American Idol

One of the American Idol contestants tonight lives with her 93 year old grandmother.

And she made it through to the Hollywood round, too, which was amazing. Her occupation was listed as "caregiver," so whether that means for Grandma or caregiving in general, I don't know.

They showed her grandmother, needing a little extra volume from her granddaughter in talking to her. I can't remember much more about it.

I know my own experiences with Grandma Slump, though. It'd be nice if she could be a young 93 again. And there's no way I'd be able to leave her behind to go to Hollywood. Now I'm actually out of American Idol's age range -- being in my mid '50s. Of course were I to go on Idol -- let's say they raised the age limit -- I know I'd win. I'm one of those shower singers ... and friends tell me I'm pretty good. (OK, I don't actually have friends. But one time Cousin Roto told me I sang good. I did "At Calvary" at church with an electric guitar and nobody left.)

107-Year-Old Wants To Marry

Grandma is 104, widowed, and seems to be happy. At least she never says anything directly about wishing suitors would come around. And because I'm hopeful of inheriting the property when she's gone, I'm not giving her any ideas.

But that doesn't mean I'm home free, not if this Chinese chick starts a trend!

According to this story, a certain Wang Guiying, 107 years old, wants to get married, if she can find the right fellow.

"I'm already 107 and I still haven't got married," the Chongqing Commercial Times quoted her saying. "What will happen if I don't hurry up and find a husband?"

Her basic concern is that her relatives are also getting old and won't be able to take care of her. But the guy she's looking for will likely also be over 100. So what help he will be in this regard would be anyone's guess.

Our 78 rpm Records

I was going through some of Grandma's old 78 rpm records the other day and noticed that one of my all time favorites was broken. Boo!

It's by the biggest selling singer of a couple of Grandma's generations, Mr. Bing Crosby. And the song is called "I Didn't Slip, I Wasn't Pushed I Fell." This has to be one of my favorite Bing records and it doesn't seem to be such a hit as to appear on current hits compilations. But there it was, in two pieces, one bigger piece, one piece separated from the original whole. A nasty thing to have happen.

Really, it's too bad they made records back in those days the way they did. So breakable. You can't count on them. You go get one and five of them will be broken. Must be the shifting of molecules, or molecules retiring and going to live in a home.

I looked up this song. I know it's out there; there was a Chronological Bing Crosby collection a few years ago, maybe they're still putting it out, everything he did. They definitely don't have the song at Amazon or I Tunes. I think there's a Doris Day version.

I did some work on it, though, trying to salvage what I could, taping the broken piece back as best I could, then recording the results. Naturally there's a couple good sized clicks every time it goes around. But with a little work on the file, it's not as bad as it could be.

Someday I'll find another copy. I suppose I could check eBay, but haven't yet. That's a great song. Other great songs, just off the top of my head, from our collection: Ballerina, Galway Bay, A Hot Time In The Town of Berlin. One of these, maybe Ballerina, I didn't see last time I looked. Possibly broken and thrown out.

Grandma Slump

Bob Dylan said Hurricane Carter was like a Buddha sitting in his 10-foot cell. But look at Grandma Slump in her classic (and only) photograph. There's definitely some Buddha qualities there. The contented eyes, the detachment of looking away from the camera, her hands peacefully around her very un-Buddha-like belly. (Though we have all seen skinny Buddhas, only rarely since they're usually eaten by the bigger ones.)

Mental Prisoner Eats His Own Eye

I saw a disgusting story today. I'm not even going to link to it. It's hideous. Some prisoner, a mental case, plucked out and ate his own eye.

Good grief. Can we get any stupider? I saw it and wouldn't read it at first. I had just got up and that's really something to wake up to. I glanced through it later. Some of the comments (this was at Huffington Post) were outrageous, and some had that sense of revulsion and disgust that I had.

What else to say about it? Terrible. The guy has some terrible criminal past, according to the article. He's on death row somewhere. A wasted life.

People Are Dying

I had an aunt die recently, might have been November or December. They don't always tell you about aunts and uncles who die. Maybe they think we're out of touch or don't care. But you eventually hear about it.

This was an aunt who lived out in Colorado. She was one of the boys' (Grandma's son's) wife, and she used to be back at least once a year to see us all. The '60s as far as I was concerned were the golden years for the Colorado relation to come back. They were still coming in the '70s ... but it all tapered off then.

So I haven't seen this particular aunt since the '70s sometime or maybe the late '60s. The whole old family is giving up the ghost.

I posted a picture a few days ago, a bunch of people standing around the old house. The passed on aunt is in that picture.

Porn Kings Need Bailout

I heard about this story yesterday and figured it was a complete joke, that the porn industry in some manner wants a government bailout.

I'm just going by memory here, but it seems they're blaming free porn on the internet for reduced sales of magazines, videos, and I suppose that's it.

It's just hard to believe that anything will be done to help them, if indeed there really is a downturn in their industry. I thought that was an industry where they want to lose their shirt, and everything else.

I Broke A Plate Today

I had breakfast at my desk today, this desk where the computer is. My desk is loaded with various things, a pile of CDs, old bills, plastic bags, pens, cans, a camera, the cable modem, etc. Over to the side there's not much room to put anything either.

On the corner of the desk there's an empty peanuts can taking up room. So after eating I set the plate on the peanuts can, then my cereal bowl on top of the plate. The arrangement meant that right above the plate, a little over a foot, was the light switch.

Then sometime later I'm walking by, notice the light on, reach in to hit the light switch, accidentally catch my finger on the plate, and the whole works goes falling down. Except for the peanuts can. Crash and break!

I turned and walked away and said nothing. The dog was sitting on the couch, looking at me to see what the problem might be and I said in a good-natured way, "Boom." Then I turned back, went and got the broom and cleaned up the mess, with my sandals now on so as not to get a piece of plate in my foot.

It wasn't precisely glass, but almost like pottery, but mass produced with more the qualities of glass if not the propensity to shatter into a million pieces. So that happened, just one of those things.

Now I need to look out and not walk through here in my stockings feet for a while.

Salt and Sand

It seems to me like there ought to be higher-tech ways of getting rid of ice.

On the sidewalks out there, especially on the north side, there's ice. You put sand on it and salt and that's pretty good. But it just craters it and it still remains basically slick.

Why can't there be some machine -- there probably is -- that has a fan at the bottom of it? You go along and melt the ice and that's the end of it? I suppose the answer is it would just freeze again. But maybe not, a little wind, or the heat of the heater, and it'd be essentially gone.

Or some way of crunching it.

The Baldknobbers

Grandma and I (Me and Grandma, I should say) like downhome music. Grandma doesn't have roots in the Ozarks, but Grandpa did. Grandma was from Peoria and came west for some reason, I don't know why.

Grandpa was from right down there though. We went down to see his old place one time. A tiny little town that might still be there. I should look on Google Earth. There was a cave just up the hill, and it was a big hill, and a spring that was still running when we were there. They used to get their water from that.

I was down in the Ozarks, back before the huge entertainment explosion that happened in years since. Back then they basically had two entertainment venues that I heard of, Presley Mountain Music Show and the Baldknobbers. This is a long time ago, 1971.

I went to the Baldknobbers show and it was definitely downhome stuff. It seems like it was a very small room, more or less just a room with a small stage up front. They had a rolled up religious picture that they untied and it fell before they did their "religious number."

Recently I got a VHS tape of a Baldknobbers show, which seems like it's from 2001. They mention something about the Florida recount and Al Gore. In 2001, and no doubt since, they were in quite a lavish theater, compared anyway to what I saw in '71. A big stage, multimedia stuff going on behind, big screens, cameras.

I watched most of it, but dropped off to pick it up later and haven't gotten back to it. The comedians are definitely entertaining, including one who is dressed up all goofy looking and is actually the producer of the whole show. In '71 they had a guy without teeth, just like on the 2001 tape, as part of the show. I have my original brochure from '71, so I pulled it out and it's a different guy for sure.

It's a lot higher tech now, and the cast looked smaller in the '71 brochure.

One of the weird things about the tape is that they panned the audience before the show, like for maybe 10-15 minutes. Up and down the aisles, leading me to think they must sell tapes of the show from that night and people are more likely to buy one if they have themselves on there. Folks were looking up at the screens and making faces, putting fingers behind others' heads, etc., and so the copy I have must be one of those souvenir tapes.

We Have Ice

It's been an icy day. I looked out at the Skelgas tank and noticed a wavy sheen and knew right away it was ice. Then up at the eaves and saw a few small icicles, like a kid's runny nose but horizontal and sustained.

I don't mind ice, but I know some of my elderly neighbors hate it. They slip and rupture a bone. Much of the town stops because of the ice, even though really it isn't that bad. The city guys have been out spraying sand and salt, the sun's beating down on it (while still below zero), and enough young people, innocents, are out it's getting some wear. Still, you hear of things being canceled, churches, grange meetings.

I was out driving a bit and went by some major parking lots of places that aren't open on Sunday. Of course their parking lots are pristine, no salt, no sand, just shiny. I was thinking how fun it'd be to go in there and brody around, a few donuts, maybe a Ralph or a Louie. Or straight ahead in a wavy line, you know, a Broken Arrow aka a Fish Tail. But then, what? I'm in there, an old man doing all these wild moves, I hit a pole, or maybe the police happen to be driving by, or young people, innocents, see me and see a bad example being set.

There was a guy right out here on the street the other night. And the street is narrow in places. But he was going back and forth, with some so-so donuts. I was wishing the police might be coming by but they didn't.

Gotta Feed The Cats

It's the time of day that my cats let me know they're starving to death, especially the big one.

I think maybe it's a matter of old-cat psychology with him. He's 13, getting nearer to dying all the time, and he wants to make sure he has his final meal for whenever the big stroke comes. At least I don't remember him being so adamant about meals when he was younger.

I get downstairs -- it could've been an hour ago -- and he'd be starving. Rubbing against me. Making a lot of meowing racket to get my attention. It's unpleasant. Is this all I'm good for, to feed you? Which I'm happy to do, just calm down.

We put the cat food up on top of the cat box, to keep the dog out of it. But the big cat is getting so he can barely get up there anymore. I've been boosting him, or leaving it down on the floor. Then I try to keep an eye out for the dog, who still might be getting into it. I've noticed, like yesterday, more of the cat food gone than should have been, or that typically is. And the big cat seemed hungry still, which necessitated an executive decision, to open a second can of food, which is virtually unprecedented.

A Facade

I read somewhere that the church in Rocky Horror Picture Show was just a facade, I'm guessing like the old Hollywood buildings we used to see pictures of. It definitely looks real, and I wish I could see a picture of it from every angle.

That's quite a thing to build just for those opening shots, especially when there would have to be a number of actual church buildings around that you could easily go and film in front of. Why build a church front when there are lots of churches already built?

The house I'm imagining in this blog -- its overall theme -- burned down around 1979, sometime between 1978 and 1981, let's say. I have a few pictures of it but I don't believe I saw the actual rubble. Maybe I did and blocked it out. No, I'm sure I didn't. But going way back, i.e., to all those pre-burnt years, there's lots of pictures of it. In pictures, though, it looks like it could be a facade.

I like the arrangement of the people in the top photo. It has a kind of eternal look. And I know the people. The key thing here is that in those days it's not burned. Then later it is.

Local Man Celebrates New Year

The local man, centered in his own local activities, judges all things. On this holiday he has seen it coming. The old year drifts closer and closer -- dangerously close -- to its demise. This is known, predicted.

He remains as economical as ever, going to the store and checking out the bargains, near-bargains, and excessively marked up items in the snack aisle. Some chips are exorbitant, like in the $4.69 range. Others have a more appealing price to the local man, such as two for five bucks. He picks up one, some sort of "Restaurante" kind.

As for the salsa, it's neither marked up nor marked down. It's what it usually is when not on sale. Get a mild for Grandma, a hot for himself.

Then summer sausage of a type he hasn't seen before, Cervelat. It looks good enough to take a chance on.

As for drinks, there's a sparkling cider that the Martinette's (spelling probably off) have been making since 1868. They surely know what they're doing by now, so he picks up a bottle. It's only once a year.

Back home, I'm quite tired and don't make it to midnight. But that gave me today to dig in and work on some of this food.