2011 April

	2011, APRIL

April 31

More signs of the Times; Jay Leno ain’t got nothin’ on me.

“Lawyer’s shooting death ruled a homicide.” As opposed to a public service?

A headline in the Health Section with so many intriguing possible interpretations you don’t want to spoil it by reading the article: “Penis spray shows results.” I wonder if it’s covered in the new Health Care bill.

Not exactly a headline, but a local car dealership was offering “overage bonus cash.” I was hoping it was a deal for seniors, but alas it just meant they lowered the price on cars that had been on the lot over 30 days.

And speaking of ads, bad news for some of my relatives: I just found out you can “upgrade your family for less than you think” with Verizon.

In the headlines, “Duh” Division. This was about Governor Schwarzenegger’s (remember him?) latest plan to restore Califorlornia to greatness, but it could have been anything: “Legislature might resist plan.”

“Duh” Division runner-up, in a subhead for an article on the many candidates for Attorney General: “Money is a key.”

“Pilot’s actions called uncharacteristic.” Since they were referring to his crashing his plane into the IRS building, one certainly hopes so.

News headline: "Man found insane in stalking Shawn Johnson." No offense, Shawn.

Another: “Goat attack believed unusual.”

And a line I never thought I’d see in print: “Italian team works in unison….”

April 24

I collect sawdust.

I don’t mean it gets in my hair when I work in the garage, though that happens too, as Jeanine will attest loudly and often. I mean I have an actual sawdust collection. It’s not like a collection of stamps or coins, which you take out from time to time and admire your specimens; my collection is entirely pragmatic. When I’m building something out of wood—say a guitar with mahogany, spruce, and bloodwood—a bit of glue mixed with sawdust of the same species makes an excellent filler for small flaws and cracks.

I keep my sawdust in those little plastic canisters that 35 mm film used to come in. I have a collection of those, too. Now, I see you starting to squint at that, but when I was buying film by the brick, I saved a shopping-bag full of the containers on the theory that they would be great for keeping small things. And lo, I was right! I keep my pills in them: blister packs are a nuisance and take up too much room in the medicine cabinet. And when I travel, I put all the pills I will need for the week in a film can.

When we travel, more often than not we go to the seashore, and it’s all but impossible to walk down the beach without picking up one or two of the most attractive rocks, so I also have a collection of stones. A large collection: I walk on the beach a lot. At first I took them home to photograph them. When I hung the pictures on the wall, people (well, person) would beg for copies so I gave the photos away and mounted a dozen of the rocks in frames and hung them on the wall. To the delight of visitors and the displeasure of my roommate, I have rocks in wire baskets on our front walk. I have rocks in a sculpture in the living room. And I still have two or three boxes of rocks left over that I use whenever I want to weigh something down.

I don’t collect old magazines or newspapers, but I’ll admit I’ve begun to wonder: when does a collector become a hoarder?

April 17

What you wear under your pants are called, logically enough, “underpants.” Under your shirt you wear an “undershirt.” If you live in Wisconsin, you may need an “overcoat” over your coat and, if the weather’s really foul, “overshoes” over your shoes. So why aren’t socks “undershoes?”

And speaking of socks, I took a pair out of the dryer the other day and was surprised to discover that one sock was blue and the other gold. Even more amazing was the fact that I have another pair just like them. I’ve been sporting them around town of late and people have been making a variety of comments. Apparently it’s not conventional to wear socks of different colors

Why not? Now, I’m a pretty conventional person when the convention has some rational basis: I drive on the right, sleep mostly at night, and usually try to eat at least one meal at an hour when restaurants are open. But where is it written that just because you have two of something they have to be the same color? Hell, since my surgery, my feet aren’t even the same color. I don’t see any reason to observe conventions that don’t make any sense. I’m not suggesting that we go off wearing just any old individual socks, willy-nilly; they really ought to be the same gauge. That much does have some logic behind it. The part of my brain that controls my gait is confused enough without having to deal with a silk evening stocking on one foot and a thick woolen ski sock on the other. I think Gabby Hayes’ sidekick, the only movie good guy ever to wear a black hat, used to do that, and that’s why they called him “Hopalong.” (That’s not what Wikipedia says, but who are you going to believe, me or a bunch of guys who just make stuff up?)

April 10

The gout episode has profoundly altered me. Not (obviously) because it has shaken my faith in doctors and not because I have (or don’t have) gout. But my attitude has been violently changed. I have become vulnerable. Six month ago I was an invincible, healthy guy who took no medications and followed a weird diet just to keep some numbers within an “acceptable” range. Now I’m an old geezer (how does one geeze, anyway?) with gout, hypertension, skin cancer, a cardiologist, and a rheumatologist. I take so many damn pills, I have to carry a list because I can’t remember them all. I see my doctors more often than I see my barber.

I can read a calendar, but I never felt old until now. Suddenly I have turned into my father. I suppose this is something everyone goes through except people who have always been sickly and always felt this way.

I don’t like it. I’m buying a Corvette.

April 3

One of the consequences of a low-carb diet is the need for fiber supplements. My favorite has been Fiber Choice, a chewable tablet like a giant Tums, only better tasting. Recently I noticed something new from the same company, Gummi Fiber or Fiber Gummies, I forget which. I tried them and they are quite tasty, a lot like Gummi Bears. A LOT like Gummi Bears. In fact I suspected that they were probably the same. I went on line and determined that in fact the ingredients were essentially identical.

Since the candy is much cheaper if it’s not called medicine, I checked in with Amazon.com to see if I could get sugar-free Gummi Bears, which I can’t find in my local stores. Sure enough they have them, for about ten bucks a pound, or 5 pounds for $17. Five pounds of Fiber Gummies (that’s the right name: they’re on Amazon, too) would run you about $188.

That’s not unexpected, and I wouldn’t bother to write about it if that was the end of the story. But I happened to notice that the candies (and there were several brands) on Amazon all got no better than three stars. When I read the actual reviews I discovered the reason, and it proves what I’ve been saying about people all along. Without exception, everyone who complained described terrible gas and diarrhea. And without exception every person who complained began his review with (and these are direct quotes) “after I ate a few handsful…” or “I ate about a quarter of a bag….”

Just like it says on the container: “Excessive consumption may have a laxative effect.” Surprise.

The opinions expressed herein are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect--well, yes, come to think of it, I guess they do.

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