I have to go into the office early this morning, because I have a proposal due this afternoon. Therefore, I'll keep this short. The additional runs I was going to tell you about aren't much different from the others I've listed before: A nice long run at Waterton on Saturday, followed by a brutal stairs workout at Red Rocks on Sunday. (Kim not only convinced me to climb the planter boxes, but also talked me into doing a bunch of bench pushups. I'm still sore.)
This coming weekend should include events worthy of reportage, and I hope to provide some entertaining and helpful product reviews around the middle of next week. (Yes, those reviews will include some of the Christmas presents I've bought myself...I was too impatient to wait until the end of December to start using them.)
For now, though, I'll just leave you with a short TV/Movie dialog trivia quiz. Just identify who said each line. Extra credit if you can identify all of the possible choices. Enjoy the memories, and have a great day!
1. Take that, Lazlo Panaflex!
A. Walt Disney
B. Rocky II
C. Troy McClure
D. Nikolai Tesla
2. If you have to shoot, shoot -- don't talk.
A. Austin Powers
B. Tuco
C. Marty McFly
D. Jesse Ventura
3. You're gonna look mighty funny with that knife sticking in your...EAR.
A. The outlaw Josie Wales
B. Captain Kirk
C. John Matrix
D. Lazlo Panaflex
4. I'm a surgeon, not a bricklayer!
A. Doogie Howser
B. Hawkeye Pierce
C. Spuds MacKenzie
D. Bones McCoy
5. Rosebud!
A. Snake Plissken
B. Charles Kane
C. Pavel Chekov
D. Mordecai Brown
6. I'll have some toasted white bread please.
A. Arthur Fonzarelli
B. Peter Venkman
C. Billy Jack
D. Elwood Blues
After enjoying my mini-excursion to the Black Canyon, I drove back to Gunnison and decided to stop there for dinner. It was still Thanksgiving Day, of course, and I had only eaten my oatmeal in the morning and a sack lunch in the car...so I figured I deserved a fancy dinner with home-cooked spuds and mass quantities of pie. Unfortunately, the only restaurant that appeared to be open was the local McDonalds.
Does a Big Mac meal and a Mint McFlurry count as an adequate holiday feast? Well, yes. Yes, I believe it does.
They even had a television tuned to ESPN so I could catch up on all the football scores as I consumed my sesame-seeded sandwich and golden crispy spud sticks. It would have seemed a bit more like a traditional Thanksgiving if I'd have been surrounded by noisy people, but frankly, having the entire dining room to myself was not unappreciated. I did spend a moment reflecting on the multitude of blessings I enjoy in my life, and ate my meal with a huge smile on my face.
Thus sated, I hopped back in the car and made my way back across Monarch Pass and settled in at the Holiday Inn Express in Salida. I thought about going for a brief swim in the hotel pool, but decided that the short length and lack of lane stripes held less appeal than a hot bath and a good book.
The only impediment to my complete relaxation after a great day of driving, sightseeing, and exercise was the hotel room's heater. The only setting control it had was a digital temperature selection button, and despite repeated experiments at different temperatures, I couldn't get it to do anything other than cycle on and off about every three minutes. The temperature was fine...but the frequent changes in room noise made it hard to stay asleep. Imagine a jet engine next to your bed, turning on and off repeatedly at intervals that seem to triggered when your heartrate reaches indicates you have achieved relaxation. Why can't they offer a model that has a "fan on" setting, so that the noise level isn't constantly fluctuating?
And why do hotels no longer offer enough covers on the bed? There's plenty of in-room coffee, brochures for local restaurants, soap, shampoo, and hand lotion...but if you're a person who likes the comforting weight of heavy blankets while you sleep, you're just plain out of luck.
Otherwise, though, the room was plenty comfy. And the breakfast was delicious. They had gooey cinnamon rolls, so I had no choice but to load up on those, meaning I had no room for pancakes. And that was a shame because they had an automatic pancake making machine that said it would spit out fresh flapjacks in about a minute...with all the mechanisms and cooking apparatus hidden within a colorful tin box. I really wanted to see how the thing worked since I had not encountered this contraption before, but couldn't justify baking the batter when I wouldn't be able to stuff them down. Oh well.
Salida is a cute little flat town surrounded by mountains. It boasts a hot springs pool, numerous river-based recreation opportunities, and a large cone-shaped hill with a big S and plenty of Christmas lights.
It's called Tenderfoot Mountain. The road you can see cutting across is appropriately named "Spiral Drive", and is open to the public (up to a point.) There is an extensive network of hiking trails that fan out from the parking lot about halfway up the hill, as well as the main road that was open for pedestrians. I decided to go up to see the little shack at the top.
Having failed to look up at Tenderfoot when I had pulled into town the night before, I wasn't sure what shapes the lights would bring to life, but there sure were a lot of bulbs spread out across the hill. I could tell that some of the shapes were stars, but others remained a mystery, even as I admired the handiwork of the construction crews who laid out the support structure.
In this photo, you can see the big "S" from above. It's made up of concrete slabs, and doesn't look very impressive when you see it up close. But it was fun to think that I was now walking past a town landmark. I passed a couple of other hikers, and a couple of runners, too (including one pushing a baby jogger). I suspect that many of the local people come up here for their daily exercise.
The views across the valley are great. I took a bunch of pictures, including the panorama I shared with you a couple of days ago.
[Side topic: What is it about sitting at a high spot and being able to see a long ways that makes it so cool? Is there some genetic imperative about climbing that has to do with ascension up the food chain? Why is looking across a valley such a "Wow!" experience?]
After enjoying the views from Tenderfoot, I went back into town and drove through the historic shopping district. It's all quite appealing, but at this hour on the day after Thanksgiving, nothing was open. I guess those merchants choose not to participate in Black Friday madness. [By the way, am I the only person that is tired of the terms "Black Friday" and "Cyber Monday"? First of all, I'm surprised that no one has protested against Black Friday on the grounds that it sounds racist, and secondly, why should a good day for certain merchants get its own name, anyway? I guess there is precedent (Village Inn's "Pie Rush Wednesday" for example), but I just can't make myself feel obligated to shop on a day that's named for retailer profitability. If you're going to add words onto the names of days of the week, I'd rather participate in something called Sundae Sunday.]
After crusing Salida, I headed north to Fairplay, where I stopped at the local grocery store to pick up a turkey sandwich. (Ah, there's my recognition of traditional Thanksgiving rituals!) I took the sandwich up to my Elkhorn Ranch property and had a nice little picnic among the denuded aspen trees overlooking the valley. I spent an hour or so enjoying a nice walk on the hills and into the woods, and then finally headed home. It was a fantastic trip, and I'm really glad I went.
What about the rest of the weekend, you ask? Well, there was more running, and a few other activities. I'll tell you about those later. For now, though, I think I'll continue to be thankful, even though the holiday has passed. There are just too many cool things in life to spend a single day without be grateful for the beauty of Colorado, the ability to travel and explore, and the opportunity to get outside and enjoy the benefits and joys of vigorous exercise. It's all wonderful, and I don't ever intend to stop savoring my good fortune in being able to do these things. I hope your Thanksgiving weekend was also a joy.
As always, thanks for dropping by. Have a great day!
I wonder if anyone has made a font out of those letters? Probably.
I'd also bet you that those are the same wheels that were there when our family stayed there when I was a kid. The little drainage canal that my brother and I raced boats in is gone, but everything else looks just about the same. I'm very happy to know they're keeping the place going. I wonder if the cabins have the same ancient gas stoves they had when my mom cooked fresh-caught trout for us when Dad brought his catch back from Green Creek in the evening.
The boats that Pat and I raced were actually aspen twigs that we carved into vague canoe shapes. We shaved the ends to points and dug out a crude divot for the imaginary Indians to sit in during their perilous journey through the dark unknown passage through the culvert under the driveway. We'd drop the boats in at one end of the pipe and then race over to the other side to cheer our unseen paddlers to victory.
Despite the fact that I attributed each of my victories to my awesome design and carving skills, the 50/50 win percentage would probably give greater support to a theory of random waterflow chaos inside the culvert. Indeed, I seem to remember that there were times when only one boat would emerge, and the other craft and its hypothetical occupants were presumed to be unfortunate maritime casualties.
I suspect that these episodes were contributors to the fact that several years later I earned my Canoeing merit badge in the Boy Scouts, and was later a gold medalist in the Wichitennial River Festival Canoe Jousting contest. What remains a complete mystery is why parents of that generation were willing to give knives to boys with single-digit ages, and leave them unsupervised to whittle boats and play in drainage ditches. And yes, in case you're wondering, we also practiced throwing those knives at make-believe savages, and even played mumbletypeg. No harm came of it, and much learning and personal growth was attained, I'm sure.
Anyway, if you're looking for a quaint cabin getaway in the summer, give the Wagon Wheel a call: (719) 539-6063.
This is not my photo, but for some reason, I didn't think to take a picture at the top of Monarch Pass. I think it was because I was hungry and had to pee. I did pull over there, and I did find a secluded spot to, um, eat my lunch, etc. I was planning to stop at the gift shop there, which was another favorite family visitation spot on those old vacations. I seem to remember eating breakfast at the Monarch Crest facility pictured here, but I definitely remember the tourist trinkets they had for sale in the store.
Yes, that's where we bought the sheath knives we used to carve our aspen stick boats. We also bought suction-cup tipped archery sets, Monarch Crest pennants to hang on our bedroom wall at home, and other worthless crap like rubber-band pistols, pixie stix, and rattlesnake eggs. It wasn't much different than any other tourist trap gift shop, carrying the same stupid logo-encrusted spoons, ceramic bells, and Yosemite Sam license plate holders...but it's at 11,312 feet. (Of course, when I was there on this warm Thanksgiving Day, there wasn't much snow in evidence.)
After Monarch, I continued west. I drove straight past Gunnison and Blue Mesa Lake, and headed on into the Black Canyon of the Gunnison National Park.
My original intention was to find one of the trails that led down into the canyon, and to descend to the river, take some pictures, and then run back up. This intention was thwarted by two factors: There was ice and snow on many of the trails, and since I'm clumsy enough under dry and flat conditions, such treacherous trails could easily spell doom and disaster if attempted. Plus, there were signs that said "You MUST have a permit for any activities within the canyon." And since it was Thanksgiving, the Visitor Center was not open -- making it impossible to obtain a permit.
Since I always obey the rules (cough), I decided to run on the road instead of trying the steep trails. I was disappointed, of course, since the challenge of a steep ascent was one of the things that drew me toward this canyon. Alas, for this trip, I was destined to remain atop the plateau.
Which is not to say that the road is flat, nor easy. It's all over 8000 feet high, with constantly rolling hills. And of course, the side trails out to the vista points contained steeper trail sections that offered plenty of challenge to my limited trail running abilities. I parked at the Visitor Center and contemplated running to the end of the road, which would give me a little over 12 miles, round-trip.
I ended up just going 7. The side trails out to the overlooks provided a good workout, and stopping to take photos of the spectacular canyon ate up the clock. There were only a few other tourists out there, but everyone seemed to be enjoying the wonderfully warm temperatures and dazzlingly clean air. I could not have asked for better conditions for my exercise/photo excursion.
But as I ran and ogled the scenery, I also did some math in my head. I calculated that I would not be able to finish the entire loop and make it back to the car in time to have any sunlight for the drive back to Salida. My night vision isn't that great, so I wanted to get back over Monarch before dark if possible. And I was getting a dandy workout anyway, so I wouldn't need to regret cutting it short.
I tried to go as fast as I could on the last mile, and was pleasantly exhausted when I got back to the car. But I still wanted to see the last couple of overlooks, so I drove back down the road I had just been on.
As I said, there were very few cars in the Park. But as I approached another guy in a Subaru, I was surprised to see him wave at me out his window. It was my buddy Chris Wolf! He's the Business Development guy at ITN, and sits about 20 feet away from my office. It's not really that great of a coincidence to run into him and his girlfriend several hundred miles from home, because we had talked about possible Thanksgiving trips and had agreed that the Black Canyon would be cool. But it still was fun to stop and chat with the two of them before they left for Fruita and I continued on to Warner Point. I'm kicking myself that I didn't take a picture, though. Bummer.
Despite my effort on the earlier run, I found that I was still able to jog with some pep when heading out to the last couple of vista points. The round-trip out to Warner Point was about a mile and a half, and I ran most of it, enjoying the solitude, the smell of the pines, and the joy of working up another sweat in such lovely surroundings. The pictures I took can't do justice to the majesty and scope of Nature's handiwork, but at least I can look at them and remember how much fun I had on my little adventure. Will I return to someday make the climb down into the canyon and back out? Yes, I think I will have to do that.
For now, though, I need to get going. I'll share the pictures and details from the remainder of my trip tomorrow, and then hope to resume normal inane bloggery by the end of the week. Thanks for dropping by, and have a great day!
I had a wonderful Thanksgiving holiday! How about you?
I'm tempted to subject you to the standard list of "Things I Am Thankful For" (which would include, of course, my gratitude for my editor friends who know better than to correct me when I end a sentence with a preposition). But it's been done before, and you can probably guess everything I'd put on that list. I mean, who isn't thankful for chocolate covered cinnamon bears, the artistry of Jerome "Curley" Howard, and Weird Al Yankovic? And my time is short this morning, so I'll just throw out a quick synopsis of my Thanksgiving weekend, and save the emoting about Quality of Life for another day.
My original intent was to hit the road a couple of hours before dawn on Thursday, but I failed to plan adequately. I was awake plenty early, but by the time I finished packing enough spare socks and underwear, filling the car with oil/antifreeze, pumping up the tires, digging my sleeping bag out of my Fibber McGee closet, and duct-taping a mesh screen over my dryer exhaust vent to keep the birds from nesting in there...the sun was already peeking over the horizon. Fortunately, it was Thanksgiving Day, and 99.9% of the world had no plans to be on the highways with me. Traffic was not an issue.
I also brought along a box of old cassette tapes, with the intention of deciding which ones I should discard, and which ones should be digitized so I could still rock out to the tunes after I've traded in my car for a model that doesn't have a tape player. This fit in well with my semi-nostalgic mood as I headed toward places I had been before and had enjoyed greatly.
My first stop was the town of Maysville, Colorado. When I was a kid, our family would take a two-week vacation every year when Boeing had their summer shutdown and my dad could get away. We found a place called the Wagon Wheel Guest Ranch in Maysville, and spent several of our best family vacations there before my mom died. I have very fond memories of those trips, and thought I'd drop by the place to see if it was still there.
It was, and it looked great. I'll share some photos and additional memories in a later post. It wasn't quite as isolated as I remembered, but it's possible that some of the surrounding structures hadn't been there back when I was a kid. Unfortunately, the place was closed for the winter, so I didn't linger. My next scheduled stop was the Monarch Crest gift shop.
Driving up Monarch Pass brought up other memories, too. I passed by the place Tanner's mom and I stayed on our honeymoon. It was a time-share resort that had just opened, and we got the "free weekend stay" deal when we agreed to sit through their timeshare pitch. It was a recreation-oriented lodge, and our plan was to play tennis and racquetball, and then spend hours sipping champagne in the luxurious hot tub. It didn't quite work out that way: I crashed my motorcycle a week before the wedding, and was still a hobbling bloody mess during the honeymoon. I could barely walk, much less play racquetball...and my oozing wounds were not remotely suitable for hot tub immersion. Sadly, sitting through the timeshare pitch was probably the highlight of our stay there.
OK, I'm running out of time. This travelogue is going to have to be a multi-parter. I'll tell you about Monarch Crest, running at the Black Canyon of the Gunnison, my daring ascent of Tenderfoot Mountain, and my peaceful turkey lunch at Elkhorn Ranch.
For now, I'll leave you with a couple of photos. This one is me at one of the viewpoints I visited during my run along the rim of the Black Canyon.
This is an inexpertly stitched multi-shot panorama of the lovely town of Salida, Colorado. (Click to embiggen.)
I got distracted yesterday, and forgot I was going to talk about learning to drive.
Well, sorta. I mentioned lawn mowers, but didn't tell you that a riding mower was the first gas-propelled vehicle I ever drove. Having a riding mower was a big deal for a young teenager; for one thing, it made mowing the yard easier. But most importantly, it had a clutch and a steering wheel, which allowed me to fantasize that I was Mario Andretti. I felt empowered and mature; a young lad entrusted with (and in control of) a mighty snorting beast of a vehicle, willing and able to travel whereever I pleased!
...As long at was in our yard. No driving in the street was allowed.
The bad thing was that the riding mower didn't perform the job as well as the push mower. It was slower, had an abysmal turning radius, and was completely incapable of getting into the tight spots around obstacles such as the trees and garden.
And honestly, the lessons learned in driving this mower didn't have much applicability to driving an automobile. For one thing, you made the thing go forward by pushing in on the clutch and holding it there. Its default (released) position was in idle, so you had to step on the pedal to engage the gears...and then hold it down as long as you wanted to move. There was no gas pedal, and the engine had a governor to help it hold constant RPMs. So, the thing had only one speed (slow), and would stop immediately if you relaxed your leg.
But it was fun. (At least until I got my learner's permit for driving the car; then I never wanted to mow again. Ever.)
In case you're wondering, the answer is "no." I have ZERO desire to ever own another riding lawn mower. I know it's a great disappointment to my father, but there is not one single horticultural bone in my body. I have no desire to ever mow another lawn or pull another weed. I won't swear I'll never do it (you never know what silly things a hot girl might talk you into), but I know I won't seek out yard work on my own...no matter how much turbocharged horsepower and Dolby stereo you jam into the cockpit of the mower.
Anyway, the point I really intended to make was that we should all remember to show our appreciation to our country's brave veterans. Not just on Veteran's Day, but all the time. These folks have done so much for us, and it's only right that we occasionally let them know how thankful we are for their service.
And now, to the silly stuff:
This one was far too simple. Even my brother knew all the answers. Sorry about that. I'll try to make the next one a bit more challenging. But obviously, the answer to this one is "Buck."
The first panel contains Gil Gerard in his role as "Buck Rogers." He was a charming enough character, but I have to confess that I primarily tuned in to the show to watch Erin Gray. I have no idea why her career didn't take off after that show, but I'm not sure I've seen her since. Twiki the robot (voiced by Mel Blanc, as noted in this space before) was a horrible, horrible addition to the show, and I hope the brainiac who thought that one up was severely reprimanded. But today's free trivia fact comes courtesy of the other non-female regular on the show. The actor Tim O'Connor played the professor (who was also a waste of screen time), and was probably supposed to be the inventor of the stupid robot. But the interesting thing about him is that he never achieved the fame of TV's other Tim O'Connor. But the second one couldn't use his real name because our made robot-maker was already registered with SAG...so he changed his name to Tim Conway, started hanging out with Carol Burnette and Harvey Korman, and the rest is history.
You're welcome.
The second panel is a photo of Billie "Buckwheat" Thomas, a member of the famed Little Rascals. I didn't realize until many years later that both buckwheat and farina (the name of Allen Hoskins' character in the same series) were types of hot breakfast cereals. In our house, we only had oatmeal, Maypo, and Ralston. I felt I had been deprived when I learned there were all these other tasty grains that could be eaten along with poached eggs and buttered toast. Mmm.
Both Thomas and Hoskins ended up serving honorably in World War II, and therefore also deserve our thanks...not only for entertaining us in theaters and on television, but for nobly serving our country.
The caricatured fellow in the third frame is Richard Buckminster Fuller, inventor of the geodesic dome, and the fellow for whom "buckyballs" (a unique soccerball-shaped carbon molecule) is named. Fuller was also a US Veteran, serving in the Navy in World War I.
The guitar-wielding gent is none other than Buck Owens, half of Hee-Haw's "picking and grinnin'" team with the genial (and prolifically talented) Roy Clark. If my nerdishness and lack of sophistication were not already so blatently obvious, I might not admit this -- but the truth is that I greatly enjoyed Hee Haw. That's where I first heard one of my favorite love songs, Errol Garner's immortal "Misty" (see video below.)
Behind Mr. Owens, you might have noticed Ernest Borgnine. I have no idea what he was doing on Hee Haw, but then I wouldn't have picked him to be a guest star on "The Simpsons", either, but he did both. He also was married to Stella Stevens in "The Poseidon Adventure", which was the first time I recognized the possibility that a gnarly troll could hook up with a hot babe. (I still cling to that hope, too.)
Our trivia circle comes complete here: Mr. Borgnine was also a veteran of the US Navy, serving before and throughout WWII...but he also portrayed a Naval officer on the TV show "McHale's Navy", which co-starred (you guest it) the aforementioned Tim Conway. As far as I know, though, neither of these gentlemen were ever in a movie with Kevin Bacon.
The last panel spotlights the amazing Donald Roeser, better known as Buck Dharma, lead guitarist for Blue Öyster Cult. The dude knows how to rock, with feeling. And with that, I shall leave you with a couple of videos to enjoy. [Note: Buck starts rockin' at about 5:55.] Have a great day!
I am really happy to be back in the swimming pool. My ear is still a little more sensitive than the other (I can feel it zing a little bit when the water flows past it as I push off the wall), but I am definitley on the comeback trail.
It's tough, though. I feel slow and weak and clumsy, and am struggling to reestablish my telepathic connection to the pace clock. My predictions are inaccurate, and I'm slowing down far too much during long sets. Trying to re-condition myself is hard on the body, but probably even harder on my self-esteem.
Oh well. It's not unexpected. There's a reason we try to stay consistent with our exercise. As Neil Young once said, "Rust never sleeps."
And speaking of the oxidation of iron, I noticed the other day that I need new guitar strings. I'm sure that people like Jimmy Page and Mr. Bachman, Mr. Turner, and Mr. Overdrive all become aware of string deterioration by noticing subtle changes in the timbre of the string's sound, or by noticing a slight difference in the pressure it takes to bend up a full step. But my senses are not so highly developed. I probably couldn't tell the difference in sound between a 1957 Gibson Archtop with new strings and a $12 Sear Silvertone strung with spaghetti. For me, the "buy new wire" notification comes from splinters.
Yes, splinters. When guitar strings get worn out, tiny slivers of steel can flake off the strings and embed themselves in your fingers. I don't see them, but the "ouch factor" tells me it's time to make a trek to Music-Go-Round.
Anyway, as I was thinking about starting back up in the pool after my long layoff, I started thinking about other things that show resistance to smooth starting after a sedentary period. And that got me thinking about the way engines used to start.
My Subaru starts within about a half second of me turning the ignition key. Doesn't matter how cold it is outside, or how long the car has been sitting there. We expect this now; but cars didn't always do that. The old Bel Aire station wagon I drove in college would sometimes require several minutes of cranking before it would fire itself up. And back in my "motorcycle-ridin', hippie-stompin'" days, I got many a calf cramp from stomping on my Kawasaki's kickstarter. Before that, my startup injuries came in the form of scraped knuckles from yanking on the stupid rope that would get the lawn-mower's engine spinning.
Perhaps that explains why I hate mowing lawns to this day. There are definitely advantages to the condo lifestyle.
How many years has it been since it took me more than a microsecond to start an engine? The last two lawn mowers I owned were both electric, and started up when you threw the switch...no questions asked. The last car I had that didn't start up right away was a 1986 Ford Bronco -- but that was because it was a poorly-built piece of crap, with far more problems than a mere faulty ignition system. And that pile of junk was still 50 times more reliable than the Cadillac we had parked in the garage beside it. I'm sure the American car companies have improved their products since then, but I still have nightmares about those mechanical abominations.
Anyway, my question for you is this: Do kids today have any idea how much effort it took to mow the lawn just a few decades ago? Do kids today aspire to have their own lawns when they grow up? Do kids today know the difference between a lawn mower and a Lon Chaney?
I'm just curious. And speaking of things kids probably don't know about, what is the common thread among these dudes? (Extra credit if you can identify the applauding gent in the corner of frame 4.)
That's all for today. I'll leave you one more hint by sharing the video below. Extra credit if you can identify the Star Trek connection. Anyway, it's an amusing bit, so enjoy it if you have time. Have a great day!
The election is over, and Democrats are celebrating all over, from Woodstock to Berkeley, from Tehran to Beijing. The majority of Americans have said they are happy with the management of their Government, and are excited to see four more years of continuing in the current direction. Democracy works, and the people have spoken. It's time for us to put away the yard signs and bumper sticker and get back to work so we can pay the taxes that enable the whole thing to continue to function.
Yesterday, I mentioned a device called the Vac-u-Form. At the time, I brought it up just because it's one of the memories I have of Herbie's house. It was a device that melted plastic into various kid-friendly shapes, and introduced children to the concept of mold-based manufacturing. It also provided a tremendous boost to the First Aid Creme and gauze dressing industries, since 100% of the children who played with the thing ended up with various 1st- and 2nd-degree burns.
That's probably why you don't see the things anymore. So I guess that's one of those items that would be familiar to everyone in a certain generation, and totally foreign to all others.
At some point, though, all dangerous toys were removed from the shelves. Today's Cub Scouts probably don't spend time searing their names into blocks of wood, and 8-year-old kids probably aren't allowed to operate their daddy's drill press without goggles and adult supervision. I suppose this is progress, and certainly an improvement in safety...but it still seems like some sort of loss to me.
Of course, today's youth DO know how to dispatch aliens with ruthless efficiency, and field army battle tactics are second nature from the day they begin to play computer games. Each generation's default skill set is slightly different from the previous. My dad's boyhood friends could all ride horses and milk cows, but had no clue how to tie-dye a t-shirt. I can still tell you the phone numbers of a half-dozen high-school friends, but I bet my son doesn't know a single number. It's all in his smartphone, so there's no reason for him to memorize anything.
I wonder how much those little cultural changes contribute to the fact that those kids seem so unorganized and irresponsible to the people of my generation. Hmm.
Anyway, here's one more hint for yesterday's puzzle. This photo could've been included along with the others. Do you see the answer now?
No, it's not "incompetent farmers." Nor is it "People who wear ties in inappropriate settings." I suppose you could make a case for each photo being chosen because of the interesting facial expression of the subject, but that's not it either.
It's "Oliver."
The first fellow is Oliver Cromwell, who was a historical royal ugly dude from England, who did a bunch of historical English stuff. Next to him is actress Susan Oliver, shown here in her role as Vena, the chick from Talos IV who occasionally pretended to be a green Orion Slave Girl (as featured in this space a couple of days ago).
Allow me to digress a moment. In this photo, Ms. Oliver is revealed to be deformed and lumpy, because the Talosian medics who repaired her spaceship crash injuries "had never seen a human before." Huh? That makes no sense: Other than being skinny and big-headed, the Talosians themselves look pretty much the same as humans. And c'mon...the concept of bilateral symmetry shouldn't be foreign to them, even if they hadn't seen the precise shoulder joint configuration that Vena had. What would possibly make them say "Gee, even though the bones on this side pretty much mirror the bones on that side, I think we should add a giant hump here, just because I'm guessing that's what these "hu-mans" are supposed to look like." C'mon, Roddenberry, that's just silly.
And anyway, Dr. McCoy could've fixed her right up in SickBay. (Yes, I know McCoy wasn't on board at this time, but he'd have come along eventually. Work with me here, people.)
Anyway, Susan Oliver was actually pretty cute in real life, so kudos to the makeup crew. And to her right, we see Mr. Oliver Reed, in the movie "The Curse of the Werewolf." We caught him in transition here, which explains his obvious discomfort with this particular photo opportunity. I'm pretty sure this was the first werewolf movie I ever saw, and I thought it was pretty good, and that Reed had some definite scene-stealing charisma as the troubled changling. And as I was entering adolescence at the time of this viewing, I was also entranced by the supporting cast of buxom females. I'm not sure another viewing would result in the same level of endorsement my younger self gave it, but the memory is all I have to go on at this point. I would recommend the movie as a worthy contender in the "Not Lon Chaney, Jr." category of movies about hairy handed gents.
To Reed's right is Oliver Hardy, who was famous for being fat and irritable and hanging around with a goofy skinny guy...I guess he was sort of the Joe Biden of his day. And to his right is Oliver Platt, in "The Three Musketeers."
Platt's version of the Dumas classic is arguably the worst one. When I saw the previews, I got excited about this movie because a) the a couple of the previous versions (especially the Gene Kelly one) were great, and b) the previews made me laugh out loud. Unfortuately, the thing I most remember about this movie is the fact that the three 5-second clips used in the previews were the ONLY good moments in the entire film...which made me think for the first time about the complex art of movie trailer editing.
And by the way, you get extra credit if you recognized that Oliver Reed was also in one of the Three Musketeers movies. The dude had range, man.
Anyway, that's your Oliver connection for today. The only other comments I have are that it's REALLY good to be back in the swimming pool...and that later today I will see the dermatologist to hopefully get professional confirmation that my ear is completely healed. Wish me luck, and have a great day!
When I was a kid, I had a set of walkie-talkies that allowed me to talk with Herbert the Pervert from a distance of nearly 100 yards away. We thought it was really cool, even though the device was the size and weight of an adobe brick, and the antenna was 18 inches long. Most of our conversations went something like this:
Terry: I'm beside the Dotzour's house. Where are you? Over. Herbie:Crackle mmph click zzzz. Terry: What did you say? Over. Herbie: I'm under the ghhkcz in my back yard. Over. Terry: OK, I'll come over to your house, so we can play with your Vacu-Form. Over and out.
Nowadays, kids speak across intercontinental distances with less static, and without having to hold down the transmit button. And much of that amazing capability is enabled by cell phone towers.
The interesting thing about cell phone towers is that they brought the neighborhood clock back from extinction. Bank branches used to be the providers of local time knowledge...but as lighted chrono-signage faded from use, it became unusual to see the time of day prominently displayed anywhere in public. But then they started building clock towers all over the place. Well, OK...they built towers to house cell relay technology, and disguised them with clocks. My question is this: Since those "clock" towers represent the cutting edge in digital technology...why are all the clocks analog?
I'm guessing it's an aesthetic homage to days of old -- when clock towers represented the center of civilization. What do you think? And while you're pondering that question, take a stab at this one: Which of the clocks above is more recognizable to today's population? Big Ben or Hill Valley? And what does that say about our culture?
Geez, I'm deep today, aren't I?
If I had more time, I'd delve into the topic of change a little more thoroughly, but I have to keep this short today. In a future post, though, I'd like to discuss "Things that were common, but have now completely gone away and aren't recognizable to modern people."
An example of this would be the "icebox". When I was young, it puzzled me that my grandma always called the fridge an icebox...but it wasn't until several years later that I learned that in the pre-freon days, she actually kept stuff cool by loading a large insulated box with purchased ice. A dude from the icehouse came around regularly to deliver large blocks of frozen water to provide this cooling effect. How many kids today know about that?
Will the microwave eventually dissolve all memories of popcorn "air poppers"? I'm pretty sure that very few people remember cooking hot dogs by jamming them onto exposed electrodes and running a high-voltage current through them.
On the other hand, everybody still knows what a buggy is. Same with spurs. And blunderbusses. Lots of obsolete technologies remain in the public consciousness.
But like I said; that's a topic for another day. The most important announcement I have for today is that I'm back in the pool! My ear seems to be completely healed, and I've started swimming again. I'm slow and out of shape, but the comeback has begun. Yea!
The other good news is that after today, we won't have to listen to any more maddening political ads for a while. Though I fear the possibility of further American decline over the next four years, at least I won't have to listen all the lies and distortions that have poisoned the airwaves for the last few months. Ugh.
But I know the real question you're asking is this: If I could pick anyone to run this country, who would it be? Captains Kirk and Picard are the obvious answers of course, but what if they weren't available? Well, I guess I'd have to go with Captain Pike, then, wouldn't I?
Which brings us to today's puzzle. What's the common element among these images?
Don't overthink it. It's not that complicated. In fact, I'll even make it easier by giving you one more hint with the graphic below.
How about that for making it obvious?
I do have some other good challenges in mind, but the week has become busy, so we'll have to see what time will permit. Thanksgiving is approaching rapidly, along with both my dad's and my son's birthdays, as well as a swim team party, an office party, and a bunch of other proposals to work. And that all has to fit in with trying to get back in shape now that I have no restrictions on my exercise. It looks to be a whirlwind season, chock full o' fun, activity, and social opportunities. I'm looking forward to it!
But I guess I'd better get going. Have a great day!
But if I did, the "Green Orion Slave Girl" costume would be a good choice, don't you think?
In the book "The Making of Star Trek," there's a story about this scene: When the film came back from the lab* for screening, the Director wasn't happy. The slave girl was no longer green! Bummer. They slathered even more paint on her, shot the scene again, and sent it off for processing. And again, she came back looking completely caucasian. Investigation revealed that the lab had worked overtime to adjust the chemicals to "fix" the scene, because they couldn't imagine that the girl's green skin tone was intentional.
Good thing they didn't see the carrot people on "Lost in Space", eh?
*NOTE for younger readers: Back in olden times, photographs and video were captured on a substance known as "film", which was a strip of cellulose acetate coated with light-sensitive emulsion that could be exposed to light and then run through a chemical bath to produce a small reproduction of the image. In the case of motion pictures (what we call "video" today), this film consisted of thousands of separate photos that would appear to be moving when projected at 24 frames per second. These long strips of photos were wound up onto a circular device known as a "reel" and were copied and distributed as physical objects. Instead of existing as a few gigabytes of computer files, these ancient entertainment programs took the form of several heavy canisters of film reels, and were vulnerable to a variety of damages, such as scratches, melting, and breaking. Despite this hideously primitive technology and its clumsy distribution system, the simple people of those times were able to derive entertainment from those sources. Amazing, but true.
Anyway, the point is that if I were Captain Pike, I might very well have stayed on Talos IV and contentedly lived out my days dining and dancing with imaginary green chicks. Hey, if they really are "slave" girls, they'd have to do the dishes, too, am I right?
I hate doing dishes.
But I digress. What I really meant to discuss is the arrival of a new month. Even though nary a single costumed hobgoblin showed up at my door to beg for candy last night, I am content to leave October behind. It had its frustrations, to be sure, but the good news is that I accumulated my highest monthly running mileage total in over a year, enjoyed numerous gorgeous days of Fall colors, and had a relatively stress-free month at the office as well. Lack of tantalizing Talosian illusions notwithstanding, I'm living a pretty sweet life right now. Every morning, I'm finding it easier and easier to talk myself into running, and my friends on the swim team continue to inspire and entertain me.
I can tell that November is going to be a good month. We'll have new nerd quizzes coming soon, and you can also expect to hear the tale of my triumphant return to the pool, perhaps as early as next week. As always, thanks for dropping by, and have a great day!
For now, though, I'll just leave you with a short TV/Movie dialog trivia quiz. Just identify who said each line. Extra credit if you can identify all of the possible choices. Enjoy the memories, and have a great day!
