Read My Palm
Hello World,
Hong Kong Bok Choy! Well, you know it's Chinese New Year around these parts when you hear people who are afraid that they can't correctly pronounce Kung Hey Fat Chou wishing each other instead a very happy and healthy Hong Kong Bok Choy. We had a visit yesterday from Michael, a nice young man who works in our OR, and I have always had the feeling is Filipino, although it must be said that it looks like he's wearing the map of China all over his face. Since he was in our office yesterday, I told him that I always had my suspicions that he wasn't really Asian, since it was after all Chinese New Year and here he was at work. He laughed. I said that I wanted to be the first person to wish him Hong Kong Bok Choy, which is what we say instead of saying the right thing the wrong way, and while I was saying that, he nodded and said, "Oh yes, Kung Hey Fat Chou," and you can believe me when I say that it didn't sound anything like that when he said it. Ah, those inscrutable Asians. I think they just toss these things at us to throw us off the scent.
Well, I don't know if everyone was as surprised as I was at the outcome of the Super Bowl last week, although I certainly hope the bookies weren't, because they'd all be bankrupt. I should have realized something was up early in the morning at church, when instead of our usual 20 worshipers, there were more than 30, apparently all praying for one thing. When we got to the point in the service where Pastor says, "Who would the people of God pray for, either aloud or in their hearts?" where you usually hear people around you saying things like "Susan," or "cousin Harold" or "Aunt Daisy and Grandma Puckett," from everywhere in the congregation, you could hear people saying, "Giants ... Giants ... Giants ..." In fact, I could have sworn I heard the little old lady behind me who is in charge of our Altar Guild whisper, "Please break Tom Brady's leg," but I'm sure I must have been mistaken.
Of course, we all know that I have no axe to grind, and I am not prepared to rule out the possibility that the local mobsters did in fact take the necessary steps to win the game for the "family," and I say, more power to them. I figure there's no sense in having these Mafia kingpins in the first place, if you can't get them to put the squeeze on when it counts. Our newspaper also did a big story before the game of a young man who sells novelty Giants license plates at the stadium, and he had attended all three playoff games where the Giants won all three, so he wanted to make sure he was at the Super Bowl as a good luck charm, he might have been the one who tipped the balance. Personally, my money is on Don Shula, the coach of the undefeated Miami Dolphins of lore and legend, who was rooting loud and long against the Patriots, so his team could remain the only undefeated team in NFL history, and he certainly got his wish in unexpected fashion. I don't know how he did it, but you can believe that I wouldn't bet against him from now on.
On a more sober note, however, it occurred to me that with the whole media flap about the so-called "spygate tapes" that were destroyed by the Commissioner's office, it might have been just as well for the Patriots not to win, because the stigma from that would have followed them around forever, dogging their heels and tainting their victory, rightly or wrongly. It wouldn't have been fair to either team, the fans, or the history of the Super Bowl, regardless of whether the allegations had any basis in fact or not. Say, that brings up the possibility that it was the Commissioner's office that put in the fix on the game, and not the mobsters after all. Way to go, Capo di NFL Capo!
Pop quiz: Quick - name the NFL Commissioner right this minute!
I regret to say that the actual answer to that question appears to be something called Roger Goodell, according to published reports, whoever the heck he is. It seems impossible that in just a matter of years, the sports commissioners have gone from being mythic, larger-than-life world famous figures, to mere nobodies in suits that no one knows or pays any attention to. Who could ever forget Pete Rozelle, the NFL Commissioner back when the Super Bowl started, who was sharp and charismatic, and you couldn't turn on a TV or open a newspaper without seeing him somewhere, being interviewed about something, and everyone cared what he said. About the same time, Bowie Kuhn was a towering figure as the Commissioner of baseball, and his no-nonsense approach to the game kept everything on the straight-and-narrow, so the integrity of the sport was never questioned. Ever since they stepped down, the people in those jobs have gotten tinier and more insignificant, until now when football has this Roger Nobody, and in baseball, one of the team owners is pretending to be commissioner. Oh, how the mighty have fallen, and that's not just the dinosaurs talking, believe me.
I don't mean to say that people in the local area went completely nuts when the Giants won the Super Bowl, but after the game was over and I was going to bed around 11:00PM, I couldn't help but notice the unmistakable sounds of someone shooting hoops in the driveway next door, one supposes, because they were too keyed up to get to sleep after all the excitement. Although these are relatively new neighbors (yes, the mother ship did eventually return to beam aboard our previous neighbors, and replace them on their home planet of Ugly Yard Major, in the What-Were-You-Thinking quadrant) it hasn't been our experience that they usually go outside to play basketball in the dead of night in the middle of the winter, at least until now. I only blame it on the Super Bowl, because it would be odd for the neighbors under normal circumstances. On the other hand, it would be even odder for the raccoons, so if it was the neighborhood ring-tailed bandits tossing baskets instead, I admit that I am stumped for a reason to explain that, since they've never exhibited any affinity with the Giants previously.
Since I haven't been going in early, staying late and working through lunch at my job anymore (HOORAY!!!) I try to make the most efficient use of my time, and I've found ways to streamline some of the things that I do, to eliminate all wasted steps. So I was already in that mindset when I considered how I do my book reports, which is I write a synopsis of the plot on a paper form, and then type it into my computer so I can post it on my book blog later. I realized if I had something small that I could carry with my book at lunch, and type my notes as I go along, then I could just copy them to my computer from the device where they would already be in electronic form. I love my new laptop, but I knew it was too heavy to drag around at lunch, and then I remembered that I had a handy Palm Zire M150 that was just crying out for this kind of use. It has a stylus so you can write notes using regular letters or numbers, or you can tap the letters on a tiny virtual keyboard that displays on the screen, and the Zire will save it in a memo that you can export to a regular word processing program on your computer, without having to do anything twice, as I had been. I tried this in the cafeteria at work with a historical romance that I had been reading, being sure to sit by the window for the best light, and I thought it worked great and was the answer to a prayer.
That is, until I got back to my office and transferred the document to my computer to save it in my book report, and found that in spite of 40 years experience in typing, the results of using the virtual keyboard on the Zire came out looking like this:
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Anthony gtaham abd gis btothr srricw. Agter long days ofbtender kovibg csre, missvfell isvfinally ell rnough to go doenstairr for meals with the gamily, rather than het room, snd lady annsbel aaus to bring the mysterious sttrabger ;as the sposed fsughtrr of an old svhool friend ; to bump into domrone, althpugh aichard drspairs of her oit riding alpne, and ecen she wonders hpw she could ,smafr. ladu abbabek and kixy atr ibcited to akmacks and shr soon has bp lack pf suitrs, brsodes majot borern, whpm lord anthony considers a fprtine hunyer, and ishes thzsy lucy thought of msrlf more as a suitpr than an age;ols family ftinf.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
I said to Bill later, "Well, that's about as close to literary Mad Libs as I can probably get, and don't forget, I'm actually reading this book, and I have no idea what this means!" Family ftinf, indeed.
I hope that you've been enjoying a very happy Chinese New Year so far, and remember to wear plenty of red, which is supposed to bring good luck in the coming year. The newspapers usually run stories about other traditions and folklore for the occasion, such as what to eat, how to decorate, what to avoid and the like, because most non-Asian people don't remember from one year to the next. Actually, this can work in your favor, since you can pretty much just make stuff up on the spot, and encourage people to wear their clothes backwards, cover themselves in corn starch, or buy boxes of Ping-Pong balls for good luck, and they'd be none the wiser. That could actually be pretty entertaining, in a disreputable sort of way, and I ought to know. Kind of like the April Fools version of Chinese New Year for all of us in the Wild, Wild West. If you need further inspiration or suggestions, please feel free to call on me, as I encourage you to consider me to be --
An Age;Ols Family Ftinf
Hong Kong Bok Choy! Well, you know it's Chinese New Year around these parts when you hear people who are afraid that they can't correctly pronounce Kung Hey Fat Chou wishing each other instead a very happy and healthy Hong Kong Bok Choy. We had a visit yesterday from Michael, a nice young man who works in our OR, and I have always had the feeling is Filipino, although it must be said that it looks like he's wearing the map of China all over his face. Since he was in our office yesterday, I told him that I always had my suspicions that he wasn't really Asian, since it was after all Chinese New Year and here he was at work. He laughed. I said that I wanted to be the first person to wish him Hong Kong Bok Choy, which is what we say instead of saying the right thing the wrong way, and while I was saying that, he nodded and said, "Oh yes, Kung Hey Fat Chou," and you can believe me when I say that it didn't sound anything like that when he said it. Ah, those inscrutable Asians. I think they just toss these things at us to throw us off the scent.
Well, I don't know if everyone was as surprised as I was at the outcome of the Super Bowl last week, although I certainly hope the bookies weren't, because they'd all be bankrupt. I should have realized something was up early in the morning at church, when instead of our usual 20 worshipers, there were more than 30, apparently all praying for one thing. When we got to the point in the service where Pastor says, "Who would the people of God pray for, either aloud or in their hearts?" where you usually hear people around you saying things like "Susan," or "cousin Harold" or "Aunt Daisy and Grandma Puckett," from everywhere in the congregation, you could hear people saying, "Giants ... Giants ... Giants ..." In fact, I could have sworn I heard the little old lady behind me who is in charge of our Altar Guild whisper, "Please break Tom Brady's leg," but I'm sure I must have been mistaken.
Of course, we all know that I have no axe to grind, and I am not prepared to rule out the possibility that the local mobsters did in fact take the necessary steps to win the game for the "family," and I say, more power to them. I figure there's no sense in having these Mafia kingpins in the first place, if you can't get them to put the squeeze on when it counts. Our newspaper also did a big story before the game of a young man who sells novelty Giants license plates at the stadium, and he had attended all three playoff games where the Giants won all three, so he wanted to make sure he was at the Super Bowl as a good luck charm, he might have been the one who tipped the balance. Personally, my money is on Don Shula, the coach of the undefeated Miami Dolphins of lore and legend, who was rooting loud and long against the Patriots, so his team could remain the only undefeated team in NFL history, and he certainly got his wish in unexpected fashion. I don't know how he did it, but you can believe that I wouldn't bet against him from now on.
On a more sober note, however, it occurred to me that with the whole media flap about the so-called "spygate tapes" that were destroyed by the Commissioner's office, it might have been just as well for the Patriots not to win, because the stigma from that would have followed them around forever, dogging their heels and tainting their victory, rightly or wrongly. It wouldn't have been fair to either team, the fans, or the history of the Super Bowl, regardless of whether the allegations had any basis in fact or not. Say, that brings up the possibility that it was the Commissioner's office that put in the fix on the game, and not the mobsters after all. Way to go, Capo di NFL Capo!
Pop quiz: Quick - name the NFL Commissioner right this minute!
I regret to say that the actual answer to that question appears to be something called Roger Goodell, according to published reports, whoever the heck he is. It seems impossible that in just a matter of years, the sports commissioners have gone from being mythic, larger-than-life world famous figures, to mere nobodies in suits that no one knows or pays any attention to. Who could ever forget Pete Rozelle, the NFL Commissioner back when the Super Bowl started, who was sharp and charismatic, and you couldn't turn on a TV or open a newspaper without seeing him somewhere, being interviewed about something, and everyone cared what he said. About the same time, Bowie Kuhn was a towering figure as the Commissioner of baseball, and his no-nonsense approach to the game kept everything on the straight-and-narrow, so the integrity of the sport was never questioned. Ever since they stepped down, the people in those jobs have gotten tinier and more insignificant, until now when football has this Roger Nobody, and in baseball, one of the team owners is pretending to be commissioner. Oh, how the mighty have fallen, and that's not just the dinosaurs talking, believe me.
I don't mean to say that people in the local area went completely nuts when the Giants won the Super Bowl, but after the game was over and I was going to bed around 11:00PM, I couldn't help but notice the unmistakable sounds of someone shooting hoops in the driveway next door, one supposes, because they were too keyed up to get to sleep after all the excitement. Although these are relatively new neighbors (yes, the mother ship did eventually return to beam aboard our previous neighbors, and replace them on their home planet of Ugly Yard Major, in the What-Were-You-Thinking quadrant) it hasn't been our experience that they usually go outside to play basketball in the dead of night in the middle of the winter, at least until now. I only blame it on the Super Bowl, because it would be odd for the neighbors under normal circumstances. On the other hand, it would be even odder for the raccoons, so if it was the neighborhood ring-tailed bandits tossing baskets instead, I admit that I am stumped for a reason to explain that, since they've never exhibited any affinity with the Giants previously.
Since I haven't been going in early, staying late and working through lunch at my job anymore (HOORAY!!!) I try to make the most efficient use of my time, and I've found ways to streamline some of the things that I do, to eliminate all wasted steps. So I was already in that mindset when I considered how I do my book reports, which is I write a synopsis of the plot on a paper form, and then type it into my computer so I can post it on my book blog later. I realized if I had something small that I could carry with my book at lunch, and type my notes as I go along, then I could just copy them to my computer from the device where they would already be in electronic form. I love my new laptop, but I knew it was too heavy to drag around at lunch, and then I remembered that I had a handy Palm Zire M150 that was just crying out for this kind of use. It has a stylus so you can write notes using regular letters or numbers, or you can tap the letters on a tiny virtual keyboard that displays on the screen, and the Zire will save it in a memo that you can export to a regular word processing program on your computer, without having to do anything twice, as I had been. I tried this in the cafeteria at work with a historical romance that I had been reading, being sure to sit by the window for the best light, and I thought it worked great and was the answer to a prayer.
That is, until I got back to my office and transferred the document to my computer to save it in my book report, and found that in spite of 40 years experience in typing, the results of using the virtual keyboard on the Zire came out looking like this:
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Anthony gtaham abd gis btothr srricw. Agter long days ofbtender kovibg csre, missvfell isvfinally ell rnough to go doenstairr for meals with the gamily, rather than het room, snd lady annsbel aaus to bring the mysterious sttrabger ;as the sposed fsughtrr of an old svhool friend ; to bump into domrone, althpugh aichard drspairs of her oit riding alpne, and ecen she wonders hpw she could ,smafr. ladu abbabek and kixy atr ibcited to akmacks and shr soon has bp lack pf suitrs, brsodes majot borern, whpm lord anthony considers a fprtine hunyer, and ishes thzsy lucy thought of msrlf more as a suitpr than an age;ols family ftinf.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
I said to Bill later, "Well, that's about as close to literary Mad Libs as I can probably get, and don't forget, I'm actually reading this book, and I have no idea what this means!" Family ftinf, indeed.
I hope that you've been enjoying a very happy Chinese New Year so far, and remember to wear plenty of red, which is supposed to bring good luck in the coming year. The newspapers usually run stories about other traditions and folklore for the occasion, such as what to eat, how to decorate, what to avoid and the like, because most non-Asian people don't remember from one year to the next. Actually, this can work in your favor, since you can pretty much just make stuff up on the spot, and encourage people to wear their clothes backwards, cover themselves in corn starch, or buy boxes of Ping-Pong balls for good luck, and they'd be none the wiser. That could actually be pretty entertaining, in a disreputable sort of way, and I ought to know. Kind of like the April Fools version of Chinese New Year for all of us in the Wild, Wild West. If you need further inspiration or suggestions, please feel free to call on me, as I encourage you to consider me to be --
An Age;Ols Family Ftinf
posted by El Tango Fandango @ 8:20 PM
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