Watch out for sharks and lip-sticked pigs

Just when you think it’s safe to tune in to the ballpark, there’s blood in the water. I’ve been encouraged by the young, re-made Twins squad and their recent streak of competency and even excellence. Watching the extra-inning victory over the Astros Tuesday was the most fun I’d had watching a Twins game in I don’t know how long. But you might as well have cued the throbbing cellos and shark’s-eye POV as the door to the bullpen opened last night (dunh dunh dunh dunh dunh dunh duh) and out stepped Kyle Lohse, with the same look on his face as if he were being asked to test out the new shark cage. “Fare well and adieu, you fine Spanish ladies…”

Or as Goober, pinch-hitting for Batgirl, wrote

And that was that. The game was over, of course, from the second Kyle walked onto the field. The sucking followed him like a giant cloud; you could barely see him through the plumes of sucking. Viewers throughout the five state area were slapping the sides of their TVs trying to clear up the sucking on their sets. And the problem is especially bad in Houston — a town that knows how to work with sucking. They know that if you paint lipstick on a pig, there are some who might say, “that’s a dang attractive pig. Turns out I enjoy seeing lipstick on a pig. Indeed, I might like to put the innovators who lipsticked that pig up on the front page of my magazine. And perhaps those very same innovators might like to contribute to my opera hall and planetarium.”

Great Houston/Enron tie-in there, Goober, though in fairness to Lohse, he hasn’t stolen nearly as much money from the Twins as Kenneth Lay, et al, took from their former employees and stockholders. That is, however, the last bit of grace I’m going to extend to Kyle Lohse. I’ve had my fingers crossed for so long regarding him that they’re numb and gangrenous. The Twins are going to have to put a lot of lipstick on Lohse now to find someone who will take him off their hands.

“H” stands for heart; something he’s distinctly lacking. Drop that letter from Kyle’s last name and what does it spell?

Lose.

Massachusetts senator offended by Fluffernutter

When I saw this story I naturally thought of one Massachusetts senator in particular who perhaps thought the Fluffernutter reference was aimed at him (and you’d have to have really bad aim to miss him).

Actually, it turns out it is a dispute in the state legislature as one state senator has proposed a bill limiting how often the popular Fluffernutter (Fluff marshmallow creme and peanut butter) sandwiches can be featured in public school lunches. Strong feelings abound, as another senator has countered with a proposal to make the Fluffernutter the official sandwich of the commonwealth.

Fluffernutter. Made of marshmallow creme and peanut butter. Maybe they are talking about Teddy after all. Senator Fluffernutter: I like the sound of that.

Long waits for pizza satisfaction

Here’s another short post, but what do you expect? Today is the longest DAY of the year. I am the NIGHT writer. I have very little time today, and just venturing this post now is already hurting my eyes.

Anyway, Peter Welle has a story about finally redeeming his Papa Murphy’s punchcard for a free pizza (“perhaps the greatest single delight known to man”). He’d only been working on that card since 2001.

Personally, I’m just one more lunch buffet visit to Old Chicago short of my own free ‘za fest (so close I can almost taste it, you might say) … but I’ve held that status for about seven months now, ever since my pizza-partner and liberal foil, the Beast From the East, moved to Texas (when I heard Dick Cheney had shot someone while he was in Texas, I initially thought it had to have been the Beast). I hate to buffet by myself because I need a “sponsor” to keep me from going overboard.

Anyway, Peter’s long wait and my own deferred gratification both pale in comparison to the 25+ year interval between the times I could enjoy my all-time favorite pizza. That would be a Noble Roman’s Sicilian Deep Dish pizza, which was a staple of my teen years when I lived in Indianapolis. Zesty, cheesy, perfect in every way except that Noble Roman’s is a chain with very few links. A few years ago, however, I was back in Indy on business and I was delighted to see a Noble Roman’s near where I was staying.

With excitement and some trepidation (how might things have changed in the long interval?) I called in an order and went to pick it up. Oh, the smells as I walked into the place! Barely able to contain myself, I quivered in anticipation as the sweet young thing behind the counter fetched my distinctive box and brought it to me with a big smile.

“Ah,” I said, “I can’t wait. I haven’t had one of these Sicilian Deep Dish pizzas in 25 years!”

“Really?” she said (or, more accurately, “Ree-allly?”) “Where have you been?”

I was suddenly possessed by deviltry. Without pausing a beat I just looked at her and matter-of-factly said, “Prison.”

Omigaw, I thought her retainer was going to fall out as her jaw and eyebrows went in opposite directions. Boy, did I get my change back really fast! Which was okay, because it allowed me to get the reunion started that much quicker.

It was every bit as good as I remembered, too!

Ship-shape in Duluth

One of my favorite sites to browse around in is the Duluth Shipping News. I stop in from time to time to see what ships are in port and to enjoy the photos and often off-beat reporting on events in and around the Duluth harbor, as offered by Ken Newhams.

Newhams is an excellent photographer who has given his digital camera quite a workout over the past few years. Browsing his photos, such as the one below, is the next best thing to making a run up to the North Shore (except I don’t get to stop at Tobie’s for cinnamon rolls). Besides the current events you can view his photo archives (many images are for sale) and special slide shows going back to 1997 and even listen to a sound-file of the Duluth foghorn or the sound of an ice-breaker breaking ice in the harbor.


Photo by Ken Newhams, Duluth Shipping News

When I visited today, however, I noticed Ken’s account of his recent surgery for prostate cancer. I’m happy to report that he appears to be doing well and is in good spirits and back to posting after a short hiatus. Take an electronic trip to Duluth and check this site out; but keep an eye out for the seagulls!

So you want to be a sitcom star

“Hey, Da-ad, you got tagged!” quoth the Mall Diva last night from her perch in front of the computer.

I didn’t remember being hit with a tranquilizer dart, and I wasn’t wearing a radio collar, so I deduced she meant I’d been memed. “Who got me?” I asked, as my mind pondered the list of usual suspects (was it Keyser Soze?) and what revealing information I’d have to cough up.

“Yucky Salad with Bones.”

Oh! One of our faves. “Katie? Katie even knows I exist?”

“Apparently. What sitcom character do you wish you were?”

What in the name of Charles-Burrows-Charles? With the Mall Diva around, my life is more like a reality show. Hmmm, this was going to call for a trip in the Way-Back Machine, since I don’t know any of the current batch of sitcoms, and “recent” to me means Friends, which I never saw an entire episode of from start to finish, and Seinfeld which I only saw a handful of shows. Not much to go on there, so go back to the Golden Age of pre-cable television; back to Barney Miller, Cheers, Wings, M*A*S*H, Taxi and All in the Family.

Cliff or Normie? No, too close to real life.

Mork? Nanu, nanu, but no. With the red suit someone might think I was an out-of-season St. Paul Vulcan and arrest me. Also, way too much energy expenditure.

Basil Fawlty? Ah, good one — but nothing ever turned out well for him.

How about Rob Petrie: he’s a writer and has a really hot wife. Nah, that’s too close to real life as well. Same for Cliff Huxtable, and I’ve got that wise dad thing all covered, too.

Oh, I know: Thomas Magnum! He got to drive a Ferrari that someone else paid the insurance on, lived in Hawaii and had buns of steel (as opposed to my buns of double-ought lead buckshot) and was the only person in the world who didn’t look ridiculous in a Hawaiian shirt. Wait; not a sitcom.

I’ve got it! I want to be Bob Newhart!

It doesn’t matter which of his shows, since he was always Bob Newhart. I just love that guy’s sense of humor and deadpan, it’s-what-is-not-said-that’s-so-funny delivery. He was also always kind of like a cork that stayed on top of the waves no matter what, and he was at the center of my all-time, laugh-until-you-cry-and-fall-off-the-couch-out-of-breath funniest scene that I ever saw on television. That came at the end of the last episode of Newhart (the series where Bob owned a New England inn) where Bob goes to bed with his “wife” Mary Frann and wakes up in bed on the set of the old Bob Newhart Show with Suzanne Pleshette: the whole Newhart series was just a dream! Absolutely inspired!

Plus, Bob was always just an average-looking guy with a hot wife. I’m not giving that up!

The rules of the meme are that I get to tag three others, so I tag Surly Dave (and Iron Chef is not a sitcom), Cathy in the Wright, and Jeff at Peace Like a River (and no, you can’t be Jack Bauer because that show isn’t a sitcom, it’s science fiction).

Update:

Jeff offers his answer in the comments below.

Surly Dave wishes he were an illegal alien here.

Update:

Cathy in the Wright has completed her assignment. I almost said finally completed her assignment, but then her nose started to twitch so I backed off.

Challenging Word of the WeeK: nescience

Nescience
(NESH uns, -ee, uns) noun

Nescience is ignorance, lack of knowledge. It comes from Late Latin nescientia, based on the prefix ne- (not) plus Latin scienta (knowledge), which gave us our noun science. Nescience is one of a group of words composed of a prefix plus –science; omniscience (om NISH uns — universal knowledge); prescience (PREE shee uns, -shuns, PRESH ee uns, PRESH uns — foreknowledge). All these words have related adjectives: nescient (ignorant), omniscient (all-knowing), prescient (clairvoyant, prophetic). It is the nescience of the masses that permits the rise of demagogues. In Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar (Act 1, Scene 1), the Tribune Marullus, disgusted with the nescient common throng, calls them “You blocks, you stones, you worse than senseless things…” In these days when reading has so much given way to sitting in front of the boob tube (awake or asleep), nescience is fast becoming epidemic.

My example: Pardon me if I borrow from Will Shakespeare, but I think it would be fitting for the Tribune Marullus to address the nescience of the StarTribune’s editorial staff: “You blocks, you stones, you worse than senseless things…” Actually, we perhaps need a new word. If omniscient means all-knowing, then couldn’t omnescient refer to people who just think they know it all?

From the book, “1000 Most Challenging Words” by Norman W. Schur, ©1987 by the Ballantine Reference Library, Random House. I post a weekly “Challenging Words” definition to call more attention to this delightful book and to promote interesting word usage in the blogosphere. I challenge other bloggers to work the current word into a post sometime in the coming week. If you manage to do so, please leave a comment or a link to where I can find it. Previous words in this series can be found under the appropriate Category heading in the right-hand sidebar.

Update:

MBMc at Port McClellan offers What Is You, Nescient?.

Things that go “Huh?” in the Night

Bogus Doug is traveling with his family, including sharing a hotel room with his kids. Having just completed a long trip that included many nights where my wife and I shared a room with our kids, I have learned some interesting things. Such as:

1. Tiger Lilly growls in her sleep. (Really! It was “Grrrrrr” – breathe – “Grrrr” – breathe – “Grrrr”; kind of scary actually, especially since a remake of “The Omen” is out now).

2. The Mall Diva talks in her sleep. And I mean really talks: fully formed sentences, each word clearly enunciated. The statements are completely off the wall, of course, but I guess it’s harmless as long as she doesn’t start using her cell phone in her sleep as well.

Actually, we’ve known about this Diva trait for some time, ever since she was about five years old and got to sleep in the big bed with my wife once while I was out of town. Everything was fine until about 4:00 in the morning when my little one suddenly said, very matter-of-factly, “I need $9,000.”

Needless to say, my wife did NOT go back to sleep after that one.

Filings: The Awakening

A childhood memory: waking up in the pre-dawn winter hours to the muffled thrumming of my father’s car warming up in the driveway. In my mind I can picture the clouds of crystalline exhaust illuminated by the back porch light. I would lie snug in my bed and listen to the sounds of my father preparing to go to work: his step (the heaviest in the house) in the hallway, the jingle of the dozen or so keys on the big ring on his belt, the clink of a coffee cup being set down on the counter; finally the closing of the back door to mark his passing. It was familiar and unremarkable, and I would go back to sleep.

When I awoke again my mind was filled with my own thoughts and plans for the day. In this time my father owned his own business and was rarely home for supper. My brother and sister and I would eat with our mother, and go about our evening routine. I would often be in bed again when I heard him return. There would be the sounds of my mother frying him a steak, and of talking; their voices distinct, but not the words. Sometimes the tone was obviously my mother reciting the sins of the day, and if they were heinous enough, we would be summoned from our beds for the promised retribution of When Our Father Gets Home.

As a father now myself, I understand how this had to have been as unpleasant for him as it was for us.

During this time our father was a seldom seen force in our lives, operating outside our understanding, toward ends unknown. We would see him mostly on Sundays, and there was a feeling of awkwardness as if none of us were quite certain about how we should act. And yet there was always food on the table, a comfortable house, and clothes for every season, even though we gave little thought, or saw little connection, to how these things came to be.

It wasn’t until I was 11 or 12 and old enough to go to work with my father that I really started to get to know him, and learn what a just and wonderful man he was. I admit he never seemed to be at a loss for things for me to do: pick up rocks and litter, sweep the drive, clean the restrooms for the rest of the workers and the guests. As I learned more about how to please him, my responsibilities and privileges grew. I came to know the special feeling of joining him in the early morning while everyone else was asleep as we got ready to go to “our” work.

I realize that not everyone has had that kind of relationship with their father. There are men I’ve come to know well who I have ministered with who have horrific tales of growing up with their fathers – if the father was even around at all. But let me tell you something I have learned: the way I got to know my father is very similar to the way that I came to know God the Father.

In my early days, God, like my father, was an unseen presence operating just at the edge of my senses. I knew He was out there, but I didn’t know the connection between Him and the blessings in my life. My family would take me to church on Sunday, but just like with my own father, this was strange and uncomfortable, and I wasn’t really sure how I was supposed to act.

I’d hear the sermons and see God as some Great Hairy Thunderer, appearing suddenly to mete out some punishment and then disappearing until the next time, just like my father did when we had to get out of bed those times. Looking at it now, I see how much like a priest or minister my mother was. She was the contact between us kids and my dad, giving us a picture of him as she communicated his rules and assignments, waiting on him in the hours when we were asleep and oblivious. I knew of him, but I didn’t have a personal relationship with him until I began to align myself with the things that were important to him – in the same way my personal relationship with God developed.

And just like starting out with my father, I started out with God by doing the little things. Picking up, helping out, cleaning toilets. As I learned – and continue to learn – how to please Him, my responsibilties have also grown (though there are still opportunities to pick up, help out and clean toilets).

When I was a child, it never occurred to me that my father ever thought of me during the day or into those long night hours. Now I understand that what he did he did for me and my brother and sister, so that we could have security and an education and the things he thought we needed to be successful in our lives, whether we noticed or understood his sacrifice or not. I have peace knowing that the decisions he made were, if not always the best, were always his best.

Likewise it never occurred to me that God ever thought of me, or had a plan for me. How he must have waited in anticipation for me to recognize the sacrifice He made for me, the gifts he gave me, the security He gave me, the future He gave me. Ultimately, the job He gave me.

And while He has shown me how my relationship with Him and with my father have been similar, I know that His plan for me was unchanged, regardless of what my father did or didn’t do. Perhaps my childhood experiences were better than some people’s and worse than some others. I could ask, “Where would I be today if I had grown up with a father like one of the men I mentioned earlier had? Where would he be today if he had had my father? Somehow or another I think we’d be exactly where we both are today, side by side, doing what we’re doing, not in spite of our fathers but because of Our Father Who Art in Heaven.

Don’t let bitterness, anger or frustration at what you had or didn’t have growing up hold you back from what God has – even if (especially if) your natural father is long dead. Don’t say, “Well, he made me this way,” when He has made you to be the light of the world. God the Father has a plan for each of us, something to impart to us, and something for us to impart to those coming after us. Listen for His footsteps, watch for His blessings, get up early in the morning and meet Him. There is much work to be done.

One ringy-dingy

I finally got a new cell phone. It came just a few days before we left for England so I haven’t had a lot of time to get used to it. In fact, after the long break I wasn’t even sure what an incoming call sounded like.

The other evening though, as I was walking across Hennepin Avenue after work, this funky, salsa-style tune starts chirping from somewhere. I half-roll my eyes at the small group of strangers crossing the street with me, wondering who would have such an annoying ring-tone. After noticing that no one was fumbling for their phone I realized the tune was coming from my own briefcase. Oh. Well. Let’s bailar!

I’m of the opinion that musical cellphone ringtones are like farts: a necessary and important function, but they ought to be as unobtrusive as possible when out in public. And never in church.

Yes, technology is a wonderful thing and people should be congratulated for their cleverness in pushing the creative envelope and developing new revenue streams for Verizon and T-Mobile and any other consolidation survivors out there, but, like flatulence, there are narrow windows of appropriateness. When you’re by yourself, feel free to curl the wallpaper if you must, or indulge in the ringtone equivalent: a few bars of “Who Let the Dogs Out.” When you’re in public though, please have a little consideration and self-control; if not out of respect for others, at least for yourself. Sure, you might like the song “It’s Hard Out Here for a Pimp”, but if you were one of those people next to me on Hennepin Avenue the other day and I heard that come out of your phone I might feel compelled to call the police (not that you’d have much to worry about with Amy Klobuchar in office).

Something else this reminds me of is when telephone answering machines first came out. Everyone wanted to play with this new toy and show off their creativity by creating a two-minute poetic rambling just to say “leave a message,” or else gave in to the preciousness of letting their three-year-old record the nearly unintelligble message. (If you were one of those who did this and were wondering who all the hang-up calls were coming from, it was me.) Similarly, today it’s hard to resist the temptation to be cute. While it might be funny the first twenty or thirty times I receive a call from my daughter to the tune of “Girls Just Want to Have Fun” (or for her to get a call from me with the lyrics from “Papa Don’t Preach”) the novelty will soon wear off, leaving those in the vicinity to wonder about my home life.

It amazes me how people who would never dream of having a bumper sticker on their car are readily downloading musical ringtones that say just as much about them to total strangers (hmmm, I wonder what’s the ringtone equivalent of “What Would Wellstone Do?”) I don’t want to dismiss this phenomenon entirely, though. I think there is a useful application that the developers are so far missing: Monty Python snippets.

For example, if they mayor ever got my cell phone number it would be handy to hear, “Hello, I’d like to have an argument, please” whenever he rang me up. Or, “Four hours to bury a cat?” when my boss called. All other general purpose calls could be simply, and briefly, announced with, “Nee!”

I think I’ll suggest this to the bright boys and girls developing these things. I only hope that doing so won’t take too much time away from their efforts to find a cure for cancer.

Challenging Word of the WeeK: meliorism

Meliorism
(MEEL yuh riz um, MEE lee uh-) noun

Meliorism is the belief that everything tends to get better and better. One who lives by this doctrine is a meliorist (MEEL yuh rist, MEE lee uh-). These words are derived from Latin melior (better), the comparitive of bonus (good). The superlative is optimus (best), which gave us optimism and optimist. It may be hard to find much difference between the attitudes of meliorists and optimists, but the English novelist George Eliot (1819-1880) did find a shade of difference: The English poet A.E. Housman (1859-1936) wrote, in an autobiographical note: “I am not a pessimist but a pejorist (as George Eliot said she was not an optimist but a meliorist)…” In Latin, pejor means “worse” and pessimus means “worst.” A pejorist (whose doctrine is known as pejorism) believes that everything is getting worse; a pessimist thinks that it’s all going to be as bad as possible: superlatively bad, shall we say, in this atomic age? In any event, George Eliot thought that the world was going to get better – but not as good as possible; and that is the fine difference between meliorism and optimism. Other words from melior are ameliorate (uh MEEL yuh rate, -ee uh-), to improve; amelioration (uh meel yuh RAY shun), improvement generally, but with a special use in linguistics: semantic change to a better, i.e., more favorable meaning, the way Okie, once a pejorative term for a migrant farm worker, usually from Oklahoma, became merely a colloquial nickname for any Oklahoman, and exactly opposite to the way egregious (from Latin egregius, extraordinary, preeminent, based on prefix e-, out of, plus grege, a form of grex, herd, i.e., out of the herd) changed from preeminent to glaring, flagrant, notorious, as in an egregious blunder. But caution: meliority (meel YOR ih tee, mee lee OR-) hs nothing to do with attitudes about which way the world is moving; it is only an uncommon synonym for superiority.

My example: The death of Al-Zarqawi inspired meliorism in almost everyone except the media, members of the Democratic Party leadership and other professional pejorists.

From the book, “1000 Most Challenging Words” by Norman W. Schur, ©1987 by the Ballantine Reference Library, Random House. I post a weekly “Challenging Words” definition to call more attention to this delightful book and to promote interesting word usage in the blogosphere. I challenge other bloggers to work the current word into a post sometime in the coming week. If you manage to do so, please leave a comment or a link to where I can find it. Previous words in this series can be found under the appropriate Category heading in the right-hand sidebar.