I'd put images in this post if I had the time, but since we're engaging the imagination here, just imagine there are trees to look at. Oh, hell, never mind, you superficial, shallow blog "reader", here's your damn tree!
Now that you've had a chance to look at your pretty tree picture, can we please get on with it? Thank you!
You'll notice, by the way, that that is a redwood, and I have a reason for selecting it, as you'll soon see. First though, an explanation of the title of this post. Tree is a new Skeptical Eye series (we've got more of those than I can count now) all about, you guessed it, trees! It could be funny, serious, or just plain stupid, but it will be about trees. So, this begins the new series and is also a Question of the Day post.
So, if you were a tree, what kind of tree would you be? Answer honestly, now. Make Barbara Walters proud.
While you're coming up with your answer, let me go down memory lane for what inspired this post. A number of years ago, I worked for a mortgage company, and a co-worker who was a friend of mine asked this very question. I took it very seriously and was thinking of what tree I'd be, and came up with one that I figured represented strength, longevity and a wide view of the world (it's a tall tree).
I turned to her and said "Giant Redwood".
I did not get the response I was expecting. You see, she had come to see me as some kind of comedic genius based on my amazing gift of humor, so she must have thought I was still laughing it up, because she burst out laughing. She made some kind of sexual, reference, I think. Lucky she liked that sort of thing, or that might have been my own Herman Cain moment.
I let it go and didn't let on that I wasn't in on the joke. After all, I'd rather be known as a funny man than as a wise or profound thinker.
Hey folks, Andy Loony here. I've been invited to appear each week at Skeptical Eye, which is sort of a come down after my previous gig on a hit television show every Sunday night, but what are you gonna do? It's not easy getting steady work when you're dead. I had to change my name to blog here, you know how it goes. Almost everybody says they believe in Heaven, but no one is in a hurry to get here (yeah, I made it, it's for atheists, too) which is kind of curious when you think about it. I don't think anybody really believes in God, until they get up here, like me. But as I was mentioning, I can't go under my real name, nobody would believe it's really me anyway...
Did ya ever blow bubbles when you were a kid? I did, but I never got really in to it like some youngsters. I had a neighbor kid growing up who lived next door, she had more liquid soap than the car wash down the street. I think she thought she would some day grow up and make a living blowing bubbles. I bet she didn't know they had machines for that. If she had I wonder if she would have gone on a crusade to save manual bubble jobs, kind of a bubble Luddite.
We only had little bubble wands when I was a kid, and we blew one regular sized bubble at a time. Now they can make bubbles as big as a person! And the wands are huge. I wonder how I would look inside a bubble? Probably be an improvement. Can you breath inside a bubble? I imagine you wouldn't have to hold your breath too long, bubbles don't tend to last long...
You always had to buy your blowing bubbles from the store in the toy section, because the regular soap wouldn't work. Once I ran out of bubble stuff and tried to make my own with Mom's dish soap. Didn't work, the bubbles were like bald tires in a rainstorm and they popped as soon as they were airborne. When my mom found out I'd wasted a whole bottle of dish washing liquid, I had to wash the dishes every night after dinner for a month!
No wonder they called the stuff in the toy section "magic".
What would happen if we didn't have to go #2 anymore? We could probably get rid of our toilets, for one thing. For urinating, you could just go out to the backyard and piss on the lawn, like your dog does (or do it in the bathtub). I guess toilets might still come in handy for women, and for those who need them to throw up in after a night of partying...
But I'm thinking, if I didn't have to take a shit anymore, I wouldn't give a shit at all.
Well, it's a bit quiet around here, today, isn't it? No doubt a direct result of Bret's absence finally sinking in...
I have been doing the laundry for a few weeks now without a dryer, ever since it went out and repairman money wasn't available. I have to take the wet clothes out of the washer when they're done and hang them up in the garage to dry on a system of lines I've strung up. It works pretty good if you like looking at stained socks, tee shirts and undershorts with holes in them every time you need to go get something out there. The clothes get dry, but damn the towels come out like stiff sandpaper! Taking a bath has now lost all the excitement it once had, due to the torture device that waits on the towel rack when I'm done.
On a more puzzling note, I'm now going to post the following sentence, and you tell me what it means, okay? Will the card parallel the nicer interference?
Oh, I also was doodling away at my desk at work last week and came up with this: Potassium Protein Loaf. What common baked item does that refer to? Your answer can appear in the comments if you want it to; you have the power!
Speaking of puzzles, does anyone out there still work those old-fashioned jigsaw puzzles? I have spent many happy hours with them, going back to a time when we'd do them as a family, or sometimes just my sister and I. I remember those Big Ben puzzles put out by toy giant Hasbro. They were always a photograph of some foreign location (or so it seemed to me) like doing the puzzle was the poor person's substitute for the world travel that they'd never be able to afford. One of the first ones I remember doing was of a bunch of boats somewhere in the Mediterranean (maybe). That was a hard one. I still find those photo puzzles more difficult than the ones of pretty, soothing paintings of country scenes of small town life where people are ice skating and roasting chestnuts on an open fire. The photo ones I did always had large expanses of blue sky, too, so that half the puzzle seemed to be just sky. Come on! How the hell am I gonna put it together when half the pieces look alike?
I'm "doing" a jigsaw puzzle now that is sitting on a table out near the living room. I bought it because I have such fond memories of drive-in movies, and if this was a weekend from my childhood, I'd be asleep in the backseat in my pajamas with a giant pillow next to my sister as my parents watched naked people rolling around on the floor in some boring R rated flick. Here's the puzzle I've had sitting out for weeks with only three pieces (out of 1000) put together so far:
I know I'll finish it eventually. If I were still a Christian, though, I'd be worried that I might not complete it before Jesus returns. I might have speculated, though, on whether or not my puzzle would go up with me in the rapture. I could have pictured Peter, Paul and Mary helping me on it. Yeah, I really could have.
As with last week, we'll start with the opening from the ABC television series The Movie of the Week, which featured original made for T.V. movies. This time the movie is The People (1972), and like many episodes of the weekly series, was meant to be a series of its own, with this being the pilot episode. It wasn't picked up as a weekly show, and aired instead as a stand alone for The Movie of the Week. This one starred Kim Darby and William "Ham" Shatner in the story of a strange town that turned out to be the hometown of some aliens (and I don't mean the kind from south of the border).
Hmmm, sounds like I could adapt the plot for a future Story of the Week: A group of aliens from the planet Ginx invade a peaceful libertarian town that just wants to be left alone by the Federal Government, but when F.B.I. agent Bret Alan comes to investigate some odd goings on, all Hell breaks loose as the aliens form an alliance with the townspeople to fight the Feds. A revolution ensues, spreading across the United States, and states start seceding from the Monster of D.C.
Sounds like a winner to me, but in the meantime, after the video, the story of Snowflake and Barb continues...
"So," Barb said to Snowflake as they sat next to the warmth of the fire, with Barb's husband Harold sleeping only feet away on the living room sofa, "the old bastard has to die."
Snowflake was still stunned by Barb's proposal, but all she managed to say in reply was "why?"
"He's no good, honey, that's why. I never told you this before, but Harold has been involved in some rotten stuff over the years. He once kept a load of drug money that was seized when he was a deputy sheriff over in Blackstone County. He still has most of it, and I know he's got the map to where it's hid in a safe deposit box. Once he's dead, the contents of that box are mine, and we can take all that dough and start a new life for ourselves anywhere we want."
Snowflake wasn't sure she was ready to commit murder, but the idea of a load of cash was appealing. "How much money," she asked gently.
Barb thought for a moment, then said "Oh, maybe five or six hundred thousand, maybe more."
Snowflake would have fallen over, but luckily she was still on the floor.
But still, the thought of killing someone, even for that much money, just was more than she could contemplate. No price was worth selling your soul for, after all. She then told Barb matter-of-factly that she would never be able to go through with or be a part of such a scheme.
Barb looked deeply into Snowflake's eyes. "You can and you will!" she said. She was so loud she almost woke Harold up. Snowflake hadn't seen this side of Barb before, and for the for time in their lesbian relationship, she began to question what she'd gotten herself into.
"How 'bout poison," Barb was saying one morning over breakfast later that week. "Think we could get away with that? Might be risky, though. Cops are stupid, but still clever enough to figure that one out, maybe. What do you think? I'm thinking we just try and make it look like an accident and hope for the best."
Snowflake still couldn't believe the things she was hearing coming out of Barb's mouth. She was afraid to disagree, however, because now that her lover's true character had been revealed, and she knew what she was capable of, it might even mean a death sentence for her, not just Harold. She would play along for now until she could think of what to do.
Two days later, they'd settled on the plan. They would go for a hike, telling Harold it was a picnic, and even though the "lazy son of a bitch", as Barb called him, hated to exercise, he loved picnics, especially when they included Barb's homemade chocolate cake, fried chicken and potato salad. Barb even thought about poisoning the cake to make double sure of Harold's demise, but decided against it. Pushing him off a cliff would do the trick, she was sure.
Snowflake knew she had to warn Harold somehow, but she wasn't sure how to go about it. If she told him outright, he might not believe her. He might even call her crazy and tell Barb she had one hell of a crazy "cousin" living under their roof. There just has to be another way she thought. She decided to sleep on it. Besides, there were still three more days until the date of the "picnic".
When the day arrived, the weather took a turn for the worse. It looked as though the day would be a wet one, maybe too wet to have a picnic. Barb was already getting antsy. She didn't want to have to postpone the event. She was also slightly afraid she might not have the nerve to go through with it if they waited until a more inviting, sunny day. No, it would have to be today.
"Harold," she called. "Picnic time, sweetheart!"
Snowflake still couldn't believe Barb was that cold. But she realized there was no other way out of this mess than the plan she had chosen. She just hoped it would work, and that Barb didn't suspect anything was amiss.
"I've got all the food packed and ready to go. Put it in the car, will you, dear," she said to Harold when he was dressed in his ridiculous looking "picnic clothes". What a stupid old fool Barb thought as she looked at him with a fake smile on her disgusted face.
When Harold was gone, Barb said to Snowflake "Go get my hiking boots and put them in the trunk, will you? I can't hike around up there without the proper shoes."
Snowflake went to Barb's closet and found the boots, but she didn't touch them. Instead she grabbed some pumps and put them in an old Macy's bag and took them out to the car. She was a little nervous, thinking Barb might want to inspect to make sure the boots were in there, but she didn't. Instead Barb smiled and winked at her and whispered in her ear: "It won't be long now."
Got that right! Snowflake thought.
Barb was pissed when they got to the hiking area and she discovered that her boots were nowhere to be found. "What the hell?" she practically shouted. "High heels?"
Snowflake tried to look innocent. She made up an instant story about Harold grinning at her like the cat who just ate the canary, when they were still at the house, and that he'd had the bag with the shoes in his hand, as if he'd messed with the contents to just to make Barb miserable. Another one of his practical jokes, no doubt, the asshole!
"The goddamned old bastard!" she said for about the tenth time when she and Snowflake had fallen behind Harold on the trail up to the "picnic" spot. "I'll, kill him!"
Trying to suppress a smile, Snowflake asked her, "How are you getting along in those shoes."
Barb looked at her like she was insane. "What do you think? I nearly slipped back there and broke my neck!"
Harold turned and Barb gave him a phony laugh. "How are you doing, honey bun?" she asked him.
Harold frowned and turned back to the trail ahead of him.
"All right," said Barb to Snowflake. "We're almost there. We've got to do it at the highest point. Make sure the old fart really falls and cracks his idiot skull open."
As they reached the place where Harold was supposed to have his "accident", Snowflake hesitated for just an instant, then she threw her weight against Barb and sent her falling over the cliff that now was directly to the right side of the narrow trail. Barb had a look of shock on her face for a moment, then one of realization and disillusionment as she knew that Snowflake had betrayed her.
After the authorities had ruled that there was no foul play involved in Barb's "tragic" death, Snowflake and Harold found themselves alone back at the house.
"Well, I guess you'll be leaving soon," he said, that same look of longing for Snowflake still on his face.
Maybe he was just a bad old bastard, just like Barb said. She thought for a second that she'd sent the wrong person over that cliff, until she understood that he was only a horny old horn dog and didn't mean anything truly evil. Maybe he couldn't quite get it up anymore, like Barb had said. but maybe Barb was at fault for that. Maybe she just hadn't turned Harold on anymore. He really wasn't all that bad looking for an old guy.
"It's gonna be awfully lonely in this old house, now that Barb's gone, and with you probably leaving," he said to her.
"Well," she said, "I guess I should find a place of my own now. It's too bad, because you and I could have had some really good times together, if we had some money. Too bad we're both broke."
Harold took her in his arms and she let him. After they kissed he said. "You know what, I think I know where I can get some money, enough money to have those good times you're talking about. What do you say?"
"Oh, Harold," she replied, "that sounds wonderful."
What would happen if I never mentioned Bret "Ginx" Alan again? I not only reply to Bret's comments and posts here, but I visit his other blog, and sometimes comment over there. But what if I ignored him? What if I stopped mentioning him in my posts, as I sometimes can't stop myself from doing (it's a sickness)? I mean, he would still be a contributor here at SE, but I just would never acknowledge him.
I have to emphasize that I have no intention of ever doing any such thing. Blogging just wouldn't be as fun for me anymore if I never got to talk about Ginx. I'm just asking. What would happen? Like, when you fantasize about what would your friend that you're angry with do if you stopped talking to them. If you never returned their phone calls or texts or emails. Well, eventually, they'd ignore you too, or just forget about you. That's what's happening now with an old friend of mine, that I've know since 1997. They're the one doing the ignoring. They did respond once, saying they were just too busy all the time, but I thought we'd be friends forever, like the Fox and the Hound from that Disney cartoon.
I don't know if Bret "Ginx" Alan will be a contributor here forever, but I wouldn't mind it if he were. Yeah, I like Bret too much to ignore him. But, what would happen if I did?
The ABC television network debuted a new weekly program in 1969, The Movie of the Week, featuring films "produced especially for ABC". It was sort of a new concept; not a theatrical movie having a showing on television for the first time, but an original "motion picture for television". Perhaps the most famous of the movies of the week was the Steven Spielberg directed Duel, about a man's horrifying encounter on the highway with an insane truck driver.
The Movies of the Week were uneven, with some great ones, and some mediocre ones. Some were essentially pilot episodes that later became series, such as Marcus Welby, M.D..
The Movie of the Week was a hit for the struggling ABC network (usually in third place behind CBS and NBC) and would help propel the network to later success in the 1970's. The movie highlighted in the video below is called Second Chance, and starred Brian Keith, of Family Affair fame, and was first broadcast in 1972.
So, what's all this preliminary stuff about an old T.V. show about? Well, it inspired this new Skeptical Eye series, The Story of the Week, which will feature an original story written especially for Skeptical Eye, every week (hopefully every Monday evening). Also, I just like to ramble on about things I like, such as old television from the 70s. When there were only 3 or 4 channels to watch, television just seemed more exciting, and anyone alive at that time in the United States will never forget openings like the classic Movie of the Week titles and theme music in the following video. After the video, the story. This week, Snowflake and Barb.
Snowflake got out of bed and dressed for work. She knew what was coming, a firing most likely, but she also knew she could face them, the bastards and crooks! Rich assholes driving BMWs and Audi A8s. Who the hell did they think they were, anyway?
Two weeks of vacation a year after working like a slave for almost four years! They got at least five or six weeks standard in Europe, she was sure of that. She was going to request vacation time, but now thought better of it. Even if she didn't get fired this time, it would happen eventually, and she'd need that vacation money as severance pay if she lost her job.
Barb put her book down and wondered again about Snowflake. What was wrong with that girl; approaching an old lady like herself for sex in the women's restroom? Outrageous! But also kind of flattering! Or did the girl just have an old lady fetish? Barb was a bit puzzled by it all. Should she file a sexual harassment complaint, or just let it go and bask in the glow of her lesbian appeal? Maybe it was all the vampire romance novels she always read, with their lurid lesbian covers. Yes, even though Barb had been married for forty years, she knew a lesbian cover when she saw one. Where were all the hunks that used to be on the covers of her horror romance novels? Maybe she was shopping at the wrong bookstore? Snowflake had introduced her to Blood Sucking Sisters Fantasy and Science Fiction Book Shop, but really, it was just a name, wasn't it?
Barb thought for a few more minutes before pulling herself free from the bed covers. Maybe she should have sex with Snowflake. Harold hadn't been much in that department for ten years or more. Maybe it was time to try something different.
Snowflake hopped on her bicycle, making sure her bike helmet was secure before proceeding. No way was she going anywhere without a helmet! Safety first and foremost was her motto, and besides, it was the law now, and she knew the laws were there for her own good. She navigated through traffic, praying (even though she didn't believe in God) that she'd arrive at work safely. Maybe today she would leave Barb alone. The woman wasn't ready for a mother/daughter relationship. She was ready to be the cub to Barb's mama bear, but she just thought Barb was too hetero to go for it. Oh well, she'd find someone else... Wouldn't she?
Barb hopped on her motorcycle and strapped on her helmet. Stupid helmet law! At least she had room for a few books inside her giant helmet. That was its only benefit as far as she was concerned. If she wanted her head squashed like a ripe melon on the street, that was her business, not the damn government's! Someday she'd be driving around on a brand new Beemer (and Barb did know her BMW history, and that for cars it was Bimmer) and thumbing her nose at all the unwashed masses living off their stolen-from-the-hard-working-taxpayers welfare checks.
As she approached the busy intersection without the stoplight (a foolish "libertarian" experiment that she knew was crazy, but that she remembered hearing Barb speak of approvingly) Snowflake slowed down, then saw the crazy, reckless motorcycle lunatic coming her way. Funny, the rider almost looked like...
CRASH!!!
Barb opened her eyes and saw through the blood a familiar face.
"Snowflake?" she managed to ask.
"Yes, Barb, it's me," the girl replied.
Barb looked up at the kind eyes gazing down at her. Then a confused look came over her face.
"Is that a helmet you're wearing," she asked Snowflake.
Snowflake reached up and touched the protection covering her head.
"Why yes, Barb, it is."
Barb tried to speak, but Snowflake shook her head.
"Why are you shaking my head?" Barb asked.
A worried look crossed Snowflake's face. "I'm not, dear, are you okay?"
Oh, come on, thought Barb, how stupid is this girl?
"No, I'm not okay!"
At the hospital, Snowflake waited to hear the news on Barb's condition. When the doctor finally appeared, he approached and asked if she was family.
"No," she answered, "just a friend. And a co-worker."
The doctor looked confused. "She said you were lovers, that you'd been together for a long time, and that you were getting married in a few days."
For a moment Snowflake thought she was dreaming. This was exactly like one of her dreams, so yes, that must be it!
"Yes," she replied. "I just didn't know if she'd said anything to you or not. But yes, we are to be married. How is she?"
The doctor smiled. "Oh, she'll be all right. A mild concussion and a few scrapes and bruises. She'll be here for at least a few days for observation, though. That was a pretty bad spill she took."
Six weeks later, as they lay in bed together, Barb mentioned for about the hundredth time their getting married.Snowflake spoke softly in reply.
"What about your husband, Gerald?"
"Harold. And he doesn't count for anything, Doesn't even have an interest in me."
Snowflake put her hands under the covers and was about to...
"Don't even think about it," said Barb. "We're living in sin, being unmarried like this!"
"What are talking about! You're the one that wants to commit bigamy!"
"Hahaha!" Barb began to laugh nearly hysterically, like she couldn't control herself. It went on for several minutes. Finally, she managed to somehow compose herself.
"Look," said Barb, now all of a sudden quite serious, "we can't be called bigamists, because gay marriage isn't even legal in this state!"
"I see," said Snowflake. She got up on her knees and held her pillow in her arms. "Barb, do you mean it? Will you really marry me?"
"Of course, my love. Now, let's start planning the wedding".
"But Barb, what will you tell Harold? How are you going to explain it to him?"
"I'll tell him you're my cousin on my Auntie Mildred's side of the family. Harold doesn't keep up with my relatives, doesn't even know who they are or know half of their names. Yes, sweetie, this it it, we begin our new life together, and right under old dumb Harold's nose!"
So they all moved in together. Harold did seem as stupid as Bard had suggested at first, but after a while, Snowflake could sense he was getting a little suspicious.
"You're Barb's Auntie Who's what?" he asked her one morning while Barb was still showering and she was pouring herself a bowl of Nature's Best Organic Granola Flakes and he was popping open a can of beer and grabbing a fistful of cold pizza from the fridge.
Snowflake looked up, startled, from her bowl of cereal and organic soy milk. "Uh, daughter, yeah, Barb's cousin."
Harold looked at her quizzically, and with more than a touch of lust in his puffy eyes, too, she thought.
"What's your mom's name?" he said.
Snowflake stood up suddenly, spilling soy milk all over the kitchen table as she did so. "Oh. look at that, will you," she said. "Clumsy me! Where are the paper towels?"
That night, as Harold snored away on the living room couch, the television still on ESPN, Snowflake and Barb snuggled by the fireplace.
"He's catching on," Snowflake whispered in Barb's ear.
Barb stared into the flames and Snowflake wasn't sure at first if she would reply, or if she'd even heard her. Then she heard Barb whisper back, and thought she had misunderstood. The words "Let's kill him" are what she thought she'd heard, but it had to be the wine; she'd drank too much at dinner (Harold and his damn trips to Bevmo!). She snuggled in closer to her lover, and then heard the same words again, with a few more added: "Let's kill him. He's of no use to anybody, and besides, the old bastard deserves it. There's something about him you don't know, something I've never told you before."
Okay, so I hope you aren't too disappointed that this was only part one. I'm not a miracle worker (as I'm sure you could tell by reading the story), so the rest will have to wait until next time.
Well, it took me a bit of time, but I has finally got some paper to write up what happened all the times with me and my brothers and sisters and our Mama, who was always looking out for us and telling ever one else to got to find themself a hot spot in hell.
One day we went to the zoo, and there being so many of us, Mama snuck some of us in over the fence by the porcupine exhibit. I'd a rather gone over into the skunk's place or even the rattly snakes, but Mama said no one would suspect anyone would try it in a poky place like that, but she did give me her cane to fight off the sticky critters if need be.
I didn't see none of them things no where so I jest get the kids in free and went to meet Mama over by the elephants. Mama, she said she like them big things cause they was the only ones at the zoo bigger and fatter than she was. Mama was large and she knowed it, that for sure! We all laughed a bit, then Mama broke out the big bag of peanuts she had somewheres under her dress and started giving 'em to the elephants. That's when the trouble started when a man in uniform come up and told Mama to stop it and he pointed at some writing what I didn't know what it said counting I'm not the best at reading, but Mama later told me it was wrote on there Don't Feed the Animals.
The man got kinda angry and all when Mama told him to got to hell and kept on a feeding the elephants.
That's when the man got on some kinda radio or something and talked into it and it made some funny noises back at him. Mama told the man the elephants loved her peanuts and she'd a got them straight from Jimmy Carter and if a that kinda Presidential endorsement weren't good 'nuff for him then she didn't know what would ever be.
The man then tried to take Mama's bag o peanuts away from her by grabbing for it, which was a mistake on his parts, cause Mama socked him in the jaw and then grabbed him by the shirt collar and tossed him into there with the elephants and then one of the big 'un come over and stamped on the poor guys head, but Mama tolds me not to be too sorry for him, seeing hows he wanted to deny them elephants a little pleasure like eating some peanuts. Mama also said how come if he was a looking out for them elephants, they was all chained up in a little place like that? Mama said it was all a farce and we shouldn't never trust nobody in a uniforms and I seed how she must be right.
Well, after that we high tailed it outta there and stopped at the mall on the ways home for some ice cream cones. Mama said some day we'd even be able to have ice cream cones with some ice cream in 'em, but the plain cones was good 'nuff for nows and least ways we could pretend they had ice cream in 'em. Mama said hers was rockety road or something and laughed away as she licked at nothing.
Then Mama got a funny look on her face. She sit down and stared at all the people going by. Some of us asked her what was going on, and Mama said she was still at the zoo looking at the animals.
We didn't know what she meant then Mama said them there people was the real dangerous animals and they was all in cages but didn't knows it. I thought about it later that night and I knowed Mama was right about that.
, about a man's horrifying encounter on the highway with an insane truck driver.
fame, and was first broadcast in 1972.