Light My Fire

Hello World, And so here we find ourselves at the very utmost tail-end of November, as hard as that might seem to believe. Of course, everyone knows how I do so hate to be an alarmist, but I feel it behooves me to point out that Sunday is already the first Sunday in Advent, and we all know what that means - that is, except the godless communists and KGB agents monitoring my email, whose name is legion, heaven knows. The good news is that after Monday, it's merely a scant 3 weeks until the winter solstice (okay, settle down, all you Druids out there, and don't think I don't know who you are) when we can look forward to the days getting incrementally longer all the time, which I think is a direction we can all rally around. And that goes double for the Druids, I shouldn't wonder. Speaking of directions, there seems to be no rhyme or reason to the weather lately around here, which has been all over the map and back again, so you basically don't know what to expect from one day to the next. It had been pleasant and fairly mild for a long while, and then suddenly it turned to bitterly cold that the poor birds were circulating petitions, and our juvenile delinquent squirrels were organizing protest marches. Around the house, I was wearing so much fleece that the friction alone could have started a fire - and which would not have been an unwelcome consequence by any means, believe me. A week later, it was 70 degrees and people were out in tank tops and flip-flops, which I don't mind saying is not a very appetizing prospect in the sweltering throes of Summer, much less in the middle of November, when even the novelty factor does nothing to improve its lack of appeal. Then 2 days after that, we had snow for Thanksgiving, which you can believe me when I say we were very much NOT thankful for, I can assure you. Frankly, I see no evidence of Affirmed's evil hoof-prints at work behind the scenes here, but I have the feeling that somewhere out there, the Druids are having a great big laugh. Of course, this week was Thanksgiving, and I hope that everyone observed the occasion in whatever they considered the most appropriate way - from the most hide-bound traditionalist to the most outrageously radical - and The Holiday Police notwithstanding. It sometimes happens that nobody is interested in seeing us for the holiday, but perhaps owing to new deodorants and better mouthwash (I already know it's not because we won the Lottery) it turned out we were wanted in 2 different places this time around, and always nice to feel welcome. I was glad to find out that my temp job was closed Thursday and Friday, so we could both have a 4-day weekend to look forward to. After all, that left-over stuffing and pumpkin pie isn't just going to eat itself, you know. Hard on the heels of Tom Turkey, along comes Black Friday ushering in the holiday shopping season in earnest - and if everybody would please get on out there and shop 'til you drop, the President's economic advisers would thank you, I'm sure. Not so fast! After years of out-of-control over-commercialization run amok, there's been a slow but steady Black Friday backlash movement that is gaining traction a bit at a time. Our newspaper has been awash with full-page ads from retailers large and small proudly announcing, in giant type usually reserved for declarations of war, that their stores will be closed on Thanksgiving so all of the employees can enjoy the holiday at home with their families, as it should be. Anyone on FaceBook couldn't help but notice numerous postings for "Black (Screen) Friday," where contrite consumers have pledged to keep their electronic devices and gadgets turned off all day, and not add to the rampant extravagance that has become a hallmark of the weekend. Another worthy idea is one they're calling "Blacktop Friday," where families eschew the high-pressure confines of shopping malls and big-box stores, and instead head outside to round up a game of pickup basketball with friends or relatives. My own personal brainstorm along these lines - and which I am happy to share with a clamoring public - was coming up with "Black Print Friday," which is when I finally get around to recycling the moldy old newspapers that have been taking up space and collecting dust in our attic since who-knows-when. I will not say that the items in question were so old as to be carved with reeds on papyrus, but one front page story was about Thomas Edison inventing the electric light bulb. So I suppose in a roundabout way, it was Edison who was ultimately responsible for the whole Black Friday craziness to start with, although I'll bet he never saw that one coming. But just between you and me and the doorpost, if I was him, I wouldn't turn my back on any Druids, that's for sure. Elle

Early Edition

Hello World, It's actually hard to believe how late in the month it has gotten, heaven knows, when it seems like only yesterday that it was Election Day, and all good citizens had an opportunity to exercise their French fries - although without any Civics classes anymore, probably only the dinosaurs and I even understand what that means at this point. In any case, I headed out to vote with the rest of the mid-term faithful, after several years of using my boycott as an editorial comment on the sorry state of the political landscape that we find ourselves mired in nowadays. The good news was that I was still registered as a legitimate voter recognized by The Empire State, although the poll workers always do seem to have problems finding me in the register book, because apparently the minions they press into service can't alphabetize worth a hill of beans, for some reason. Even better, I managed to use the darned newfangled optical scanners with their ridiculous paper ballots, which the hare-brained nitwits at the Board of Elections consider the height of modern technology, but which seem to me like going backwards in time, to the prehistoric era when cavemen voted with different colored rocks, and I ought to know. And speaking of early, it was at the beginning of last week when I was on the phone with a doctor's office at my new temp job, and I suddenly heard myself blurting out, "Oh good heavens, it's Christmas carols!" Sure enough, among all of the 15 different oldies, jazz, country, adult contemporary, gospel, and talk radio stations in the place, it was the hip-hop channel playing Christmas music at the beginning of November, when Tom Turkey hadn't even pranced through the stuffing and cranberry sauce yet, and the pilgrims were still buckling on their shoes and hats. Now, we've all long since come to realize that things can always be worse, as our beleaguered compatriots in Western New York would heartily agree, as they were pummeled with paralyzing accumulations of snow, usually reserved for the outer planets in the farthest reaches of the solar system. The region was completely immobilized, and there was no possibility of football between the Jets and the Bills that was originally scheduled in Buffalo, when the weather was still normal for this time of year. The Commissioner's office stepped in, and relocated the game to the domed stadium in Detroit, where the biggest problem they would have to worry about would be getting rug burn from the artificial turf, I dare say. Of course, the way things turned out, it would have been just as well if Gang Green had taken on the Bills in 6-feet of snow after all, thanks not. In an interesting coincidence, at exactly the same time, the Rangers and Sabers had their own tilt scheduled in Buffalo, and that also wasn't a happening thing, under the circumstances. Cooler heads prevailed in the NHL, as indeed they should, and the brain trust there flat-out canceled that game, to be made up later in the season, and be done with it. If the dinosaurs and I have learned anything in millions of years of evolution, at least we know you can't fight Mother Nature. Speaking of things with room for improvement, I couldn't help but notice an alarming post on my FaceBook timeline from a colleague, attempting to share an update about an acquaintance suffering from Tourette's Syndrome, which thanks to their computer's handy auto-correct feature, instead came out as "someone with turrets." Gee, I sure hope not! That sounds for all the world like a painful disorder caused by runaway building construction elements, that no amount of telethons could raise enough money to combat. Why, the next thing you know, it will be a bad case of flying buttresses, or even worse, shingles. (GET IT?!) For anyone with way too much time on their hands, and limitless curiosity, and not to mention fearless in the face of opening up countless cans of worms in the name of research, by golly, there's nothing like looking up famous quotes to see who originally said them. It seems that every quote in the world, that you examine through an online search, turns out to be attributed variously to Benjamin Franklin, Abraham Lincoln, Mark Twain or Pliny the Younger. Just for the sake of comic effect, you should try these on for size, and see what kind of results the wonderful World Wide Web comes up with: ========================================= "Records are meant to be broken." "To a man with a hammer, every problem is a nail." "We never stand so tall as when we stoop to help a child." "A church is not a museum for saints, but a hospital for sinners." ========================================= Honestly, it's enough to make grown men weep, and I can tell you that wailing and gnashing of teeth wouldn't be out of the question either. It's no wonder that Yogi Berra always maintained that he never said half of what was laid at his doorstep, and I can see why. And while we're on the subject of words losing their meanings, it reminds me of a major promotion they were touting at the Olive Garden chain of restaurants, known as their "Endless Pasta Bowls," featuring their delectable signature pasta selections with refills for hearty appetites, and keep 'em coming. Earlier in the week, I saw one of their new TV commercials, with this arresting notice: ================== Endless Pasta Bowls Ends Sunday ================== Here it would be safe to say, The Irony Police and I are thinking, I guess those pasta bowls were not so "endless" after all. Well, it only goes to show that all good things must come to an end. (Now I see Abraham Lincoln and Mark Twain over in the corner fighting about who said that first.) So I'll wrap this up, because I really have to hurry off to the doctor. I'm afraid I'm coming down with crenellations, because my parapets are killing me. Elle

Dead or Alive

Hello World, Greetings again from our little corner of Paradise to yours, where we can only hope that the weather is not in any way newsworthy, because in, oh, so many places, it's been so outrageously awful that even a reasonably level-headed individual could be forgiven for wondering if the controls of the Kremlin's infernal weather machine had not been summarily yanked from the clutches of our old nemesis Comrade Mischka, and locked in the steely horseshoe grip of the malevolent spirit of Affirmed instead. Of course, they always do the weather on the news, but when you get to the point that the weather IS the news, that's never a good sign - not to mention, the impending sense of doom that the next thing to be on the lookout for will be raining frogs, plagues of locusts and boils, I shouldn't wonder. Everyone knows that once Halloween has come and gone on October 31st, All Saints Day is next up on November 1st, with scarcely enough time to shoo the ghouls and goblins out of the way, and kick them to the curb, before the time to honor the dearly departed - and here, I'm very much not talking about the evil ghost of Affirmed, I can tell you that. And very suddenly, hard on the heels of that, in fact it was November 2nd when I was coming home from church, that I couldn't help but notice that the local merchants all along the main drag in the Queen City of the Sound, had already put up their Christmas decorations on the lampposts in front of the stores. Now, we've all long since learned that it does no good to complain about holiday-creep, heaven knows, so I won't bother. But like Daylight Saving Time, which is now longer than Standard Time, a person can't help but wonder at what point it would make more sense to just leave the decorations up all year round, rather than starting out two months ahead of time, and trampling over all of the other holidays along the way. Poor old National Pickle Day (November 14) was just one of the many victims in its remorseless path, alas. All Saints Day reminds me that our friends at Disney released a new animated feature called "The Book of Life," based on Dia de los Muertos, a holiday widely celebrated in Mexican culture, paying respect to family, tradition, and zest for life. As part of their merchandising efforts, there was a game based on the movie that you could play on your phone, and it used the same graphics and music that people would recognize from the film, as well as snippets of dialogue in appropriate places during the game. ("Santa Gordita!" gets a big workout when you're doing well at meeting the challenges of the level.) The funny thing is that when you run out of moves, or time, and lose on any of the levels, rather than sad music or wailing like other games, you hear one of the characters from the movie saying, "That poor kid never had a chance." It's probably funnier for people who have actually seen the film. "Santa Chihuahua!" Meanwhile, in other news from the beginning of the month, my first week as a temp at least served to re-establish, if only in my own mind, that I can still demonstrate competency in office tasks, without being an embarrassment to myself, or a hazard to others - and which, I don't mind saying, after a year, the issue was very much in doubt. With that first week under my belt, as it were, I admit that it has given me new hope that I may very well, at long last, rejoin the ranks of productive humanity out in the great wide world, with the tantalizing prospect that the long and dark days as a drag on society could be behind me once and for all. It's a small place, with about 15 employees - although since all 15 of them seem to have their own radios playing loud music all day long, on all different stations at the same time, it does tend to seem a lot noisier than it should be. It will certainly be a simple matter to keep up with pop culture at this rate, and I will never have to wonder what Taylor Swift or Justin Bieber are up to at any given moment, that's for sure. And don't even get me started on the Kardashians, believe me. And speaking of cultural icons, they had a big story in the newspaper recently about NBA superstar LeBron "King" James becoming the new spokesperson for Kia Motors, of all things - because let's face it, they obviously think I'm going to believe that someone whose annual salary is higher than the Gross National Product of 20 different nations is going to be driving a Kia, for real. In any case, they printed a promotional picture of the celebrated hoops wizard standing next to one of their vehicles, and as hard as it might seem to believe, he somehow managed to make a minivan look small in comparison. I guess it's a lucky thing that our friends at National Pickle Day didn't ask him to be their spokesperson instead, because he would have made their product look about the size of a Mexican jumping bean - and after all, if Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers, where's the peck of pickled peppers that Peter Piper picked? Santa Chihuahua! Elle

On The Job

Hello World, Happy November! And so now here we all find ourselves, on the other side of the time-shifting divide, where (they tell me) it's lighter later in the mornings and darker earlier in the afternoons, and we can all just make the best of it, or at least go down swinging. (As a reminder, for anyone who prefers to "vote with their feet" on this cockamamie chronological craziness, Arizona and Hawaii are the two US states that refuse to observe Daylight Saving Time at all, since Indiana and Michigan finally became recent converts to the system after decades of holding its confounded tomfoolery at bay. On the flip side of the coin, the following states have initiatives now to abolish it within their borders altogether: Alaska, Colorado, Florida, Nevada and Tennessee.) To this day, I stand by the promise that my vote goes to whatever President eliminates this nefarious nuisance once and for all, and I also wouldn't rule out the possibility of other favors along the way. After all, I have pretty much an endless supply of poison ivy and cat poop, just looking for a good home, and The White House certainly fits that bill, I dare say. Here is normally where I would be describing my Halloween exploits at work, my costume adventures, and the perils of trick-or-treating around the campus - as we have all come to know and love over the years, like an old worn-out shoe, but not the less welcome for all that. Alas, it was not to be, as fate intervened, in ways that only the immutable fates can, with everything at its disposal, and monkey wrenches were just the beginning of it, believe me. It all started way back in May 2013, with the announcement that the employer of last resort, where I had been working for the past 25 years, had entered into an asset acquisition agreement with a different organization, and we were soundly assured on all sides that "nothing will change." Naturally from that very moment, absolutely everything changed. We were also soundly assured that everyone would keep their jobs, and in fact, the new organization contacted me in October (just before the official take-over on November 6, 2013) and made me an offer to work for them, in the same position that I already had, and I was glad to accept. Not so fast! Two days later, they informed me that they had made a mistake, and not only did my job not exist any longer, but the whole department had been eliminated, thanks not. I didn't want to find myself unemployed and out on the streets for the holidays, so I scrambled to find another position at the new place, which turned out to be a sort of "errand boy" for the various nursing units, but it required working long shifts, weekends, and holidays, with no vacation or days off, and after trying it out for a few months, I had to give it up as a lost cause. In retrospect, I should have realized that under the new management, the ol' House o' Quacks was not going to be the place for me, when I showed up on Halloween in what I thought was a perfectly respectable Christopher Columbus costume, and they summarily ordered me to change my outfit or stay home. Fortunately, I always had plenty of clothes in my office, due to the extreme temperature fluctuations in that ancient rattle-trap of a flea-bag where I worked, so I just pulled something else out of my closet and gave Columbus the old heave-ho. But I still thought that was awfully high-handed on their part, considering that they weren't even taking over control of the place for another week, and here they were, already throwing their weight around, as if keeping the hospital safe from costumes was the biggest crisis they had to focus on. The way things ended up, now I wish I had taken Christopher Columbus home, and gone back to work in my hula girl costume instead, so they could just kiss my grass (skirt.) And how's about them coconuts! After washing out of the Nursing department, my plan was to work as a temp until I found something else, but once again, fate had other ideas - and it turned out the joke was really on me, because there weren't any temp jobs to be had, even though I had signed up with half a dozen agencies, including the very biggest in the industry. In the interim, I did some volunteer work, went on interviews, and did some odd jobs here and there, but mostly just puttered around the house and got in everyone's hair, so that even the cats would flee at the sight of me. It has taken until just now for something to finally open up, and at long last, I can return to being a productive member of society once again, instead of a drain on the economy, at least temporarily. But since I wasn't working at the time, I had no reason for a Halloween costume, and it was disappointing to give up a cherished tradition that had brought so much joy and laughter over the years - and not to mention, a colorful parade of gangsters, popes, gypsies, jesters, rag dolls, pirates, witches, and pop culture icons from every shade of the spectrum, and then some. I had an idea to go back to the hospital on Friday for old time's sake, dressed up as an Ebola germ, but I figured that with the new ownership there, they would probably just shoot me on sight. Anyone in the local area can tell you that Halloween favored us with wonderful fall weather on a beautiful day, and also being on a Friday, I was expecting great things, unlike recent years when it has often turned into a lot of effort for fairly dismal results. It started bright and early at the stroke of 6:00 PM, while it was still light out, with the littlest ones in all their adorableness, so that you basically just want to eat them right up - and that goes double for the baby zebra, I can assure you. Even early on, it became apparent that the cast of characters from the animated Disney film "Frozen" would be the costume of choice, and I had more Princess Elsa's than I could shake a proverbial stick at - not that I wanted to shake any, but there you have it. Another running theme was costume accessory fall-out (a Simba with no mane, Minnie Mouse with no ears, Princess Anna without her wig, and witches with no pointy hats) as the tykes simply refused to keep their outfits intact, and their parents were left holding the spare parts instead. I don't mind saying that the father of the wig-less Princess Anna, who elected to wear her wig himself rather than carry it for her, got extra points from me. It was all over by 8:45 PM, without even the older youngsters straggling in later with their football uniforms, or no costumes at all, as they often do, especially in fine weather. All told, there were 7 princesses and 6 witches, but only one vampire, one wizard, one clown and one cupcake. Among the animal kingdom, I had 3 cats, as well as Minnie Mouse and Simba, plus a bunny, pig, giraffe, cheetah, parrot and that adorable baby zebra. There were also 2 hippies, a gladiator, a cyclops, a skeleton, a painter, Spanish dancer, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle, Captain America, and not to mention, both Red Riding Hood and Robin Hood, along with his proverbial barn, I shouldn't wonder. At the end, the grand total was 42, which is the worst I can ever remember, since the events of 9/11 in 2001 - except for those times when the weather was a factor, in 2009 when it rained the whole time, and Hurricane Sandy in 2012. It's all too easy to become discouraged, heaven knows, but fortunately I'm made of sterner stuff, and I'm determined that both Halloween and I will come roaring back next year, bigger and better than ever, in spite of whatever untold obstacles The Fates may choose to fling in my path - and that's not just the fun-size candy bars talking, believe me. Elle

Out Of This World

Hello World, Happy Halloween! We certainly have reached that time of year that challenges ad writers, sign makers, and special event planners everywhere, as they do their best to entice us with their "spooktacular" savings, specialty "sandwitches," or holiday "skull-ebrations." It's another of those seasonal opportunities to break out, or dredge up, every lame pun, metaphor, cliche, colloquialism, aphorism or play on words under the sun - not to mention, some of the most trite and hackneyed phrases that haven't actually seen the light of day since the solar system was still in its infancy, I dare say. Fortunately for those of us affronted by this frightful assault on the English language, the jack-o'lanterns and goblins are all too soon steam-rolled by the jolly old elf himself, and in fact, when we went to the supermarket to buy our Halloween treats, the aisles were already awash in reindeers, snowmen and holly berries, with plenty of ho-ho-ho to go around. I don't mind saying that we found it pretty "spooktacular," and that's not just the candy canes talking, believe me. Speaking of Halloween, the Cinderella story of sports would have been a win for the plucky Royals in their first appearance in the Fall Classic in 30 years, but alas, it was too much for them to overcome the Giants, and they lost a heartbreaker in the 7th game. This is nothing new for the Bay Area, as their team has won it all in 2010, 2012 and 2014, although this series was no blowout like the previous two. Any time a series goes all seven games, it's a testament to both teams, and a pity that only one of them can take home the trophy. Of course, we have all long since come to accept the immutable fact that things can always be worse, and as much as we might feel sorry for our baseball brothers and sisters in Kansas City, theirs is hardly the longest streak of disappointment - in fact, it's actually the shortest of all active teams. Among teams that have won the World Series at least once, the longest droughts are Chicago Cubs (1908), Cleveland Indians (1948), Pittsburgh Pirates (1979), Baltimore Orioles (1983), Detroit Tigers (1984), and the Royals in 1985. "But wait, there's more!" as they always say in late night TV infomercials. Even worse than the longest droughts, there are 8 teams now who have never won the World Series in the entire existence of the franchise - and some of which have actually been different teams in different cities previously, and others of which have actually played in both the American League and the National League, and still haven't won: Colorado Rockies, Houston Astros, Milwaukee Brewers, San Diego Padres, Seattle Mariners, Tampa Bay Rays, Texas Rangers, and Washington Nationals. And yes, even worse still - the hapless Seattle Mariners have never even BEEN to the World Series since the team was founded in 1977, or perhaps "foundered" would be the better term, under the circumstances. In any case, hats off to the Giants, and their city by the bay, where generations of crooners have been known to leave their hearts, with the little cable cars that climb halfway to the stars, and the morning fog may chill the air, I don't care. Also on the subject of Halloween, it's entirely possible that normal people don't go out and buy way too much candy for trick-or-treaters, but admittedly, I wouldn't know anything about what normal people do. It's also entirely possible that normal people don't just sit down and eat all of their left-over Halloween goodies, or bring them in to work, where the vultures pounce on them like concentration camp survivors who haven't seen any food in a year. As I said, I can't answer for normal people, so I don't know if left-over Halloween candy is a universal conundrum, or just a trick question. (It reminds me of a cartoon where a Martha Stewart-type expert was explaining different uses for left-over wine, while her perplexed audience was wondering en masse: "What's left-over wine?" At our house, that would be like worrying about left-over Twinkies - I don't think so!) But in the event that this problem is bedeviling you, who should step in to the rescue, but Mrs. Green's Natural Markets, who sent out the following email earlier in the week - ================================== Trick or Trade! Donate Your Candy. Support Our Troops. Mrs. Green's is supporting our troops! For every pound of candy you bring to a Mrs. Green's store, we will donate $1 to the Wounded Warrior Project and the candy will go to our troops. =================================== Now THAT'S the kind of military maneuvers that I could really sink my teeth into, and that's not just a lot of Snickers and candy corn, believe me. And speaking of maneuvers, of course this Sunday we'll be hot-footing it around as always, with the twice-annual time turning trot, as we switch back to Standard Time from Daylight Saving Time - and I certainly hope that all of you out there were assiduous in your saving daylight efforts during that period, so that this was not just a whole lot of folderol for nothing. In some ways, it's better than it has been in recent years around the house, as more of our technological gadgets have become capable of resetting the time on their own, thank heaven, while some other equipment already comes with a handy feature that changes it forward or backward at the touch of a button, rather than having to push it through sixty minutes manually. I have a completely different solution in the car, where I find the clock a little too complicated for my tastes, so I leave it on Standard Time year round, and simply ignore whatever it says for 8 months until the time change rolls around, and it's back to being at the same time as the rest of humanity once again. I'm thinking this is what our old friends the Druids would call "re-in-car-nation" all over again, although right now I'm guessing by the unseemly guffaws from the dinosaurs in The Peanut Gallery, that would probably be laying it on way too thick. In other news, courtesy of our friends at City Images, the site for all things City Island on the local scene (and please do feel free to go ahead and visit their web site at CImages.me and see for yourself) I couldn't help but notice this arresting post from last week on their Twitter feed: ================================== An amazing overseas journey took me to PRC where the Peoples Republic of China blocks Twitter, Facebook and Goggle ================================== Now, first of all, if you're going to give your company a name that isn't a real word, like "Google," you can't be surprised when people get it wrong, especially if they (or perhaps their over-zealous auto-correct features) change it to something like "goggle," which actually is a real word. But in the second place, it suddenly hit me like the proverbial bolt out of the blue, that when the technology giant announced the invention of their wearable communications device, amid exorbitant hoopla and fanfare, what they really should have done rather than calling it the prosaically humdrum "Google Glass," would be to name it "Google Goggles" instead. Okay, I admit that I'm well-known for being easily amused, but I think that would have been hilarious. Of course, for Halloween, they would have to call them "ghoul-gles," I guess - or at least, out on the West "Ghost." I would say it was a brave "boo" world, but let's face it, that would be "pun-bearable," after all. Elle