I'm Allergic to Oscar Slaps

At some point, as I was cleaning carpets Saturday, I raised some kind of allergen in the dust that laid me out like getting punched by Will Smith.

Don't worry, I'm not going to dwell for too long on the infamous Oscar slap--just a little.

I'm allergic to dust, or something in dust, or maybe I'm allergic to dusting. In any case, our house had cats living in it for many years, and I'm highly allergic to them. It's not easy getting dander out of every nook and cranny. I don't even know where the crannies are. (I'm also allergic to dogs, but sometimes you just have to suck it up, as in sucking dander into your lungs.)

"Bombardier to pilot, dander away!"

 

I have a lot of allergies, but for some reason dust is the worst ... maybe it has all the other allergens in it? I should wear a mask, but I'm a man, and men are stupid. So for the second half of the weekend I laid on the couch, in a medicinal stupor, and watched a marathon of How the Universe Works.

The great thing about the weekend is that I didn't watch the news for three days (or the weather, which pretty much spoke for itself). But I didn't stay completely away from social media, which is sad.

This explains why I had a dream, narrated by Mike Rowe, in which Jupiter insulted Saturn's rings, so Earth crossed through the asteroid belt and slapped Jupiter right in its spot.

"Now, that's what I call a close encounter."

"Memes, uh ... find a way."

For those of you who, like me, don't really care, at the Oscar ceremony Sunday Chris Rock made fun of Smith's wife's baldness, which is caused by a medical condition. Smith then smacked Rock and said, "Welcome to Earth".

Or something like that. I don't watch the Oscars after my doctor advised me to cut down on stress-inducing political speeches. Besides, I haven't watched the movie that won Best Picture since 2002.

You know, there should be an awards show for low-brow fans, like me. Best Picture, 1977: Smokey and the Bandit! (Actually, that year it was Rocky--which I did watch, so never mind.)

My allergies made me feel like Sylvester Stallone punched me. At this rate, I'll need a TV on the ceiling. (This is actually from a sleep study. I couldn't. Sleep, that is.)

Seeing the reaction to the Will-Rock incident made me realize I truly am from an older generation. If someone got up in front of a national audience and made fun of my wife's medical condition, I'd break their nose. The speaker, not the national audience. I recognize this is hypocritical, considering I'm such a fan of Don Rickles, although in my defense Mr. Personality never made fun of my wife.

But it's the 21st Century, and although you can't swing a cat without offending someone (which would offend someone), apparently it's no longer allowed to be offended on behalf of a loved one. "Violence never solved anything!" Which isn't true, but I like the thought.

But I'm a man, and men are stupid. In any case, Emily doesn't need my help: She could punch out both Christ Rock and Will Smith. I've seen her push around horses.

Although she never made fun of them.

 

No, I don't hate cats. Read the whole title, people.

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Movie review: The Batman

Here's the strange thing: While The Batman is clearly a great movie, it's still not my favorite Batman movie. Of course, The Caped Crusader has been getting darker and darker every time he's appeared on screen since the 60s version. That's not surprising--especially with DC Comics movies, which for the most part still haven't figured out that dash of humor thing.

 

I like my Batman about halfway between the camp of the TV show and the relentless pain and drama of the most recent movies: My favorite was the 1989 version. It's probably no coincidence that the first Michael Keaton Batman movie also gave us my favorite Joker, in Jack Nicholson. But that's all a matter of taste, of course.

In this version Batman is just two years into his crime fighting career, and already questioning whether he's doing any good in a crime-ridden Gotham City. Most of the police hate him (with the exception of Detective Jim Gordon, well played by Jeffrey Wright). His seemingly only employee, Alfred, warns of the Wayne fortune's impending collapse, and now a serial killer is sending the Batman notes with strange riddles along with the bodies.

One of Batman's nicknames is "The World's Greatest Detective", a part of his persona often ignored in screen versions. But this movie is more a detective story (and psychological thriller) than a superhero flick, and we get to see Batman using his powers of observation and detective skills as much as his fighting abilities and cool devices. He allies with Gordon and the enigmatic Selena Kyle (Zoe Kravitz) to find answers he might end up not wanting to know.

It slows the movie down compared to most superhero moves. In fact, Batman often resembles more of a mix of James Bond and Sherlock Holmes, as he follows clues and questions suspects.

I'm not a fan of making superhero movies more "realistic" ... they're superhero movies. In particular I'd like the villains to be at least a little bit more like the originals, although you can't fault the casting (including Colin Farrell, John Turturro, and Paul Dano.) Many were surprised at how good Robert Pattinson is as Batman, but not me--I remember the same criticism of comedy actor Michael Keaton, who's still one of my favorites to play the role. As Bruce Wayne, not so much--Pattinson plays him as a single minded and perpetually downbeat mess--although, to be fair, that's exactly what the character would be like at this point in his life.

So there it is: I found The Batman too bleak and grounded for my taste, and yet it's a brilliant film, evidence that "comic book movies" have grown up. I hear there might be a TV series spinoff from this movie, and yes: I'd watch it.

Make sure you wear an adult diaper, though--a lot gets packed into a bladder-filling three hours.

My Score:

Entertainment value: 3 1/2 M&Ms out of four. From the fights and chases to the characters and Gotham City itself, it's a treat--although it's dark both figuratively and literally.

Oscar Potential: 3 M&Ms. It should be four out of four--The Batman is full of Oscar level work.

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Scan The Sky For Scary Storms

 The Governor proclaimed March 13-19 to be Tornado Preparedness Week here in Indiana.  He used to call it Tornado Awareness Week, but a conspiracy theory emerged that without awareness we might not have noticed tornadoes in the first place, and so the governor actually caused the problem. Typical government.

The Governor's Office has denied this. However, they changed the name anyway.

I photographed this funnel cloud in Dekalb County. If it seems like I was far away, it's because I was--and that's the way to do it.

 

The biggest problem with hazardous weather is that it's hazardous. Otherwise we'd call it Non-Hazardous Weather, and then who cares? But since it is (hazardous), there are certain preparations you should make. Oh, they won't make the weather less hazardous, but there's something to be said for survival.

First, develop a plan. Your plan could be to prearrange your funeral and buy a plot, which does have the advantage of being good for any natural disaster, except a zombie outbreak. Or you could assemble a disaster supply kit, with such things as food and water, medicine, booze, a little cash in case you forget the booze, and so on. A first aid kit is a good idea, along with a crescent wrench to shut off the gas after a tornado. Your home's gas, I mean. Also, have something to keep the kids busy, otherwise you might need the first aid kit after using the crescent wrench on them.

You should also have fresh batteries for your NOAA All Hazards radio, which surely you have. Or, you could just have fresh batteries, and nothing to put them into. This is poor pre-planning. At least you changed the batteries on your smoke and carbon monoxide detectors.

Didn't you?

These twin tornadoes in Elkhart County were part of the Palm Sunday, 1965 Outbreak. Twin kids are cute; twin disasters are not.

 

Indiana averages around two dozen tornadoes a year, but in 2011 we saw 72. Since the peak season begins in April, it's possible for a tornado to plow through a partially melted snow drift, then into a brush fire, producing the feared Snow/Fire Twister. Soon to be an original movie on the SyFy Channel.

All the more reason to be prepared, and that means being alert during a watch (which means severe weather may develop), or a warning (which means scream a little, pee down your leg, but get to shelter).

 Shelter is the basement, or at least an interior room on the lowest floor, or you could pretend you're in the army and dig a foxhole really fast. Wrap up in blankets or heavy coats, or possibly pile your children and pets on top of you. Stay away from windows! In addition to broken glass, your neighbors could see you piling up your children and pets.

In cars or mobile homes, oh, boy--you picked the wrong place to be. Go find a better place, or lie flat in your car under your kids and pets, and pretend it's a new amusement park ride. Or, if all else fails, lay down in the nearest ditch, cover your head, and ... oh, who am I kidding? You're doomed. Lay on your back and check out the view, it should be amazing.

 

In all seriousness, tornadoes are amazingly bad, especially at night. Take it from an expert, which means someone other than me. There's the National Weather Service:

https://www.weather.gov/ind/SevereWxWeek

Which is the national service that deals with weather, and that's good enough for me.

Then there's the State of Indiana, which has been dealing with weather since 1816:

https://www.in.gov/dhs/get-prepared/nature-safety/severe-weather-preparedness/

Go check it out, and do what you can to be prepared. Not being ready for a disaster can be disastrous.

 

 

 

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November Mowing Pictures

Just to remind you that this too shall pass, here are some pictures from when the weather was much nicer--in November of last year. Hard to believe anyone would call any part of last year the "good old days", but at least we weren't on the edge of world war. As for weather, I just saw a prediction of a couple of inches of snow for this weekend, which is normal for basketball playoff season.

------------------------------------------------------- 

 

I get such a kick out of mowing the lawn in November. It means I'm not shoveling snow, for one thing. This year I got one last mow in before all the ick began, and I took some pictures along the way because nothing says "safety" like holding onto a roaring lawn mower with one hand while aiming a phone in the other direction.

Lilacs bloom in the spring. Except this year, because this is 2021 and Mother Nature wanted to remind us of what we'll be missing for the next several months.

Most of my fire bush died this year because of another plant that grew up and strangled it--which I didn't notice until the remaining fire bush started to turn color. The part that remained after my slashing massacre seems to be doing okay ... so far.

 

I've never understood why some people hate dandelions. I mean, they're flowers. Those little vines that want to spread everywhere, now those I hate.

Oh, I forgot to mention: growing right with the lilacs were cherries, from a tree I didn't even know was there until late last summer. I'm so bad of this yard thing.

Well, it was nice while it lasted

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A Tin Tenth Anniversary

 It's our tenth wedding anniversary!

And I'm working. Twelve hour shifts. Friday, Saturday, and Sunday.

It's a massive case of epic fail, and I can only say I was going to take the weekend off, but things happened (to other people, this time). Our actual celebration is going to be in a couple of weeks, when I did manage to get the weekend off. I have big plans!

I have no plans. Who am I kidding?

Oh, I did a little thinking ahead. I looked up what the traditional gift was for a tenth anniversary, and I found the traditional gift was, traditionally, tin or aluminum.

Huh?

Well, I could buy her an aluminum mobile home, but it would just get sucked up by a tornado sometime in May. But thinking of tornadoes reminded me of someone I know who might have advice on the subject:

That's him. His name is Nick Chopper, but ever since a series of rather horrendous accidents, during which his body was replaced, bit by bit, by metal, he goes by The Tin Woodman. He's had a lot of adventures since then, but now he lives in the Winkie Country of Oz, where he built a castle made completely out of tin.

What I'm saying is, he knows a lot about tin. Aluminum, maybe not.

"Hey, Nick", I said. "Can I ax you a question?"

Nick smiled, kind of, which made his face squeak a little. "I'm afraid my friend the Scarecrow beat you to that joke. Several times."

Just my luck. I outlined my problem: upcoming tenth anniversary, stereotypical helpless male, so on. "Can you give me any advice on gifts?"

"Well, you could have her nickel plated."

"I what?"

We were speaking by Magic Picture (long story), so I could only see his upper half, but I had the feeling he was crossed his legs. Can tin do that? "I had myself nickle plated some time ago. It helps preserve my body, especially the joints. They're made of steel, you know."

"Oh. That explains--"

"The rusting, exactly." Nick leaned forward. "Between you and me, I'm only tin coated. Don't tell."

"Oh, of course. But Emily wouldn't want to be nickel plated, being, as you might say, a meat person."

Beowulf takes exception to the term "meat person". He prefers "mom".

"I see your point. Maybe you could make her a tin suit of armor? It wouldn't stand up in a real battle, but it would move people out of her path when she's shopping."

"She wouldn't like the noise."

"How about giving her an extra heart? You probably have all sorts of hearts just laying around, in the outside world."

"Well, there are plenty that don't get used out here. Let me think it over. Meanwhile, remind Dorothy she still owes me ten bucks for that book I sent her ... and $923.50 for shipping."

I'm not too worried about the present, because ten years ago today Emily signed a document promising not to make fun of me and/or cause any permanent harm. In public.

Later I talked to some other people from Oz, and the prevailing opinion was that I should get her an emerald studded ball gown. See, they don't use money in Oz, plus they have a lot of emeralds. And they throw a lot of dances. But I think that might be as bit out of my price range.

I did finally find her a gift, something I think she'll appreciate, something that--I'm not going to identify. I'm no dummy.

Well, not usually.

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All Of a Country and Part Of a Story In the Newsletter

The newsletter for this month (well, it was supposed to be the February newsletter) covers Ukraine, cute dogs and grandkids, and a story excerpt, and that ain't too shabby:

https://mailchi.mp/91ed436f9f33/ukraine-and-free-novella-excerpt-in-order-of-importance

Remember, every time you sign up for a free newsletter from a live author, a dead author gets his wings*.

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*I can't guarantee it'll be a good dead author.

Turkeys on a plain

War just broke out, which didn't seem like a good time for a long humor piece or a "buy my books" plea. Instead I dug this out--something that's been sitting in my drafts for a year, that serves as a reminder that life goes on ... even wildlife we never used to see around here.

--------------------------------------------------------------- 

 

I've said it before and I'll say it again: It's bad enough having so many turkeys behind the wheel, without having to worry about the real thing flying out in front of you.

I suppose they were out there just gobbling up worms.

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parody song: Walk Like an Old Penguin

 There's been a lot of ice this winter. Okay, there's a lot of ice every winter, but maybe a little bit more this winter. So, as a public service and because I can't control myself, I wrote a song to teach everyone how to walk on ice or, as the authorities put it, "Walk like an old penguin".

No, seriously.

See? I don't make this stuff up. (Actually, I made up the "old" penguin part, because if you really want to be careful, start worrying about breaking a hip.)

So, remember the Bangles and their song "Walk Like an Egyptian"?

Oh. You don't? Crap. Well, review the song first:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Cv6tuzHUuuk

 

 Okay, now that it's in your head, here's "Walk Like an Old Penguin", which is set to the tune of ... well, I guess you know that, now:

Walk Like an Old Penguin

 

All the ice dropping down the roof

We do the ice dance don’t you know

If we move too quick (oh whey oh)

We’re falling down like a domino.

 

All the cars slide into a pile

They got insurance on the way

They’re on speed dial (oh whey oh)

More premiums that you’ll have to pay

 

Foreign cars with the broken bumpers

(whey oh whey oh, ay oh whey oh)

Walk like an old penguin

 

The business people on their way

They spin around when they hit the ice

Now they can’t move (oh whey oh)

A broken hip, it don’t feel too nice

 

All of us are so sick of snow

We have to salt and then plow again

When we see them fall (oh whey oh)

We’re walking like an old penguin

 

All the kids with the sidewalk skate say

(whey oh whey oh, ay oh whey oh)

Walk like an old penguin

 

 (Sliding instrumental interlude!)

Take short steps on ice, don’t break your back

Arms at your sides, you got the knack

Ice is hard you know (oh whey oh)

So don’t get hit by a Cadillac

 

Watch the way you step, with flat feet

On your way to the donut shop

Don’t sing and dance (oh whey oh)

You’ll spin out and, take a hard knock

 

All the witnesses with their phone

Film it first, then call 911

They stayed upright (oh whey oh)

They walk the line like a penguin.

 

All the docs at the ER door say

(whey oh whey oh, ay oh whey oh)

Walk like an old penguin

Walk like an old penguin

 

You'll notice Beowulf is walking like an Egyptian ... dog.

 

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Former Olympic Events Leave Fans Confused

I haven't seen a lot of this year's Olympics, because I had my hands over my eyes most of the time. Are there always that many crashes, or didn't I notice before? And why isn't someone giving those people tickets for traveling 70 mph on two sticks? And no way are there safety belts on those sleds.

Even one of the curling guys fell over.

So instead of writing about how my bones hurt just watching, here's my 2014 look at some past Olympic sports that are no longer in the games. Yes, it's a rerun--give me a break, this is my 28th Olympics.

Several years ago, baseball and softball were pulled from competition. The American women dominated in softball, while in baseball Americans … well, they only got three medals in five tries. The Cuban team grabbed the gold. There’s not much else to do in Cuba, except play baseball and stare longingly toward Florida, where senior citizens have high speed internet and all-you-can-eat buffets.

Lacrosse was a medal event—in 1904 and 1908. It involves people in facemasks hitting their balls with big fly swatters. It died out in the early 1900’s because only the Canadians, British, and Americans were willing to take the punishment; former lacrosse players are now employed as dog catchers and butterfly collectors.

Basque pelota was only a medal event in 1900, because nobody could figure out how to pronounce it. It’s played on a court with a ball, sometimes using a racket, but sometimes not.

In other words, it’s handball. If they’d called it that, basque pelota-ites would be on Wheaties boxes.

 

Downhill skiing initially fared poorly, with over a dozen cases of heat stroke before it was moved to the WINTER games.

  

Tandem cycling was popular in the Olympics from 1920-72. It’s being considered again with new, more interesting rules: The guy in front steers, while the guy in back can lash out at other competitors with lacrosse sticks. It’s now a favorite of retired hockey players.

In 1948 winter pentathlon was put on as a demonstration sport, and consisted of downhill skiing, cross-country skiing, shooting, fencing, and horse riding.

All together. In the same event.

Cat Pool proved particularly popular with dog lovers.

  

Sweden, which remained more or less neutral through World War II, had a whole army of young men just itching to shoot something: They swept all the winter pentathlon medals. However, the sport was discontinued after ski-clad Swedes on horseback shot all the competitors’ horses while jumping over the fencing.

Motorboarding--and I initially thought this was something altogether different--was tried in 1908. It ended with only one boat finishing in each of three races. It turns out the Swedes used their winter pentathlon rifles to shoot up the other boat engines, leading officials to change to rowing.

Polo was a favorite Olympic event in the early 1900’s, but it was canceled after the Swedes sent in their entry forms.

The Olympics also tried an obstacle course … involving swimmers. Competitors had to climb over a pole, go over a row of boats, and then swim under another row of boats. Luckily they had an excess of boats left over from the motorboat races.

Speaking of swimming, in 1984 they tried solo synchronized swimming.

Think about it.

 

Synchronized Ball Inflation preceeded most Olympic sports that included balls, but failed badly after the tennis event caused several aneurysms.

  

Then there’s the one Olympic sport I actually participated in: Tug of war. Not in the Olympics, but we won, and didn’t even have to borrow Swedish rifles to do it. Between 1900 and 1920 the sport was dominated by Great Britain, which sent teams of police officers. And remember, back then their cops were unarmed. Good thing the Swedes didn’t have a team.

Distance plunging would have been interesting … or not. Athletes would dive into the pool and coast underwater, without moving.

That’s it. The winner is the one who drifted the longest in sixty seconds, or when they floated to the surface, whichever came first. An American won the gold, although it should be noted that this competition happened only once, in the 1904 St. Louis Olympics. It should also be noted that only Americans competed.

I’m not sure how they could tell whether the athlete was winning, or drowning.

Groundhog Racing was halted after a series of crashes--and rabies.

 

Also at St. Louis, another US competitor did an impressive job winning gold in a sport that gives this old gym class hater nightmares: the rope climb. Why was George Eyser so impressive? Because he had a wooden leg.

In 1906 they tried the sport of pistol dueling. No, it wasn’t won by a Swede. It wasn’t really dueling, either: Competitors shot at a dummy dressed in a frock coat, and by dummy I don’t mean the guy who planned the Sochi games. It’s a good thing they cleared up how they did it, because I was thinking this would be one sport where the silver and bronze medals were awarded posthumously.

Finally, here’s a sport they tried just once, at the 1900 Paris Olympics:

Live pigeon shooting.

When the feathers cleared, a Belgian named Leon de Lunden got the gold for downing 21 birds, none of which had a say in the matter. Then he celebrated with a steak dinner.

Once the onlookers got a look at the mess left behind, they decided the Swedes weren’t so bad.

 

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