Pomp and Circumstantial Evidence

As the school year closes, I am reminded of the number of graduation cermonies currently taking place and the increase in number of cars clogging my cities' arteries. I am sitting in my car in congested traffic wondering if they could come up with a wonder drug, like Lipitor, to clean up this mess. That's when pomp and circumstance came to mind. Just when did we ever equate pomp and circumstance with graduation? Probably the same guy who was crazy enough to first eat a lobster! I wonder if he started gnawing on a hedgehog or scorpion, and decided that lobster was more attractive. Probably a caveman version of Jackass, the movie. Now back to my original point, what is a pomp anyway? Sounds like a hooker's manager. At least, it would explain "circumstance."

Why do we mark the occasion of a graduation anyway? It's not like there won't be other challenges in life. Almost like giving a false sense of accomplishment when you realize, you've got a long way to go. .

• kissing up to the boss
• falsifying the Enron-esque statements
• serving your time
• sleeping with the neighbor's wife
• sleeping with the neighbor's dog
• sleeping with the neighbors's dog of a wife
• sleeping with the neighbor's wife of a dog
• spending your Saturday's in AA
• pledging your assets for $0.30 on the dollar for bail
• listening to your neighbor about how he has it so bad

. . .to obtain that enriching life that you so much sought after. Of course, you could while away your time keeping your sanity talking about the good old days of innocence and graduation by spending time on a blog.

Remember: Graduation is the beginning of your life. Just imagine those deadbeats who never made it that far, like Steve Jobs.

Peace.

Door Etiquette

Since I was brought up to be somewhat of a gentleman, I will usually open and hold the door for a woman to enter a room or building. I assume the gentlemanliness of this act is derived from the principle of "ladies first". However, the act of opening the door has the added benefit of relieving the woman of the effort of moving the door. This of course raises the question in my mind - what to do with a revolving door.

If the woman precedes a man into a revolving door, the man has followed the ladies first principle to the letter. The woman, though, has then been burdened with the bulk of the effort of moving the door forward. However, should the man precede the woman into the revolving door, thus sparing her some of the effort of moving the door, he has ignored the doctrine of ladies first. So I ask you, which is more gentlemanly with regard to a revolving door: the man first or the woman first?

I posed this question to a female friend that I hold in the highest regard figuring she could provide some guidance. My question wasn't answered but I did sense that she thought psychiatric help may be in order for me. Naturally I now turn to the blogging world for answers. If only we had some readers.

Stir Fired Condoleeza Rice

Ever notice that there are some favorite (or favourite) words? I prefer "persnickety", "eucalyptus", "centrifugal" and wwho could forget the perennial favorite, "jambalaya". Go ahead, and say it, it does feel good.

One Year Anniversary!

On March 31, 2005 the first entry was posted on this blog. The impact it has had on blogdom is immeasurable - largely because the impact is something akin to none. Just the same, this should be the cause of some sort of celebration. Well, maybe celebration is too strong of a word. Perhaps an acknowledgement is in order.

Our first comment appeared almost immediately from someone who now goes by Katy. I don't know who this Katy is but she only commented once and her name has changed a time or two since then. I think Mr. Huge should post a comment on her blog just as a thank you for her input, which was as follows: "Lots of pressure, unh?".

Then there is echotig. She was a frequent commenter in the middle months of this particular publication and one who even caused MH2U to fawn all over her while commenting on her blog. For obvious reasons she has abandoned reading our blog.

There was also this guy named Monkey. He was hired and fired as a "consultant" in the span of about a week. I believe both his hiring and firing were self inflicted.

And now we are left with 2 bored authors and a readership that is non-existent. Please stay tuned to this website during year 2. We might actually post something. Or not. Who really cares anyway.

Ed Farmer's Almanac

I'm sure you've heard about the snow storm that is blanketing the east coast. This made me wonder about the farmer's almanac, and all those predictions. Years ago, presumably, Farmers would rely heavily on what was contained in the almanac. But who creates these weather predictions anyway. Just like the groundhog's shadow. Who came up with the idea in the first place? Besides, just because either predicts a cold winter or vice versa, how do they know what the weather will be in your locale? Just seems ridiculous that anyone would even refer to either one even for entertainment value. Just how entertaining is it to pick up a rodent and shake him in front of a national audience for laughs? Sorry for venting, but now I need to go see Andi Macdowell while you dream of Andy Van Slyke or is it Sam MacDowell. Happy Groundhogs day, you vermint!

Another Conundrum

Yesterday, Antonio Davis of the New York Knicks charged into the stands when he observed his wife in an argument with a neighboring fan. This has created quite a clamor on the sports radio airwaves today with the general consensus being that it was an honorable act he performed - but he should be suspended anyway. And he was, for five games. Given the circumstances, I think the suspension was a tad excessive. However, I do think he should be forced to pay full price for a game ticket ($90 where he was) and fork over $5 for that beer he snuck from the Miller Lite vendor.

Colorado, here we come

I had a rocky relationship with an old flame, but boy did she have a nice set of mountains. She asked me out for breakfast, and guess what? I had a Denver Omelette. She then asked if I wanted to get back together, and instead of Spring-ing to attention, I just responded: Boulder-dash!

How much for that Santa in the window?

Ok. So the commercialization of Christmas has been repeatedly reported, and this is another feeble attempt at another perspective. Why is it that retailers choose this time of the year to cash in on what was originally supposed to be a celebration of the birth of Jesus? (By the way, I'm also referring to the Mexican pronounciation for Jesus to not offend those who can't speak correctly). Just when did we begin to realize that we HAD to buy a tree with embedded lights in the branches, and HAD to spend $745 to keep our economy from sliding into the Iraqi gulf, and HAD to wear women's underwear when you play hockey, er, sorry wrong blog. Anyway, I propose we set aside a special time during the late spring when kids are ready for a big summer where they can freely play with their material things, and celebrate a retail boon. Think about it, we can ignore or forget about "good will toward men" during the midyear and think about greed! By the time, we come to our senses, guess what? It's that most wonderful time of the year. . . again!

By the way, anyone know where I can get a deal on the new Nokia 6256i?

Legal Opinion

I understand that the Boston Red Sox are suing Doug Mientkiewicz to recover the baseball that was used for the final out in the 2004 World Series. It seems that Mr. Mientkiewicz quietly took that baseball home with him since he was the guy who caught the ball for that third out.

Personally, I don't think the Red Sox have a legal leg to stand on. Among other things, I think the legal doctrine of "finders keepers, losers weepers" applies here. Or perhaps "possession is 9/10 of the law". Either way, Doug had the ball last and major league baseball has historically granted full discretion to the final holder of the baseball.

Take the home run for example. Has major league baseball ever gone up to the fan who caught a homer and said "give us back our baseball"? Same with the foul ball.

Perhaps one would argue that a player is not entitled to the same privileges as a fan insofar as ball possession is concerned. Poppycock, I say! (Well, I don't really ever say poppycock but it seemed like a nice aside in this instance.) There are countless times that I have witnessed a fielder make a catch for the final out of an inning and then casually toss the ball to some greedy fan in the stands. Are these players ever fined or suspended (or sued)? I don't think so. Major league baseball has therefore implicitly granted full discretion to said player with regard to the final disposition of the baseball. Just because Doug's baseball has a little more value attached to it (sentimental or otherwise), it doesn't entitle baseball to all of a sudden reverse 100 years of history and attempt to enforce some alleged "rights" that it never cared about before.

Of course, now that the Red Sox have sued, there is even greater notoriety attached to that baseball. The value to Doug is increased even more. I say if the Red Sox want that ball so bad they should by it back from Doug; at the newly inflated price. You go, Doug!

After Thanksgiving Sales

Why would a normal, sane human being subject themselves to getting up at 4:00am to get in line with hundreds and thousands of other poor, sleep deprived souls to get a "good deal"? Is it really worth the morning breath, the parking lot hassle, the rude bumps, the non-existent sales clerk who is too busy hiding from the wretched patrons, the commotion, the stress in realizing that another store may actually have a better deal, or worse, have what you need in stock when this one's out! I think not. I propose we go back to simpler times when we have a quiet cholesterol clogging, high starched meal with family members we see once every couple of years as we while away the hours with good in depth conversations of how the family cat got caught in the combine, where we learn more about Aunt Mertle's close encounter with bean salad, and how Billy Joe ended up in the slammer. . . again. I yearn for that simple life that you only can find on the Jerry Springer show. . .

Big Box Retailers

Well, I'm finally home after spending the last 93 minutes of my life at Circuit City trying to return my latest Samsung A950 cellular phone. (Note the unabashed use of brand names in an attempt to generate search hooks from interested readers). I truly believe they have a recruiting strategy to enlist low life, scum sucking, uneducated, rectum like, etc. employees to man the cell desk. This idiot must have been about 300 pounds overweight and was sweating profusely as he tried to wait on a line of three customers, and you guessed it, I was numero three. I watched in disbelief as his turtle-like motions tried in vain to punch the keys on his keyboard to sign up the first customer. Do you know how long it took to type in "William"? Five minutes (after having to backspace because he kept getting it misspelled). Trust me, I timed it. After each keystroke, he had to look over his glasses to see if the character showed up on his monitor as he expected. Amazingly, he finally made it. The customer in front of me interjected that he should just have spelled "Bill", but the clerk just ignored him. (Good thing his name wasn't Richard). Anyway, after an hour, I finally get my turn, and he finally calls me up. Unfortunately, customer number one, Bill (as I like to call him) shows up, and makes a comment to me like "you still here?" To which I was about to respond, but was rudely interrupped by our favorite clerk who asks what he needs. He immediately stops my return transaction and proceeds to cater to Bill's problem. Apparently, he somehow lost the little door that covers his charging port, and wonders if the clerk can get him another one. Great, the idiots are now breeding! Somehow between the store and his home, Bill loses the door, and expects the clerk to help him. Incredibly, the clerk apologizes to me, and goes to the back room to get him a spare one. At this point, I'm ready to take over the controls of the keyboard and give myself a few credits because the clerk just left me alone with a live terminal. Instead, I decide to be nice and start unplugging all the cell phones on display just for fun. There were at least 7 clerks now walking around, but of course, they just ignore me, because I'm at the cell phone booth which is a different world, you know. As the acne faced clerk watches me, he realizes what I'm doing for entertainment, and gives me a smile and exclaims "cool" which I obviously take as an encouraging display of support. I now disconnect the cords from every phone, and then satisfaction becomes mine. The phones begin beeping. I imagine there's some type of security alarm in the event someone's trying to walk off with one. The beeping becomes increasingly annoying to the clerks but, surprisingly, they do nothing! Well, the cell clerk comes waddling back and gives the part to Bill and gets him on his way. The clerk finally gets back to me and proceeds to complete my transaction. Meanwhile, the beeping is still going on in the background. He comments to me that "boy that's driving me crazy", and admits that it must be one of his cell phones disconnected. Thankfully, he decides to work with me rather than investigate. He's down to the last question as to why I'm returning the phone. I'm tempted to explain that I'm returning it because I HATE THIS ENTIRE EXPERIENCE AND STORE, but I catch myself and say that I have no reason. Again, he looks puzzled, and tries to see whether "no comment" is an appropriate response on his drop down menu. He seems enamored with the drop down list as if he's never been on a computer before. He finds some generic answer on the list, but lo and behold, it prompts him for another response. He takes 2.5 minutes to type "empl not nown (sic)". Trust me, I know how long 2.5 minutes is. Finally, he completes my transaction, and now I am finally out the store. I scrutinize the credit and ensure that it matches my original receipt. As I get up to leave, he hands me my phone back and puts it in another bag! I begin to walk out the store again, but uncharacteristically, I hesitate after getting up to the door, and decide to leave the bag at the customer service desk. Although it would be amusing to have taken the phone, especially after all the trouble, I just couldn't do it. I figure with idiots like him working at Circuit City, there days are numbered anyway. Now for my latest experience with Wal-Mart. . .

This is a Test

I just noticed this "Blog This" hyperlink at the top of our blog. Having now clicked on it I see that it opens up a page that apparently should be used to create a new post. It wasn't actually obvious at first but once I expanded the window, and deleted whatever text was in this space I'm currently writing in, it became much more apparent. But, as I said, this is only a test.

Mama Mia!

The Dancing Queen must be 45 by now! It seems like just yesterday she was young and sweet, only 17.

It is what it is

Is there ever a time when it is what it isn't? Or conversely, it isn't what it really is. Maybe that's when things really aren't what they seem to be. But when things really are what they seem to be, then that's when they are what they are. Or, in the singular, it is what it is.

They're Not Marshmallows!

The marshmallows in Lucky Charms have got to be the most un-marshmallow-like food items ever. I'm sure those crunchy little things in the Lucky Charms are virtually pure sugar like your run of the mill marshmallow but they don't taste like a marshmallow and they certainly aren't soft like a marshmallow. I most definitely don't want any floating around in my hot chocolate.

I think we need to be a little more racy to attract attention!

No not the Jimmie Johnson of Nascar fame type of racy, nor the Go Speed Racer either. I'm talking about plain raw sex! So, have you seen the latest National Geographic which depicts the mating habits of the portuguese dweezil?

(Please note the blatant use of brands to hopefully get snared by cheap search engines).

Are you a chair?

Why, in the interest of political correctness, have we replaced the word "chairman" not with "chairperson" but with simply "chair"? More and more I see people referred to as the "Chair" of this organization or the "Chair" of that function. It seems too concise to me.

However, in the interest of blogging, and under the presumption that the "Chair" is in charge, I offer up this additional suggested terminology to go with chair...

Table - the all knowing wise counsel; the chair is really not useful without the table.
Credenza - George, from Seinfeld.
Mat - the designated punching bag; the one who takes all the abuse.
Napkin - the one who has to clean up after everyone else.

Milk is a Cereal Killer

This is especially true with your flaked cereals (Corn Flakes, Frosted Flakes, Raisin Bran, etc.) Cheerios and Apple Jacks, on the other hand, stand up pretty well to milk. It's no wonder that "a bowl a day keeps the bullies away" with regard to Apple Jacks. Now Cracklin' Oat Bran practically requires milk to not do severe damage to the delicate tissues located throughout the mouth. And your Granola type cereals really don't give a damn about milk one way or the other.

And finally, why don't people pour chocolate milk on cereal?

Let's Go Mets!

I can't believe it will be 20 years since a Mets world championship next year. What has happened to our beloved team? Tom Glavine was our second best pitcher and he'll be 40 next year! Carlos Beltran was an all time great in the playoffs last year as an Astro - this year as a Met he was mediocre.

I think I know the missing ingredient - we need a player with a name like Mookie. How can anyone lose with a Mookie on their team? I know they've tried by getting a Kazuo and a Shingo but we really need a Mookie. Or maybe a Tug.

What's in My Fridge?

We have an all butter pound cake in our refrigerator. A Sara Lee product. But I have 2 problems with our all butter pound cake. First of all, it's not all butter. If it were all butter it would be exactly that, butter. And then the modifier "all butter" would be useless because what's the point of labeling butter as "all butter butter"?

My next issue is the pound part. Our cake weighs 10.75 ounces. Sounds to me like we were ripped off for 5.25 ounces of cake. Or was it butter that we were shorted? I can say this for certain, if I wanted to butter my toast in the morning with my "all butter" product, I'm about one pound short of being able to do it.