Monday, June 29, 2009

Popular culture bravely struggles on.

There are some personalities whose monumental artistry propels them beyond the shallow tinsel and sham of the world of show business and into a kind of timeless Meta-realm where they hover weightless and transcendent above the sordid squalor of our humdrum lives, radiating an ineffable aura of order and beauty. That's a 50 word sentence, my friends, and if an accomplishment like that needs any actual purpose, let it be in memory of Gale Storm. Talk about eternal youth – she recorded Teenage Prayer when she was 34 years old. Our thoughts are with her family at this difficult time.

Monday, June 22, 2009

Livin' large

What is it about big stuff? In Cleveland, Ohio, they're stuck with a real big rubber stamp lying on the lawn. Some rich guy bought it, then left it behind like paper clips in a desk drawer. Don't forget the big watering can in Utica, New York. My August 11, 2008 rant about it is the best piece of writing ever by a carbon-based biped. There's a Big Pencil in front of an office supply store in Wytheville, Virginia. So we're told. But what if it is actual size, and we're a lot smaller than we've been led to believe?

Monday, June 15, 2009

Again with the oil-based rant

Some vehicles are made without grease fittings, and advertised as “lubricated for life.” It's a short life – they wear out real quick. That's OK, though. The replacement parts come with grease fittings. My theory is the phrase “maintenance-free” means “you cannot fix this, throw it away and buy a new one.” An unrelated item: You buy a big bulky bag of raw food and cart it home. Heat up a little oil in a pan, empty the bag into it, cook it for awhile. What do you get? About a handful of finished product. Spinach is the opposite of popcorn.

Monday, June 8, 2009

Wait -- hot oil what?

The fact that I can spew out a 100 word rant every Monday morning like clockwork while still maintaining a dizzyingly refined literary standard is testament to an almost crippling talent. It may look easy, but it's a high-wire act, a thrill ride, the adrenal equivalent of ladies' hot oil wrestling with a crazed banjo soundtrack. Yet, there are those who would criticize – nitpickers with nothing better to do than count the words and then disturb my post-rant torpor with their niggling questions. You think I shorted you? You want more words? I got two for you right here.

Monday, June 1, 2009


The word “believe” can be ambiguous. When I say, “I don't believe in unicorns,” you know what I mean. And it's the not the same meaning as when I say, “I don't believe in dishwashers.” I know there are dishwashers. I just think they're silly and wasteful anywhere but a commercial kitchen, and I refuse to make use of one. Using the word the same way, some people don't believe in fluoridated water, or motorcycle helmets. They know those things exist. I wish I was sure what I meant when I say I don't believe in God.