Edam, that's Gouda you!

I have to tell you, even though I try to keep up with all the latest trends, there is a steady stream of fads and foibles that escapes my notice.  I was the last to find out that misguided kids were eating Tide Pods. Dunking a bucket of cold water over one's melon failed to soak me in. I couldn't miss the people on Instagram using dog filters to look like Marmaduke or pursing their lips to look like Daffy, but that was everywhere for a while. Planking, pharming, spicing, flash mobbing: I was the last to be aware of all them.

So now comes my friend Claire to tell me about "cheesing," and of course, I thought this was the practice of giving piano-keyboard smiles in pictures, but no.

It's the new teenage fad - tossing slices of American cheese onto cars. And I know it's teenagers because they are not the ones lining up at the delicatessen counter to buy a half lb. of LOL Cheese (Land O' Lakes, ya know?) Cheese is not so cheap, so they must be raiding Mom's cold cut drawer in the icebox OR taking the filling out of their cheese sandwich for lunch so they can drop a slice or two on a parked Elantra.

In Philadelphia, news reports say rakehells up there are flinging slices of cheese on any target they can find: babies, motorcyclists and even moving cars.

In Philadelphia, I would expect them to use Philadelphia Brand Cream Cheese.

Most of the people who have spent time peeling cheddar off the Chevy still believe that it's just a teenage prank and not a sign of the Devil or anything. And from most reports, most of the cheesing is done to parked cars, not cars being driven. It would be scary to be on the road and have some Velveeta hit the Volvo.

Some say the cheese can goober up your paint or auto glass, especially in hot weather, and just like eggs at Halloween or the dumb slogans your brother-in-law painted on your car on your wedding day, it takes some scrubbing to peel away the provolone.

One of those online community newspapers in our town had people speaking about this odd craze. Some said it was vandalism, some said the vandalism could have been worse and some said they thought it was a perfectly fine way to express oneself.

Those people were asked for their addresses so that others could stop by and smear on some smearcase. I will let you know of any further gorgonzola-goin's-on.

Cut!

At my age (and my level of social interaction, which on most days is less than nil) I don't have to shave very often.  But of course, the way I am, I have to turn it into a big production.

No electric razor, please. I use a blade and freshly-whipped shaving cream right out of a mug. The mug was my father's, but I had to get a new fur brush to make a warm soothing lather that makes my freshly-showered face say, "Drag a piece of sharp steel across me and whittle off these whiskers! No one wants you walking around looking like a hobo!"

My face and I have some wonderful conversations. 

And the one good thing about the pandemic? If I have to run to the We-Is grocery store and I'm wearing a mask, no one is any the wiser if I'm not clean-shaven! 

But the other morning I badly miscalculated the location of my upper lip in reference to the location of the razor blade, and the result was a tiny nick, hardly larger than a pencil point. It's funny that a teeny cut in that area will yield a good quart to a quart and a half of blood (slight exaggeration) and yet a six-inch gash in the forearm will put out maybe a trickle.  A bit of cold water, alcohol, and a tiny square of paper towel failed to do the trick, so it was time to haul out the heavy blood-stanching artillery:

The styptic pencil. This little stick that looks like chalk will stop the flow like magic! As you see, it was invented long ago by a guy named Nick Relief. 

I love it when someone's name fits their occupation perfectly. I knew a draftsman named T. Square, a weightlifter named Armstrong, and who could forget the guy who walked into savings and loans brandishing a pistol and demanding sacks full of money? His name was Rob Banks! He had a brother who was totally different, worked hard, put all his money aside for later. Phil Banks.

The styptic pencil is a medical miracle. I guarantee you, if you get one large one when you're young, there will be something left of it when you shuffle off to Buffalo. Your sons and nephews can argue over it; you won't care.

America leads the world in styptic pencil creation thanks to our abundant styp mines. These little pencils, just about the size of a Chap-Stik, come out of the earth all ready to go. The photo at right shows a modern stypping miner on the job.

So if you have known the nicks and cuts, get yourself a styptic pencil and smile all day!

Summer Rerun from 2015: Be Sure You're Right, Then Go Ahead

 It's summertime in Baltimore, hon, and that means hot, humid days and late afternoon thunderstorms, which means creeks will rise and flood roadways.

And that means that someone will try to drive their car down a road where the water's a-risin', and need to be rescued.

At right is the photo from the TV helicopter which hovered overhead as firefighters rescued the unidentified driver on Philadelphia Rd in Cowenton on Tuesday. Please. Listen to the people who tell you "Don't drown, turn around!"

It's usually someone in a 4-wheelin' SUV who is pretty sure the guy at the Dodge dealership told him his Durango came equipped with water wings who thinks that cars can ford streams just like it's a Marky Mark movie.  People who drive through water get a cold shower of their own when they find out how expensive it will be to overhaul an engine, electrical system and transmission that were recently baptised by muddy waters.

Think! Think twice!

A little farther from home, up in Wisconsin, a woman was riding a bicycle and came to the Menasha Drawbridge.  The lowered barriers and red flashing lights did not seem to faze her in any way. She must have seen The Blues Brothers movie that very afternoon, because she took the notion that she could Evel Knievel that gap on her Schwinn.

If you haven't seen the video, it's right here.  And the story said that she failed to notice that the draw was cranking UP when she kept on pedaling and fell into the gap.

She was luckier than smart, for sure, because onlookers raced to help her and the bridge operator said "Whoa Nellie!" to the bridge (I happen to know that bridge operators address their bridges in that manner) and got it to stop.

Progress is our most important product, as General Electric used to say in their commercials, but sometimes, it's a good idea to look down the road a bit before progressing on. You want to make sure there even IS a road to take!

The 37-year bicyclist was treated at a local hospital for facial injuries and damage to her pride.

The Saturday Picture Show, August 28, 2021

 

I once wrote an inter-office memo that, as eagle-eyed readers were able to spot, spelled a novel three-word suggestion if one took just the first letter of each word. So I am going to overlook Sairam's use of "you and I" where "you and me" would be correct, because he just Rickrolled us magnificently. 

Build the wall! And then play a silly game on milk crates right next to it!

Google has put out a chart showing the most-looked-up vocabulary word in 2020, state by state. I guess New Hampshire was "furious" that their neighbors in Vermont had trouble spelling "tong." (And in parentheses, I am proud to be from Maryland).

The 1970s saw the rise of unprecedented turmoil in America, and, looking back, it seems easy to attribute the unrest to too many people having breakfast in a kitchen like this and then leaving the house in a state of high agitation.

Just think of how many emergency runs this 1950 Cadillac ambulance took back in the day. If this old machine could talk...

Ernest Deffner reacts to the news that his company has warehouses chock-full of accordions going unsqueezed by running ads in the groovy teen magazines.  At least one kid bought one and learned to play it, and he was Alfred Yankovic from Lynwood, CA.

A fine traditional buttered toast to you, and may no moose leave your girnal dry-eyed!

This is the Uffington White Horse, a prehistoric art work on an English hilltop. I mean, this thing dates back thousands of years, when people had the time to dig the horse outline in the ground and fill the holes with crushed white chalk. I've added this British attraction to the things I want to see someday when we row across the ocean, along with having dinner with the Whitecliffs (Earl and Doris) of Dover.

This is the now 119-year-old ham that P.D. Gwaltney, founder of the ham company that still bears his name, used to carry around with him. He said it was his "pet ham." The company says it would still be edible today, having been slow-cured all those years ago, but no one can find a 119-year-old loaf of rye bread.

Do you ever wonder whether Thomas Edison, in his later years, wished he had invented call waiting at the same time he created the telephone? This never-before-seen lithograph shows a disappointed Edison in despair over getting nothing but busy signals when trying to call in a request for his favorite radio station to play "Operator" by Jim Croce.

People see you having fun, just a lion in the sun...

I'm a great believer in fairness, so I've always rooted for captive animals being hunted by big tough he-men like that dentist from Minnesota and sandwich king Jimmy John to be armed and capable of shooting back.

But until that happens, here is one way for the Wild Kingdom to even it up a bit.

There is a zoo in South Africa where lions can nuzzle up to the people. It's a reverse zoo!

It's the GG Conservation lion sanctuary in Harrismith, South Africa, where visitors can get inside Plexiglas cages in the middle of the lion habitat, so that lions can get a better look at the people who come to see them. If you are very lucky, one of them will "paws" long enough to give you a "purrsonal" greeting!

They have 77 big cats there, so you won't have to wait long for one to come along. 

Suzanne Scott is the direction of the nonprofit wildlife park, and she says, “We have been offering this experience for almost two years now. The safety of both our guests and big cats is top priority.”

The price is not really low. It costs between 2000 to 3000 South African rand (about $134 to $197 in US currency) to be locked inside GG’s “professional photography cage” for a 45 minute session. 

American Rand

South African Rand

Children under the age of 14 are not allowed, because they scare the lions too much.

Imagine the fun of snapping photos with your Samsung as man-eating beasts claw at the Plexiglas which is the only thing keeping you from being an hors d'oeuvre.

“The [cage] is regularly checked by an engineer to ensure it can safely carry the weight should a lion jump on top of it,” says Ms Scott, and she's never lied to you before, has she? These flesh-eating cats weigh from 270 to 570 pounds.

Three people at a time can be in the Plexiglas cube. It has breathing holes to allow fresh air in and bloodcurdling screams out.

 “These holes are totally safe and too small for a lion paw to get through,” the conservation’s website wants you to know.

The reverse zoo does extol their record of safety, but they hasten to remind you that behemoth beasts are unpredictable even on their best days...

“We cannot guarantee how the lions will react,” the site reads, “but will endeavor to ensure you have a fantastic experience.”

“This offers the lions enrichment in the form of mental and physical stimulation — which is good for any animals in captivity,” said Scott, who adds that they are a "nonprofit sanctuary relying solely on donations. The cubes offer us a small income which directly helps us to feed and protect the lions in our care.”

I'm thinking 8th grade field trip, you know?

He seems a bit, I don't know, smarmy...

By now you have heard that Mike Richards is out as the new host of Jeopardy! because it turned out that in 2013-14 he had a podcast that maybe 37 people listened to, but which he filled with sexist and other inappropriate comments. 

"I will be stepping down as host effective immediately," Richards said in an email to staff, and that seemed to be the result of his comments about people. 

"His disparaging remarks about Jews, women & Asians are no laughing matter,” the Anti-Defamation League said.  “Stereotyping is an entry point to hate and his apology lacks acknowledgment of its harm. This reported pattern warrants an investigation."

Richards was also in a jam over allegations that he treated women improperly when he worked on "The Price Is Right."

"We support Mike's decision to step down as host," a Sony Pictures Television spokesperson said. "We were surprised this week to learn of Mike's 2013/2014 podcast and the offensive language he used in the past. We have spoken with him about our concerns and our expectations moving forward."

And here is the crazy thing: He gets to keep his job as executive producer! The company that hired him to do that said, "It is our hope that as EP he will continue to do so with professionalism and respect."

Yes. Because he has demonstrated a lengthy history of both of those qualities.

Listen, like 95% of America, I could give a rat's brass about who the host of Jeopardy! is. It's been fun all summer hearing people handicap the chances of the men and women involved in the boat race of tryouts to replace the late Alex Trebek, when all along they had chosen this clown who spoke so foolishly in public - including negative comments about someone's contributions to charity - and then tried to succeed a man noted for generosity in deed and in spirit. 

No, I don't care about him. But please try to tell the young people in your life that the Chinese say the best time to plant a tree is twenty years ago, by which I mean that the things you say and do on social media will stick around for twenty years, yea, twenty decades, so keep your future in mind when you're dealing with your present.

The Sideways Shuffle

I have been around people who took off running with a cup of beer in their hand, but on a horse? No. Because I have never been to Iceland.

In Iceland (remember, it's green, and Greenland is ice) they have horse shows where the riders are carrying mugs filled with Kaldi, Úlfrún, Einstök, Einstök Pale Ale, Bríó, or Garún (the most popular suds up there).

They call it a beer tölt  - no horsing around. Contestants saddle up old Icy and hold their brew in one hand, with the reins in the other. Then they put their trusty steeds through the rigors of a course without spilling their Úlfrún all over the place.

At the end of the course, the winner is the person with the most beer left in their mug, and he or she gets their reward: guzzling what's left.

Kids play along too, with root beer as the prize. 

The Icelandic horse is called the tölt, and the contest involves maneuvering around obstacles while the hoss struts around in an unusual (for us) sideways four-beat shuffle. 

Done right, the horse does all the stepping and the rider is treated to a very smooth ride. Even when the horse is at a "flying pace," it's traveling at 30 miles per hour.

I've just got to get out of this house more, but the pandemic is back.

Where's the honesty?

There used to be an annual event, with local races all over the country culminating in a big nationwide deal, called the Soapbox Derby. It gave kids the chance to design and build a non-motorized "race car" and race it downhill against other kids and their homemade contraptions. Back in those days, kids used to find scrap wood (soap boxes) and used wheels from a baby carriage or something, and make a little car. It was good wholesome fun back when such a thing still existed. Kids built their cars and the winner won and the losers went home and drank a Yoo-Hoo and life went on.

The charm of the Soapbox Derby was forever ruined in 1973 when a kid, most likely with help from a father who was some sort of engineer, was caught cheating by using some sort of magnetic device to power his car over the finish line. In that same year, the president of the United States was caught sending thugs to spy on the competition in an election that he had about as much chance of losing as I have of being chosen Pope. And the vice-president was forced to resign when it turned out that he had been stuffing his well-tailored suit jackets with bribe money from paving contractors during his time as Baltimore County executive, Governor of Maryland, and Vice President of the United States. The delicious irony is, that man, Spiro Agnew, would have been sworn in as president the following summer when the incompetent incumbent president walked the plank, but he was already out on his asterisk* by then.

So, cheating is as American as apple pie and a broken-down Chevrolet. Still, it hurts to hear about things like this: 

Eighteen midshipmen at the U.S. Naval Academy have been expelled or resigned following an investigation into cheating on a physics exam in December 2020.

That was when 650 middies took the General Physics I final online. They were told verbally and in writing that they were not allowed to use any outside sources, including websites, to take the test.

Vice Adm. Sean Buck, the academy’s superintendent, found out that some students got outside help.  “Character development is an ongoing process and midshipmen must make the choice to live honorably each day and earn the trust that comes with a commission in the Navy or Marine Corps,” Buck says. “This incident demonstrates that we must place an increased focus on character and integrity within the entire brigade.”

104 of the 650 midshipmen (61% of them varsity athletes, 83% of them men) were found to have used unauthorized resources, such as opening tabs on their computers to look things up during the exam.

5 of the alleged cheaters were in the top quarter of the class and 66 are at the bottom.

The Naval Academy searches the globe to find men and women to lead our naval forces. By far, the great majority of midshipmen are men and women of honor, but it's nonetheless stunning to find that so many of them are willing to cheat to try to earn a commission.

The Naval Academy's honor code says, in part: 

Midshipmen are persons of integrity: They stand for that which is right.

They tell the truth and ensure that the truth is known.

They do not lie.

There must be a better way to screen people.

 

Locker up

Have you tried having your Amazon packages sent to a pick-up locker? It's very handy. These lockers sit in front of, or inside, grocery stores and other places we go all the time, and Amazon will ship your air fryer,  Alka-Seltzer or after shave to the locker instead of your house, "where moth and rust doth corrupt, and where thieves break through and steal" (that's from the book of Matthew. Even in Biblical times, people stole stuff from the front porches of others. The penitent thief, Dismas, ripped off a whole shipment of manna and got in trouble for it). 

So it's a great deal. You are notified when your goods have been stowed in the locker, and you can open the door either with a six-digit code or a bar code that's in the message you receive.  And no one is knocking on your door or prowling/pirating on your porch.

Each locker cabinet has a unique name. Hello, Locksmith.

The other day, I ordered something that, for whatever reason, Amazon would not drop off at a locker. They said it would come via FedEx on Wednesday, which is the day when I got the message that it had been delivered Tuesday, and signed for by someone named AMIKE.

Here's where it gets interesting, before you run off to work your Sudoku. I emailed the company that shipped the item; they said FedEx delivered it. I wrote right back and said that was not the case. Within two minutes, the company wrote back and said they had contacted the driver and he said he dropped the package at the wrong house, and they will now ship a replacement.

Do I believe that within two minutes they 

• contacted FedEx
• FedEx found out who the driver was
• FedEx contacted the driver
• the driver raced through his memory and 
• deduced that he had dropped it off at the Shufflebottom residence and
• FedEx replied to the original company and
• they replied to me and said they will sent a replacement right out.

All this between 1050 and 1052 hours on Wednesday morning. As we say, I was born in the morning, just not yesterday morning.

We'll see how long it takes for the replacement to arrive. But do yourself a good turn and try the lockers!

Sunday Rerun: A little Love for a legend

 It's hard for me to be objective about this story.  Any of the artists whose records were produced by Phil Spector back in the day should be accorded the highest respect, because they made some of the greatest records of all time.

The fact that the late Mr Spector was a complete schnook and, later, a convicted murderer, stains his reputation, but just listening to the music he made with people such as Darlene Love, The Ronettes, The Crystals, Bob B. Soxx and the Blue Jeans and many others takes me to a world of musical bliss.  Just listen to songs like "He's A Rebel" and "Today I Met The Boy I'm Gonna Marry" and see what I mean, in case you don't go back that far.

Darlene Love today is 78 and known for these great songs from the early 60s,  for being on David Letterman's Christmas show every year to sing her holiday classic from Spector's multi-artist "Christmas Gift To You" album, "Christmas (Baby Please Come Home)," and for acting in movies such as the Lethal Weapon series (she was Roger's wife).

So, knowing all this, you understand that Darlene Love didn't just come rolling in here on a head of cabbage. She is a beloved, respected show business veteran, and of course, if you were the capitalists who run the New York Stock Exchange, you would be honored to have her sing that holiday tune at your tree-lighting ceremony this year.

And somehow you would expect her to do it for free. And drive herself on down to Wall Street for the honor of playing for a room full of Uncle Scrooge McDucks.

Darlene is right to say she feels disrespected by the NYSE. She agreed to sing for free, but requested a ride to the event because she lives an hour away in Rockland County, NY.

The New York POST reported "the marketing director said they’re not allowed to compensate talent for performance, travel, hotel, [but that they] may be able to get an exception for $500 to cover a portion of her car.” The paper went on to say that they “said she should do it for exposure.”

Love told the paper, “At this stage of my career, I don’t need any more exposure — just respect.” She added, “My time and value is worth more than $500 to hang out at the NYSE for seven hours for free with a bunch of millionaire stock brokers. They can at least cover my travel expenses. This is insulting!"

I know this is the oldest dodge in the world: expecting musicians and other performers to come and do what they have trained and practiced to do for years (in Love's case, for decades!) so that they can get "exposure."  Well, guess what, you greedy slimeballs! Exposure does not pay the electric bill, does not put food on the table or gas in the car.

People always tell me I should have more respect for the men and women who spend their days trying to squeeze another nickel out of other people. It's never going to happen, and I hope that these loudmouth vulgarian galoots either pay up or have to wind up having Iggy Azalea at their show.

The Saturday Picture Show, August 21, 2021

The question is, these days, who even wants to FAKE like they're on a plane?

Those toy cars today! They look like real cars! 

I get all Forrest Gumpy when it's apple time. Apple cider, baked apples, applesauce, fried apples, caramel apples, apple pie, apple cider donuts...I could go on.

That must have been the family size bottle.

We lived in an apartment that had these deluxe avocado appliances. I don't think either of us gazed at the range or the icebox with this look of pure enchantment, but I could be wrong.

You have to have seen "Office Space" to get this. On the other hand, you have to have seen "Office Space" to continue functioning as an adult.

We've all tried for jobs, only to be told that "we're going in a different direction" or "we don't seem to be a good match for your skill set" or "I'm hiring the boss's son." But this lady lobsterwoman has a more direct approach: "Come back when you grow a little bigger!"

Good times these days in the pumpkin patch. October 31 is coming!

Please return your cart to the proper place. They even call it a "corral," so you can pretend to be a cowboy. Think about others, please.

Little baby octopus hiding in a shell.

 Every kid in Baltimore goes to Ft McHenry on a third-grade field trip, and then never goes back, even though they live here forever. It's the birthplace of our Star-Spangled Banner and we should make it a point to return!

Boston Strangler

Everybody's talking about those tiny houses nowadays! Talking about them, just not buying them, because claustrophobia is a horrible, horrible thing, and there is a well-known scientific rule called the Pauli exclusion principle (no two particles can occupy the same quantum state). Thank Austrian-Swiss physicist  Wolfgang Pauli for the definition. The concept came to him while watching two linemen for the Green Bay Packers try to occupy a phone booth to call a girl from Sheboygan. 

So these little houses might be good for one person, or two, if they don't want to be around each other very much. And if you're of a mind to live in a historic house, check out the "skinny house" up in Boston. Ten feet wide and thirty feet long (same size as a lot of cars I see), it can be yours for the un-skinny bop price of $1.2 million.

It was sold for $900,000 in 2017.

The backstory on this North End (44 Hull Street) dwelling is, two brothers inherited the land during the Civil War. One of them went off to fight in the war, and while he was gone, the other built a house on the lot.

Johnny came marching home to a house that took up most of the property he was supposed to be sharing equally. So, as brothers will, he exacted revenge by building this house, oddly-shapen as it was, just to block his brother's view! And that house is this one, still standing 4 stories high with a roof deck, private garden, 2 bedrooms, kitchen, and a bathroom.  This pie-shaped pied-à-terre narrows down further to a mere 9.25 feet wide at the rear. Total square footage is like 1,165 square feet.

It comes with a plaque on the front identifying it as "The Skinny House (Spite House)". 

Longtime Boston denizens will tell you the legend of the Spite House. 'Tis said that on clear, starry starry nights, you can hear the ghost of the first brother screaming, "I cahn't see the hahbuh or Hahvahd Yahd, you inconsiderate bahstahd!"

 

So simple

What was it that GEICO used to say: it's so simple, even a caveman could do it?

The point in that commercial was to shame us into thinking if some Neanderthal could figure out how to save big on insuring his Buick, any of us modern types would have no problem doing the same.

Life often follows in the form of commercials, so say hi to Panta Petrovic, a Serbian who gave up the fast pace of modernity and moved into a cave in the mountains outside the city of Pirot. 

He's really far out! To get to his abode, one must climb a steep climb up a mountain.  And when you get to his house, you might not want to hang around for long. It's notably lacking in amenities, unless you consider an old bathtub being used as a toilet something you'd like to see or use.  

And don't look for a Sealy Comfort Sleeper or a Posturepedic with high thread count sheets. The man sleeps on piles of hay.

Before dropping out of Serbian society, Petrovic worked as a laborer and was just as busy after work, what with his six children by four different women. 

I guess it was that sixth kid that did it. Petrovic had had enough, and he decided to really get away from it by becoming a hermit.  He saw this as totally organic: "I was not free in this city. There is always someone in your way – you either argue with your wife, neighbors, or the police. Here, nobody is hassling me," he explained.

Petrovic

Lacking a phone to call Domino's for delivery, Petrovic has to eat mushrooms he finds and fish he hooks. And as a bonus, now and then he wanders into town and dumpster dives for food and barely-used socks. For companionships, he takes in whatever pets wander into his cave, be they tapirs, aardvarks, whatever.  I found it surprising that he gets welfare checks, but I have no idea how.  

But here's the thing: last year when he came to town for the annual J.C. Penney October Madness sale, he was told about the coronavirus. And as soon as it was available in his town, he TOOK it because he cares about his own health as well as that of his community. He figures the COVID "does not pick," and points out, "It will come here to my cave, too."

Here's a man about as remote from modern society as there can be, and even he  "doesn't understand the fuss" about this vaccine hesitancy.  He even says he will come back to town for a booster shot if such is recommended. And he doesn't need Facebook Doctors to tell him this is up to all of us: "I urge every citizen to get vaccinated, every single one of them," he says.

At press time, I was informed that a 
production error led to an incorrect
photograph in today's blog. The photo
above left identified as "Petrovic" is
actually that of former Red Sox and Yankees
slugger Johnny Damon. Your editor regrets
the error. The real hermit is shown here.

Maybe it's the pure isolation of his existence that leads him to clear thinking. All of us are enriched by removing the thoughts of Marjorie Taylor Greene and her deniers from our zeitgeist. 

It may be that if more of us were left alone, we, too, would become wiser. After all, a very great man in our spiritual life began his life sleeping on hay in a manger.

 

Mayor Grossman

Japanese Olympian Miu Goto (r), from the softball champs, is in line to get a new gold medal  - one without any tooth marks.

Now that's a sentence you don't see every day, but then again, Takashi Kawamura, the Mayor of Nagoya, isn't the kind of public official you see every day. 

Kawamura BIT her first gold medal. Social media folks are calling that "unhygienic" and "impolite" and whatever the Japanese word for "yucky" is.

The mayor was at an event celebrating the hometown hero, Ms Goto, and for reasons best known to hizzoner, he pulled off his mask and sank his incisors and bicuspids into the precious prize.

AND  the mayor must have been paying attention to certain American politicians, because not only did he slobber all over someone's medal, he made inappropriate sexual remarks to the softball champ (pro tip: there are no appropriate ones).

"Are you prohibited from having romantic relationships?" he said to Ms Goto.

In the time-honored tradition of politicos everywhere, the mayor soon admitted that he was being inappropriate, and had made an "error in judgement."

"I deeply regret making her uncomfortable with remarks that went too far," he said. "When I ask a young person if they have a boyfriend or girlfriend, it allows them to relax and speak more. As a mayor, it's important to put people one is talking to at ease."

The mayor also was taken to school by Japanese Olympic Committee head Yasuhiro Yamashita, from whom Kawamura said he "received guidance."

And then he offered to pay for a replacement medal, which should be delivered free of his DNA.

"I hope the arrangements are made in line with Ms. Goto's wishes, or as close as possible," Kawamura said. Goto is expected to get her replacement medal, which her team won by defeating the US, soon.

This May surprise you

Mexican actress Lyn May is saying she is pregnant. So what's the story? Women get pregnant all the time, but not so often when they are 68 years old. Which is what Ms May is. 

She made the announcement along with her partner, Markos D I (no relation). He is 29.

The happy couple

I am not familiar with either Ms May or Mr D I, but she has 163,000 followers on Instagram, which tops me by about 162,990, so she is well known. She is an actress, dancer and showgirl, among the most popular actresses of Ficheras (Mexican sex comedy) cinema, with over 100 films to her credit. She's often called "The Goddess of Love."

Born to a family of Chinese immigrants, she was christened Lilia Mendiola de Chi in Guerrero, Mexico. 

She wrote on Instagram, "I am very happy to announce that I am 3 months pregnant and @markosd1official is very happy that he will be a dad."

I tell you all this as background because we stand on the verge of world medical history here. Should Ms May give birth at 68, she will shatter the Guinness World Record of the oldest woman to have given birth.

Currently, that title is held by Maria del Carmen Bousada Lara, who took the title back in December 2006 after she gave birth via cesarean section to twin boys, Christian and Pau, at the Sant Pau hospital in Barcelona, Spain.

Ms Lara was but 66 when she became the twins' mom following IVF treatment in the United States. So even if Ms May gives birth to but one child, Ms Lara will remain the titleholder in the category of oldest woman to bear twins.

They really ought to publish the Guinness Book in a loose-leaf edition. I see lots of changes coming soon!

 

Hands Up, Florida!

Castles Made Of Sand is now opening a Florida Bureau so we can keep you up to date with all the latest news from DeSantisland. I saw a story on the newswire about a Floridian who killed his imaginary friend, but it turned out to be a story from 2015, and there is no need to give you OLD Florida news when there is live, local, latebreaking stuff like this:

What does it take to have the Volusia County Sheriff’s Office call YOUR crime spree an "impressive crime spree"? I mean, in a state where people kill imaginary people, this man racked up a total of at least four stolen vehicles and property damage.

Volusia County deputies piled into a squad car, bound for the Pierson area last Tuesday morning. They had a report of a crash at U.S. Highway 17 and Palmetto Avenue. 

I have to stop and say how funny "Palmetto" sounds to me, like the "Walnettos," the chewy caramel-walnut candy that's everything I look for in a candy: chewy, caramel, and walnut.

Anyway, the county mounties pull up on a stolen Ford F-150 pick-'em-up stuck in the mud up to the tailgate at that location. No one was around the grounded truck but the deputies figured it out it came from Marion County.

Volusia County has a new service for easy crime reporting, it seems. While the deputies were processing the stolen abandoned Ford, people stopped off to tell them about two buildings being broken into and also the thefts of another Ford truck (they're like peanuts; you can't stop at one) and a forklift. 

The thief had scooted around town in the forklift until it ran out of fuel. Fortunately, it ran out of fuel right near another Ford pickup, so the crook piled into that and drove off, crashing it into the woods. Deputies said the catalytic converter had been ripped off from under the truck. Those things do make nice souvenirs.

The next thing you know, the law piles back into the car to check out a report of a burglary. At the house in question, the busy thief got into the garage, where he stole a pair of shoes, and a key for the car he then stole.

Next up on Casey's Countdown, he stole a four-wheeler, the owners of which were in the hospital with coronavirus at the time of the theft. Their daughter was supposed to be watching the property, but she missed this part.

Here's where it really becomes Floridafied.  Someone called deputies, saying he was out spraying pesticides, but could hear the four-wheeler racing across his property.

Covid-era Kojak tracked the vehicle tracks and came upon a man walking around. 

The walking fellow asked if he could drink from the sprinklers, but the property owner informed him that there was "poison in the water lines" and it was therefore not safe to drink.

At that, the walking man took off running. Deputies rounded up one Charles Harrington, 24, walking down County Road 3. They got a tip from a neighbor who had seen him jumping a fence and lurking in the woods.

Roll that around in your mind a minute. Of all the places where one can lurk, who has "the woods" high on their list?

Anyhow, all these thefts occurred within an 18-hour time frame, says the arrest report.

“To be clear, this is a very rural area and foot traffic in these areas is unheard of,” the arresting deputy wrote in the report. Lurking is virtually unheard of.

When the deputy stopped Harrington afoot, the suspect claimed he had been  “swimming” with his “old lady.” The officer's body camera video has a moving image of Harrington saying he "knocked on someone’s door asking for some water but other than that I didn’t do nothing.”

It also shows the the deputy telling Harrinregton the sheriff’s office had received “several calls about you.” And then a search of the suspect turned up the keys to one of the stolen F-150s and a lanyard associated with another theft. Searching further, the police found the stolen catalytic converter from the truck on the abandoned four-wheeler.

As Harrington was fitted for a nice pair of handcuffs, he was told the police found  an open warrant on him out of Marion County.

Today's final score: three counts of unarmed burglary and three counts of grand theft less than $100,000.

Remember what David Spade said about the "COPS" TV show being filled with people not wearing shirts who were not a bit surprised to see police in their living rooms.

Sunday Rerun: 1/8/35 - 8/16/77

 From the New Yorker, December 6, 1999

JESUS AND ELVIS



Twenty years after the death, St. Paul

was sending the first of his epistles,

and bits of myth or faithful memory -

multitudes fed on scraps, the dead small girl

told "Talitha, cumi" - were self-assembling

as proto-Gospels.  Twenty years since pills

and chiliburgers did another in,

they gather at Graceland, the simple believers,

the turnpike pilgrims from the sere Midwest,

mother and daughter bleached to look alike,

Marys and Lazaruses, you and me,

brains riddled with song, with hand-tinted visions

of a lovely young man, reckless and cool

as a lily.  He lives. We live. He lives.



                                           John Updike

The Saturday Picture Show, August 14, 2021

 

I thought I would start you off this morning with the clam before the storm.

He's never gonna give you up, and why should he? Rick Astley's 1988 record of that name has now been streamed a billion times, and that means he's made dinner out of the same pot of stew a billion times. Rickrolling lives.

Dot's Bakery in Ocean City, New Jersey, ties up your dozen danish or sweet rolls or cookies with that red-and-white string that bakeries have used since Lincoln was in high school. But Dot's had a machine to do the wrapping and tying, and people loved seeing it in operation so much, the whole town was bummed when it broke recently. They finally found a repairman who understood 1936 German machinery, and all is well. I'll have a dozen coconut muffins, please.

Here's a straw hat, perfect for the firefighter in your life, as it's woven in the shape of a helmet. It bears the name of St Florian, patron saint of chimney sweeps, soapmakers, and firefighters.  Are there so few saints that they have to triple up on their patronages? 

Alabama Coach Nick Saban eulogized the late Bobby Bowden in this Instagram post.  A touching tribute indeed, and it gave me an expression I have already stolen: "He didn't know me from Adam's house cat."

It's a whole different view inside of a guitar.

Grandpa made this cradle and I think he hopes the baby will take to boating.

At one time, there were 27 million of these in operation in American homes. Today there are maybe 27.

Delightful teen actress/singer Olivia Rodrigo visited the White House to beat the drum for vaccinations and wound up with a pair of souvenir Ray-Ban aviators.

You would think he could figure some way to fix his disabled vehicle with the elastic band from a used mask, a McDonald's straw, and a souvenir can opener, but maybe there are challenges that not even Richard Dean Anderson, the original MacGyver, can handle.