I know variation and change are inevitable aspects of life. I believe they’re good things and, as I wrote in my previous post, I have often sought out change — even radical transformation — in most aspects of my life over the years. I know that being able to accept either unforeseen or long-predicted developments, to roll with the punches as it were, is a good thing. I have also considered being able to quickly adapt to such developments an important trait of successful living. Furthermore, I’m well aware it takes a bit of wisdom to know when the time is right, and to be capable of graciously accepting the inevitability of different circumstances with grace and aplomb.
Still . . . I’m really going to miss The Colbert Report . . . bad.
I saw a video yesterday of a dog figuring out how to drink from a device set on the ground. It had to be stepped on and held down, but the dog would stomp on it a few times before finally standing on it to keep the water flowing. It reminded me of one of my favorite stories.
Many years ago, when I first started working at Rocketdyne, we had a couple of buildings on the other side of Canoga Ave. from the main office and factory structure. People were always having to cross the street and there was a controlled crosswalk there for that purpose. I was always amazed to find engineers repeatedly pushing the button (like this dog’s doing) to get the light to change.
I kept thinking – though I never said it out loud – “you know that’s a switch, not a pump.” It might be expected of the dog; but, rocket scientists? Maybe they were accountants.
Although I took this pic a year and a half ago, it’s the route I take to and from my Rotary Club meeting every Thursday morning. As I was coming home today, I couldn’t help but reflect on how lucky I am. Despite the drastic change in my situation since my early, somewhat forced, retirement, I really do have a good life . . . and for that I am exceedingly grateful.
My children, alone, continue to give me so much pleasure and satisfaction, despite the difficulties associated with raising children in general, and the circumstances of the huge disparity in our ages, in particular. They have given me new meaning I never had before, and I am deeply appreciative of the opportunity I’ve been given to provide for them, as well as having the wherewithal to do so. I don’t have what I used to have, but we’re not hurting and there are still opportunities in front of me. I remain, as ever, optimistic and satisfied.
If I were religious, I suppose I would be thanking whatever deity I believed in, but I’m not, so I look out at this incredible universe we’ve evolved the intelligence to comprehend our place in and . . . mind blown! I would also say I have been blessed, but I’ll just leave it at being grateful for where I was born, who I was born to, and the opportunities I’ve been given, as well as the abilities I’ve been able to bring to bear on making the most of these things. Thank you, hydrogen and gravity. You’re pretty awesome.
it’s marvelous – and ominous – at the same time. While much of the United States has been enduring extreme cold temperatures and hard Winter weather, those of us on much of the West Coast (certainly here in Southern California) have been enjoying unseasonably warm weather. I think it’s been in the mid-seventies to mid-eighties for at least a month and we’re now approaching the “dead” of Winter with no end in sight.
Another week of unseasonably warm Winter weather
If this continues, it does not bode well for those of us who live in this neck of the woods. The reason. Drought. According to the California Department of Water Resources, we are now into what may be the third year of drier than normal conditions. They point out it’s a bit too early to conclude this year will be as dry as the previous two, as half of the previous years that started out this dry ended by catching up to normal at the end of the season. They also point out, even if there’s plenty of seasonal rain, it still won’t compensate for low soil moisture and depleted water storage.
So . . . while we’re enjoying the weather here, especially when contrasted to what the Polar Vortex has wrought to our East, it’s important to keep in mind what it means in the long run. It doesn’t matter if you believe in climate change, anthropogenic or not. We are now into our third year of drought in the West, and this wonderful weather may come at a far higher price than I care to contemplate. There’s no reason to brag about it.
Many years ago, when I was in the wholesale food business with my father and brother, we got a new customer who sold to many high-end restaurants. Many would recognize the names of these famous Hollywood eateries, all of which were very successful and (bonus) somewhat recession-proof. This was a very good thing for us, as it provided a substantial boost to our gross income. I became the schlepper; the one who had to drive around every morning and pick up the items our new customer needed to service his clientele. I did not mind. I was young and full of energy and truly enjoyed arising very early in the morning to greet the day.
My job meant driving around every morning, picking up the items that had been ordered and getting them to our customer’s location, where they would be either stored temporarily prior to delivery, or further prepared for later delivery to their customers. Generally, three days of the week required me to enter as blast freezer that was forty degrees below zero; so cold that it had no solid doors, merely thick plastic curtains as a safety measure, ensuring no one could be accidentally locked in. The freezer was huge and the doors big enough to accommodate a large forklift laden with several palettes of product.
I was raised to be intimately familiar with lunch meat. All kinds of lunch meat. And sausage. My father worked in the Grand Central Market from my birth until my Bar Mitzvah. Faber’s Ham Shop. They didn’t sell fresh meat, except chicken. Everybody sold fresh chicken because it was small and easily cut into its constituent parts, a feat not possible with a cow or a pig. He mostly sold lunch meat, or what is sometimes referred to as smoked meats. Not all of it was, but that’s of little importance to this story.
I can still recall the scene after my Bar Mitzvah – I mean immediately after; probably in a private room during the reception (it was at a place in North Hollywood, CA, USA that has gone the way of the Dodo bird) – where I endorsed every check I had received as a gift from my family and our friends. I immediately handed the checks over to my father, who was leaving Faber’s Ham Shop and striking out on his own. He was buying a truck and becoming a peddler. A meat peddler. It was an amicable resignation, as Louie Faber became one of my old man’s best customers and the Grand Central Market was always pretty central to my father’s success.
I bring this up merely to demonstrate my familiarity with — perhaps a modicum of expertise in the field of — lunch meat in all it’s numerous incarnations (Oops!) and variety. I have eaten just about every one of those varieties. I didn’t necessarily care for them once I tasted them, however. Head Cheese and Olive & Pimento Loaf come to mind, but I tried them. Some of the varieties I was quite fond of, especially since they were already cooked and I could grab one whenever I was hungry. This was especially true of hot dogs and FARMER JOHN® Hot Louisiana Brand Smoked Sausage, the former of which we sold in very large quantities loosely packed in boxes of about 50lbs.; the latter of which came in cases of 10 5lb. boxes. It was easy to open a case, pick up a box, open it, and remove (and eat) one of the hot links.
Do NOT Attempt This in Your Kitchen
This brings me to the graphic that appeared on my Facebook News Feed yesterday; a graphic which tickled me to no end. As I have said, what we today view primarily as culinary crap; unhealthy, sometimes disgusting pseudo-food, was a long-time staple of mine. Frankly, I still eat hot dogs, though I now only purchase all-beef (usually from Trader Joe’s) and I deeply appreciate the occasional Nathan’s natural casing wiener <snap!>. This graphic makes it quite clear the author subscribes to the assertion the McRib is constructed of mystery meat. I’m not sure I agree with the assessment (Wikipedia reports the faux ribs are actually formed from pork shoulder meat), but I now avoid this sandwich like the plague . . . as I do everything by most all fast food outlets (franchise or not).
Nevertheless, I can empathize with the sentiment expressed in the last box of this flow chart. I wouldn’t hesitate for a New York minute to scarf one of these babies, i.e. if the only objection was that they’re not really made out of rib meat. I can get by that without batting an eyelash. Unfortunately, there are other reasons involving my health I now refuse to eat this stuff. Doesn’t mean I don’t miss the hell out of it.
So . . . I’ve just got to share this. In my mind, the feeling/realization described in this animated gif file is somewhat related to a post I did a while back on whether we would have any way of realizing we’re dead and, in so doing, somehow miss the life we had so recently departed from. What they’re calling a realization I think of as a feeling. I have often marveled at the tenuous yet, in some ways, deep connection I have with random people in random vehicles heading in random directions other than my own. My mind momentarily expands, seeking the trajectories of their lives and the countless people they interact (or not) with. This picture seems to convey the feeling rather well. It’s also evocative of a paper I once wrote for a Labor Law class, where I likened society to a living being and analogized commerce to the human circulatory system.
So . . . I’ve just got to share this. In my mind, the feeling/realization described in this animated gif file is somewhat related to a post I did a while back on whether we would have any way of realizing we’re dead and, in so doing, somehow miss the life we had so recently departed from. What they’re calling a realization I think of as a feeling. I have often marveled at the tenuous yet, in some ways, deep connection I have with random people in random vehicles heading in random directions other than my own. My mind momentarily expands, seeking the trajectories of their lives and the countless people they interact (or not) with. This picture seems to convey the feeling rather well. It’s also evocative of a paper I once wrote for a Labor Law class, where I likened society to a living being and analogized commerce to the human circulatory system.
The Three Trashketeers in Their Previous Incarnation
A couple of weeks ago I posted about the two basketballs and the hula hoop my youngest daughter and I had spotted in the flood control channel we passed each day on our walk to her elementary school. We named them Wendy (the first basketball we noted), Haley (the hula hoop accompanying her), and Oliver Boliver Butt (the basketball that joined this duo a few days later.)
It is with a note (not really a profound one, but a somewhat dismayed note) of sadness I am compelled to inform all that the Santa Ana winds, which were pretty fierce about a week ago, have blown, Wendy, Oliver, and even Haley closer to their final destination.
Molly the duck, and her companion, Junior had – of course – already moved on, being animate objects and all. We looked for them each day but there must not have been enough excitement available for them to stick around.
Unless someone comes along to clean the channel (or the river, which is where they will soon be), they will eventually make it out to sea and join – perhaps – with all the other flotsam and jetsam littering our Pacific Ocean.
I don’t know about you, but I’m going to miss them . . . already do.
What follows is in no way meant to be a treatise on the subject. I really just wanted to share one instance I found entertaining and clever and perhaps say a word or two about the genre. I was, however, reminded just how pervasive this form of humor/wit is and a bit overwhelmed by the quantity (if not the quality) of examples available. Please forgive me.
From the ever-so-delightful world of food puns
I came across this graphic and shared it with my friends on Facebook. It has proven to be quite popular, which makes me wonder about the reasons we call puns (or plays on words) the lowest form of humor, yet they seem to be universally enjoyed . . . even when they’re real groaners. I think this one is quite clever, though.
Oscar Levant once suggested “A pun is the lowest form of humor—when you don’t think of it first.” I find great wisdom in that observation. Nothing evokes groans so much as a pun. Sometimes it seems the most clever ones are rewarded with the loudest groans; perhaps from jealousy. Who knows?
Wikipedia tells us the pun, “also called paronomasia, is a form of word play that suggests two or more meanings, by exploiting multiple meanings of words, or of similar-sounding words, for an intended humorous or rhetorical effect.” In its own, inimitable fashion, the entry goes on, and on, and on, describing everything from humorous puns, to rhetorical puns, to scientific and computing puns. Click on the link, above, and you’ll see what I mean.
A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away I had friend who said he wanted to be the Chairman of the Revolutionary Committee to Purge Punsters – after the revolution, of course. He suggested his first trial would be against himself. People who really like punning are strange birds indeed.
I find it quite fascinating there is so much time and energy given to knocking puns, yet we seem to spend an equal amount of time making and enjoying them – and there’s no end to the availability of high (low?) quality puns out there. More food puns? Here are a few:
The history of cheese is full of holes, but it’s interesting in its own whey
At breakfast, the hacker downloaded cornflakes via his cereal port
Those who eat candy with both hands are ambi-dextrose
When the cannibal showed up late to the luncheon, they gave him the cold shoulder
Old colanders never die, they just can’t take the strain anymore
Those who forget the pasta are condemned to reheat it
I found hundreds of these, as well as quite a few visual puns. Actually, most of the visual ones rely on words to help them out, as the following (it truly is bad; I know) attests:
Here’s a bit of a crossover pun I encountered. I found it searching specifically for food puns and I guess it is one. However, it also brings a bit of politics and current affairs into the mix.
Finally, here’s one I rather like despite it having absolutely nothing to do with food:
For good or bad, I’m quite certain I could go on for a very long time and not exhaust the material that’s out there, but I want to circle back to the item that precipitated this post in the first place, and leave you with the song that inspired it. So, here’s Annie Lennox singing Sweet Dreams. Enjoy!
Systems Savvy 