great!  Holy moly!  If this is global warming, well I feel like firing up the coal powered Humvee and taking the scenic route to the pastures so I can feed the cows some broccoli.

I know that human driven climate change will lead to dramatic shifts in weather patterns, rising sea levels, ocean acidification, mass extinctions, increased difficulty in feeding our growing population, and the forced migration of huge numbers of people.  As a counterpoint, however, I would like to offer some weather data collected in New Bedford during the month of January:

OK ... too much data for a typical American reader to digest.  Fair point.  Let me give you the SparkNotes* version by zooming in on just the recorded temperatures and indicating the times when the high reached or surpassed fifty degrees:

The weather has been amazing this winter.  I kind of regret going through all of the trouble with our snow tires back in November.  There was only one time that we needed them, and that was the storm that hit a month before I put them on!

Don't worry, my snow tires were warm and dry when I took this picture.

This was the only real snow we had during actual winter months:

That was on a Saturday, January 21st.  If you look back at the data, you will see that it hit fifty-two degrees the following Monday.  One weekend of winter, with very limited snow tire application.

So I'm taking the tires off tomorrow.  For the rest of you, that means hunker down.  We can't get away with such a string of fair weather.  Ned Stark might be a head shorter, but "Winter Is Coming."  (If you are aware of that reference, then it could not have been too much of a spoiler.  If you have just ordered Season 1 on DVD ... sorry.  Peter Dinklage is quite good.)

So I will enjoy the flowers and sleep well knowing that my snow tires will be unsullied by the next big storm.  (another Game of Thrones reference there, but you need to read the books for that one.)

Oohhh ... flowers!

PS - Goose dies in Top Gun.

*SparkNotes are an electronic take on the ubiquitous "study guides" sold under the title of CliffsNotes.  People who use SparkNotes often live in a mixed state of sloth, procrastination, and moral haziness; they have Internet access; and they have never heard of Wikipedia.

Weekly Recap

Good stew

For the astute gourmands out there, that is indeed a Dutch oven.  I know ... I thought it was a joke too!

Over the past few days, you have learned some interesting details about the state of Connecticut and learned about my guilty carnovorism.  Let me, therefore, tie it all together with this little recommendation:

Face it, if you're driving in Connecticut you will end up in traffic.  Hey, I got an idea ... let's have a huge number of people that work in New York live in the 'burbs.  Now let's connect those people's homes with a major highway, but let's only put two lanes in some places, for fun.  It will be okay, there's a Parkway with ugly bridges that will help with traffic.

If you are parked on I-95 and happen to be near Exit 24, set your GPS for 306 Black Rock Turnpike, in Fairfield.  Some locals will suggest Rawley's, and there is merit to having a deep fried hot dog.  I promise you, though, this is the place to go.  Super Duper Weenie is ... 

I tried finishing that sentence four times without success.  Each version was worst than the previous.  They weren't even double entendre, just plain old entendre.  It's really difficult to heap praise on a place called Super Duper Weenie without sounding a little pervy.

FYI ... the term "double entendre" is meaningless in French, as are the phrases: "we should not go on strike," "I have studied military history," and "let's welcome the Muslims!"  (writes the citizen of a country where an "occupy movement" has been going on for six months, that learned nothing from the British Empire or Soviet Union about Afghanistan, and has a sparkling track record in Muslim relations.)

Who wants a hot dog? Oh, I see ... Haram, you say?  Are you sure hot dogs aren't halal? You're quite sure.  I ... ah ...  Can we talk about it over a beer?  Oh ...

Mommy, She Was Cutting and Slicing Without Any Emotion At All!

For free range cattle they don't ... range very much.

I'm a carnivore.  I'm not proud of it.  I understand the huge waste of resources that goes into breeding, feeding, inoculating, and butchering my hamburger.  I am aware of the horrible treatment and cruelty many of these animals experience before becoming a meal.  I cannot articulate what makes one animal an acceptable pet and another an acceptable ingredient. This shirt makes me giggle.

I have considered weening myself of flesh with Graham Hill's plan:

I just like meat too much.  The sandwich at lunch is a mindless (and yummy) grab.  I don't know how to pair a wine with tofu.

I bring this up because I am waiting for a shoe to drop.  It's not a call from my doctor about my cholesterol.  It's a visit from the vegetarians.  You see, the young daughter of a family of vegetarians stopped by our place today.  She came to play with our daughter.  She arrived shortly after my wife and I returned from grocery shopping.  My wife had a beautiful beef shoulder on the cutting board and was carving it up to be marinated overnight.  To the jaded and cynical apex predator that I am, it seemed like an every day occurrence.  To a juvenile, animal loving, vegetarian ... it must have looked like a scene from Dexter.  Fortunately she was so fixated on our daughter that I don't think she noted the gruesome acts that were occurring just a few feet from her.  She certainly didn't comment or ask any questions.  I am just waiting for her to wake up from some horrific nightmare tonight and then explain to her entire vegetarian household what terrors haunt her dreams.

If you need to get a hold of me tomorrow, don't call.  I'm not planning on answering the phone.  Coming over may not be a great idea either.  The shades will be drawn, and although you may think you hear my voice inside, I promise you I'll be out of town.

If you are interested in some beef stew tomorrow night, however, we may have a little left over.

I Did It Like This ...

I was hoping for a little something more form this building.

That's right ladies and gentlemen ... it's time for more Connecticut Trivia!

As I mentioned in a previous post, my family and I lived in Connecticut a couple of years ago.  While we were there, Route 8 proved to be a valuable byway for many of our trips.

Map from Google

It was on a return trip from my parents' house that we began to run a little low on gas.  We pulled off in Shelton and looked for a station.  We drove down Bridgeport Avenue, and there it was ... The Wiffle Ball, Incorporated.  Who knew?  It's not like anybody ever reads that 1950s vintage cardboard box they come in.  Good for Wiffle Ball!  How they did not get outsourced, I have no idea.  I guess Foxconn can assemble all of the iPads they want.  We'll never give them our wiffle technology!  (I noticed that The Wiffle Ball, Incorporated, did not have any suicide nets around its building.)

Wiffle Balls were an invaluable commodity in my youth.  My friend and I would play one-on-one games for hours.  (Same friend that watched Top Gun with me.  Maybe we didn't have any other friends to play with.)  We had our favorite duct-tapes bats and we would play best of seven game series in a single day.  The number of balls that we lost in trees or split in half is staggering.  We routinely had to get one of our fathers to drive us to the local sporting goods store in order to resupply.  In hindsight, we may be the reason that The Wiffle Ball, Incorporated, stayed in Connecticut.

Things that we did not do during our wiffle marathons: squish balls, intentionally scuff balls, or microwave balls.  Apparently people do this.

If people have enough time to microwave balls and learn to pitch like this, they should find a better hobby.  I suggest watching Tom Cruise movies and chewing copious amounts of gum balls.

My days of intense wiffle are behind me.  I do like competition, and the game brings me back to a simpler time.  I wonder if there is a fantasy wiffle ball league somewhere.  Oh, there is.  So to recap that link:

1. There is an adult wiffle ball league in the Twin Cities.
2. This league is so organized that they have a website that features team pages, schedules, a scrolling scoreboard, and player statistics.
3. The player statistics are so in-depth that they can run a fantasy league based on wiffle ball, and they do.

OK, so I'm a little out of my depth here.  I think I'm going to stick with fantasy curling.

Check Out the Talocrural Joints On That Guy!

Who Wouldn't Want to Steal These Shoes?

Not everybody can pull this look off, but I have very shapely ankles.  I also know how to bring out their best.  Note the choice of Nike sock that just barely covers the talus bone.  You see what you need to see, but plenty is left to the imagination.  With today's fashions trending towards lower necklines, higher hemlines, and tighter garments all around, I feel that I can still look good without being too provocative.

Choking Hazards Be Damned

Apparently LEGO may have accidentally revealed some closely guarded plot points for the upcoming Avengers movie.  It seems that the manufactures of those plastic, foot-gouging bricks are making a whole series of kits based on the the Marvel Comic series and movie franchise.  This can mean only one thing.  There is a man out there (safe guess on the gender) that is fluent in the finer points of comic book characters / story lines who just happened to be attending the product launch of a new line of LEGOs.  Not only that, but this man (still sticking with this gender assumption) was paid to be there!  The amazing coincidences that pervade our daily existence never cease to amaze me.

This does raise a rather important question.  What's the deal with all of the cross promotion that LEGO is doing?  It's hard enough for a parent to explain to a child why every single person in their miniature town is maize colored.  Now we are expected to educate our children on the various timelines for Captain America?  What's wrong with just having LEGO houses, pirate ships, and airports?  Who needs, or who even likes all of these disparate lines of LEGO that are clearly designed to create an audience base for movies that are, frankly, too mature for young kids.

Ohh ... umm ... well LEGO Star Wars are different.  They're awesome!  LEGO Thor?!? That's just ridiculous.

FYI, my daughter's birthday is coming up.  If you need a gift idea, this is currently in stock at Amazon.  Let me remind you, however, that she has been REALLY GOOD, so something like this wouldn't be too out of line.

The Nickname "5 Hole State" Seems to Lack in Gravitas

Little Known Facts About Nutmeg:

1. In high doses, nutmeg can cause psychoactive effects in humans.
2. In high doses, nutmeg can be lethal.
3. Nutmeg is yummy on eggnog and quiche.

Just finished a long roundtrip drive back and forth across the great state of Connecticut.  Five plus hours of traipsing up and down I-95 really allows the mind to wander.

If the old Haven was such a great place, why did people feel the need to leave and found a New Haven?

It is nearly impossible to distinguish the original London from New London.  Here are two easy hints to help you out.  One of these cities has the River Thames running through it, and the other has the Thames River running next to it.  Also, one of these cities is home to the El 'N' Gee Club; one is not.

The shape of Connecticut is cartographically silly.  (The word "cartographically" happens to be grammatically silly, too.)

Image from Google Maps

I understand the jagged southern boarder.  You say terminal moraine, I say the The Fates wanted to separate Connecticut from Long Island as quickly as possible and accidentally ripped the page.

What's the deal with Fairfield County?

I understand that the tax base in this corner basically supports the rest of the state, but wouldn't continuing the straight border from Ridgefield to Stamford just look better?  In all honesty, the residents here identify themselves more closely with New York than they do with the rest of Connecticut.  Having lived here for three years, I speak with authority.  This is a region of New England that does not get NESN on their TVs.  It's not that you have to pay extra to get NESN here ... Cablevision just doesn't offer it!

What about this part?

Or the northeast corner of the state?

It's like they weren't even trying when drawing these boarders.  I know straight lines can be be hard to draw, and I've already discussed how boring they are ... but come on.  They do serve some purpose.

All of this reminds me of my grade school days growing up in Connecticut.  There was a unit in social studies where we learned all that a young child needs to know about our home state.  For example (yes, another list):

1. The state is called the Nutmeg State because early settlers enjoyed inflating discarded pigs' bladders and then kicking them through the legs of unsuspecting neighbors.
2. The state flower is the Mountain Laurel.  In Connecticut, it is illegal to pick these delicate flowers or destroy the precious plants.  Brave climbers, however, can scale the highest peaks of the mighty Quinnipiac Range and photograph these rare botanical marvels in full bloom.
3. The state bird is the Robin, because all of the robins in the world actually nest in the state of Connecticut.  Early in the morning they scatter to moist plots of land around the country to feast upon helpless earthworms.  Each and every evening, though, they all flock back to Litchfiled County for a good night's sleep.

After learning about Connecticut, our class went on to explore other states.  Each student was to research a different state and present what they had learned to their classmates.  The most challenging part was the terracotta maps we were asked to make, showing the location of major cites and landmarks within each of our particular states.  I foresaw the challenge that lay ahead in creating an intricate, ceramic map.  Undulating coastlines and cartographically challenging borders would tax my young, inept hands.  I chose Utah (Colorado and Wyoming had already been picked.)  I'm sure I did a fine job with my presentation.  I remember that pictures of Bryce Canyon National Park looked really cool, and that Ogden and Provo were funny names for cities.  I now wish I had looked more deeply into the history of the state before my final presentation, however.  My fourth grade classmates would have loved a nice diorama depicting the Mountain Meadows Massacre.

Duh, Ehhhh ... Wub Wub Wub (Now Repeat)

We’re all getting older.  This is not a news worthy sentiment.  I am comfortable with the gray hair; it started coming in when I was still a teenager.  I have been living with gray for more than half my life.  The nephew that I tormented when he was a little kid, he’s about to play the final high school basketball game of his senior season.  Shifting from a prone position to a seated position on the couch requires physical exertion and is often accompanied by some sort of grunt.  The Food Network and HGTV now get regular airtime on our TV.  Going out after 8:00pm is a late night, and the notion of having dinner after 7:00 is ludicrous.  I’ve come to terms with all of this, and really don’t mind.

That being stated, can somebody help me out with one question I keep asking?

What’s the deal with Dubstep?

Yes, I know, the music of youth is supposed to challenge the adults in the world.  The sound and the content is intended to be abrasive to ossified ears.  I get it.  There wasn't a parent walking that approved of Kurt Cobain or Snoop Dog.  I still don't get the 80s, but before that there was the gyrating of the funking disco and the hippie dippies had their drugging music.  Those rocking rollers played their loud guitars with African rhythms and grotesque hip thrusts.  Even the flappers had their unholy, syncopated, "jazzing" music.  I bet Mrs. Mozart had to scream up to her son, "Wolfie, not so loud with that conchertio thingy you keep playing!"

I don't have a problem with electronic music. The Chemical Brothers did a lot of cool stuff.  Beck blows me away with every album he releases.  I think that an old reliable like David Bowie got a huge lift from collaborating with Trent Reznor in the late 90s and I can use "Fatboy Slim" correctly in a sentence.

Still my favorite music video of all time.

Music does not have to be lyrical.  The classical and jazz portions of my music library certainly do not get enough play, but I still appreciate them.  I love Medeski, Martin, & Wood and can even roll with the atonal and dissonant licks of The Bad Plus.

True Story - Mother-in-law walks in while I'm listening to that song and very sincerely asks, "Is that music?"

I don't understand Dubstep. Maybe as the music at a club or a dance hall, but not the soundtrack to your day-to-day activities. The fact that the stuff kids here listen to has been classified as "Brostep" is not helping the cause. The descriptor "Bro" ceased to be flattering twenty years ago.


There is a huge array of music that is enjoyable and an almost endless variety that is tolerable. Almost. I guess this means I'm officially old. The kids have won.


NOW GET OFF MY LAWN!!!