Saturday, May 26, 2012

Re-Winding The Road

I had just gone in to the local coffeeshop this morning to get a cuppa my regular, caffeinated two-sugars-no-cream joyjuice. You always need two of those to kick-start your day (remember the Relic's motto concerning coffee, kiddies: "The first cup clears the fuzz, the second one brings the buzz.")
And then it happened. AGAIN!
I overheard a young, bespectacled woman whose-name-I-did-not-know-nor-want-to talking with a friend about "boomers". She said: "I don't know what they're trying to prove now. I mean, they did all right in their day, but what useful purpose do they have now??"

What purpose?? To quote the legendary Batman (aka Bruce Wayne, aka Adam West), "Poor, deluded child!"

Yes, we did change a few things back-in-the-day. The same kids who watched or were in the studio for Uncle Lloyd's show also fought for (and succeeded in bringing to pass) civil rights, respect (and voter-age change) for 18-year-olds, women's rights and some little, tiny thing you might've missed: an end to a terrible war!
Oh ... and, according to Tom Brokaw's excellent report, the popularization of blue jeans, without which 99.44% of American teens would be walkin' around nekkid today.

Many of them created bands that influenced the entire spectrum of rock, while others, whose bands didn't quite make the cut, went on to greater things (such as Gary Busey, upper left in photo, of Carp).

Today, those self-same "kids" are still active -- in fact, possibly more than any other generation -- in helping others. Remember Hurricane Katrina? The wildfires of L.A.? The earthquakes of Haiti and Chile?
Guess who was there, lending a hand (often, before the Washington Suits could de-committee themselves to help)?
Uh-huh. The boomers.
And who's making the most noise about ending the wars that are going on in the Middle East?
Yep ...
Oh, and for Ms. Skinnie Minnie at the coffee shop: Ummmm, since she looked to be about thirtyish, guess which generation her folks belonged to? "Now, Miss Minnie, do your biological parents pay, or have they ever paid, any of your bills?" (Gee .. for a moment there, I felt like Perry Mason!)
Case made, right??

So don't knock the boomers, people! One thing that LT said in one of this Relic-targeted, eloquent emails is that (quote) "We're all in this thing together, and there's only one way out. So we've got to pull together and make the best of it ...

Stay tuned ...

Thursday, May 17, 2012

AND, NOW, A 'SPONSE FROM OUR WORDER

I was about to call this My Kind Of Town (Chicago Is) ... but that old Hinson conscience got the best of me (no, "old" as in "tradition", not in "age" ... yet, anyway!).

Actually, I was talking about writing styles: There are two that are favorites amongst those who write serious stuff: one's called Chicago, which gives the writer a little more leeway than what you read on the back of cereal boxes. It's the one I normally use in my "pay" articles ...
Then you have the AP style (pronounced "Associated Press") that's stricter. I use that for bill collectors ...

Recently, I got an email from someone who thought we were a little to colloquial in our talk here (which means: we're having too much fun!). Said it's too "dialoguish" ...

ummm ... I wonder if this dude's actually, liked, talked with anybody recently? That's what you call "DIALOGUE!" So, if you talk that way, why not write it, huh?? Huh??

Hmmm ... let me see how this would sound:
(ahem!)
"I am corresponding with you on a grievous matter that pertains to insolent and unedu"I CAN'T DO IT!! It makes me feel so ... Republican or something!!

So you're just gonna have to let your hair down (well, for those of you who have it!) here at the Mouse House ...

stay tuned ...

Wednesday, May 16, 2012

Handin' It To The Cats ...

God bless Kabuki. If the rest of my cats were the Real McCoys, he was "Grandpappy Amos". Sadly, he's no longer with me ... but that Fateful Day could've been a lot earlier in his illustrious life

Y'see, a few years ago, I had a panful of boiling grease -- the result of frying up a package of bacon . As I was transferring the grease to a trap at the side of the sink, he ran in front of me. Now, the handle of the pan was kinda loose, and was just about to come off -- and I knew the entire, scalding-hot mess would douse K-Cat!

So, instead of seeing him fatally burned, I pushed the handle down in a snap, and took the entire load of it on my left hand!

Now, I'm not gonna say it hurt, but it was at that very moment that I found I could dance a very mean Watusi.
I ran to the fridge, jerked open the freezer door with my good hand and stuck the parboiled one in a big bag of ice. Then I took the bag out, poured it into a pot I had on the stove and carried it to the coffee-table in the living room (yes, I had to take my already-swollen paw outta the ice to do it. My reaction to the immense pain nearly resulted in five new curse words added to the Merriam-Webster® dictionary ...).I laid down on the sofa and stuck my hand in the pot. The relief was overwhelming -- and I shortly fell asleep.
But ...
two hours later, I awoke (hand still in the ice) to find my cats had gathered around on the sofa and table -- staring at my crotch (I could swear that the smallest were giggling. K-Cat and the others just shook their heads in disbelief ...).
So it's not just warm water that loosens the ol' bladder, eh?? Gotta make a note ...

Two Tylenol®, a bottle of peroxide (poured, not drank) and an ace-bandage later, the pain was still so bad that I went to the local ER to be checked out. Two hours passed -- I was down to the last two buttons of my shirt. I'd already chewed the rest of them off -- and the doctor came to look at it.
"You need to have somebody take a look at it," he said. He meant someone called a reconstructive surgeon. I was just hoping he'd have come back with a hatchet and cut the darn thing off.

Instead, I drove to the pharmacy (he did prescribe medication to ease the pain. What, exactly, is "arsenic", anyway? ...), and they gave me a jar of some kind of cream to put on it as well. Of course, I was to keep it bandaged afterward ...

The next few days were ... well, eventful. Now, I also had two dogs -- one male, one female -- who were very well-trained. All I had to do is give a simple command like sit, stay, flush and they'd do it.

But, once, I walked into the computer room to try my hand (literally!) on the Compaq®, when I accidentally hit my bandaged-but-still-throbbing hand against the doorsill.
Now, I'm not gonna repeat what I said, nor how often I said it -- but, when I turned around, the hall was filled with little brown poops!

NOTE: Whilst the second-and-third degree burns apparently had done enough damage to warrant reconstruction, I chose against it. It healed perfectly, and today I have total use of the hand. Miracle?? Therapy?? Listen ... the most miraculous therapy I received was some loving cats gently rubbing against the bandaged hand, purring ... and tender doggy-licks as deep brown eyes gazed up at me as if to say, Daddy, you're gonna be alright ...
and, by the way: thanks for smearing the back of your bandage with peanut-butter!