Rules

My intentions are honorable. I'm trying to generate intellectual stimulation via graphical challenges intended to provide entertainment and possibly provoke fond memories among the culturally literate, and then to provide enlightenment and learning opportunities to the less educated through explanation of the puzzle solutions. Some people have commented that the puzzles are not "fair", because I do not apply a set of consistent and logical rules to their construction. For example, they say that it's "cheating" for me to throw in a picture of Billy Jack when the solution would be obvious without him. His inclusion is a red herring that corrupts the purity of the exercise.

OK, dudes, you have a point. But I do not belong to the Teachers Union, and am under no contractual obligations to be fair at all. Ergo, I shall continue to do what I want, even if it means calling Billy a red herring, when he is really more of a pinko herring.

And yes, young Skywalker, a culturally literate person should know what a pinko is. Look it up. Anyway, the common thread among this set of pictures is the "KJ" sound.



Kolchak, Kojak, Cujo -- those were the easy ones. But while "Kershaw" has the "K" sound, I was going for his nickname: The Ragin' Cajun...because "Cajun" is closely related to Cujo, and makes him a fine fit to the sequence. And as stated above, Billy Jack is included because I just felt like talking about him; my justification is that his last name has the K and J sounds -- they're just coming from a different direction. Which, if you think about it, is probably how Billy would describe himself when comparing his ideology to that of the "Establishment". More about that in a minute.

First, let's review the cultural importance of each of these characters. The first photo is of Darren McGavin, a fine actor who is probably most famous for his role as the eccentric father in "A Christmas Story". But before that film, he was the star of a short but entertaining TV series called "Night Stalker". He played a reporter who investigated vampires and werewolves and various other permutations of the undead, and thus can be considered the prototype for the current glut of "Twilight" nonsense that the tweens enjoy so much. Night Stalker wasn't a classic show or anything, but it was fun to watch McGavin emote and sputter as he tried to convince his editor that he really had seen a monster.

The second is Kojak. Telly Savalas was TV's first attempt to make baldness appealing. It wasn't successful because Kojak was a jerk...which left it up to Captain Picard, who handled it flawlessly a decade later.

"Cujo" was Stephen King's warning that society should outlaw dog ownership. That particular message didn't take, but people did listen when he told them not to elect nerds as Homecoming Queens. If I'm not mistaken, he achieved moderate success with a few of his other commercial projects as well.

Is the music of Doug Kershaw considered a key component of American cultural literacy? No, probably not. He is a pretty good fiddle player, and I think it IS important that people recognize that heavy metal, disco, and rap are not the only types of music available in this country.

And as for Mr. Jack, well, I think everybody needs to see his first movie to understand what was going on in this country in the late 60s and early 70s. It is a horrible movie by any standards—the acting and martial arts are both inferior to "The Tiger and the Dragon"—but since Bruce Lee was still in China and it was culturally hip to question "the Man", Billy Jack struck a chord with the pinheaded youth of the day (a demographic to which I must admit I belonged at the time). If you rent it, you can fast forward through most of it, but I think you'll enjoy the scenes where he rubs his face like Popeye as he decides which bigoted punk he's going to beat up next.

Oh, and let's not forget that as the first Caucasian to make martial arts movies, he was paving the way for Chuck Norris. And if you watch "Walker, Texas Ranger", you will see Chuck occasionally channel Billy's Native American mystical connections. I'm sure that's not a coincidence.



So, what about these guys? Did you get the answer? It's "Ank".

The first fellow is Hammerin' Hank Aaron, the greatest non-steroidal baseball slugger who ever lived. By all accounts, he is the anti-Barry Bonds...a classy guy and a beloved ambassador for the sport. Next to him is "Tank Murdock", a character from the classic Clint Eastwood film, "Any Which Way But Loose". The movie is based on a completely implausible premise (that anyone could enjoy Sondra Locke), but features the classic Western moral lesson that if you get too good at what you do, somebody will try to knock you off. It also features the best comic relief motorcycle gang in cinema history. You need to see it if you haven't.

I didn't recognize the next fellow's uncanny resemblance to Django Reinhardt until after I had posted the piece. But no, he's not primarily known as a musician, though I'd be willing to bet that everyone who reads this has heard him sing. He is the fabulously talented Mel Blanc, the voice of Bugs Bunny, Daffy Duck, and P-p-p-porky P-p-p-Pig.

And finally we have Spanky McFarland, who was the ringleader of the "Little Rascals". They were sort of the youth versions of the Three Stooges (or for younger readers, the real-life versions of the Animaniacs), and were a television staple when I was growing up. I guess I'd expect most Americans to be aware of their existence, but not necessarily be fans. But they were indirectly responsible for the Women's Lib movement through their introduction of exclusionary politics that eventually caused a powerful backlash. Rumor has it that Gloria Steinem started her campaign against male chauvinism shortly after watching Spanky and Alfalfa create their "He-Man Woman Haters Club".



And finally we have "SPK". The guy on the left needs no introduction; we have discussed his contributions to the world on many occasions. (I will remind "Lord of the Rings" fans to check out the Ballad of Bilbo Baggins, though. Classic.) Next to him, we have Spike Jones, who was one of the primary inspirations for Weird Al, without whom the world would be a much sadder place.

Then there's a spork, which is an example of American inventiveness, followed by a spook, which is an example of how something of really low quality can somehow achieve fame and recognizability in our culture. (See also "Kardashian".)

Actually, Casper deserves credit for preceding Paul Lynde as the first openly gay recurring character on television. I'm not sure he helped the cause of gay rights or anything...since he was so annoying that everyone would want to kill him (if he wasn't already dead), but still, I suppose it was a milestone within the industry.

And our final example of American culture at its finest is shown in a scene from the movie "Fast Times at Ridgemont High". The "spk" reference is to the fellow in the middle, burnt-out surfer dude Jeff Spicoli, played by Sean Penn. Unfortunately, Penn was never able to accomplish anything with his life after this role, but this character will continue to stand among the great performances of all time. Spicoli's character defined exactly what it meant to be worthless, for generations to come. Even today, people who want to reject society and become complete losers will adopt his personality and mannerisms in an attempt to achieve slacker nirvana. With a minor role in a mediocre film, Mr. Penn initiated a huge cultural impact.

(Side note: The other two guys may be known to you from other roles, for they went on to success that eclipsed Mr. Penn's. The redhead on the left is Eric Stoltz, who played the misshappen freak weirdo in "Mask". He is better known, though, for landing the role of Marty McFly in "Back to the Future", only to lose it by thoroughly sucking in front of the camera. Thank goodness Michael J. Fox became available to replace him. And on the right is Anthony Edwards, who was in Revenge of the Nerds, Top Gun, and E.R., and therefore deserves credit for having a pretty broad acting range.)

OK, with that I shall leave you to contemplate a couple more similar challenges. Now that we've explained how the puzzles work, these should be incredibly easy. But remember, beyond the simple answer lies the subtext of cultural connections, and we'll delve into those when the answers are revealed. So please stay tuned. Thank you for your participation, and have a great day!

Cultural Literacy

You've probably noticed that most of my trivia questions require knowledge of people and events from the dim and distant past. They're generally easy to answer for people of the Happy Days generation, but can be quite obscure to the youth of today. Modern kids know nothing of Eisenhower or the Ames Brothers, but can go on and on about current newsmakers like Ricky Martin and Madonna. And it's legitimate to ask whether young Joe iPad really needs to know about Leon Spinks or the Jheri Curl phenomenon. (Previous post photo key: Leon Sphinx, Reeses Peanut Butter Stanley Cup, Big BenGay, and Tom and JheriCurl.)

Fortunately, I am happy to serve as the supreme arbiter of American cultural literacy, and will continue to share the occasional truth regarding what people of this country need to know before they can be considered full-fledged members of our society. For example, it is not necessary to know that James Kirk's middle name is "Tiberius", but you darn well better know that his middle initial is "T". If you don't, well, you're probably a commie.

So, while I don't consider it a necessity to know anything about the Spinks brothers, I would hope that everyone in this country knows about the other two important boxers of that time period: Muhammad Ali and Cassius Clay. And while it's not required to know the brand name of the hair gunk that only Lionel Richie should've been allowed to use, it IS important to know that many people made incredibly bad fashion choices throughout the 70s and 80s...both in attire and in personal grooming. (Farrah Fawcett, of course, is the obvious exception.)

I could just make a straightforward list of things that citizens should know, like the fact that Paul McCartney was in another band before "Wings", and that Buddy Ebsen and Andy Griffith were in other TV shows before "Barnaby Jones" and "Matlock". And that the scientific name for the condition of continued employment despite being hideous at everything you do is "The Florence Henderson Syndrome." But for me, it's just more fun to put together small thought puzzles to encapsulate the larger cultural topics -- so I'll keep bringing you these little graphic challenges, and we'll have fun while we test our knowledge of what it means to be American.

Each row of today's photos represents things that are sort of semantically similar. They don't have to be an exact match, but are probably close enough that you'll get what I'm going for. And to be considered culturally literate, you should probably know something about each of these icons. Good luck, enjoy yourself, and have a great day!

Johnny Cash Cab

I woke up this morning singing "Folsom Prison Blues".

I often speak during my dreams, and am a witty and articulate person in a way that never quite seems to manifest itself during waking hours. But I don't think I talk out loud while sleeping, and I'm reasonably certain that I don't normally sing prison songs for the entertainment pleasure of people who might be strolling past my window.

Is it possible to sing so loudly in a dream that you wake yourself up, even though no actual vocal sounds were created in the real world? I think maybe so. Especially if it's a nice low bass line like "Hang my head and cry."

What? You didn't know I sang bass? And that I'd probably be the next Larry Hooper (if there was still a market for such a thing)? Well, it's true -- I am a fabulous vocalist...at least as long as nothing wakes me up. (In dreamland, I'm also a kung-fu master, a world-class chef, and the guy who taught Jimi Hendrix how to play guitar. I'm dating that blue chick from "X-men", but that's really just a rebound relationship after things didn't work out all that well with Jodie Foster.)

Anyway, the topic of today's discussion is corporate sponsorship. While I think Sports Authority is a much more logical sponsor for Mile High Stadium than Invesco, it still sorta bugs me that there has to be a company name attached to everything. (The one exception is having baseball fields named after brands of beer -- that makes perfect sense to me.)

I wonder what the payback is, and how you measure it? Do people watch a Broncos game on TV, and after hearing the name of the field dutifully repeated by the announcers 27 times, get in the car as soon as the game is finished to drive zombielike over to the store to buy a new jockstrap or frisbee? I doubt it. Do the clerks at the store ask each person at checkout "Did you come here today because of the incessant repetition of the store's name attached to a venue where big sweaty guys pile on top of each other every 45 seconds, but nobody thinks it's gay?"

I can personally swear that I never gave any money to Invesco as a result of their naming rights. I never smoked Winstons because they sponsored auto racing, and I don't even know what the hell an "Xterra" is, nor where I would go to buy one. If I had to guess, I'd think it was some sort of flying dinosaur. (Or not -- that would probably be an "Xterra-dactyl", wouldn't it. Hmm. I'll have more to say about that in a future post, I promise.)

The naming thing appears to be a trend that isn't going away, though. So I guess I'm a little surprised that we haven't seen some of the more obvious connections. Think of the landmarks that various franchises or people could sponsor: The Verizon Eiffel Tower. The Empire Strikes Back State Building. Or my personal favorite, the venerable landmark on the left below. The other items in the photo seem like good matchups, too.



I'll probably have more to say about this concept as time goes by. Let me know if you have any opinions on the topic. In the meantime, if you go to the store to buy new socks or whatever, make sure you're doing it because you need new socks...and not just because a sports stadium told you too, OK? Thanks, and have a great day!

'Tis the Season

A plethora of pumpkins populate the pathways provided by purveyors of produce, and a hundred thousand Santas are lurking in the bushes behind them, ready to pounce. It's the final quarter of the year, and our senses are assaulted with displays of seasonal symbolism. Along with gobs of gourds, we see lots of leaves, baskets of berries, and scads of skeletons. All these are indicators that the growing season has ceased, and that harvests have happened. Dracula and Frankenstein are not the only examples of the dead among us...the trees, bushes, and lawns that were so recently lush and abundant are suddenly withered and dry.

To most people, this imagery only means one thing -- shopping season! Time to buy candy, then cranberries, and then finally socks, ties, and Nintendo cartridges. The coming days are filled with opportunities for parties, decorating, and copious chances for conspicuous consumption.

But to me, there are other harbingers of the season. All that dead stuff falling off the trees and flaking from the bushes has impacts beyond visual aesthetics. It also means that people like me will experience certain unpleasant nasal conditions caused by our allergies to airborne particulates. I won't go so far as to claim that I have "Hay Fever", since that would imply sneezing fits, runny noses, and a dependence on Benadryl...and I have none of these. What I am experiencing though (as I do every year) is the tendency to wake up during the night because my nose is clogged up.

I'm very grateful that my autonomous monitoring systems choose to interrupt my sleep rather than allow me to completely run out of oxygen. But still, it would be better to somehow sleep through the entire night rather than waking up at 1:30am sounding like Henry Kissinger. Fortunately, the problem is usually solved with some vigorous nasal exhalation along with the dampening and encrustation of a couple of generic facial tissues. With my nose thoroughly blown, I am usually able to go right back to sleep.

My work may suffer because of these seasonal clogs -- I do tend to get a little sleepy in the middle of the workday. But I suppose it's better than being one of those folks who wakes up in the middle of the night because they think they hear brain-munching zombies shuffling beneath their windowsills. My neighborhood may have too many yappy dogs and partiers who clomp up the stairs in the wee hours, but as far as I know, there has never been a plague of reanimated corpses. When I am asleep, I sleep quite well, thank you.

And the good news is that the nose-blowing season usually only lasts a few weeks. Once we get a few good snowstorms under our belts, whatever it is that I'm reacting to seems to get knocked out of the sky. So, about the time people start adorning their windows with "Peace on Earth" tinsel, I'll be back into "Peace in My Condo" mode. Between now and turkey time, though, please forgive me if I seem a bit rest-deprived and/or grumpy. It's seasonal, and it'll pass.

Thanks for you understanding. Enjoy your pumpkins, cornucopiai (is that the plural?), and turkeys, etc. May your breathing passages remain clear and your neighborhood be unafflicted with the undead. Enjoy your candy corn, my friends, and have a great day!

Occupy Wall Street

Today's fun fact is about trail mix. You know, that delicious mixture of nuts, M&Ms, and Chex-like nodules that can be eaten by the handful to provide quick energy while you're out hiking and stuff. Trail mix is also sometimes known by the name "Gorp", which I had always assumed was an acronym for something like "Granola, Oats, and Roasted Peanuts." But I found out today that it was named for its inventor, former Soviet Premier Mikhail Gorpachev. Known as "Gorp" to his hiking buddies, the splotch-headed commie was known for carrying an eclectic bag of cereal, legumes, and pretzels along with him when he went on his walkabouts in the lovely mountains just behind the Kremlin. I heard (but was unable to confirm) that his favorite cereal was Frankenberry; I'm just glad that this nuance of the recipe didn't make it over to the capitalist side of the world.

Anyway, some guy told me that his girlfriend's sister had learned this tidbit when she was in Switzerland (or France or one of them other former Soviet strongholds) and that it is guaranteed to be 100% true. So there's your trivia bite for today.

And speaking of commies and the like, I thought I'd take a moment to ask a few questions about the "Occupy Wall Street" movement. I'm having a hard time understanding what the protestors are trying to accomplish. As far as I can tell, they want rich people to not be so rich, and for poor people to be richer. They don't seem to have any solid ideas about how to accomplish this lofty goal, other than taking money away from some people and giving it to others.

I have to admit that I really like the idea of making poor people richer. I'm not sure that punishing people for being successful is a necessary component of achieving that goal, though. It would seem to me that it would make more sense to think up ways to make EVERYONE more prosperous, and that would probably require some help from the people who already know how to do it. Punishing the folks who have the knowledge you need doesn't seem to be the smart thing to do.

Help me out—What am I missing here? Is there another agenda that the protestors just haven't been able to articulate? (Yes, I have heard the one about bringing down the big companies, but they can't be serious, can they? Does anybody really want a world where they can't get cheap toilet paper, or find a Big Mac when an Attack occurs?) Please share any insights you have.

At the same time, I have to admit that I can't be too harsh on protestors who can't coherently express their rationale for participating. You see, I was one of them, albeit long, long ago. Those were Forrest Gump times, and I was swept along by the hippie siren songs of free love and ultra-distorted guitars. Swayed by cultural leaders like the Smothers Brothers and Tiny Tim, I was susceptible to any suggestions that I thought might make me seem cooler to the girls. It was so very, very hip to protest the Vietnam War -- so I donned a black armband and randomly drew peace symbols on my school notebooks...even though I had not the slightest clue what was actually going on in the world.

Thank goodness we grow up, eh? With maturity comes a broader perspective, and the ability to ponder political and economic issues within the framework of history, factual data, and a rational understanding that actions have consequences. In other words, I have learned that protesting the war didn't endow me with even one single iota of additional attractiveness to the opposite sex.

That would require a letter jacket. And that, my friends, is another story entirely. Perhaps I'll share it someday. In the meantime, grab yourself a hearty handful of trail mix...and have a great day!

Another Week

Newton, Einstein, Murphy, et al, have enunciated a batch of fine equations that explain and/or quantify many natural phenomena, and these "laws" help us poor ignorant humans feel comfortable with our place in the vast expanse of the cosmos. I'm sure that one of history's noble philosopher-scientists has attached his name to the law that states "Weekends go by too damn fast!", but despite my vast knowledge of useless trivia, the name of this particular individual does not seem to be in my cerebral data banks.

But that doesn't make the law any less true, does it?

And not that this has anything to do with anything, but as I was leaving the pool the other day, the head lifeguard stopped me and asked, "Wanna hear a fun fact?" Sure, says I, and he proceeds to tell me how many ridges there are on a dime.

Go ahead, count 'em. I'll wait.

Right. 118. Fascinating, isn't it? Anyway, the point is that useless trivia is much more interesting to me than critical information about, oh I don't know, investing in the stock market, or lowering cholesterol.

I guess that explains a lot about why I'm in the situation I'm in, doesn't it? Hmm. But despite my inability to make money or avoid pizza, the good news is that my ear is all better now. I guess dumping in loads of magic drying-drops was effective in killing off whatever sort of pool fungus was trying to take root inside my head. I'm happy about that -- I'd have hated having to sit out of swim practices for a while.

As for the oncoming week, well, I hope to share my thoughts about the "Occupy Wall Street" protests, and to give you an update on Tanner's adventures in the great Northwest. In the meantime, I'd love to hear what you folks consider to be the most interesting useless trivia. I already know that Dobie Gillis's birthday is December 8th, and that the "GO" code for Slim Pickens's bomb wing is "OPE". Otherwise, I'll be delighted to learn whatever you have to share with me.

Thanks, and have a great day!

Sokath, His Eyes Uncovered

Hmm. My ear isn't much better today. I'm pretty sure if I miniaturized Raquel Welch and Stephen Boyd, they'd be able to cure me in a trice, but my ear-hole is too swollen to even get a Q-tip in...so I'm afraid I have no home remedy options at this point. Oh well.

So...let's talk about Ray Milland. Yes, he's the fellow that answers yesterday's first question. An interesting actor, who quite possibly holds Hollywood's record for the widest quality gap between his best and worst movies. (I mean, other then Ben Affleck, who even comes close? Hmm--that gives me an idea for a future discussion...after all, Howard the Duck was produced by the same guy who did Star Wars.)



On the left, we have a poster for the movie "It Happens Every Spring". This is a forgotten gem, and I'd highly recommend you see it if you get the chance. The title is ambiguous -- it might be referring to the baseball season...or it might be referring to love. Yes, that's right; it's a romantic comedy about baseball, and you can't go wrong with that concept (unless you put Susan Sarandon in it, of course).

Milland plays a nerdish professor (as opposed to the normal Hollywood stereotype of the suave and sophisticated professor) who invents a goo that repels wood. If you rub the stuff on a baseball, a wooden bat can't hit it. So naturally, he becomes a major-league pitcher and instantly becomes a superstar. As you'd expect, he has formulaic problems along the way, including his monumental ignorance about women and a late-season loss of the wood-repellent fluid. Good fun all around, and well worth your time.

The second frame is from "X -- the Man with the X-Ray Eyes". In this rather creepy sci-fi flick, Milland gains the ability to see through stuff. At first it's cool...he's like Superman without having to deal with Lois and Jimmy. Life is good. But then as the ability grows, well, let's just say it causes complications. The movie ends in biblical style, with the standard 50's warnings that there are things that man was not meant to mess with. If you're into sci-fi at all, I'd recommend this one, too.

And yes, I also recommend "Frogs". Not because it's a good movie. It isn't. At all. But every now and then, I think it's healthy to watch a horrid flick about rampaging amphibians who eat crusty old rich guys in wheelchairs. And besides, it has Sam Elliott in it, who has the 2nd best voice on the planet behind James Earl Jones.

And to the right is the monstrosity called "The Thing with Two Heads". It has been parodied by the Simpsons, which means that it is considered part of American cultural literacy. It has bad acting, positively horrible special effects (the second head actually switches sides at one point), and a heavy-handed message about bigotry that seemed inelegant even at the time the movie was made. It's also notable in that the black head is played by Rosie Grier, who was famous for being a star NFL player, for being a prominent spokesman for the art of knitting, and for having the same name as the Jetson's robot. I don't expect you to sit all the way through this piece of junk, but you should at least check it out so you can laugh at the idea that the director thought the audience would buy the concept of two-headedness by having one guy stand behind the other one with his chin on his shoulder.

Anyway, suffice it to say that this is NOT the film that Mr. Milland won his Oscar for.

So...what about these guys?



Obviously, the common element here is the versatile actor Paul Winfield.

In the leftmost photo, Mr. Winfield is just to the right of the frame. It's a scene from "The Wrath of Khan", and the fellow whose wrath we're talking about is played by the incredible Ricardo Montalban. (Ricardo was another of the world's great voices, and he was uniformly excellent across the span of his illustrious career. My respect for him would be untarnished if it weren't for the fact that he hired that stupid French midget on Fantasy Island. I hate Tattoo. There are so many fantastic "little people" actors out there; why did they have to use one who couldn't talk worth a hoot and constantly ate boogers? Geez.) In this frame, Khan is about to insert the mind-altering Ceti-Alpha-Five body bug into Mr. Winfield's ear, thus gaining control over him and a short-lived advantage over Captain Kirk.

What a great movie! But everybody knows that. When the American Film Academy created the list of the 100 greatest movies lines ever, they unanimously chose number one to be when Shatner looks up and shouts "KHHAAAANNNN!" Anyway, the ear bug thingy is the connection to my blog topic...because my swimmer's ear makes me feel like I have an alien parasite inside my head. Too bad I don't have Dr. McCoy to help me out. Sigh.

Anyway, the second picture shows Drederick Tatum, and the character Lucious Sweet, for whom Mr. Winfield provides the voice. In the scene shown in the third picture, it's hard to notice anything other than the heroic Sarah Connor...but Paul Winfield is again sitting just off to the right of the frame. He plays the cop who mistakenly thinks that being in the station house is enough to protect Ms. Connor from Ah-nolt. (Yeah, right.) And in the final frame, Winfield plays Captain Dathon on an episode of TNG. He's got completely different ears in that role, and probably didn't have to worry about Khan's bugs at that point.

So that's it for today--thanks for playing. If nothing else, you've learned about a couple of classic movies you might want to see, right? If you'd like an additional challenge, how about coming up with a "Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon" connection between Ray Milland and Paul Winfield? Can you do it?

And if you have any advice for me regarding ear infections, please let me know. Otherwise, please keep your own ears dry, and have a great day!

Swimmer's Ear

It happens to every swimmer at some point.

OK, momentary diversion--For some reason, writing that last sentence made me think of "It Happens Every Spring", which in turn, provoked the idea for a trivia challenge (and an easy one at that). So here it is: What is the common element among these four images?



All right, thanks for indulging me. Now, back on topic. Swimmer's Ear.

No wait...one more. What do these images have in common? And you get extra credit if you can tie it to today's topic (hint: the subject tie-in has to do with leftmost picture).



OK, about my brain fever, er, I mean swimmer's ear: I first noticed it yesterday. The symptoms are hard to ignore--a minor ache inside the ear, and some low-grade tenderness if you pull gently on the earlobe. If it's a full-blown ear infection, you'd also expect some symptoms of a minor fever, perhaps, and maybe the feeling of a clogged head. I didn't feel those indicators, and I've had swimmer's ear more than a handful of times over the years, so it's not unfamiliar. It's an occupational hazard that comes with being a swimmer, I guess.

If I remember correctly, I've never had a problem that wasn't cleared up in a day or two with some mild over-the-counter alcohol/acid solution. I know that some folks react by immediately asking their doctor for whatever antibiotic happens to be popular this week...but I'm hoping that my self treatment with ear drops will take care of the problem and save me a co-payment. Besides, with my new job and new insurance, I haven't yet hooked up with an "in-network" physician. Life would be easier if the government made all my healthcare decisions for me (which they'll eventually do if the damn Tea Party would stop insisting that personal choice and freedom are desirable--curse their Constitution-loving hides!). But until that Utopian day appears, I am forced to actually meet with candidate medical personnel and find someone with whom I'm comfortable. And I haven't yet done that.

So, for the moment at least, I'm dribbling drying agents into my ear canal and hoping that my immune system takes care of the rest. I went to bed really early last night, and will probably do the same tonight...just to give my system the best possible chance to fight off whatever's going on inside my head. If I'm still feeling the ache tomorrow, well, then maybe I'll break down and go see a professional. We'll see.

In the meantime, I'll share my favorite story about swimmer's ear. It concerns the infamous Roger Neugent, who achieved notoriety through numerous incidents such as jumping out the fourth floor window at Oliver Hall with a fire extinguisher, setting fire to carpet in Naismith Hall (accidentally, of course), and scientifically proving that being drunk improved fine motor skills. (He was also reputed to be stronger than Billy Jack...but that's a tale for another day.) Anyway, Roger contracted swimmer's ear at one point, right before a critical meet. He went to the coach and said "It was inevitable. I had cut my finger!"

Huh? Cutting your finger leads to swimmer's ear? Well, yes, as a matter of fact, it does. As Roger explained, "My index finger is the exact right size and shape for creating a suction seal in my ear canal. After swimming, I use this perfectly-formed finger to implement an "ear vacuum", which coaxes any inner ear moisture out to the surface where it can be wiped off. Thus dried, the inner ear remains healthy." He went on to explain that the cut on his finger ruined the magical proportions required for this suction-cup water extraction, which left his ear moist, and therefore vulnerable to bacteria. Ergo: plague, pestilence, and a week of enforced absence from the pool.

Or something like that. Anyway, my ear feels a bit better today, but I'll keep an eye on it...which reminds me of the clip below. Enjoy it, keep your fingers intact for aural health, and have a great day!

Passages

Many things changed this weekend.

The seasons, for one. It rained and snowed most of the day Saturday, and the temperature dropped significantly. This sort of thing happens every year, but it always seems so sudden.

And even though we knew it was coming, it was still a shock to hear that Steve Jobs had died. There are plenty of other websites to tell you what a visionary genius he was, and how greatly he influenced the world...so I won't repeat those observations here. But I will say that despite my animosity toward much of what Apple has done in the world, I have always been a big fan of Mr. Jobs. I'm not sure why I've always admired him when I have just flat hated many of the things he's done. Perhaps it's because he was just such a force for change--and he was not afraid to keep pounding through failures until he got what he wanted.

Does anybody remember the NeXT computer? It was something Jobs came up with when he was away from Apple, and it was the coolest thing I had ever seen at the time. It was hideously expensive, and nobody bought one, so the concept never became a player in the marketplace. But the current Mac (and current PCs for that matter) owe much of their evolution to the innovations that Jobs put into inventions that failed. I admire him for that.

(I'm still really struggling with my new Mac, though. For the life of me, I cannot grasp why people think it's easier than a PC. It's not. I can't find the menus for half the stuff I want to do, and it's only after hours of reading cryptic help files that I find out it just plain doesn't do the other half of the stuff I want. And I don't own an iPod, don't want an iPhone, and don't intend to spend the money for an iPad anytime soon. Yes, they're all über cool...but I long ago accepted the fact that "cool" and "life-enhancing" are not necessarily synonymous.)

Anyway, I offer my condolences to all of Steve's friends and family, and I hope he is richly rewarded in his next life for all of his accomplishments in this one.

And then there's Al Davis. He also died this weekend, but is likely to spend eternity in an entirely different place than Mr. Jobs. While I think it's probably unfair to label him as "worse than Osama bin Laden" (as some have done), I will say that my reluctance to speak ill of the dead will render me silent on the subject of his passing.

The biggest change in my own small personal corner of the world is that my son has finally moved away from home. Tanner has packed up his car and gone to Seattle. No one is sure how long he'll stay there, but his intentions are to get a job and learn to support himself. This is big news, indeed, and will change my life in ways I'll be describing over the coming weeks. He's a sharp fellow, and talented in SO many areas--I know he'll succeed. I am really looking forward to observing the process.

It'll also be interesting to see how he handles living in the "Depression Capital of the World". I suspect it won't bother him a bit, as he has always been rather oblivious to the weather. It's far more likely that the people will drive him crazy. There's a lot of Canadians there, you know.

And not that this has anything to do with anything, but when I arrived at the pool for swim practice on Sunday, a hot air balloon landed in the parking lot at the Peak. It passed over my head at a height of about 15 feet. And while I knew that it would remain aloft until well after it had left my airspace, it was still a bit freaky to find myself beneath it--engulfed in the shadow of the silent floating monstrosity. Such things must've scared the crud out of primitive peoples back in ancient times. But it really looked cool, and I love that whuffing sound it makes when they fire up the burners. Anyway, having a balloon pass over my head as the seasons change and people move on...well, it made me think.

I might have to take a balloon ride myself one of these days. A person only has so many opportunities to experience the richness of life; perhaps it's time to start reaching for something new -- something beyond what we've known before. I'll have to think about that.

In the meantime, have a great day...and always watch the skies!

The KrustyBurger Gambit

Back in 1984, the Krustyburger franchise handed out Olympics-based game tickets that were good for free food if the USA won that particular event. The company didn't expect to hand out much food, since the events that were on the tickets were all events that the Russians and Germans traditionally won. Well, it turned out that the godless Commies boycotted the '84 Olympics, and US athletes won many more events than they would in a non-boycott year...and Krustyburger took a financial beating on the promotion.

Still, it was a good idea...if only global politics hadn't interfered with the process of sporting competition. (In my opinion, politics and sports do not mix. One involves leadership, responsibility, and influence while playing a critical role in the functioning of the world--and the other is just a bunch of corrupt government doofuses interfering in people's lives.)

Aside: My Wichita Swim Club buddy Ron Neugent qualified for the 1980 US Olympic Team in the 1500 freestyle. When the Rooskies invaded Afghanistan, our President decided that the US would boycott the 1980 games in Moscow. Ignoring the irony available in hindsight (considering which countries have armies in Afghanistan today), this move left our Olympians without a venue in which to compete that summer. As the next election campaign began, Ron announced that he was organizing a group called AFWRAC -- Athletes for Whoever's Running Against Carter. Needless to say, they were successful.

But I digress. The point is that I received a card in the mail that entitles me to free food at McDonalds whenever the Broncos win a game. I submit to you that this is an updated version of the Krustyburger gambit...and is much more likely to be successful. People will hang onto the tags throughout the football season, thus keeping the golden arches visible to each of the tag-holding consumers for 16 weeks. It may even be that people will set up standing Monday morning McBreakfasts in anticipation of grabbing gratis grub. And yet, with the Broncos unlikely to win another game all season, the company probably won't have to fork over any free McMuffins at all. It's clearly a winning strategy (unlike what the Broncos will implement throughout the season).

As for me, well, I do consider myself a savvy consumer, and am generally resistant to advertising campaigns. For example, I love the Geico caveman ads, and have an inexplicable attraction to the goofy chick from Progressive...but I like my current insurance agent enough so that I won't bother to spend the 15 minutes required to get a quote on all those imagined savings. But I have to admit that just seeing the words "Egg McMuffin" printed on a little plastic tag make me start to salivate. So even though I know that the greedy corporate fatcats behind the arches are using an unscrupulous cartoon manipulation ploy to extract money from my wallet -- the fact is that I'm probably going to eat breakfast at Mickey D's in the next day or two. (McGriddles are very tasty, too. And their cinnamon melt thingies are heavenly. Come to think of it...I'm hungry NOW.)

I gotta go. I'll catch you all later. Have a great (and deliciously satisfying) day!

Beans and Bad Bands

I'm feeling beat up this morning. I ran hard on the treadmill at the gym yesterday morning, and then my brother talked me into doing a track workout last night. Running twice in one day is an ordeal for someone like me...but I forced myself to do it.

And actually, the track workout went pretty well. Tanner came along, too, so I had the psychological benefit of being beaten badly buy TWO guys instead of just one. But that's OK -- I worked hard.

After the workout, we had dinner at Chipotle, which is ironic considering it's one of the possible answers to yesterday's restaurant trivia quiz. Did you guess that correctly?

The fellow on the left in the photo is a dude named Lewis Black. As far as I can tell, he's the love child of Sam Kinison and Andy Rooney -- he makes a living by complaining about things in an annoyingly loud and profane way. Apparently, he's quite popular among unemployed drug addicts and the like.

The gentleman on the right is Thomas Hulce, the actor who was nominated for an Oscar for playing Liszt (or Mozart, or one of them other hi-falutin' Greeks). As pictured here, though, he's playing the "Animal House" Fraternity recruit who was given the Delta pledge name "Pinto". Ergo, the question we posed is "Black or Pinto?", which the kind folks at Chipotle will always ask you about your preference in bean application. (In Spanish, beans are known as "frijoles"--pronounced "freeholays", which means that the phrase "Holy frijoles" translates to something along the lines of "deified beans", which really doesn't make any sense at all, does it?)

If you answered "Qdoba", you'll also receive credit for being correct -- even though I think it's just plain wrong to use a single consonant as an entire syllable. The only legitimate use of the letter "Q" not followed by a "U" is to name quirky, insult-slinging characters who have the power to perform miracles.



Actually, I'm sure that any number of Mexican-ish restaurants might give you a choice of bean genres, so I'll accept any answers that were offered in the context of burritos and/or combo plates, etc.
Well done!

As for the other question, I received many amusing answers, from "Nirvana" to "The Bangles" to "Mister Mister". And the amazing thing was that people could justify their answers with flawlessly well-reasoned logic. For example: "Because "Bangles" always reminded me of Bagels, and a bagel forms a sort of 'O' or zero, and Steven Seagal is a zero as an actor and karate champ." Well, I certainly can't argue with that.

But no. I was going for something much simpler. The answer is "A Flock of Seagals". That's all.

Have a great day.

October Potpourri

I had a fabulous weekend!

But I'm not going to bore you with the details. My thoughts are much more scattered this morning, so we'll be getting to some very random concepts shortly. The summary is that I had a tough bike ride and run Saturday morning (from which I still haven't completely recovered), and a swim meet on Sunday (from which I still haven't recovered). As usual, the Foothills Masters Swim Team and the Dawgs (from Green Mountain) were able to continue their ferocious rivalry with a minimum of violence and an abundance of excellent food. It was fun, and you should've been there. Shame on you for missing it!

I had my camera in the pocket of my shorts, of course. Alas, there it remained. I swam, socialized, laughed, and ate...but never remembered to record photographic evidence of this wondrous event. Trust me--if you saw pictures, you'd be overcome with emotion at the camaraderie, culinary excellence, and raw athletic talent exhibited. But I guess you'll just have to take my word for it. And that word is...FUN!

'Nuff sed. We shall now move on to much more trivial topics. First up is a graphical trivia question. Which restaurant is likely to ask you this question:



And then here's a philosophical question for you -- who in the heck gets to invent new types of "poetry"? Specifically, who made up the rules for Haiku? (Don't tell me it was Noriyuki "Pat" Haiku, and that the art form was named after him. I ain't buying it.) Seems unfair that some dude could just say something completely arbitrary, like "5 syllables, then 7, then 5" and get it published in language textbooks as if it were some sort of Newtonian principle set out by Nature. I think I want to create a poetic form called the "Bissantz", and it shall contain one syllable, then two, then five, and then finally seven syllables that make no sense whatsoever.

Blue
Öysters
Mishandle language.
Hornswoop me bungo pony.

Do you think it'll catch on?

OK, me neither. Sigh. So -- on to the next trivia question.

Which crappy 1980s pop group is represented by the following picture?



And no, the answer is NOT "The Stray Cats". (They were not crappy.) But you're close.

OK, that's enough for today. Good luck with your Bissantz, and have a great day!