The Saturday Picture Show, May 30, 2026

 

If you're a full moon, all you have to do to earn the coveted Blue Moon status is be the second one in a month. Tomorrow's moon (5/31) will just sneak in there!

First chance we get, we'll have to ask Herbert how he's doing.

The perfect last-day-of-school gift for a teacher. I would have had bakeries working around the clock in my schoolboy days. Yes, I know, you're surprised. I talked a lot.

The Spanish is not accurate but for what the mortgage shell-out must be every month, let them have their joke!

This sad banana has a future, and it involves banana bread!

I don't know if this is meant as a joke or if it's a Freudian slip, but this is the decor that one sees in a certain colonoscopy clinic.

I don't know. If you want to live on a boat, why not just do that, rather than building a boat-like house?

I will never again trust a brush manufacturer.

No, these are not those confounded clacker balls from the 1970s. This is a rural fire suppression idea. If a fire breaks out in a barn, when it gets hot enough, the glass globes will break and drop a fire-retardant chemical, thereby putting out the flames. I'm still calling the Fire Department.

Manhattanhenge was this past week, when the setting sun aligns perfectly and naturally with New York's street grids. All of Gotham is agog and takes a break from shooting, robbing, and indicting each other for a moment to gawk, then it's back to the regular.

Eat Read Watch Baseball Sleep

Yesterday was a day for odd names.

A country singer told me that Luke Bryan, who has been responsible for such unforgettable tunes as "Love You, Miss You, Mean It", "Huntin’, Fishin’ and Lovin’ Every Day," "Country Girl (Shake It For Me)" and the song that really sums up Luke's appeal, "Drunk On You," has come out with a new release that seems to need a verb or two to make sense. It's named "Fish Hunt Golf Drink," and if that doesn't make you want to shake your head, then I can't help you with that rattling!

My friend says the song is possibly the worst thing ever to happen to mankind, and I can't dispute that one little bit. My once-lyrical country music is now reduced to a point where the words to songs are just lists of nouns and verbs. 

Here, I'll start you off and you can finish this song, and if Luke Bryan or Bryan Luke or one of those good ole boys cuts it, you and I can split a bundle!

"I wake up in the morning, and I got three things to do

The second one is being sad and the third is missin' you

I guess you guessed the first one, I stumbled down the hall

And that old mirror tells me I'm still crying after all."

A list of things is not enough lyrical content, especially when it's a list very similar to one of your other songs, and when the music is so insipid. But maybe it's AI! "Hey Google, write me a snappy country song!"

If you want to hear this mess, point your Google to this:  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cXMirYiC61E

On the other hand, it was a surprise to find that Robin Strasser, an actress whose work I know because she played Coach Fox's boss in "Coach," was born on May 7, 1945. We history nuts know that day was the day in World War II that Germany surrendered to the Allies. Ms Strasser's parents gave her this name at birth: Robin Victory In Europe Strasser. How cool is that? She will never be without something to talk about to strangers!

The only way this could be better would be for Luke Bryan to have a daughter and name her Wailene Please Daddy Stop Singing Bryan. 

I'm not counting on it.

Harper's Not Bizarre

Did you ever find that you had been doing something for eons, only to find out that you and maybe two other people on the face of Earth do it?

I'm sort of proud to be in the elite company of Philadelphia Phillies star slugger Bryce Harper, who did one of those GRWM (Get Ready With Me) posts that are so popular now since Farmville got boring. 

The internet was simply aghast to find out how Bryce Harper brushes his teeth:  Harper puts his toothpaste tube into his mouth, squeezes out what he needs, and then sticks his wet toothbrush in there and has at it.

Apparently, the approved method is to squeeze that Colgate right onto the brush. 

Would you care to guess if anyone else you know uses the Harper method?

It is I. Right here, done that for years. You see, Peggy and I have always had separate bathrooms, with the exception of about one year,  before we finished my salle de bain in our first house. So, I don't have to worry about anyone else's cooties on my tube of whatever toothpaste Dollar Tree had that week. And it seems like a wasted step to put the paste on the brush first. Efficiency is my watchword! So a dab on the tongue, then in goes the electric brush, and at a rate of 30 seconds per quadrant, I'm clean as a hound's tooth in 2 minutes!

Some morning, you'll have to come over and see how I take a shower.

Amateur Night and Day

One thing of which this nation will never have a shortage is people who think they know they're doing, when, in fact, they don't have the sense God gave 'em.

If you're ever at the scene of a large building fire, there will always be some sidewalk fire chief saying, "they shoulda done this!" or "we need more water over heah!" 

Of course, you need look no further than Facebook to meet dozens of people every day from all walks of life who are actually experts in staffing and managing a big-league baseball team. Just ask them!

Police detectives spend years learning their trade from the ground up, beginning as beat patrol officers, and then spending time in technical training courses. But now, with the advent of true-crime podcasts and YouTube videos, crimes that have baffled police from Keokuk to Kennesaw Mountain are being resolved by dedicated amateur sleuths.

And so we meet one Alec Wysopal, from Tucson, Arizona. Wysopal is 38, and if he's the same Alec Wysopal who listed his availability on a house-sitting opportunity website, he definitely should be regarded as more than capable. Here he lists the reasons why one should hire him to house-sit:

Nice to meet you! My name is Alec Wysopal. I'm seeking a house sitting provider job in Tucson, Arizona. I'm aiming to contribute my abilities as a House Sitting Provider. Flexible scheduling for clients.

Service Abilities:

I am comfortable doing pool maintenance, mail collecting, and light landscaping. I have personal transportation available. With respect to prior history, I have previous experience.

I remember poring over job applications back in my day, looking for a specific person for a specific job, and reading that "with respect to prior history, I have previous experience" would be enough to seal the deal for me.

Assuming that there are not two Alex Wysopals trooping across the desert of Tucson, this is the same guy written about in the New York Times, and he has set up a livestream to share his results with an anxious world as he investigates the disappearance of Savannah Guthrie's mother. 

People are setting up camp around the Guthrie house.

And recently, he announced to his stunned audient (I can't say how many people actually watch his activity) that he found a bone on a dried-up river bank near the Guthrie residence.

 He called 911 breathlessly with his important find.

And sure enough, among those who ghoulishly devote time to the deaths and disappearance of well-known people (or their parents) there came a frenzied murmur that at last, a break had come along for those who have looked for Ms Guthrie mère.

The excitement died aborning, though, when James T. Watson, curator of bioarchaelogy at the Arizona State Museum and an expert on prehistoric remains, examined the bone, and said it came from the days between between 650 and 1250 A.D., when the Hohokam people tended farms and lived in the area.

So now the legbone, rudely removed from its sacred resting spot, will be brought back to the Native American archaeological site that Wysopal had no business digging in.  

From what I read, people with nothing better to do with their days are hanging around Phoenix these days, playing Columbo Jr for reasons I have yet to understand. 

Ain't Miss Agnes hot!?

The happy fellow you see here beginning a jaunt around all four bases on the field at Oriole Park is Colton Cowser, an outfielder whose season has not gone well at all this year. In fact, even though he hit a walkoff home run against the Rays on Sunday, he took a .191 batting average to the plate with him in the 13th inning of yesterday's Memorial Day matinee.

Wouldn't you know it?! He hit another game-winner, and maybe this is what will get him off the dime on the diamond this year! I hope so. He's a nice, earnest young man, and we are happy for this burst of success.

AND...if you were watching the Orioles telecast, you heard announcer Kevin Brown chirp, "Ain't the milk cold!" as Cowser connected. Cowser's nickname is The Milkman, because of you know why. COWser!

And the other part came from one of the all-time greats in the sports announcing business, Chuck Thompson, whose voice was the sound track to thousands of Baltimore evenings listening to ballgames. Chuck had a great voice and an encyclopedic knowledge of baseball and football. His two pet expressions were: "Go to war, Miss Agnes!" when something exciting happened, and "Ain't the beer cold!" when something great happened.

He said he got "Go to war, Miss Agnes" from a golf buddy who never cursed and used that as a substitute epithet. My mother, who was from the same generation...let's not say she never cursed (she did live in the same house as I, so that was a reason right there) but she did limit it. And her version of that was, "Holy go to war, Miss Mitchell!"

I don't know if the expression had anything to do with World War II. Chuck Thompson served as a sergeant in the US Army in the Battle of the Bulge, and if you know history, you know that was "going to war."

And Baltimore is a beer-guzzling town, and the baseball team was owned by National Brewing, so "Ain't the beer cold!" might have reminded people to celebrate with a cold one.

Hats off to Kevin Brown for knowing that expression and working it into the game so well yesterday! 

Memorial Day 2026

 

Today is Memorial Day, the day set aside to honor those who gave their lives in service to the American dream of liberty and prosperity and peace for all. Not to be blunt, but remember, it's not Veterans Day (November 11) or Armed Forces Day (May 16).

Let's not lose perspective about those who died to keep us free, and try to keep a thankful thought for those men and women.

Sunday Rerun (from 2015): Going My Way?

 After we got our pneumonia shots the other day (retirement is a continuing series of thrills!), Peggy and I headed down to my old high school to walk around the track four times and get fresh air and exercise.

As I love to do, I reminisced about my high school days, and showed Peggy where the sub shop and delicatessen called Smetana's used to stand on York Rd.  And how, after detention, I would hurry to get there to join the crowd for a cold cut sub, chips and soda, and how after that I would walk up to Read's Drugstore for an ice cream before cutting through Hutzler's and Towson Plaza so I could get to Goucher Boulevard and Providence Road and hitchhike home for supper.

By the way, I weighed 140 lbs at the time, and had to run around in the shower to get wet.  I could not drink from a straw, lest I fall in.

Anyway, that word hung heavy in the air. Hitchhike! When is the last time you saw someone hitchhiking around here?  Man oh man, the time was that you would see guys and the occasional teenaged girl with their right arm and thumb akimbo, waiting for a ride from a suburban mom in a Buick Estate Wagon, a businessman with time to tell a young person his theories about personal and business success ("And one thing I learned from taking that course is, no matter what you think you're selling, be it cars or buggy whips, you're really selling yourself !"), or a three-time loser with nothing else to lose, driving a stolen Dodge.

Sorry.  That last one was from Dragnet.

Maybe this kind of movie ruined everything

If you moms of teenagers can even think of it, yes, there was a time when we got around by hopping into cars driven by total strangers, without a cell phone or tracking device of any sort on us for our parents or Inspector Flanagan from Police Headquarters to track us with. I know the last time I saw someone thumbing a ride, gas was about 45 cents a gallon but I still didn't pick the guy up.

Frankly, I don't know who stopped hitchhiking first - the kids who were afraid to get in the car of Harry Homicide, or the innocent driver scared to death to stop for Stanley Slasher with his algebra book and his looseleaf notebook with "ME + YOU = ?" on the front in magic marker.

Good times.  Good times.