The Saturday Picture Show, Special 9/11 Edition, 2021

 

It was on this day twenty years ago that the world was changed forever. 

Welles Crowther was 24. He had just begun working as an equity trader in the World Trade Center that day. He was also a volunteer firefighter in his hometown and made it a habit to carry a red bandana at all times, even in a business suit. He used this as a makeshift mask that morning to help others escape the South Tower before the collapse took him.

Shanksville, Pennsylvania, population 273, is now known worldwide as the resting place of hijacked United Airlines Flight 93, bound for San Francisco. 40 passengers and 4 hijackers died as it crashed, but of the four planes hijacked that day, this is the one that did not reach its goal. A revolt among the passengers caused the crash, which likely saved the Capitol or the White House from the fates of the World Trade Center and the Pentagon.

We tend to forget that the fallen towers were at the very tip of Manhattan, making it difficult for those who made it out of the buildings and the ones adjacent to leave the area. A huge flotilla of boats of all types assembled itself and ferried 500,000 people away to safety.

Firefighter gear left behind is on display at the 9/11 Memorial Museum. 2,977 people died that day: 343 FDNY firefighters (including a chaplain and two paramedics), 37 police officers of the Port Authority PD,  23 police officers of the NYPD, 8 EMTs and paramedics from private EMS, and one patrolman from the New York Fire Patrol. 

Amid the awful chaos, Lady Liberty stood tall in the harbor.

At Summit Academy North Elementary School in Michigan, every year around this time, students place a heart on a bulletin board for every good deed they do, with the goal being to have 911 hearts (they always exceed that quota!).

My old fire company, Providence Volunteers, proudly displays a piece of WTC steel as a remembrance.

The town of Gander, Newfoundland, took in 6,700 rerouted and stranded airplane travelers that day and treated them all like family.

Every year at this time, I remember the first months after the attack. People were  more kind, more thoughtful, more sharing. I wish we could get that feeling again.

To predict and serve?

I have to admit that the first time I heard the term "predictive policing," I looked down to see if my leg was being pulled. But no, it's a thing. And of course, it's happening in Florida. Big surprise, but the surprise is who is against it!

The story is, the Pasco County Sheriff Department uses money that could be used to have police out among the public, establishing community connections and investigating crime, and instead they have  ‘The Intelligence-Led Policing Section’ (ILP), which has as its raison d’être "to advance the agency’s crime fighting initiatives to a modern-day philosophy.” They pay 30 people to do this: a director, manager, two analyst supervisors, and twenty-odd analysts. 

Their ‘predictive policing’, is what they call a way to prevent crime by figuring out who might be up to something before they even take the notion to commit a crime. To do this, they send deputies to the homes of such people to let them know they are being watched. Many of the people receiving these visits are children.

The computer algorithm (have you noticed that word coming up all the time lately?) that the ILP cranks out gives the deputies their list, and off they go, knocking on doors. One might be on the list for having committed crimes in the past, for having been accused or suspected of a crime, for having WITNESSED a crime, or even for being the VICTIM of a crime.

The deputies write reports about the people on their lists by dropping by their homes or workplaces without an appointment and grilling them about their family, their friends and acquaintances, and their plans for the day.

And once a person has been placed on the "Public Offender" list, they or their associates wind up being cited for minor code violations for "being uncooperative." A woman was fined $2,500 because she had chickens roosting in her back yard. Another person received a fine of $3,000 for having tall grass and not displaying their house number.

SO now, someone is trying to rid the community of this Orwellian nonsense. Pasco County families have joined together to sue Sheriff Chris Nocco, saying that his program is "punishing people for crimes they have not committed and may never commit."  The Sheriff filed a motion to dismiss the case against the program, but Judge Steven D. Merryday rejected that request.

"What are you planning to do this afternoon?"

"(This) decision is an important step toward the ultimate dismantling of the program," said Ari Bargil, an attorney at the Institute for Justice, which represents the families, and avers that the program allegedly violates the first, fourth, and fourteenth amendments.

Now comes the shockeroo!

Rep. Matt Gaetz suggested Florida Gov. Ron DeSantis use his authority to remove Sheriff Nocco for running this program to target and harass residents.

“I don’t care that this is being done by a GOP Sheriff,” Gaetz wrote. “It’s awful to harass citizens because you think they may commit crimes, hoping to ‘make their lives miserable.’ "

Son, when Matt Gaetz says you are awful, you are double-secret awful! 

In related news, the county's Fire Department will now ride around hosing off houses, cars, and people that they think might catch on fire soon. And the Health Dept. is instituting a preventive program of performing heart bypass surgery on people seen eating cheeseburgers and pizzas without even so much as a salad.

Gun me down

Before we get to what I wrote the other day about the gunplay at Towson University, there is this update from the Associated Press about it:

TOWSON, Md. (AP) — Baltimore County police have charged a 19-year-old Greenbelt man, who they said fired a gun at an unsanctioned gathering of hundreds of people at Towson University, striking himself and two others.

Samuel Nnam was arrested a short time after he was released from a hospital and charged with attempted first-degree murder, first-degree assault, and second-degree assault, police said in a news release Tuesday night. Nnam is being held without bail. Online court records do not list an attorney for Nnam.

The university announced earlier Tuesday that it placed a veteran campus police officer on paid leave during an investigation into whether “established procedures” were performed during the unsanctioned gathering.

=========================================================

Thanks to the unstinting efforts of the NRA and their 2A devotees, handguns are as common at parties as beer cans and Doritos, so it was hardly a surprise to anyone that three people - one a student - were shot early last Saturday morning at Towson University in my dear old hometown. 

Videos are going around, showing 500 people gathered in what they call Freedom Square, in the middle of the university's academic buildings, around 2 in the morning. People are seen swaying to a beat, dancing, if you will. 

And then, as they say on the news, "gunshots rang out" and now "security will be beefed up." Three were shot, all will live, one was a female student, and no one has any idea a-tall who the shooter(s) was/were. 

The University brass just about threw their backs out of whack, pointing fingers away from themselves.  "This was an unsanctioned event!" they huffed. "Nothing to do with us! We knew nothing!"

But you should have.

"It was just like a lot of chaos. Everyone was screaming, just sprinting across the bridge because they didn't know what was happening. They thought the shooter was chasing them," Towson University student Sofia Merkowitz-Bustos told WBAL-TV.

There are chalkboards in Freedom Square where students, in between rounds of gunfire, can express themselves in words, and that is what some were doing the other day, hoping to send some light and positivity.

I have two questions, as always. For one thing, Towson University has a full-time, 24 hour police department composed of sworn, trained police, not Paul Blart Mall Cop security guards. How on earth was a gathering of 500 people going on in the middle of the campus without attracting the attention of the TUPD, and some sort of response? I assume that no one had a gathering permit to have this party, so why was it going on unimpeded? Someone was supposed to be on patrol then. Where were they?

All the U will say now is the standard "we have looked over the situation and we will redouble our blah blah blah". NOW they decide they need to patrol a little more carefully and keep an eye on the billion dollar campus, and its tens of thousands of students, over there. 

There is no reason for this to have happened and they know this, and "moving forward we shall do better" is not going to cut it. Someone should explain just where all their police were that night.

And another thing. I saw parents on TV demanding to know why they were not notified about what they call a school shooting. This is different from a shooting in a public school, K-12. It is assumed that college students are adults and responsible for themselves. When a college student is failing a class, the professor does not call his or her parents in for a chat. 

It's true, that gap from high school graduation to college classes beginning is just a few weeks. But in that time, let's suggest to parents that they remind their campus-bound progeny that nothing good comes from being in a crowd of 500 people after midnight. 

And let's remind the Towson U police and administration about that, too!

There was a time when the entire community would be enraged by this desecration, but with the constant barrage of bad news, it's just one more log floating past in the stream of consciousness.

...and not a drop to drink

For the time being, you can add "public water fountains" to the list of things you don't see anymore. Or rather, you see them, but you can't use them, because the store or mall or hospital or office building has turned them off, due to COVID fears.

Another one for the list? How about "newsboys"? Yes, young men wearing those slouch hats that made them all look like Donnie Wahlberg used to stand around peddling newspapers to a nation that did not get its news from tv, radio, or the internet. It was tough work, selling papers for a couple of pennies each to make a few cents a day back when times were tough.

One of those men was Joseph Rosenberg (1848–1891) who hawked papers in Chicago in the pre-Lincoln days. It gets hot in Chicago in the summer, and a day of slinging the Chicago Times was sure to leave a young man dry as a bone. But merchants and business owners in young Rosenberg's neighborhood did not take kindly to a young waif coming in for free gulps of water, so he went thirsty all day (there were no YETIs back then!)

But he did so with a vow in his heart that when he became wealthy, he would provide a public water fountain where newsboys (and, presumably, anyone else with a hankering for a sip of water) could slake their thirst.

And so he did. He went to San Francisco and made that fortune, and on his passing at the age of 43, his will included a bequest for a fountain in Chicago “to provide the thirsty with a drink.”  He left $10,000 (worth about $300,003.30 in 2021 dollars) for an ornamental drinking fountain, to be built on a prominent corner somewhere on the South Side of Chicago. The Chicago Park Commissioners were happy to accept the gift, and made a monument and fountain on the southwest end of Grant Park near Rosenberg's childhood neighborhood on South Michigan Avenue.

To this day, the fountain still bubbles, but the water is no longer potable. Not only that, but you can't drink it, either.  It resembles a miniature of a classical Greek temple. There is an eleven-foot-tall bronze statue of Hebe, daughter of Zeus and Hera.  Hebe was the goddess of youth and cupbearer to the gods. She was the symbol of rejuvenation, which is all young Rosenberg wanted, a little slug of water, but no!

The times being censorious back then, the sculptor had to alter his plan to show Hebe in the nude so as not to get water guzzlers and parkgoers all worked up. That's why she appears in draped clothing, with a cup in one hand and a pitcher in the other.

SO, next time you find yourself in Chi, be sure to check out the Rosenberg fountain, but be sure to bring along your own water bottle.

Ollie Hardy should have had more sense

In 1974, Paul McCartney, late of The Beatles (I guess we have to add that fact now) went to Nashville to try his hand at cutting a country song or two. One result of those sessions was a song called "Sally G." I was still a country DJ at the time, and my boss made me play it one time to see what kind of reaction it got from the listeners. I can come close to summing up that experience by sharing the words of one South Baltimorean, who asked - demanded! - that I "get that shitoffadaradio!"

Ever since, I have wanted to write an autobiography and title the chapter about my on-air days "Shitoffadaradio." But I digress.

"Sally G" is just the sort of turgid music that people put out when they want to "go country," and it was a huge flop. Never went anywhere in country music, and as I understand it, McCartney is still eking out a living by appearing with James Corden and singing his old songs. He has been singing about Strawberry Fields forever.

So the record company made it the flip side to the one and only McCartney song I do like.  Also released in 1974, "Junior's Farm", was a #3 hit in the US later that year.

The lyrics to "Junior's Farm" are below for your enjoyment. In the 60s and 70s, it was a standard practice among songwriters to write down 2,493 words on index cards, toss them up in the air, and then stack them once they landed and call it a song. I mean, he goes from playing poker to talking to an Inuit to seeing a seal to wanting to "lay" low to Parliament talking about Richard Nixon to buying cement to Oliver Hardy, of Laurel and Hardy fame, to inflation and back to playing poker. 

Always nice to hear a guy with a fortune whine about the prices of soup and beans.

It's dizzying in its total lack of meaning, but, McCartney, asked just what he was talking about, said he had been listening to Bob Dylan's "Maggie's Farm" and "the idea was to just get a fantasy song about this person Junior." Paul acknowledged that while Dylan's song had meaning and gravity, " 'Junior's Farm' has silly words and basically all it means is, 'Let's get out of the city' ... As for reading deep meanings into the words, people shouldn't bother, there aren't any."

He is right. We shouldn't bother. But who is this "Junior," you ask? Well, sir, if you like good country music with lyrics that mean something, you probably know songs such as "D-I-V-O-R-C-E" (Tammy Wynette), "Dumb Blonde" (Dolly Parton), "Green Green Grass Of Home" (Tom Jones, Porter Wagoner, and dozens more), "He Stopped Loving Her Today" (George Jones), "My Elusive Dreams" (David Houston and Tammy Wynette), and "You Can't Have Your Kate and Edith Too" by the Statler Brothers.

And those songs, and literally hundreds more, were written by Princeton, Alabama native Claude Putman, Jr, known professionally as "Curly" Putman. Or "Junior." With the bags of money he made from writing "Green Green Grass Of Home," Junior bought himself and his wife a nice farm in Lebanon, Tennessee, and that's where McCartney and company stayed while cutting songs in Nashville at Soundshop Studios. 

McCartney and Wings at Junior's Farm (lyrics below)




You should have seen me with the poker man

I had a honey and I bet a grand

Just in the nick of time I looked at his hand

I was talking to an Eskimo

Said he was hoping for a fall of snow

When up popped a sea lion ready to go




Let's go, let's go, let go, let go

Down to Junior's Farm where I want to lay low

Low life, high life, oh let's go

Take me down to Junior's Farm




At the Houses of Parliament

Ev'rybody's talking 'bout the President

We all chip in for a bag of cement

Ollie Hardy should have had more sense

He bought a gee-gee and he jumped the fence

All for the sake of a couple of pence




Let's go, let's go, let go, let go

Down to Junior's Farm where I want to lay low

Low life, high life, oh let's go

Take me down to Junior's Farm

Let's go, let's go

Down to Junior's Farm where I want to lay low

Low life, high life, oh let's go

Take me down to Junior's Farm

Everybody tag along




I took my bag into a grocer's store

The price is higher than the time before

Old man asked me why is it more

I said you should have seen me with the poker man

I had a honey and I bet a grand

Just in the nick of time I looked at his hand




Let's go, let's go, let go, let go

Down to Junior's Farm where I want to lay low

Low life, high life, oh let's go

Take me down to Junior's Farm




Let's go, let's go

Down to junior's farm where I want to lay low

Low life, high life, oh let's go

Take me down to Junior's Farm

Everybody tag along

Take me down to Junior's Farm




Take me back

Take me back

I want to go back

Yeah yeah



Later on, Putman said that the band had fun visiting his farm: “They just seemed to enjoy being out in the country. They rode horses. I have a pond and they went swimming in it…Paul was very likable, personable. He just seemed like one of us.”

Those were the days, my friend, when a Beatle could seem like one of us. So there's the story of a record I didn't like (along with everyone else) and the one McCartney song I did, along with millions and millions of others.

Happy Labor Day 2021

 

Sunday Rerun: Fish Story

 Here in Baltimore, we have the great National Aquarium, the huge fishtank downtown that visitors enjoy. It costs a pretty penny to get in the place, but I guess if the people who run it start to run out of money, they can always a float a loan.

There is an aquarium down south - the North Carolina Aquarium at Pine Knoll Shores -  and although I assume there is an admission charge to get in there, they also have a large waterfall that many folks use as a wishing well, tossing in coins in hopes of finding true love, hitting the lottery, getting hired for a better job, you know the drill...

They've been closed for six months because of you-know-what, and someone came up with the idea to drain the waterfall and see how many quarters, halves, nickels, dimes and slugs were down at the bottom.  Why not? With the national coin shortage and with no income coming in, it made sense.

They dredged up about 100 gallons of coins, and by the time they run all that metal through the coin counter down at the Food4Less, they'll have some operating loot to keep going a while. The money "...will go toward the general care of the aquarium and animals during this time," the aquarium said in a Facebook post last week.

Myself, I toss pocket change into a peanut butter jar and turn it in at the credit union to get money to buy more peanut butter, but I can't even dream up how much 100 gallons of jingly money comes out to.

They're taking guesses on their Facebook page, and meanwhile, while still closed to humans, the aquarium has virtual events, behind-the-scenes tours and animal encounters. All while keeping the facility up and running and taking care for the fishies and other inhabitants.

So, I hope they find it all adds to several million simoleons!

The Saturday Picture Show, September 4, 2021

 

Be careful to drink every last drop of your orange juice, or Melania will lurk at the bottom of the glass. 

The Samsung safety truck has a camera mounted up front so that cars behind it can see what the truckdriver sees, which comes in very handy when you're pulling out to pass. Cool idea!

 Yippee Ki Yay! Look who's in the vent, coming for breakfast! If you haven't seen it, it's Bruce Willis in the original "Die Hard," and it's fine Christmas fare every year!

Things used to be different in the Army: the Roman Army, that is. Someone just discovered this old old barracks floor from the glory days of Rome.

For some, this is a perfectly toasted marshmallow. For me, this is a down payment, a pre-burn, so to speak. I haven't had one for years, but I know I like them well done!

That is some outstanding lighting on the tractor! Early morning cornfield action in the USA.

I guess you were supposed to think that the motorcycle cop is giving this couple a ride to the hospital as they try to get there before the stork does.  Anyone else think the driver looks like John Candy in this 1956 Chevrolet?

No wonder we were the first country to put a man on the moon, with ingenuity like this! Hot a-mighty, what a grill!

You get the impression that it's been a long time since this camper was actually driven anywhere, but if you're up for a spooky night in the woods, go have fun!

We all have questions. The driver is going to have the answers for us, but first he has to call his boss.

Roll up your sleeve

Back in the days when radio was fun, Paul "The Emperor" Rodgers played the song "Baby I'm-a Want You" by Bread on WCBM, and explained the title by saying, "Well, they had to call it something!"

Indeed.

So now comes the Covid-19 Vaccine by Pfizer-BioNTech, the vaccine that has been coursing through my bloodstream since April, fighting off the Covid cootie, and it has its own brand name now. 

And it shall be known henceforth and forevermore as Comirnaty.

That sound you just heard was a major pharma company making a splashy swan dive into an empty pool.

Comirnaty. Sounds like "community," only not as friendly. You can picture your doctor looking down past your uvula and saying, "Looks like you've got comirnaty."

"We were all excited when Aunt Slouch showed up at the covered dish supper with her homemade comirnaty pudding!"

"The record hop down at the fire house was a lot of fun Saturday night. We all learned to dance The Comirnaty"

"The mechanic asked me what sort of noise the car was making just before it conked out, and I said it sounded like 'co - co - comirnaty!' "

One more?

"We decided to keep Ollie Sue home today...she was feeling sorta comirnaty."

Well, sir, the official name of the vaccine that many need is pronounced koe-mir’-na-tee. They got the name from putting corona words in a blender and spinning them around.

Take "Co" from Corona, add "-mirna" because it's an mRNA vaccine, and tack on the -ty suffix, and, as the manufacturer says, it represents both the words community and immunity. 

This all dates back to the magic year 2020 - remember? - when an outfit named Brand Institute, an agency whose job it is to develop brand names for products, was hired by BioNTech to come up with a snappy name for this vax.

Brand Institute is proud to tell you that it was they who came up the names Tylenol Rapid Release and Advil Dual Action!

Someone said on Twitter that most drug names sound like someone is trying to make something good out of a bad pile of Scrabble tiles.

Over at Moderna, they're still hoping for complete FDA approval for the vaccine they came up with for the  Covid-19.  The European Medicines Agency told NPR that the vaccine may be called SpikeVax.  

SpikeVax! That sounds like some sort of ghoulish Halloween candy. There are probably a hundred better names for a lifesaving vaccine within arm's reach. How about?

• Novid
• Rosie the Queen of Corona
• AbbottDabIt
• AntiDeSantis

One of those quizzes!

I first took this quiz in 2010, so I thought I should check myself and see if any answers have changed. 

If I were a month I'd be November   I'm going to go with December now because the last few Novembers around here have been more like lazy August. I want at least a chance of snow, and turkey.

If I were a day I'd be Saturday✅ Yes that is still good, although every day is the same to me (except for who anchors the morning news)

If I were a time of day I'd be evening ✅

If I were a font I'd be Gill Sans MT ✅ Yes for that British look

If I were a sea animal I'd be a starfish  I should go with my birth sign and be Cancer The Crab 

If I were a direction I'd be Northeast✅

If I were a piece of furniture I'd be a bookshelf✅  but I could also see myself as an end table to hold coasters and pencils and reading glasses and that one little bolt that came out of something you can't identify - but you know, as soon as you throw away the bolt, you'll need it

If I were a liquid I'd be Iced tea✅

If I were a gemstone I'd be an onyx I'm going with turquoise now. 

If I were a tree I'd be an willow  change it to ash so I can grow up to be a baseball bat

If I were a tool I'd be sandpaper  a hammer...MC Hammer!

If I were a flower I'd be a black-eyed Susan ✅ Still the state flower!

If I were an element of weather I'd be a rainy day✅ I love them!

If I were a musical instrument I'd be a drum ✅without a doubt

If I were a color I'd be orange ✅

If I were an emotion I'd be laughter✅ the world needs all it can get

If I were a fruit I'd be a lemon✅ It's a pie filling and a kitchen cleaner!

If I were a sound I'd be the sound of happy laughs ✅ like I say...

If I were an element I'd be mercury  change that to the element of surprise

If I were a car I'd be an Camry old coupe from the 40s and I would wear a fedora

If I were a food I'd be roast beef✅

If I were a place I'd be my bed ✅

If I were a material I'd be cotton✅not only that, but I would wage war on polyester

If I were a taste I'd be bread✅but the good kind with 17 grains and a crusty loaf

If I were a scent I'd be gingerbread✅ nothing smells better!

If I were a body part I'd be a backbone  new right knee because I need one!

If I were a song I'd be "Don't She Look Good"  Alabama Jubilee!

If I were a bird I'd be an Oriole ✅

If I were a gift I'd be heartfelt ✅

If I were a city I'd be Cape May ✅

If I were a door I'd be open for friends✅ but you need a mask if you ain't been jabbed

If I were a pair of shoes I'd be Rockports ✅ still the best! 

If I were a poem I'd be "America" by Allen Ginsberg ✅ 

https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/49305/america-56d22b41f119f

Oh Gee! It's GTA!

As witty Canadian actor Ryan Reynolds tweeted about this case: "This is the Hallmark romantic comedy I want to see for Christmas!"

Let's go to Oregon, where there was a police chase in progress that only ended when the stolen car that was being sought (for being stolen) slammed into a car being driven by a woman who had just stolen it.

So that's the setup: police chase, stolen car hits stolen car.  Only in America, eh?

It all happened when the police spotted a stolen Toyota Land Cruiser careering in downtown Newberg, according to the Newberg-Dundee police.

The N-D PD was not about to let him that car get away, so the chase was on until the driver slammed into another hot car at an intersection.

Driver #1 was identified as Randy Lee Cooper of Portland. 

Mr Cooper, meet Ms Begue

As the police investigated the accident, they realized the other vehicle was reported stolen three weeks before. It was being driven by one Kristin Nicole Begue. She was found to be was also found to be under the influence.

Cooper's charges include unauthorized use of a motor vehicle, attempting to elude police, assault, and reckless driving.

Begue is down for Grand Theft Auto and Smirking In An Official Mugshot.

They say those Land Cruisers are really sturdy.

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.