Goodbye and Welcome

As usual, we have a quiet evening planned here at the Boggy Thicket, but here’s wishing you a wonderful new year.

Philosophical Geography

The theologians and the scientists got it all wrong. The earth isn’t flat, and it is not a globe. 

The earth is concave – it is a huge, deep bowl with all of humanity stuck down in the bottom!

That is why so many people who are not just sitting around doing nothing at all are running around in circles.  Anything else is an uphill battle.

Rules

Forty-Nine

Once you’ve been around for a year or more, every new day is the anniversary of something -  but, some anniversaries are more important than others.  Today marks the most significant anniversary of my life.

49 years ago this evening, in a small Methodist church in the Songwood subdivision on the east side of Houston, Honey Cheryl Kimmons became Mrs. Robert Couch.

The ceremony was conducted by a Scottish Presbyterian minister who blessed our union in the name of the “Faaaather, and the Son, and the Holy Sperrrrrut.”  And his blessing took – my life has been truly blessed since that evening. 

Honey has been my foundation.  She has given me the strength to endure the bad times and her presence by my side made the good times immeasurably better.

Happy anniversary, Darling.  Please know that I love you more than words can ever express.

Left Wing Puppy

A Facebook friend recently posted that she and her husband were planning to get a puppy.  She explained that because of allergy issues they were limiting their search to Labradoodles, one of the only breeds that doesn’t make her ill.

That should have been fine, but no sooner had she posted than her left-wing “friends” began attacking her – the very idea of buying a dog when so many deserving animals were languishing in shelters, just waiting to be euthanized! 

Now, she was probably the most liberal representative ever to sit in the Texas legislature, and should be perfectly capable of holding her own, but I couldn’t help feeling sorry for her.  She even felt the need to point out her numerous awards from animal rights groups, but once the blood was in the water, it became a feeding frenzy.

I almost came to her defense.  It would be easy enough to point out a few obvious facts that they were ignoring:

1. No puppy chooses where it comes from.
2. All dogs are potentially homeless.
3. Where a dog comes from is a lot less important than where it ends up.

I almost came to her defense – but, it’s been too much fun to watch.

Christmas Cash

For the last few years, we have given our grandkids cash for their birthdays and for Christmas.  There are several reasons for this -

1. They already have every electronic gadget  imaginable.
2. We can’t even try to keep up with teen-age fashion.
3. It is the one gift that doesn’t disappoint -  even if it is duplicated.
4. Our grandson, Nash, actually asked for cash for his birthday several years ago.

Finally, a trip to the bank for crisp new bills is a lot easier that fighting the mobs at the mall.

Now, just in time to be too late to matter, MSN Money warns that Christmas gifts may be taxable.

Like anything else having to do with the IRS, the rules are vague, confusing and complicated.  They are also easy to ignore, but if you’re worried, you can see the MSN article HERE.

Loading Up the Sleigh

It’s Christmas Eve, and the Sleigh is loaded with toys.  Now if Santa can just get the Reindeer hooked up….

 

Feliz Navidad

Last Thursday, I commented on the Northern bias that is built into Christmas traditions in America.

One person who is fighting that bias can be found here in Texas.  He calls himself Pancho Claus, and he comes from the South pole in his low-rider to deliver toys to los niños of the barrio.

Some reports say that Pancho Claus got his start in San Antonio, but here in Houston, Richard Reyes has been Pancho for thirty years.

You may have to sit through a commercial to see it, but if you’re interested, here’s a story about Reyes from AP:

What NOT To Give

I came across a website with some vintage magazine ads for Christmas gifts.  Here are a few of my favorites:

I can’t remember for sure, but I may have actually given someone a carton of cigarettes – not Chesterfields, though – I do know we used to give my grandfather a big canister of pipe tobacco.

It wasn’t just movie stars making suggestions; even Mrs. Claus got into the act, promoting an ironing board with legs designed to let you sit down while you work.

And finally, anyone who would give this last one as a Christmas gift had to have a death wish:

How To Decorate A Tree

For the last week, my posts have all been at least somewhat Christmas-oriented.  It isn’t much of a stretch to claim that this one is, too.

Really, I just like the picture:

WestJet Christmas

You’ve probably seen this already – it’s been on the news and all over the internet – but just in case you haven’t, here it is.

The Canadian airline, WestJet, came up with – and actually pulled off – a fantastic Christmas trick.  Passengers talked to Santa while waiting to board their flight, and then, when they arrived at their destination, their gift-wrapped Christmas wishes came rolling down the baggage chute!

Did the stunt get WestJet thousands in free advertising?  Of course it did, but that shouldn’t diminish our appreciation for the gesture.

 

Northern Bias

There’s an awful lot about Christmas traditions that just ain’t politically correct. 

The big thing this year is the argument about the ethnicity of Santa Claus. 

There have been news stories about a father who was enraged when his second grader was denied the part of Santa in the school Christmas play because the kid is African-American.  I can’t blame him for being upset, but the discrimination cuts both ways.  A former co-worker was the target of dirty looks and eye rolls at Wal-Mart because he told the (brown skinned) sales clerk that he wanted an inflatable Santa that was white.  If there was ever a no-win situation, that was it – if he had installed a dark skinned Santa in his front yard, Somebody would have compared it to installing a Lawn Jockey.

The fact of the matter is that the original St. Nicholas was the Bishop of Myrna, a town located in what is now modern-day Turkey.  Chances are that St. Nick had at least a Mediterranean tan - that he was several shades darker than the fat Nordic fellow portrayed in the Coca Cola ads.

When you come right down to it, you have to admit that the whole Santa thing displays a definite Northern Bias.  Santa’s home/workshop is supposedly about as far North as you can get, - at the North Pole. The North (magnetic) Pole is somewhere on Ellesmere Island in Baffin Bay, which means that the Jolly Old Elf is a resident and probably a citizen of Canada.  Making him Canadian is just good marketing – nobody (except the kids from South Park) hates Canadians – but it does subtly underscore the geographical preference.

Never mind what PETA might have to say about using a whip on reindeer, the whole idea of delivering presents in a sleigh rings false in most of the world. 

We have only had Christmas snow on the Texas Gulf Coast once in my lifetime, and, although there was some on the ground south of us, we didn’t get a single flake at our house!  Just try talking snow to kids from Florida, Southern California or Hawaii, they may try to have you committed.  And what about kids in Australia where Christmas comes right in the middle of Summer.

As my P-C friends are fond saying, it isn’t FAIR!

In an effort to be as inclusive as possible, I posted the picture at the top of this article.  It shows members of the scientific expedition in Antarctica working on their Christmas tree.  Here’s what the tree looked like when it was done, this time from a Southerner’s point of view:

Louisiana is # 1

Here’s a look at the aftermath of a 16 car pile-up in west Houston yesterday.  The whole thing started when the driver of the truck towing the 5th wheel trailer suffered a stroke.  There were no fatalities, but six people – two children and four adults – were taken to the hospital.

A lot is written about traffic safety this time of year, even though statistics show the most dangerous month to be on the road is August. Perhaps because of the whole families reuniting aspect of Thanksgiving and Christmas, loss of life and property at this time of year is perceived as especially poignant.

With that in mind, before you head for Grandma’s house, you might want to check out the report below:

 

Car Insurance Comparison. com, an auto insurance website has published a list of the states with the worst drivers in America.  The top ten – with one being the worst - are:

1. Louisiana

2. South Carolina

3. Mississippi

4. Texas

5. Alabama

6. Florida

7. Missouri

8. North Carolina

9. Montana

10. North Dakota

The site claims the best drivers come from:

1. Vermont

2. Utah

3. New Hampshire

4. Minnesota

5. Oregon

Even the study’s authors admit their results are misleading.  Residents of mostly rural states with little public transportation tend to drive more and drive farther which makes them more likely to be involved in a wreck. A small state with a major urban center, like Massachusetts, will have lots of residents, but many of them won't be getting behind the wheel, which helps skew the numbers in their favor

Carol

Here’s a great rendition of Carol of the Bells by five kids who call themselves the Pentatonix, or simply PTX.  You might remember them as the 2011 winners on the NBC series called the Sing-Off.

The last part is a commercial for their tour and their Christmas album, but the first three and a half minutes are fantastic.

I’ll admit that an old geezer like me has a little trouble getting past all their piercings – jewelry in eyebrows, etc.  but these kids can sing anything.  If you don’t believe that, check out this medley they call the Evolution of Music:

Santa’s Eye View

When it comes to Christmas decorations, there are several neighborhoods in the greater Houston area that used to go all-out.  We used to make a point of touring a few of these each season when the kids were young, although I suspect that Honey enjoyed the lights at least as much as they did.

There are still a few of these areas where every house is decorated and each block follows a theme, but there are fewer of them now, and the traffic around them is terrible.  It almost makes me wish that Houston had a service like the one offered by Guardian Helicopters in Los Angeles.

Their ad invites you to view all the Christmas lights from Santa’s point of view.  It says:

Be inspired like never before... Surprise your family with a unique holiday experience they will never forget. Fly high above the Christmas lights and feel your heart fill with glee.

Guardian Helicopters can make this holiday dream a reality with our special Christmas light tour.
See Los Angeles, Hollywood, Beverly Hills and more as you soar like Santa. Our tours depart from and return to our "North Pole" (Van Nuys Airport).

Their ad doesn’t list prices,  but like they say about yachts and Class A motor homes, “If you have to ask, you can’t afford it.”

Holiday Dinner

Planning to host a Christmas gathering? Sometimes it's more trouble than it's worth.  Just ask Sandy and Richard Ricardi -

 

The Latest Christmas Song

I love the traditional Christmas songs, and most of the popular songs about the holiday (except for Little Drummer Boy, which is just annoying) but I also love the not so correct stuff like Bob Rivers Twisted Christmas songs.

Last year about this time, I posted Merry Christmas from the Family by Robert Earl Keen.  This year, it’s a little Christmas ditty from Kevin Fowler...

On Dash, Er

As I mentioned back in November,  the Houston Dynamo, our home town Soccer team, was negotiating to bring professional Women’s Soccer to Houston. 

It’s now a done deal.

The new Houston Dash will become the National Women’s Soccer League’s first expansion team, and will begin play in April 2014 with the start of the second NWSL season, a 24-game schedule that includes 12 home games at BBVA Compass Stadium, which they will share with the Dynamo.

So far, the Dash doesn’t have any players, or a coach, or uniforms – but they do have a name, and a venue and a schedule – so they are off to a pretty good start.

Affluenza

Well, the Couch name is being bandied about all over the news and social media this morning. 

Not my name, thank God, but the name of Ethan Couch, a North Texas teenager who was convicted, then given probation for a DWI crash this past June that killed four people.  All told, there were eleven injured in the crash.

The 16-rear-old was driving his one-ton Ford at 70 mph in a 40 mph zone when he crashed into a stalled car, killing the driver and three people who had stopped to help.  His blood alcohol was .24 – three times the legal limit for someone old enough to drink.  Prosecutors said that Couch and the kids in his truck had stolen the beer at Wal-Mart.

His defense did not dispute the facts of the case, but argued that he deserved a break because his wealthy (and separated) parents had always given him everything he wanted and had never taught him right from wrong. 

A witness for the defense, psychologist Dr. G. Dick Miller, blamed the boy's parents.  He said that Ethan was the troubled product of a broken home who got whatever he wanted from his wealthy parents and didn't understand consequences. Miller called the teen a victim of "affluenza," a rich-kid syndrome that led him to believe money solved everything.

Apparently, State District Judge Jean Boyd bought at least some of their argument.  Instead of a possible 20 year prison sentence, she gave Couch 10 years probation. 

Finally, just so you know…..

Yes, Couch is my surname – and yes, Boyd was my mother’s maiden name – but to the best of my knowledge, neither Ethan nor the judge is related to me.  If Ethan’s parents really are that wealthy, I can be pretty darn sure they are not kin.

Uh-Oh

I’m Offended

Here’s a local news story that just underlines the stupidity – the whole “what can I find to be offended about” mentality – that I was complaining about yesterday:

Houston Independent School District Superintendent Terry Grier says it’s time to correct a longstanding wrong with the use of Native American images as mascots.

He’s asking trustees to approve a change in policy that would “respect cultural differences, values, and attitudes” by placing a ban on mascots or nicknames that use race or ethnicity.

That includes the Lamar High School Redskins, the Hamilton Middle School Indians, Westbury High School Rebels and the Welch Middle School Warriors.

“The district is providing assistance to principals at those schools to work with their communities to honor the traditions of the old mascots while having new ones in place in time for the opening of school next August.”

I remember in the fall of 1960– back in the days when Texas schools were still racially segregated – I went with the son of the local school superintendant to a football game in Hitchcock, Texas.  It was a playoff game between the local colored high school and the Black Dragons from China, Texas.  Those kids from China were not offended by the name of their team, they were proud of it, and I still think it was the coolest name for a high school team ever.

Happy …

A friend of mine posted this chart on Facebook this morning:

It’s a nice thought, but it ain’t gonna work.

Until fairly recently - it seems like no more than a dozen or so  years ago at most - it was perfectly acceptable to wish anyone in America a Merry Christmas.  If Jews, Muslims, agnostics, etc. were offended, they were gracious about it, or at least they kept their mouths shut.

Then the Organized Atheists ( Do they really exist, or were they just created by the media? Are they a religion or a political movement?) got involved – boycotts were threatened and stores began using Happy Holidays in their commercials.

That lead to a movement among Fundamentalist Christians to boycott companies who failed to “Keep Christ in Christmas.”   They are even offended by Xmas, even though they are the same folks who plaster on the backs of their cars.

Like my grandfather used to say, “Some people would bitch if they got hung with a new rope.”  And, it seems that his “some people” is becoming a bigger portion of the population all the time.  More and more folks seem to spend their time just looking for a reason to feel offended.

So… Whatever I might wish for you this season, you won’t be hearing it from me!

 

The Sound of Football

The only thing good about Thursday Night Football this last week was that it guaranteed that our hometown team would not lose another game today. 

The Texans have fallen so far this season that we couldn’t stand to watch another debacle.  We chose  to watch Carrie Underwood in NBC’s presentation of the Sound of Music instead.  It wasn’t quite as depressing.

NBC, the network that brought you the Heidi Bowl back in 1968, had little to lose – at worst, a live presentation of the Rodgers and Hammerstein musical could only be their second worst decision in history.  As it turns out, regardless of reviews, the show was a hit, drawing 18 1/2 million viewers.

Most reviews began by commending the bravery of Carrie Underwood (and the network) for attempting something of this magnitude but then the knives came out.  Lots of really snarky comments of the “can sing-can’t act” variety.  And they slammed everything from the sets to the costumes.  Most agreed that a “live” production needs a live audience, and several mentioned the “filmed live” description.  What the heck does “filmed live” mean anyway – every show (except maybe animation) is recorded live.

Personally, I thought Underwood did an adequate, if not stellar, job.  She was a far better singer (and actor) than Steven Moyer, who played the cardboard cutout they substituted for Captain Von Trapp.

My first big problem with the production came in the opening scenes with the appearance of Audra McDonald as the Mother Superior – the likelihood of seeing a black nun in an Austrian convent in the 1930s has to be next to nothing – but she turned out to be the best thing in the show.  That woman can SING!

I’ll admit that the Sound of Music isn’t my favorite R&H musical, but I think that if they were going to cast a country singer in the lead they might have been more successful performing Oklahoma.  Underwood would be right at home as Laurey Williams. 

I haven’t settled on anyone to play Curly yet, but Garth Brooks could easily play Ali Hakim – or for that matter, Jud Fry (he looks sleazy enough) and I would love to see Kellie Pickler as Ado Annie.

 

Outsourced

While I relate to this cartoon and find it funny, I’m not sure my grandkids would at all. 

In the first place, they would never visit Santa in person, or even talk to him on the phone – if they contacted him at all, they would text him on their iPhones.

To them, what seems to me to be a clever sign of the times may already be hopelessly out of date.

 

Guilt By Association

Today the world mourns the passing of Nelson Mandela, one of the most effective and inspiring leaders of the past century.

Unfortunately, I can’t hear the name Mandela without picturing the “Mandela Necklace,” a practice South African rebels used to discourage police informants.  Gasoline-soaked tires were hung around the necks of suspected turncoats and set afire in an attempt to make the African National Congress more feared than the repressive South African police.

It became known as the Mandela Necklace when, after the head of the ANC had given a speech calling for the end of the practice, Winnie Mandela – Nelson’s second wife -was quoted as saying  “Together, hand in hand, with that stick of matches, with our necklace, we shall liberate this country.”

Quickie

No time to chat today – gotta go work on the pool.

It’s 73 degrees at 7:00 a.m. but there’s a cold front headed in.  It’s supposed to hit here about lunchtime with rain and rapidly dropping temperatures. High temps for the next week are expected to be in the 40s.

Silver Bells, Silver Bells….

I’m a big fan of the Salvation Army – have been since they were giving away hot meals after Hurricane Celia while the Red Cross was selling coffee and doughnuts a block away.  That being said, I confess that I tend to ignore the bell-ringers that show up in front of stores this time of year.

The woman (yes – that is a woman) in the mug shot above was a volunteer bell-ringer at the Wal-Mart in Porter, TX, so there is a very good chance that I walked right by her in the past couple of weeks.  She made the news on Monday when she was arrested for shoplifting and charged with felony theft.  Employees said she stuffed over $70 worth of perfume and cologne into her Salvation Army apron and walked out of the store.

There is an old line in advertising that says “No publicity is bad publicity,”  but I don’t believe it.  Still, I guess it could have been worse.  She might have been caught with her hand in the donation bucket.

Nobody Gets Off

Got to thinking about Garth Brooks and his music after his live concert show aired last week. 

We only caught parts of the show – we were watching the Barbra Streisand concert on PBS, and whenever they cut to Channel 8 to beg (and beg, and beg) for money, we would switch to the Brooks show.  Actually caught a lot of it that way.

I’ve always been a Brooks fan.  Honey not so much, and she just about wrote him off entirely when he dumped his wife for Trisha Yearwood.

If you are not already in the Garth Brooks camp, it might be hard to explain his appeal.  He is far from being the best guitar picker to come down the pike, and his voice – even for a country music singer – is mediocre at best, but he has a way with a song that is remarkable. 

I think it all comes down to timing. His phrasing, like certain old jazz singers – Frank Sinatra comes to mind – makes his rendition of a song more dramatic, more compelling, than any other version.

Brooks has also written some of the best country songs of the last 30 years, songs that were strong enough to transcend the Country market and become pop hits. 

Oddly enough, my favorite Garth Brooks song is one he did not write, isn’t in his concert repertoire, and is one you may have never heard.  Written by Dewayne Blackwell and Larry Bastian, it was track #2 on the 2006 album titled Garth Brooks -

Nobody gets off in this town
Trains don't even slow down
My high school sweetheart's married and gone
They met on a bus to San Antone

The Greyhound stops, somebody gets on
But nobody gets off in this town

Nobody gets off in this town
Old folks 'round here wear a frown 
Now let me see if I can set the scene
It's a one-dog town and he's old and mean

There's one stop light but it's always green
Nobody gets off in this town

Nobody gets off in this town
High school colors are brown
They can't drag Main because it kicks up dust
Their cars and their dreams are all starting to rust

The high school dances are always a bust
Nobody gets off in this town

Nobody gets off in this town
They oughta just tear it down
'Cause in the winter, you freeze
And in the summer, you fry

Utility bill's the only thing that gets high
I'd go for a drink but this county is dry

Nobody gets off
Nobody gets off
Nobody gets off in this square, old merry-go-round
No, nobody gets off in this town

A Manual for Neanderthals

The Oak Forest area of Houston produced quite a few interesting folks over the years, but to me, the most interesting may have been a fellow named Hubert Mewhinney.

He was a widely-read columnist who wrote for the Houston Post. His wife was a sixth grade teacher at Oak Forest Elementary, and his daughter, Nona, was a classmate of mine, but I first met Mr. Mewhinney when I stopped to talk to him as he stood in his front yard.

His yard, at 1229 Dubarry Lane, stood out to say the least.  While every other yard on that street was carefully tailored and impeccably maintained, Mewhinney’s was a scruffy tangle of vines and weeds.  With all the tact of an eight year old, I pulled my bike to a stop and asked him why his yard looked like an abandoned homestead.

Rather than take offense, he explained that it was a sort of experiment – he was trying something called Xeroscaping. He said that it was the coming thing, especially in arid climates, and he wanted to see if the same principles would apply in an area as damp as Houston.  I told him that I thought it was a great idea since (even at my young age) I was sick of mowing the grass.

We became friends that day, and whenever I saw him on my neighborhood rambles I would always stop and talk. 

His interests were eclectic to say the least, and the subject matter of our conversations  ranged from entomology, to etymology to wolves.

As far as I know, the book pictured above is the only one he ever published, and it is still available on Amazon today.  After reading an article about flint knapping, he gathered up a bunch of stones and taught himself to make primitive tools.  That experience led to his writing the book.  The “manual” published in 1957, is described by Amazon as the first of its genre.

I would say that he was ahead of his time – he was an environmentalist well before the term was coined – but in another way, he picked the perfect time to live.  He was able to make a very good living writing intelligent, thought-provoking columns about anything that piqued his interest, something the decline of newspaper publishing would make almost impossible today.

I’m not the only one who considered Hubert Mewhinney remarkable.  Another Post columnist, who went on the write for the Houston Chronicle for years, was Leon Hale.  Two years ago, Hale mentioned Mr. Mewhinney on his blog:

Hubert Mewhinney was the most unforgettable character I met in the newspaper business.

Wonder if anybody out there remembers when he was carrying on his strange Jack Wray Wolf and Wildflower Project in Colorado County. He’d spend nights out in the pasture, sleeping on the ground with a bottle of bourbon and what he called his “trenta trenta,” meaning a 30-30 deer rifle.  The reason Mewhinney spent days and nights in those Colorado County woods, he was interested in hearing the howls of what he called wolves, which were probably coyotes, and he was also trying to get a variety of wildflowers established in the area where he camped. Far as I know,the whiskey and the rifle were not necessary to Mewhinney’s project. He was known, however, to be fond of guns, and whiskey as well.

The newspaper business at one time produced eccentric, often highly intelligent individuals, but I don’t hear about them now, if any are still around.

Gold, Frankincense and WHAT?

Thanksgiving (and Black Friday) are officially in the past – it’s time to think about Christmas decorations. 

I am not suggesting this, but you might want to consider adding something special to your crèche.  Along with the Holy Family, the assorted animals, angels, shepherds and wise men, you could add a caganer.

It’s a Spanish tradition. For at least the past 200 years, residents of the Catalonia region of Spain have put a caganer in their Christmas nativity scenes.

Put as delicately as possible, a caganer is a defecator -- a statuette posed squatting with a little brown deposit below its bare backside.  Catalans hide them somewhere in their nativity scenes and invite guests to play a sort of “Where’s Waldo” to try to find them.

How this tradition began is a mystery, and the best explanation of why they exist is that they are supposed to bring good luck.  In recent years, there has been a trend of fashioning the statuettes to represent famous figures – world leaders, soccer stars, etc.  In 2010, one of the top sellers was Barack Obama.

 

So far, it looks like this year’s most popular caganer will be the new Pope.

Sir Terry Pratchett

Somehow, I have managed to never read anything by Sir Terence Pratchett, but that may have to change.

According to his on-line bio, Pratchett was the UK's bestselling author of the 1990s,and has sold over 85 million books worldwide in 37 languages. He is currently the second most read writer in the UK, and seventh most read non-American author in the United States.

He is a science fiction/fantasy author best known for his Discworld series – there are actually Discworld conventions.  In addition to being knighted for his contributions to literature, he has been awarded numerous literary awards and nine honorary doctorates.

I don’t know how I missed his work, but looking on-line, I found a huge list of Pratchett quotes.

• “He's out of his depth on a wet pavement.”
• “I have no use for people who have learned the limits of the possible.”
• “Some humans would do anything to see if it was possible to do it. If you put a large switch in some cave somewhere, with a sign on it saying 'End-of-the-World Switch. PLEASE DO NOT TOUCH', the paint wouldn't even have time to dry.”
• “If cats looked like frogs we'd realize what nasty, cruel little bastards they are. Style. That's what people remember.”
• “Light thinks it travels faster than anything but it is wrong. No matter how fast light travels, it finds the darkness has always got there first, and is waiting for it.”
• “The intelligence of that creature known as a crowd is the square root of the number of people in it.”

Yeah, I definitely think I have to find some of his books.

Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving Day is a time to count our blessings.  Among my greatest blessings I count my family and friends, and give thanks that you are in my life.

The Lumberjack

Did you know that I’m married to a lumberjack?  Actually, I guess I am one, too – or at least was.  Honey and I met while attending Stephen F. Austin State College in the piney woods of East Texas.  SFA has one of the top forestry schools in the country, and the lumberjack is the school mascot.

That has little or nothing to do with today’s post – just thought I would mention it.

There are a lot of commercials on TV that are supposed to be funny, but very few of them are.  Most of them range from simply stupid to downright offensive, so when I see one that actually makes me laugh, it’s worth mentioning.

I suppose that like most commercials, this one would get old pretty fast, but Honey and I saw it for the first time yesterday, and we both almost lost it.

2nd Monday Special

Eighty First

Congratulations to John and Ann Betar  who celebrate their 81st wedding anniversary today.

The couple left their homes in Bridgeport, CT and drove to New York to tie the knot.  They eloped because her father wanted her to marry a man who was 20 years her senior. 

Her aunt consoled Ann’s irate father by assuring him the marriage would never last.

der Schnörkel

That’s a look at our swimming pool on a warmer day. 

For years, it provided a venue for fun and healthy exercise.  It still generates a lot of exercise, but almost all of it is in the form of pool maintenance – vacuuming, scooping leaves, etc.

They say that a pool is a hole in the ground that you dump money into.  I used to be able to laugh about that, but since we are often gone during the months when it is warm enough to swim comfortably, it seems to have become the pool’s primary function.   I just don’t find it funny anymore, and when the wind-chill is in the 30s like it has been this week, I give serious thought to having the pool filled in and planting a garden.

 

Aside from the obvious expenses like chemicals and electricity, I have spent an awful lot over the years on skimmer baskets.  This time of year, the basket would get so full of leaves that it was impossible to remove without turning off the pump, and if I didn’t get to it soon enough, the basket would often collapse and split.

I was complaining about that at the pool supply store two years ago, and the clerk said “That shouldn’t happen if you’re using the snorkel.”

“The what?” I said.

He scrounged around on the shelf for a while, and then he showed me a piece that screws into the skimmer basket to allow it to breathe when full.

I had been buying the same skimmer basket from the same store for years, and never knew the snorkel existed.  I never even noticed that the bottom of the basket had a threaded spot for the snorkel to screw in.

Well, now I know.

Problem solved, right? 

I no longer run through several baskets per season.  The bad news is that the snorkel allows the pump to suck air instead of water whenever the basket is full of leaves, so now, instead of a $14 basket, I get to replace a $300 pump.

That garden is sounding better all the time.

Me? O-C-D?

Saw an on-line article with photos that either

a) Show you have OCD, or

b) Are designed to cause it.

Some of the images didn’t bother me at all, and others would definitely make me uncomfortable.

Take the gas pump above – I’ll admit that I often try to get  the numbers to come out even.  Not because I feel like I have to, but because pumping gas is boring and it adds a little bit of a challenge to an otherwise dull job.

On the other hand, there is no way I could ignore a binder ring that failed to match up.

I wouldn’t stop for this manhole cover, but if it were in front of my house or office, it might be too much to ignore – and if the Men’s Room floor looked like this, I might have to change jobs.

If You can’t control yourself, you can see the article with the rest of the pictures HERE.

A Car By Any Other Name

One of my favorite urban myths is that the Chevy Nova failed to sell in Latin America because No Va, in Spanish, means won’t go.  It’s not true, the Nova actually sold quite well, but it should have been!

Some car names just work – others, not so much.

In the 50s, Chrysler’s Plymouth division sold a lot of station wagons called the Suburban.

The name Suburban worked so well that GM appropriated it for their big Chevrolet SUV.

Back in the mid-70s, Honey’s uncle sold us his 1968 Ford Ranger Edition Explorer pickup.  It was a beefed up Ford truck with an off-road suspension that felt like it had no springs or shocks at all.  Without the big truck camper he had used it to carry, I had to haul several bags of sand in the back just to make it drivable.

A few years later, the Ford Ranger name was on  a mini-pickup, and the Explorer was a mid-sized SUV.

In 2001, Honda was going to import the car they called the Fit in Asia to the European market.

Honda planned to call it the Fitta until they learned that Fitta is Swedish slang for female genitalia.  They released it in Europe as the Jazz.

A few years before I retired, one of our technicians bought himself a new Toyota pickup.  It was a sport model with the big Toyota Racing Development decals on the rear quarter panels.

He was proudly showing it off in the parking lot when one of our co-workers, seeing the big TRD on the side said, “You bought yourself a Turd?”

Since then I haven’t been able to see that decal on anybody’s truck without chuckling.

Other associations are even more subtle. 

My wife almost never uses profanity and there are some words commonly used today that nearly cause her to swoon.  She certainly has nothing against Volkswagen – her first car was a used Beetle that she drove for years – but the first time she saw a TV commercial for the Passat

she announced, “I could never drive a car called a piss-ant.”

Autumn and The Annoying Tree

Fall foliage, or what passes for it here, is arriving at the Boggy Thicket.  Sweet Gums and elms are just beginning to turn, and some of the Oaks are already dropping leaves by the truck-load.

By far, the most colorful leaves are on what I call “that damn tree.”  I call it that because, although I was a Boy Scout and have lived in Southeast Texas for over 70 years, I have no idea what kind of tree it is. 

I have consulted the internet – based on Texas A&Ms Trees of Texas website, I suspect it is some kind of Ash, but none of the photos or descriptions are an exact match.

In Autumn, leaves go from green to yellow, to orange, to scarlet.  By the time they fall, they are often a luminous garnet with a pattern of black spots.

We have several of those “damn trees” on our property, and they are among the ugliest trees on the place.  They get big – the one in the picture above is well over 60 feet tall.  Unlike most trees, where even the horizontal limbs start growing from the trunk at an upward angle, about a third of the limbs on these trees start out pointed down.

We had a small one – about 18 feet tall - in the front yard that I liked a little bit.  I thought it looked sort of oriental, like a tree you might find painted on a Chinese screen.  Honey thought it was the least attractive tree she had ever seen, so eventually, I cut it down.

Speaking of unattractive, I’ve never noticed fruit on the big trees, but that little one bore tiny, round, blue-black fruit each year.  I don’t know what they tasted like, but they must have been pretty bad – none of the birds or squirrels would touch  them.

One More Pro Team

I’m not much of a soccer fan. 

I’ve never watched an entire game on television because to me soccer, like hockey, can only be truly appreciated in person.  One Sunday, years ago, I went to Nuevo Laredo for the bullfights and came across a high-school soccer tournament – I enjoyed it so much I never made it to the corrida.

Except for the Olympics, I’ve never seen women’s soccer, but that might change.

The Houston Dynamo are in talks about securing an expansion franchise in the National Women's Soccer League, which features U.S. national team stars Alex Morgan, Hope Solo and Abby Wambach.

The eight-team NWSL played its inaugural season in 2013 with a commitment from the U.S., Canadian and Mexican women's national soccer federations.

"We're involved in the initial stages of this process and hope to learn more about the league and the opportunity over the next few weeks," Dynamo president Chris Canetti said. "I'm a firm believer in women's athletics. I think there is a place in the sports landscape for professional women's sports."

The NWSL's 22-game schedule, which consists of 11 home games and 11 road matches, lasts from April to August. Seattle, Portland, Kansas City, Chicago, Washington D.C., Boston, New Jersey and Rochester have teams in the league. Houston would be the league's first franchise in the Southwest.

If the Dynamo finalize their quest to land an NWSL expansion club, that team would play at BBVA Compass Stadium and train at Houston Amateur Sports Park, just as the men's club does.