Talk To Her, Cupie

Talk to her, Cupie, where'er she may be. Let your sweet voice of romance beckon, then secure my darling's love, that with me she will be, if not on this bright day of love, then at least on some other day, preferably ASAP.

Cupie, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, her absence heretofore; the courage to change the things I can, perhaps to be less of a hayseed and more of a stud; and the wisdom to know the difference, since hayseeds and studs aren't usually the same thing. Just get her here, posthaste!

What can I do on another lonely Valentine's Day but seek out the help of a higher power? She's out there ... maybe? Maybe she died by now. Since we never met maybe she did die. But putting her aside, surely there's someone else out there still alive and I wouldn't know the difference. Would this undying hope be pulsing in my breast were the matter hopeless? Never! That would be hopelessness, and life is more -- what's the word -- fecund? than that. Is that it? Fecund? Fecundity? I'm not sure what that means but my mind says it's the right word. And you're always supposed to go with your first impression ...

So, sweetie, out there somewhere, let's get together and ... fecundate. I hope I didn't just coin that, but it sounds classy anyway. A little dirty.

Cupie, I clasp your lithe little naked form to my beating heart. Hope I don't smush your wings or get your feathers out of joint. Please, please, please ... talk to her where'er she may be ... tell her to find me! I'm out there somewhere, my dear, lonely, waiting for you, if not today, then by Valentine's Day next!

Beware Valentine's Day Eve

We're almost up to one of the most dangerous days of the year for the lonely bachelor, Valentine's Day. And I swear, if I see any photos of nude women standing behind big red hearts I'm going to lose it.

There are certain things you simply don't want polluting your thoughts. But what can I do? Lovemaking and frolicking, posing for pictures, then heading back to the open arms of some local Fabio; no doubt it's going on all the time around me.

Grandma always told me the right girl would come along. And I think I've seen her pass by a few times, usually in a convertible with four other guys. So I trudge along, mowing the yard, wiping my brow, looking up at the shingles flapping in the wind, and think, the next one. That'll be her, in a pretty breezy, gingham dress; or perhaps in leather; and, you know, if she's the right girl, maybe she'll have a big red heart in her hope chest.

Isn't it something they say, that it's better not to have loved at all than to have loved and lost? So I'm on the right side of history, or whatever kind of philosophy that is. Is that Nietzsche? He was that crazy guy who said something like "Whatever doesn't kill me makes me stronger." I used to think that. But try loneliness on for size; you won't like it. That's when you find out that whatever doesn't kill you just weakens you up for something else to kill you next time. So it's a matter of prolonging the agony until you're on your death bed. Then the death angel -- a pretty thing, ethereal and perhaps nude, just to rub it in -- takes you to heaven. Where they neither marry nor are given in marriage. It's one big religious experience, no hanky panky.

This is the day before the big day. And I hate it, I'm not going to hide it. It's a great day to sleep in all day. But there's one bright side that can't be denied. I'm saving a ton of money not having to buy gifts for whoever she would have been.

Abraham Lincoln's Treatment of Dogs

I'm making a serious exception today. Despite Abraham Lincoln being a Republican (boooo), I'm honoring his 200th birthday. One, the statute of limitations rule. Two, everyone's entitled to one mistake. We've got Michael Phelps, A-Rod, Chris Brown, and now Abraham Lincoln. (And actually I'm not likely to forgive Chris Brown ... he can "Run It" right out of town and keep it going and not look back.)

But, hey, don't let me ruin a good Abraham Lincoln post with current events. It's almost 5 o'clock, time for me to walk my own dog, so let me be quick and to the point. This is a post about Abraham Lincoln's treatment of dogs.

I have been reading a biography of Lincoln -- and I'm really only about 50 pages into it, and I don't know if I'll finish it -- since tomorrow won't be his birthday anymore and I'm very fair weathered when it comes to this kind of stuff.

In this biography, written by Herndon (1800s), in the first 50 pages, there are two references to Lincoln with dogs. The first I'll mention is praiseworthy from my point of view and the second is more disgusting. (In fact, in chronological order, my second came first in actual time.)

The praiseworthy one: Lincoln and his family are moving to Illinois in 1830, traveling with oxen and a wagon. They have a little dog trailing behind somewhere, frolicking no doubt. There aren't bridges, so anytime they need to cross a stream, it's full bore, go for it, right across, oxen and all. On this occasion it was winter and there was ice. Oxen, being heavy in their adult form, crunch right through the ice, leaving behind a mess. The party has this little dog, and there he is still on the other side! He's whining and jumping "in great distress." I bet he was! "The poor animal was afraid to cross." The majority of the Lincoln party decided to go on without the dog! But Abraham Lincoln said, "I could not endure the idea of abandoning even a dog." (I don't like the word even there.) He relates, "Pulling off shoes and socks I waded across the stream and triumphantly returned with the shivering animal under my arm. His frantic leaps of joy and other evidences of a dog's gratitude amply repaid me for all the exposure I had undergone." (p. 94.)

Now the more disgusting one: Abraham and a cousin, when Abraham was nine or 10 years old, wanted to go coon hunting, but his father had a little housedog which always gave an alarm if they wanted to slip away unobserved. But one night they took the "insignificant little cur" (Herndon's words) with them. They located a coon, killed it, "and then in a sportive vein sewed the hide on the diminutive yellow dog." This is where it gets bad, although that was bad enough. "The latter struggled vigorously during the operation of sewing on, and being released from the hands of his captors made a bee-line for home. Other large and more important canines, on the way, scenting coon, tracked the little animal home, and possibly mistaking him for real coon, speedily demolished him." Lincoln's father was incensed to find a dead dog in the yard with a coon-skin overcoat. But Abraham Lincoln said, "We felt assured little yellow Joe would never be able again to sound the call for another coon hunt." (p. 63).

Wow, that's bad. My own dog is a "diminutive yellow dog," and to think of someone putting a coon-skin on her, then having other "more important" dogs "demolish" her, I can't stand the thought.

Clearly, Abraham Lincoln was no good. And whatever forgiveness I gave him for being a Republican, I'm rescinding.

(The book quoted is "Herndon's Life of Lincoln," 1965 Fawcett World Library edition, paperback.)

No Milk Today

Drat, after expressing my undying love for milk yesterday, I get up today and there's no milk.

Of course I quickly remembered that I finished off the gallon yesterday, perhaps drinking too much because it was in my heart not just to love it in spirit but to love it in fact. I should be honest -- I didn't really overindulge yesterday; it was just getting down to foam anyway and I finished it off. That's good though.

It's something I think a guy needs a gold star for having done. To finish off an entire gallon of milk. I know there have been plenty of times in the past when we've opened a gallon, then drank a few glasses or used it on cereal, then it's gotten pushed toward the back of the fridge and forgotten. Next thing you know it's four or five days past the expiration date and not drinkable. At least by me.

But these days I'm living in what you might call a more systematic way. Get out the bacon, the bagel, the milk, the orange juice, the butter substitute, etc. The milk, which we're dealing with today, is poured in good form. I check the jug and see that it's ¾ full, then ½ full, then ¼ full, and think my gold star ought to be here any day. What I always hope for is that I will have a replacement jug before the old one is empty. But it just didn't happen this time. So, if there's any penalty for that, I'll clip a couple ends off the star. And I'll have an ugly star.

So what's so good about milk? I don't know. And I don't think I'll look it up. Because I might come across a site that is anti-milk or will have an array of facts against milk that I won't be able to refute. Then I'll be paranoid that I'm getting some kind of farm toxin in my system. See, the fact that I know this stuff is out there already tells me that I know something on the subject, only I'm not aware of it day to day. But it's common knowledge, probably, that there are anti-everything groups out there. Don't milk the poor cow, let it graze, let it wander off to the hills and spray its milk against a rock. That's crazy. You're not a baby cow, are you? That you would need its mother's milk? I don't want to hear that. And now I'm thinking it. It's driving me -- I was going to say insane -- but this is only my version of sanity.

Who knew that having a glass of milk could be so consternating?

So ... if all goes well, I'll have a few minutes to get a gallon of milk today. I don't even see a cow, to tell you the truth. By the time I get it, there's no cattle in sight. As far as I know it's all synthetic anyway and cows are off drinking the real thing themselves. So what do I know? Nothing about it.

UPDATE (5:31 p.m.) - I have no beef against cattle. If they want to drink their own milk, that's their business. I'll still buy whatever they have in the store, whether it's synthetic or not.

In Addition To Water

In addition to water, which is very refreshing, especially when clear, cold, and clean, there are other beverages that quench my thirst to rather good effect. These include orange juice and milk.

As to orange juice, though, let me say right up front that I'm suspicious of it. I read somewhere that it has a bad effect on your teeth if you drink too much of it. And since I get this chilly kind of painful nerve sensation in my teeth, down in the root of them, I like to restrict myself on OJ intake. I let my natural discipline maintain the restriction as a true thing. And I am successful. A little OJ in the morning is good, I think. I know in the South Beach diet book it says not to drink it. The kind I've been buying is (uhh, I'm drawing a blank), but it's the Low Acid variety of whatever brand it is.

Then I mentioned milk as a beverage that is good in addition to water. For me milk is also more of a breakfast drink, but I like it. Cold and fresh -- not cow fresh, but before the expiration date -- is best. It goes down fine for me, tastes good, and seems good for you. I hope it is. But just like OJ, there's probably lots of qualifiers, such as not getting the overly fat kind. All that.

This is not to say that OJ and milk are the only beverages I like in addition to water. Just to mention some, of course there's coffee and tea. They're both good, but I probably don't have to tell you.

UPDATE 6:12 p.m. - I had a massive glass of pink lemonade at Taco Bell today. That is not a drink I like, except maybe in very small quantities, like six to eight ounces. This had to be 36 to 40 ounces, massive. I couldn't drink that if I wanted to! I wanted iced tea but all they had was raspberry iced tea, which I don't like. Sorry to be updating all the time, but I knew you'd want to know ... some of my preferences in beverages ... in addition to water, orange juice, milk, coffee, and tea ...

Mouthbreathers

I saw the term "mouthbreathers" a little while ago. It was from a guy who wrote a nasty diary (Daily Kos) against Obama. I didn't read the entire thing, but it's got recipes and other responses that indicate it's not getting widespread approval among the community. It also has dirty language, cleverly disguised with asterisks and @ signs in the place of vowels.

(My blogging policy being a strictly "nothing blue" policy, I will not be quoting the guy, nor will I be linking to his potty fingers diatribe. My avoidance of prurience also extends to buying nothing but edited versions of CDs at Walmart. The more blips and gaps in my music the happier I am.)

But it was the guy himself (if he's not a guy it doesn't matter here) who used the word "mouthbreathers," in the sense of preempting any kind of, from his point of view, ignorant comeback to his objection. It would seem that his contention is that Obama ought to govern according to some "progressive cause" agenda. (Find one singular "progressive cause" where everyone agrees and maybe we'll have something.)

The word "mouthbreathers" is an interesting one. I breathe through my mouth sometimes, like if I'm stuffed up. And I think snoring is basically breathing through your mouth. You can't make that many noises from your nose, can you? Just a few snorts is what your nose is good for. When we see the term online, to me it usually means some kind of neanderthal, knuckledragging ignorant hothead. Like Freepers, only smarter.

Mouthbreathers. That's what your opponents always are. And knuckledraggers, like cavemen. Like those idiots on the commercials who are still so primitive they don't shave their foreheads. Just because they talk in a suave way (that's the humor) doesn't mean they're not still stupid.

The Pet Food Aisle

I was at the pet food aisles at Walmart today, shopping for some dog food. And of course I'd have to have blinders not to notice the aquariums, including some new kind of Glo fish. My big thought, are they like that in nature, or is someone feeding them glow hormones to turn them colors?

Maybe I did have blinders because I didn't notice (or think about) the 10 gallon jobbie I had my eye on a couple weeks ago. Seeing the fish, I didn't feel drawn or overly tempted. Mostly I feel like this, that each one is a tender little life, the center of its own universe, and there they are for a few cents at Walmart.

Some I think are feeder fish, a nasty thing to be. But hey, you've got all that free time between now and the time you're eaten. And that's a lesson for all of us! I know I'm going to be eaten. If not by an actual animal, cast into its cage at feeding time, then by something else. Something more insidious, probably, but just as hungry. Cancer cells at dinner, heart coagulation, pancreas going wacky, something. Look at my face. My face is being consumed by face eating cells. I'm wasting away. Whether it's decay, rot, it's all hungry.

Back to the pet food. I wanted to get something for the dog. The last time I bought Kibbles n Bits and that gave my dog seriously the runs. Terrible stuff (I blame the dog food but this was not a scientific experiment. It might have been some other cause.) She's finishing off a bag of Senior 7, but only likes about 30% of it. She scatters the rest around and doesn't eat it till she's starving. This time I bought Pedigree dry, some kind of "meaty kibble" in there, it says, words to that effect. I'm hoping this isn't the runs-inducing kibble but a healthier kibble. I'm giving her less of it at first because she likes to hog down anything new.

I look at all the pet food and I don't know what to buy. It's all a guess. I actually might have bought Senior 7 again, because it seems to agree with her system, when she eats it. But they were out of it.

Nothing Refreshing

There's nothing as refreshing as a cold glass of water. I've got one right now, about five inches from my left hand, close to the keyboard.

I've really rediscovered water. And not bottled water, which is foolish to waste your money on. But just plain water right from the faucet. Maybe it's because it's winter but the water's coming out cold.

I had a small cup of it last night when I took my pills. It was cold and delicious. And I savored each drop and didn't overdo it, because I don't want to be getting up through the night. Then just before bed I decided to have another small cup of water. Very good.

I used to hear that you're supposed to have four or five glasses of water a day. I don't know about that. Too much of a good thing? Because I've also heard that you can get waterlog, too much is bad for you. So I don't know what to think. I think you should have some when you're thirsty, basically, and let it go at that.

UPDATE (9:06 p.m.) - I still think water is very refreshing, and, in fact, delicious, especially when it's cold and without any taste. Somehow my city has just the right formula -- I call it Water Classic -- they've got it chilled just to the right temperature. And they provide it via my tap without any taste. I had a few glasses today, which I drank. I was completely happy with the experience. And if today is any guide, I might just do the same thing tomorrow; it's that good.

The Braintrust

We have brains. Everyone, except possibly Republicans. Just kidding. Even they have brains. The size of a walnut, still bigger than a flea's. Gotta give 'em that. Our brains are bigger than a flea's.

Let me start over. This isn't an anti-Republican post. That just came out.

The Creator is -- what's the word? -- profligate. "Every pusillanimous creature that crawls on the Earth or slinks through slimy seas has a brain," said the very bad Wizard. There's no brainless spider. Even earthworms have a field of consciousness that they're busy digging around in. The Creator spares no expense. Whether it's eyes, noses, foreheads, two legs, two opposable thumbs, every creature has them, without exception. And you know what opinions are like ... everybody has one of those too.

I notice there have been lots of dogs who have those walking through my neighborhood. And we have some dog owners who aren't using their opposable thumbs to pick up their animals' offal. They must think because it lies on the snow it's OK. What kind of logic is that? Flawed. My own dog is on a kind of schedule but sometimes she misses it. I'm thinking I might need a spoon and some rubber gloves. But the creator gave them this doorway for disposal and most of them have chosen to use it.

Whatever the body part, they've got it. And that means brains too.

I consider myself -- let me just say it -- The Braintrust of Humanity for figuring this out. Isn't it really something that I'm able to not only know these things but to say them? You have to hand it to me.

American Idol

Regular readers of this blog know that I like to think that, given the right circumstances and breaks, I might have been the next American Idol. And that I would have wowed the stadiums full of people with my ability to sing, play the guitar, and sign autographs.

What the right circumstances would be ... they'd have to be drastic. Very earthshaking drastic. Like I would need to somehow shed about 30 years of age. I'd need to have a nice voice instead of this breaking, squeaking, off key one. I would probably do well also to have a more commercial appearance. Being dumpy in the face hasn't worked since Roy Orbison, and I don't like the feel of sunglasses; I like the actual colors of life, not to see everything through a 5 o'clock shadow. I'm a little overweight, my shoulders slump, I'm balding, I have stage fright, I basically blend in with lampshades and wallpaper.

One thing I do know how to do is tune a guitar. Just get me started with a piano and I can figure it out from there. But that's the extent of it, plus a few chords. I'm not as terrible as some, but not as good as most.

Watching American Idol, I love the disasters and wrecks. Of course we'd like to see actually good talent a little more than we do ... but we have weeks of that ahead. Now it's time to see those who think they have a chance but are actually as hopeless as I would ever be myself. The key thing always to remember is that when you're 25 you don't realize that you're hopeless. You are literally the last one to realize it. Just wait till you're 50. You will look back over the bleak expanse of your past life and just thank God you're able to get out of bed and look at the empty sky. Your past was a disaster and the future isn't much better.

But, hey, that's me ... just an old romantic, very sentimental. I've been there, done that. Well, I haven't done much, because nothing's really possible. Your parents were just being sentimental when they said you could do anything. You can't.

Anyway, read that two times and call me in the morning. The worse you feel the better things will go. Because you'll know beyond a shadow of a doubt ... dreams are meant to be shattered. Just look at the concept of the show. Only one person in millions is going to win. That makes the rest of you losers. Life is good!

No More Coke Classic

I see that Google calls their original basically white page Google Classic now. And if you don't want any themes at I Google, what you're settling for is their Classic theme. White without a lot of fancy schmancy stuff.

I seem to remember writing about something like this one other time, but then my topic was the devaluing of the word classic. I haven't noticed it lately, but I know between about 1984 and 1989, about every other movie was regarded as a classic in video advertising.

I think it started when Coke, back in that period, stupidly started New Coke and they were actually -- at least we were given to believe -- going to get rid of the formula we all liked. That lasted about five seconds, then they renamed it Coke Classic. And so that's what we've known all these years, which I always thought was stupid, but hey...

Well, it looks like I'm getting my way after all, because they're finally dropping the stupid word "Classic" from the can. Now we can go back to just plain old Coca Cola. Which, unfortunately, I don't drink anymore. Nothing against it. I still would love it just as much. But my doctor doesn't think it's a good idea. So I don't drink soda pop at all now. (There is one exception to this rule, and that's at Christmas, but that's not cola.)

Ritchie Valens

I've got my Ritchie Valens CD spinning right now. This guy was still a teenager when he got famous and died. So who knows what he might have accomplished had he gone on? But maybe it would have turned out to be like George Costanza's Aunt Baby, he never would have made it.

The songs on the CD have a very innocent, slightly haphazard feel to them, like they're about a step above demos. And maybe they were. But they're still good, in a live, rock 'n' roll right-this-second kind of way. There doesn't seem to be a lot of post-production polish, which can also detract.

I like people's albums however they make them, for the most part. They're different from live albums, where you usually have a lot rougher presentation. I used to think I needed to have every bootleg and live album in order to have the whole collection. It can be a drag, though, to think you're trying to keep up with an artist, then there's all this other stuff out there, in print unofficially. But these days I don't care anything about that.

Elvis was one for recording his stuff live. I used to have some interesting mp3's of the rare stuff that is available, such at Follow That Dream. Which I'm not going to be buying much of.

Anyway, back to Ritchie Valens. I like this "Bluebirds Over The Mountain" song. It definitely has that live, innocent, first draft feeling. Written by Ersel Hickey, who had the opening picture in the old Rolling Stone Illustrated History of Rock 'n' Roll. Cool looking cat.

The best songs on the Valens CD, "Rockin' All Night," The Best of Ritchie Valens have to be: "Ooh! My Head," "Come On Let's Go," "Donna," and "La Bamba." If you had those four songs, you've got it. Probably the most dated sounding song is "Hi-Tone," but I still like it. No one ever says that anymore, "You're acting hi-tone." "Paddi-Wack Song" is a rocked up version of "This Old Man Came Rolling Home." Kind of weird. My brother and I used to laugh at that song, since we took everything literally, rolling home. The most atmospheric song is "In A Turkish Town." With the ringing sounding like something from "Harum Scarum." Elvis could have had this song among the songs on that soundtrack!

OK, I'm about done. I'm going to listen to "Donna," then put the CD away. This is a beautiful song.

One last bit. I've never seen the movie about Ritchie Valens. Maybe two minutes of it, or that might have been the one about Jerry Lee. I don't care for these types of movies. I'd rather have my imagination. I did see the Buddy Holly Story, and thought it more or less stunk, some good bits of course. And I saw the Johnny Cash movie, which I thought stunk too, much much worse.

A World Of Cameras

Watching the big game last night (Super Bowl, a football championship, currently well known), whenever I could, I had my eye on a camera that was in the middle of the field. I saw it bobbing around a few times, then noticed its angle. It must be robotic or controlled like a radio controlled car or controlled with a computer. I was wondering if it was on a bobbing line, because I thought I saw it going up one time. Kind of takes the place of the blimp they used to have, which no one mentioned.

We have cameras everywhere. I would be surprised if there's anywhere where there's valuable where there isn't a camera somewhere near by. Anytime there's a break in or a plane crash or an abduction, they have a bank camera, a security camera, or people on the scene with phone cameras or Flips. You can't get away with anything these days, unless you pay off the camera man first.

We need a world of cameras! Like in every garage, every walkway, dare I say, in every bedroom? And bathroom? Well, they don't have them in bathrooms. No one wants to see that, except, well, there are people who would. Not me. I go to the bathroom and I have my eyes averted strictly. I don't want to see anything. I don't even look down. Certainly not across.

What was that movie? Oh, it was TV. Seinfeld, where George is in the bathroom with his boss. At first he's in the hall, but then gets in there just in time to catch the last little bit of his boss's instructions. So he missed the whole first part. I would miss the entire thing. I'm not going into the bathroom with the boss!

But with a world of cameras, police could catch evildoers more easily. We could catch the police more easily, running stop signs, beating up people. Everyone would know they were on camera 24/7 and guide themselves accordingly. I might be on camera right this second. I don't really like the idea, now that I put it that way. My hair's messed up. I'm scratching in unusual places. I guess privacy has its virtues.

3D Glasses

We gathered around the TV tonight -- Grandma and I -- to watch the big game. But our real interest in the whole thing (my whole interest, I should say) was the 3D stuff, having our 3D glasses and waiting for the 3D commercials.

I got mine out of the big free box at Walmart, and I was trying to be careful with them. I put them up on the dash, away from the other groceries and sacks so they wouldn't get scratched or bent. But then when I was carrying in our stuff, I sat them up on the window sashes, and wouldn't you know it, they slipped through the crack and fell to the floor and I stepped on them, right in some very very small gravel that needed to be swept up. As you know, gravel is very susceptible to gravity. There's no way to get it up off the floor on the first attempt. But any time you drop something in it, it adheres like it's magnetic. So the bottom two glasses (in sheets of four) were scratched badly.

That left us two good ones, and there's two of us, so that turned out well. Before the game, I carefully clipped them out and got all the pieces removed, then folded them to fit our heads the best they could. I was a lot more gung ho than Grandma, who doesn't seem to enjoy football. Anyway, we whiled away the game, and finally the big moment came.

Grandma dozed off and didn't really see them. But I didn't let that worry me. She's not heavy into anything cultural, really, and I guess it'd be true to say that 3D doesn't interest her.

But I enjoyed the commercials quite a bit. They didn't last long, you know, like commercials. One was for a movie, Monsters vs. Aliens, another for a Sobe drink, and one advertising a show on NBC tomorrow night, Chuck. Pretty good effect. The glasses had different color from the usual 3D glasses, and they didn't do much for the color on TV, but the effect was pretty good.