Mad Cap

Hello World, Happy Summer! Wednesday was the official First Day of Summer, and the way things had been going around here, you would expect it to be about 50 degrees and raining like the rest of the time. Not so fast! It seems that our old nemesis Comrade Mischka and his evil minions at the Kremlin's infernal weather machine had a few other tricks up their collectivist sleeves, and instead, we found ourselves in the throes of a sultry 2-day heat wave, with temperatures suddenly in the 90's, and wilting humidity to boot. So as far as a first day of summer, this one really lived up to its name for a change, and made people long for beaches, lemonade, watermelon and hammocks, not necessarily in that order. In fact, we took advantage of the conditions to head to our local Carvel ice cream store, where their "Wednesday is Sundae" offer means that we can each get a dish of their yummy hot fudge sundaes, and only pay for one of them, which is the kind of bargain I can live with, that's for sure. They were doing a land-office business at the joint on Wednesday, believe me, with people screaming for ice cream on every side and no let-up. We were glad for a cool treat to ward off the sweltering heat, and about as fine a way to usher in those lazy, hazy, crazy days of summer as we could think of. And for the record, I would just like to say, "I love Mother Russia." Of course, last Sunday was Father's Day, and a perfect time to recognize all of the wonderful men in our lives, and father figures of all types, for their dedication, fortitude, integrity and accomplishments, that make our lives better, easier, happier and richer in so many ways. The weather here was glorious for a change, and simply ideal for whatever plans that dear old dad might have dreamed up for the occasion. Around the house, the cats chose to get Bill a couple of trash cans for his special day, although I would advise against reading too much into that in the way of editorial comment. While it might appear obvious as a good old-fashioned left-handed brick-bat when it comes to gift-giving, I can assure you that it's still way better than their personal favorites, which would be catnip mice and Fancy Feast, in spite of Bill's decided lack of interest in these particular treats. So I hope that Sunday was indeed a red-letter day for all of the men out there, from the greatest of the great, all the way down to the average schnook, and everybody in between. Or as one chromosome said to another, "It's a 'Y' thing." Well, it's almost the end of June already, believe that or not, and we all certainly know what that means, by golly. Or should I say, holly. Yes, it's time for the Christmas 2012 music catalog to show up at church, from our friends at Brentwood Benson Music Publishers, and not a moment too soon to get into the ho-ho-holiday spirit of the season, a mere six months ahead of time. Of course, if my church is planning to perform one of their 60-minute dramatic musicals with four-part harmony and full orchestra (we're not) I can see where we might need 6 months to beat that into shape before we foist it on an unsuspecting public in December. But there are also pages and pages full of what they describe as "Ready to Sing Christmas," with the implication that we could start singing it right this minute, and frankly, the sound of Christmas carols in June is just too much for me to bear the thought of. Also not resting on their sum-sum-summertime laurels, I think it was the same day that I received a 2013 calendar and assortment of what they refer to as "holiday greeting cards" from the over-stimulated elves at Positive Promotions - although since these particular cards appear to be awash with glittering trees, reindeer, and more holly berries than you could shake a peppermint stick at, it's hard to imagine any other holiday that these greetings would be considered appropriate for, at least from the point of view of their supposed non-Christian recipients. So here's a big fat summer solstice raspberry to the folks at Brentwood Benson and Positive Promotions, not to mention a few rousing choruses of the Bah Humbug Song for good measure. And which, I might add, if nobody has written that song yet, it's obviously not too soon to start, and that's not just the egg nog talking, believe me. Meanwhile, in other updates more appropriate to the month of June, it came as a surprise to practically nobody when the NBA dream team Miami Heat ousted the gritty Thunder in the finals, taking only 5 games to capture the trophy - albeit five very close games that could have easily gone either way. This is Miami's second title since 2005, and the first for the legend-in-the-making known far and wide as King James, earning a well-deserved playoff MVP in the process. So now all the winter sports are well and truly over for the season - in spite of the holiday music and greeting cards to the contrary - and nothing left to console desolate fans but baseball and more baseball, from now until September. Now that the King and his court have galloped off into the sunset, is it too early to start thinking about Lin-sanity once again? I think not! Alert observers in our viewing public may have noticed the winsome Zooey Deschanel (star of the hit CBS sitcom "New Girl") in a very entertaining commercial for the new Siri function on the Apple iPhone 4S [ for anyone who hasn't seen it, feel free to watch it at your leisure on YouTube, where it's a runaway success - Zooey Deschanel iPhone 4S/Siri commercial (HD) - YouTube ] as we witness her talking into her cell phone and it performs all sorts of wonderful tasks instantly and at her fingertips, like finding local restaurants, providing the current weather conditions, and setting reminders for important items. Well, far be it from me to cast aspersions on the fickle genius that is modern technology, but I'm here to say, don't you believe it. Bill has a snazzy new iPhone 4, and it has a welter of handy features, and is capable of remarkable activities, sometimes when you least expect it. We have tried this "talk command" function numerous times, and I can assure you that the results can only be described as the polar opposite of Zooey's engaging commercial, in just about every way imaginable. Here is what you say: "Call Donna at work." Here is what it says: "Playing 'Flight of the Bumblebee' by Rimsky-Korsakov." When you say: "Find Wal-Mart." Then it says: "Send text message to Arthur." You say: "Play 'Summertime Blues'." It says: "Calling Ted Jorgensen." (Inasmuch as Ted was the architect on our long-completed porch project, and it could be midnight when we're playing with this particular application, it's only a lucky thing that the Cancel button is nearby, or we'd be on our way to becoming pretty darned unpopular, and pretty darned quick, I can tell you that.) So the enchanting Zooey Deschanel notwithstanding, around our house, this is what we consider the smart phone version of Mad Libs, and they're welcome to it. In fact, I just asked it to please call Comrade Mischka to tell him that I love Mother Russia, so naturally it said: "Calling LeBron James to wish him Merry Christmas." Ho-ho-ho! Elle