September 28, 2007
Can
a warden be a good wife?
--
Toney went out and bought a new coffee maker this week.
The old one was pretty cool, it was the kind where you press
your mug up against a dispenser, and hot coffee just comes shooting
out. No carafe to break,
and no hot plate to turn your good ol’ Eight O’Clock fresh-roasted
into something straight out of a 1970’s Kentucky convenience store.
But the thing was old and had started shedding water.
Before we went to bed at night we’d set it up to begin
brewing at
5:30
am
,
and while we slept half the water in the reservoir would seep out.
So we’d stumble downstairs to find half a pot of incredibly
strong diarrhea coffee, and water all over, as one of my aunts used to
say, carnation.
I looked at it, and it didn’t appear a hose had come loose, or
anything like that. There was
just a slow-leak from God knows where, and it was making us go grrrrr.
So Toney was at Sam’s a few days ago, and bought a brand new
fancy-ass Cuisinart model. It’s
all shiny and chrome and whatnot, and features more knobs and gauges
than a Boeing 737. You can
actually adjust the temperature of the hot plate, which is something
I’d never seen before, and I’m almost certain there’s a
headphone jack, for some reason.
Continue
reading here 
September 27, 2007
Your
WV Almanac First Edition
--
A couple of days ago I accidentally banged by hand on the
console of my car (I think I was getting a little carried away with
the tuneage), and the nail on my middle finger cracked down the
middle. Never, in my entire
life, had something like that ever happened before.
I mean, what the hell, man?
I clipped it down as low as I dared to go, but there’s still a split
there that gets hung on every damn thing.
It seems like every move I make now ends with the creepy-crawly
feeling of my fingernail being tugged from its traditional home out on
the end of my right middle finger. I’m
afraid I’m going to get it caught on the couch or something, and the
shit will just open up like a fire door.
And I can’t have that.
-- I was listening to Clive
Bull earlier in the week, and he was talking about sleep.
He read a newspaper article about a study that claims adults
need seven hours of sleep per night, no more and no less.
And too much is as harmful as too little.
Continue reading here
September 26, 2007
Your
WV Almanac First Edition
--
After the younger Secret went to school this morning, I took my
car to “the shop.” Over the
past few days it’s been acting funny, not wanting to start, and
sounding like a fat man getting punched in the gut during a bar fight.
And believe me, I know that sound...
I was hoping it was only the battery, but feared it might be the
alternator, or starter, or something else expensive.
I had terrifying flashbacks of my Chevy Blazer days, and
experienced a full-body shiver.
Preferring to remain ignorant, but afraid of getting stranded
somewhere, I bit the bullet and took my car to the Last Honest Garage
in America
.
The guy there said he could probably get to it in a half-hour
or so, and I gave him my cell number and told him I’d be having
breakfast within walking distance.
Continue
reading here
September 24, 2007
Bradys
+ Sears = High Fashion!
-- I
took the older Secret to his soccer game (match?) on Saturday, and
Toney stayed home. She’d gone
to the earlier game (match?) with the younger Secret, while I was
still wallowing around in bed, moaning and screaming, “No, no, no,
no, NO!!” Now it was my turn.
So I carried a camping chair with me and settled near what would be
the fifty yard line in a more American
sport. And within minutes a big
slob planted his chair near mine, and slightly in front, blocking my
view to the left. What the
hell, man?! It was
literally wide-open spaces there. Why’d
he have to sit near me?
Grrr…
I got up and adjusted my position so I could see better, and
thought I could smell a slight musty funk wafting off the guy.
I chuckled as I thought of the way Phil Hendrie, would surely
describe him: “300 lbs of donut oil.”
The kids started playing, but I
couldn’t take my eyes off Fatty Arbuckle for some reason.
He’d produced some big-ass scholarly book from God knows
where (he wasn’t carrying a bag or anything), and was now reading
it. And every once in a while
he’d seem to notice other adults cheering and hollering, and doing
the things you do at a soccer game (match?).
Then he’d shake his head in apparent disgust.
Continue
reading here
September 21, 2007
Candid
zoom-lens celebrity photos
--
A little over two weeks ago I started looking for a job again.
I hadn’t planned on it, but I basically took the summer off
from that horribleness. And now
here I am, right back at it. Sigh.
Since Job Search 2.0 was launched, I’ve probably sent out
twenty-five resumes, wasted time with a cigarette and bourbon-voiced
“recruiter,” attended three so-called career fairs, and spoken to
one actual human with hiring power on the telephone.
The human was very friendly and positive, and gave me hope.
He called me, which
is a miracle right there, and seemed to have truly spent time with my
resume. He had nothing to offer
at the moment, but said my experience is “very attractive,” etc.
etc. He volunteered his name
and number, and urged me to call him if I notice any pertinent job
openings on their corporate website. And
he seemed to mean it.
When it comes to this kind of thing, I’m not accustomed to friendly
and positive. Therefore, I’m
kinda skeptical. I don’t want
to be, but am. Is that crazy?
Continue
reading here
September 20, 2007
Can
you spot the filthy innuendos?
--
I just couldn’t do it yesterday.
I took the younger Secret to school, returned home as normal,
and was ready to get down to bitness with TheWVSR.
But almost as soon as I flopped down here, I realized there
wasn’t going to be a Wednesday update; my brain and central nervous
system were conspiring against me.
Experience has taught me not to fight such a feeling.
It’s like when your body is craving fruits and vegetables –
there‘s a reason. So I turned
off my computer and walked away.
Occasionally I need a break from the internet, it’s as simple as
that. I don’t live my entire
life in front of a monitor, but sometimes it feels that way.
Yesterday I was apparently at a point where it had become Too
Much, and I heeded the warning.
Needless to say, I went straight to Waffle House.
There I purchased a USA Today from the machine outside, took a seat at the “low
bar,” and ordered breakfast. That
was, as usual, scrambled eggs, sausage, hash browns with cheese,
toast, and sweet tea. I
lingered over my food while reading the paper, and could feel the big
clinched-fist of anxiety loosen with every passing moment.
Continue
reading here
September 18, 2007
Under
no circumstances at all
--
More information on the “adaptation specialist” Toney’s
sister hired to help her and her family come to terms with their
recent relocation to Canada…
Apparently she’s suffering from standard depression brought on by a
move to a new country, and a different culture(?!).
But Nanners is reportedly exhibiting symptoms of “re-entry
anxiety,” in addition to the depression.
This, the specialist says, is similar to a returning war
veteran who, because of his experiences, now sees his country in a
different light. Heh.
And how are they being instructed to combat the all-encompassing
black, black sadness? That’s
right, with green tea and yoga.
I clipped my fingernails earlier today, and am feeling slightly off
because of it. Wonder if that
woman does long-distance phone consultations?
‘Cause I think I need some help adjusting to my “new nail
reality.”
Continue
reading here
September 17, 2007
Fledgling
Laysan albatross Shed Bird
--
On Friday afternoon I learned that Greg
Beck died. I didn’t
know the man personally, but considered him to be a friend.
He was an early supporter of TheWVSR, occasional commenter, and
keeper of an online journal that could probably make even Joan Baez
smile.
We communicated via email a few times over the years, often about
music, and I have nothing but positive thoughts about Greg; he seemed
to be warm, funny, and kind. When
I learned of his death last week, I felt almost sick to my stomach.
And that’s all I know to say… My
best wishes to his family and friends.
-- It’s full-on autumn up
here in the Rolled-Sausage Belt. On
Saturday, at the Secrets’ soccer games (matches?), people were
decked-out in winter coats and knit caps, and sipping boiling-hot
coffee from mitten-gripped cups.
Just a couple of weeks ago it was so hot
the goalie vomited, and a man sprang from his chair screaming, “Give
him Gatorade immediately! Give
the boy Gatorade!!” They had to abbreviate the quarters to five
minutes each, because kids were literally getting sick from the heat,
and at least one forward broke down in tears.
Continue reading here
September 14, 2007
No,
I don't believe I am ready
--
This
Associated Press article, about West Virginia’s infamous Jack
Whittaker, is on the front page of today’s Scranton
Times. Whittaker, of
course, is the winner of a gargantuan Powerball jackpot ($315
million!), and star of the ongoing real-life Aaron Spelling soap
opera, Bumfuck
25880.
Since winning the money it’s just been one scandal after another for
Citizen Jack. There have been
dead bodies, stolen suitcases full of cash, strip club banishments,
fistfights, divorce, DUIs, lawsuits…
It seemingly never stops. His
name is almost literally in the local newspapers every
day of the week.
A couple of years ago he bought a house directly across the street
from some people I know, and kept one of his “female employees”
there. He’d reportedly show
up in the middle of the night and park his Hummer-of-the-week in the
yard, right up against the front porch.
This was presumably so he wouldn’t have to stumble so far to
reach the front door, and get right to the, um, 3 am
dictation.
Continue
reading here
September 13, 2007
Do
these come in a super-husky?
--
My big problem with the Time magazine 100
Best TV Shows of All-Time is, of course, the omission of The Andy Griffith Show. I
mean, what in the tap-dancin’ crap?!
Here are the greatest TV shows of all time:
1. The Andy Griffith Show
2. Seinfeld
…everything else
I think that guy was either purposely trying to create controversy
and, in turn, web traffic, or he’s just some elitist Ivy League snob
who’s far too sophisticated
for Goober, Gomer, Barney and the gang.
In any case, who cares? It’s
just a stoopid list. With an
emphasis on stoopid. Right?!
But one more thing before I drop the subject (I’m trying to resist
it, but the guy’s getting under my skin)… Soap
was one of the most overrated TV shows in history.
I hated it, even though the hipster newsletter said I was
supposed to pretend otherwise. Here’s
some rare video footage of me watching Soap
in 1978.
The fact that it’s included by Time, says a lot, I think.
Soap.
Ha! That thing was about
as funny as bladder cancer. Bladder
cancer, I say!
Continue
reading here
September 12, 2007
The
cold war is officially over
--
“Chinese food in Scranton
”
is one discouraging (not to mention scary) phrase.
Our current base of operations has plenty to offer when it
comes to restaurants, especially if you like Italian or Polish, but
one doesn’t usually associate northeastern
Pennsylvania
with
Asian cooking. Ya know?
It’s almost as frightening a concept as, say, “Chinese food
in Charleston
,
WV
.”
Shit, I just had a full-body
shiver!
Defiant and ignorant, however, we were determined from day one to find
a decent place for cashew chicken and egg rolls and whatnot.
And it turned out to be a harrowing adventure.
We visited many restaurants, and the gloop-factor was almost always
high. And the chicken was
usually slimy and the color of pewter.
And the idea that what you’re eating was very likely on
somebody else’s plate earlier in the day, or catching a Frisbee in
its mouth at the park on Tuesday, was constantly in the back of your
mind.
Continue
reading here
September 11, 2007
He's
watching... always watching
--
Exhausted and dragging fat-ass, I crawled into bed last night
before 9:30
and
slept like Natalee Holloway.
Yesterday was hot and sticky again, but while I was “writing” at a
table in the young adult section of the library (the least-visited
part of the building, it seems) the temperature must’ve plunged a
full fifteen degrees. It was
grotesque outside when I entered the joint, and it felt shockingly
pleasant when I came out, two hours later.
So we slept with the windows open last night, and that’s the
best sleeping of all.
Since I hit the sack so early, I didn’t have time to prepare the
site for today’s update. I
try (and sometimes succeed) to have the Further Evidence link, the
bunker pic, Charley West, and the permanent page ready to go the night
before. But I didn’t do any
of that yesterday.
So, this morning I came down here, turned on the latest Lindsey
Buckingham CD, and started tending to the tasks at hand.
Continue
reading here
September 10, 2007
Stephen
Hawking in Lego!
--
I’m thinking about selling our dog Andy in an internet
auction. That hound is pissing
me off, on a consistent basis.
All weekend he did that staring crap, where he sits in front of you
and shoots a laser beam, willing
you to do his bidding. I’ve
read several articles about border collies over the years, and their
intense stare is almost always mentioned.
And Andy’s got that shit down to a science.
I’ll be reading the paper and drinking coffee or whatever, and Black
Lips Houlihan walks into the room and plops down at my feet.
And he just looks at me, unmoving, for as long it takes.
I resist as much as I can, but there’s no man alive who can
withstand a fixed Andy-stare. The
military should study it, they really should.
Usually he wants to go outside (again), so I cut loose with a loud “Grrrrrr…,”
slam the newspaper down, and open the front door.
Then he goes out there and stands, like he’s made of ceramic.
He leads me to believe he’s about to explode in a spectacular
supernova of pee, but does
he pee? No, he does not.
He just stands on the sidewalk with his snout in the air, like
some elitist snob.
This morning I let him out as soon as I came downstairs, at 6:30
.
I figured I’d just cut-out the middleman, and give him what
he wants early. The staring is
getting out of hand, and starting to put me in a bad mood.
So I thought I’d take steps to limit it.
Continue
reading here
September 7, 2007
For
your gums... or whatever
--
The house we’re in now might just be the quietest place
I’ve ever lived. It’s very
suburban and tranquil, and sometimes entire hours go by without a
single car driving past our door. Sure,
Half-Shirt sometime flies off the handle, and threatens to kill his
entire family. But that’s a
relatively rare occurrence... It’s
very quiet here.
I was thinking about it in the shower this morning (where much of my
most valuable meditation
takes place), and realized I’ve led a fairly noisy life.
From childhood all the way to Scranton
,
I’ve lived amongst clamor and commotion most of the time.
And I don’t think I even realized it until today…
When I was in fifth grade our family moved from 21st Street
,
to 17th Street
.
I know that doesn’t sound like a big deal, but it was.
Because, you see, my parents bought a house on the other side of the tracks.
My hometown of Dunbar
,
WV
is
split almost exactly in half by railroad tracks.
There’s the river side, where we lived during the
21st
Street
years,
and the hill side, where we moved when I was ten or eleven.
I knew nothing of the hill side, and didn’t want to know.
The kids over there were a mystery to me, and the thought of
going to their schools… well, it made me sick to my stomach.
Continue
reading here
September 6, 2007
Our
second-ever caption contest
--
While I was driving the younger Secret to school this morning,
we were blasting Dream Police
by Cheap Trick. Or as a guy I
used work with in Greensboro
called
them, The Cheap Trick.
This got me to thinking...
Dream Police was released in
1979, which was 28 years ago. The
Secret is nine years old. So,
when I was nine, in 1972, if my parents had rocked the popular music
from 28 years earlier, it would’ve been from 1944.
And according to this,
Bing Crosby was the big deal that year.
And needless to say, this would’ve turned me into the laughing stock
of Dunbar Elementary. I can
just see me opening the door of the
Monte
Carlo
and
Bing’s deep-ass boo boo boo rolling out, right in front of Timi Johnson and his
“crew.” We probably
would’ve had to leave the state.
Is the Cheap Trick of 2007 the Bing Crosby of 1972?
Somehow I doubt it. But
what do you think? Am I doing
irreparable harm to my kids by playing antique music from a different
era?
Continue
reading here
September 5, 2007
Our
second-ever caption contest
--
It’s the first day of school up here in the Upper Pierogi
Belt, and Andy and I dropped the youngest youngling off at the back
door of the indoctrination center, then purchased two breakfast
burritos through a hole cut in the side of a McDonald’s.
Just like we did every day last spring...
It’s as if the summer never happened.
On Friday they posted the teacher/student information at all the local
schools, and Toney and the boys went around and checked everything
out. Both Secrets were pleased
with what they learned; apparently they got the teachers they were
hoping for, etc. etc.
Toney seemed satisfied, as well. She
knows all the players (teachers, aides, administrators, janitorial
staff, the people who work on the copiers… I’m tellin’ you,
she’s involved), their quirks and personalities, and I didn’t hear a
single complaint from anyone. It
was an amazing turn of events.
When we were playing basketball at the elementary school over the
weekend, we went and checked the information again.
The youngest Secret wanted to confirm which classes a few of
his friends would be in, and I tagged along.
Continue
reading here
September
4, 2007
Review:
Wendy's Baconator burger
--
Toney prodded my back fat before
6
am
today,
telling me to not only wake up but to also get up. Wha’?
What’s going on? Is
there a fire? Is there A GREASE
FIRE?!
She said, “The hell?” then went on to explain, in adrenalized
tones, that there’s a mouse in the house.
A mouse? Man, I didn’t
like the sounds of that, not even a tiny bit.
When I was a kid a rat the size of a cocker spaniel got in
through the dryer vent, and was rampaging from room to room like
something out of Stephen King.
My Dad eventually got it cornered and was spearing at it with the
stick end of a broom. And
I watched in horror as it reared up on its hind legs, bared its yellow
teeth, and hissed in defiance. I’ve
never been a fan of the yellow hissing...
But from what Toney was saying, this was no rat.
It was reportedly just a small field mouse, “about the size
of a walnut.” That was
the good news. The bad
news? It was scampering
around our family room, and, gulp, the bunker.
Continue reading here
 |
The View From Down Here
