Fort Apache, the Fast Food Restaurant

Saturday was a big day. We went to the Rocky Boots outlet store in Nelsonville. The Rocky Boots Outlet store is in the old factory where they used to make the boots. It is a three story, brick building that seems unusually small inside considering how large it looks outside. Probably because it is crammed full of boots, clothing, hats, gun cases, a small restaurant, assorted barbecue equipment, camping gear and dog beds.

There is a lot of stuff and it makes the space seem small, a little cramped and sometimes noisy and crowded. But, it is fun, and I enjoy the chaos. There is comfort in hearing people talk about the wonderful prices, the amazing variety, dashing from one shelf filled with boots to the next. It really makes you feel as if you are getting a bargain. They might be employees playing a part, acting as though a person would be a fool to walk out of there without something, anything. And it worked, I have a new pair of boots.

After buying my boots we took the short trip to Athens Ohio to eat at Taco John's. Taco John's, my wife and I have a long, happy relationship. Taco John's was everywhere in the area we are from. In the small, cramped, normally aluminum buildings you could find food to soothe the worst hangover, placate monstrous attacks of "munchies." If you were willing to get extra green sauce it could even cure a cold, burn it right out of your sinuses, make it beg for mercy. Taco John's was a staple. And as far as I know the franchise in Athens is the only one east of Iowa. An outpost standing in the middle of the insidious creep of huge, amorphous food chains.

And every time we eat there I am reminded of Fort Apache, starring Henry Fonda as a glory hungry Lieutenant Colonel who was shuffled off to a small, meaningless, almost forgotten command in Arizona. John Wayne plays an experienced captain, an old hand who had been through everything, seen everything, knew how to keep his men alive.

Henry Fonda says something dismissive about Apaches, at least the few he had seen riding up to the fort. And John Wayne assures him, "If you saw them, Sir, they weren't Apaches." Henry Fonda doesn't care about any of that, he wants glory, and starts a war.

In many ways the movie was more about the foolishness of man, the constant pursuit of admiration and accolades than it was about the army or war. Of course, I can never think about Fort Apache without remembering Fort Apache The Bronx. Particularly the scene where Steve McQueen bounces a lit cigarette off of Danny Aeillo's head. Sparks fly everywhere, the cigarette bounces off his head as if it were made of rubber. It was so cool. How many times did they practice that scene, how many burns, how many cigarettes? Did they use a stunt double?

I don't know why but that scene has always impressed me. I always wanted to bounce a lit cigarette off of somebody's head. I just never had the opportunity. For one thing you would need to be pretty angry to risk lighting their hair on fire, or damaging an eye.

"Hey, Bil, you were five minutes late this morning, meet me in the smoker's lounge." It seems like overkill. Danny Aeillo threw somebody off of a building, which is a terrible thing. A lit cigarette off the old noodle is probably not punishment enough. In a lot of ways the movie was more about conflict, values and changing expectations than it was about policemen or the Bronx.and it had nothing to do with Apaches.

But, I quit smoking and will never get the chance to live my dream, and the foreheads, hair and vision of all my friends, coworkers and family are safe. Damn, I should have nailed Bil when I had the chance.  Life is too short to live with regret, so I forgive all the tardiness and absenteeism, unless I start smoking again. There's a message in there, somewhere.

Yellow Springs and the Power of the People.

This weekend my wife and I are loading up and going to Street Fair in Yellow Springs, OH. Yellow Springs is a fantastic little town. There is a liberal arts college there which pours a little extra soul into the streets, shops, bookstores. Street Fair is the festival that focuses all of the energy into a point. Admittedly it is a point that is about 4 blocks long and two blocks wide, but, it needs to be that big just to hold the power.

And it is power. It is the power of a lone sax player standing on the corner, right in front of the burger and beer place, just ripping through jazz riffs until the sensual drift of the rhythm pulls you along. It is the magic of the lone musician with a guitar made from a cigar box and amplified through a tiny speaker just plucking a blues melody in front of the Speedway station, because they let him use their electricity. Blues music can really soothe the soul, a simple progression in the hands of a master can move you to a place of such intense feeling. Even when it is played, or maybe especially when it is played, on a small wooden box guitar built by hand. It is magic.

So much magic. It is the magic of the local historical society trying to preserve the beauty of those simple streets, despite government cutbacks and apathy,  by selling homemade cookies, brownies and pies. There is a magic buying street tacos from the elementary school booth, trying to pay for a new swing set, staffed by volunteers flipping carnitas filled with pork, chicken and steak. A special magic when a child's smiling face, missing a tooth in front asks you in all seriousness "do you want it really hot?" "I want it to make me cry." and they laugh and douse it with mild sauce, smiling the whole time. You have to throw a few dollars in the tip jar for that kind of service. Tacos made with love.

You have to love the festivals in small towns, the community, even when you are not part of the
community. There is a flow, even when all movement stalls, and it does, often. The small streets are crowded with booths, back to back down the middle and on both sidewalks, which makes traffic rely on cooperation. Sometimes, though, something calls to you, some bauble, some piece of art, some exquisitely tie dyed shirt, and you have to stop and admire the love and talent that went into it's creation.

And really, that is what it is all about, creation, a community has to be a creation of all the inhabitants. It doesn't matter if it is a small town, a Facebook group, a circle of friends, it needs the life of the members. I have always been kind of an outsider, and at least when I got older I learned to pretend it was my choice. Which makes things like Yellow Springs Street Fair so wonderful me. I can go and be part of a bigger community without ever risking trying to be a part of anything. Or maybe I just like the tacos.

Chasing an Alien Looking Truck.

Every morning on my commute I see one or two trucks that defy explanation. Official, cryptic and covered in wicked looking attachments, claw looking things on the end of articulated arms, huge chutes, tubes and pipes, malevolent, unexplainable, monstrous gadgets protruding at odd angles from everywhere. They always have some vaguely reassuring, yet oddly uncomfortable name plastered on a board and stuck on the side.

You never know what they do. It seems impossible to even imagine a use for all those things. It is as if they tried to invent a truck to do too many things. Or, a truck to do one thing, one terrible thing, a dark, unimaginable thing.

I had to know. So I followed the truck today. It wasn't difficult. A truck with that much stuff moves slowly through downtown traffic.

Keeping a couple of cars between us I followed them down 4th street. They stopped at 4th and Long. Two men climbed out and walked into "Maven's Heavenly Donuts."

In about twenty minutes one came out carrying boxes, big donut boxes, three of them. The other had cups of coffee in those cardboard carriers. Each held four cups. How many guys were in the cab of this truck?

It made me a little hungry. I should have followed them in and bought one of those chocolate frosted cinnamon rolls. Maven kills with that one. It has to have 1,000 calories and it is a whole meal, but it is my favorite roll in the whole city.

Two block east on Main, the truck pulls into a parking lot and a guy gets out of the driver side. He walks over to the small gourmet catering truck that serves the businesses in the surrounding buildings. This truck serves chicken sandwiches, wraps and salads all made with a unique Cajun sauce and a mild, smokey chipotle seasoning. Rated number one by the local paper it is a great place to eat, reasonably priced, with fast, friendly service, it is a favorite of many who work downtown. He must have spent a hundred dollars. Sandwiches, chips, drinks, salads, all piled into his arms and carried back to the truck. I was going to grab something but they were rolling.

Heading north the truck pulled into the Street Home Market, home to the Monster Pizza, a dangerous amount of pepperoni, bacon, sausage, and salami piled on a thick crust covered in Parmesan, and Romano cheese. It only comes in one size, the Godzilla.

At that point I was starving, went to work ate my lunch, I had a turkey on wheat with low fat dressing, a side of carrot sticks and tomato juice. I need to get a better job.

The Eye of the Storm.

Saturday my wife and I had the honor of volunteering at the Street Speech / Columbus Coalition for the Homeless water sales booth, at ComFest, a music festival held every year in Columbus, OH. For two dollars you could get an frosty, cold bottle of water and help those less fortunate. It was in a prime location, right at the corner of the two major streets that define the most prominent boundaries of the park. ComFest, short for community festival, is built around the idea of inclusion and unity, the driving force behind Columbus Coalition for the Homeless, and Street Speech. Not long ago I was fortunate enough to meet the editor of Street Speech, (and she is kind enough to have published a few articles of mine) which put me in prime position for the gig of volunteer.

It was a beautiful day, sunny, warm but not hot, and the crowd was vibrant. We arrived early and

walked around a little before our shift began. ComFest is the very definition of diversity. Goodale Park is crowded with vendors, stages, people, topless people, tattooed people, mothers and fathers pushing strollers, children, grandchildren, adorable young people on dates, old people in wheel chairs married couples walking happily through the narrow paths lined on both sides with tents. Tents filled with arts, crafts, henna tattoos, t-shirts, political activism. There is enough tie die and woven clothing to have outfitted the Monterey Pop Festival.

And the music echoes from one stage to the next. Reggae, hip hop, occasionally some country and
western, some classic rock, though to a man my age classic rock has a different definition, all manner of music. People who are willing to get on stage and leave themselves open to praise and criticism. It takes a special bravery, a certain amount of self belief to put yourself out there, and I salute every single one of them.

Food lines the streets. Barbecue in all its glory, calling your name, beckoning with the sweet smoky smell of wood chips and dripping with heavy sauce. Buns piled high, and looking absolutely wonderful. Steaming hot cauldrons of spicy hot curry, pita bread stuffed with meat popping and sizzling over an open flame, buried under onion, lettuce, and creamy white sauce.   Pizza, fish sandwiches, lemonade, people will wait in long lines or the lemonade. And beer trucks with masses of humanity crushed in front, a mob of beer customers, thick, thirsty and surprisingly patient. It has to be the national debt in beer sales. Beer, the cornerstone of Americana. The lines were so long I wouldn’t wait, and I like beer. And after my time at the water booth I could have used a beer.

The water booth was like a scene from The Walking Dead. Moments of silent introspection and careful planning, followed by wave after swarm after full frontal assault of people. It could have been the desert and the water would not have sold any better. Some people buying 3 or 4 bottles at a time. A brief lull in the demand, grab a case and try to ice it down, but the motion and the noise and the sight of bottled water was more than the swarm could resist. They would line up, “water please.”

The water came in cases of 36 and we went through at least 4, and possibly 5. It was exhausting, it was terrifying, and it was exhilarating. We worked as a team, fighting the good fight, against the encroaching madness. Supply and demand meet heat and hydration. A tempest in front of the Jazz stage. The sound and the fury, and we were the calm in the center of the storm. Dispensing smiles, cold water and sage wisdom to the yearning masses.

“Where is the Gazebo Stage?” Over that way, I think. You have to remember I have only been to ComFest a couple of times, have a lousy sense of direction, and don’t handle pressure well, and demanding mobs of thirsty festival attendees, and a polite request for a location qualifies as pressure.

It was an experience and we are both grateful for the opportunity. There are a lot of good charities, you should pick one and give as much as you can. You could help make the world a better place.

Choices

Life is a series of choices. Each affecting the next. One decision with branches too diverse and numerous to imagine. Every "fork in the road" leading to another choice. There is no way to be certain where you would be right now if you had made a different option in any of hundreds of seemingly inconsequential choices in your life. Everything you do affects everything that follows. Alternatively, everything might be predetermined, destiny driven, scripted, nothing left to chance. How boring that makes things.

It seems much more exciting to pull up to the stop light, just as it switches from green to yellow, and think should I hurry? Should I speed through? If I do, I might get a ticket, my insurance rates will go up, It will be more difficult to buy groceries, our kids will go hungry, eventually we will have to sneak over to the Metro Park and hunt turkey, squirrel and rabbit, maybe take a few picnic baskets. But, if I don't get pulled over then I can get home before my wife, and I will have the power to decide what we have for dinner.

But, if everything is predetermined, mapped out ahead of time by fate, or God, or the programming skills of some long dead alien race then dinner has already been decided, taco Tuesday is not just a saying but a law. That isn't much fun. Who wants to live like that?

Existence is much more tolerable if you can view every decision as a dangerous gamble. Should I cut the blue wire, or the green wire? A full throttle thrill ride, every menu option a potential descent into the abyss. Or the one move that will vault you into greatness, fame, fortune and anything you want for dinner. The unbridled thrill of eating your dessert first.

That, my friends, is the way life should be lived. Fast and loose, risky, foolish and fun. Coffee or tea, because it could make all the difference in the world.

Labor Day, Swappers Meet, And Life.

Yesterday was the first day of the long weekend. Having Monday off makes a weekend even more mystical. So, we celebrated by going to the Johnstown Swappers Day, which is actually three days long, but one day is enough, for us, anyway.

Swappers Day is a celebration. It was born around dogs racing across a manmade pond. It became more popular, and soon grew into an immense flea market. An immense flea market that covers acres. An immense flea market that brings thousands of people to the small Central Ohio community.

Food vendors are always a big draw, and Swappers Day is well supplied. Corn dogs, french fries, elephant ears, funnel cakes, fried stuff on a stick, even things that are not normally considered vendor food, chicken and noodles, cornbread and beans. Rows and rows of food, even a booth with Amish people selling homemade pies and cookies. Ridiculously good cookies, too.

What I really like about the event though is the opportunity to walk through miles of vendors, selling little pieces of the past. Small, trivial bits of American history. It might be a Jetson lunchbox, or a Nintendo game. There are things from modern history, many may say junk, but these are the artifacts of our time. 

In many ways it is a museum. For five dollars you an walk down the grass and dirt aisles and view the artifacts arranged randomly on folding tables or stacked on shelves. A blogger whose work I admire greatly once raised the question of what people from the past would think if transported to the present. A wonderful exercise, but these events make me wonder what future archaeologists and anthropologists will think when they unearth the minutia of the present.

It is as diverse as it is large.  Order and chaos in adjacent booths. One set of tables arranged neatly, product lined up straight, grouped logically, prices easy to see and understand. Two steps away is a jumble of used things, dropped from a box, and scattered by hand into one single, homogeneous layer of yesterdays dreams, and today's memories.

Guns, everywhere, guns, people walking around with rifles, pistols, shotguns, all displayed proudly. All for sale or trade. Guns laid out on tables, standing on racks, nestled comfortably in foam lined cases. You could not swing a dead cat without hitting somebody with a gun. Being from a small suburb of a large city it always surprises me when I am around that many guns. And knives, there were knives for sale everywhere. From the decorative knives that sell for a few dollars with aluminum like blades (whose only real function is to provide a few dollars to the seller) to the utilitarian, specialty knives made for cleaning game. Almost every bladed weapon imaginable, bayonets, machetes, swords, all for sale, all being carried around proudly. As a pacifist who worries about the condition of the world, all of these implements of destruction are a little unnerving. What is the fascination?

It was a very good day. We started with a good breakfast and before we left the event we had over

11,000 steps. Plus, there is something comforting about moving through a mass of knotted humanity. A herd like solidarity being around that many people. Moving along the path of least resistance, and stopping to admire the relics of days recently passed.  It is almost hypnotic listening to the bargaining over price, and intent. “Make me an offer,” was a common phrase. And offers were made, rejected and countered. Here is the best part, I am going to make a video, sort of a practice video for my big trip to Tennessee. If it is worth sharing (and it will be, it might not be worth watching, though) I will. Until then, have a great day, find a festival around you and dive right in, you will be happy you did.

Happy Cinco de Mayo, and take that France.

Today is Cinco De Mayo. It may not be a big deal to you, but in Mexico it is a very august occasion.  It was the day the Mexican Army defeated the French forces at the battle of Puebla.  It was an unexpected victory, at the time the French were kickin' some serious butt all over the globe.  Under the rule of Napoleon III the French territory doubled in Asia, the Pacific and Africa.  Why is it always that way?  A country has a little success, and right away they want everything.

There are countless stories of the lives destroyed by gambling, and addictive behaviors.  But, it seems like the apple does not fall far from the national government. A little success leads to the overwhelming desire for more. And even if the odds are stacked against a gambler, or a government they have to roll the dice, one last shot. Humanity may be powerless to resist the call.

Sooner or later any real power worth it's salt is going to decide that expansion is the way to go.  It might be in pursuit of "more defensible borders," it might be "natural resources," there are only so many "reasons" but they all lead to the same place. Taking somebody else's stuff, by show of strength, or brute force. Somehow the Bill Parcells quote seems ideal, "Everytime something happens you always have an excuse, and they are always good excuses.  But, some day you have to ask why do these things keep happening." There always seems to be some perfectly good reason to send an army, or navy somewhere to take something, don't worry about the costs.

So it went with the French. After a costly and terrible civil war the Mexican government found itself unable to pay the debts owed to the European nations.  Spain and Britain negotiated a deal and went on their merry national way. France decided to expand their empire, in Mexico.  Hardly surprising considering all we know about people. It makes a person wonder how Britain and Spain were able to resist the urge.

And, at Puebla 6,000 French troops (from what was considered the premier army in the world) were defeated by 2,000 poorly trained, lightly armed Mexican militia men. It was a shock to everybody, particularly France, and Mexico.

But, it is a proud moment in the history of a proud nation. And we should all toast the occasion. I am going to use a little tequila, and maybe make some Mexican food for dinner. I grew up around immigrants from Mexico, and was proud to call them friend, they worked hard and sacrificed for their families, and carved a decent life in this country. In many ways they understood the American Dream much better than I.

Life Explained CSI or NCIS, or something with cool initials, part 2

Here is part 1. You might want to read that first, or this will make no sense, even then the odds are not all that good.

My name is Tim and I am a leftover detective. They call me when they need answers to missing microwaveables emergencies.

My friend the Dawg, PI called me in to solve a refrigerated pizza heist, with a trail gone cold as the refried beans and delicious shredded cheese, spicy diced chiles, and shredded beef, or pork, or chicken (it is your choice) in a frozen burrito (which sounds pretty good right now).  But we would turn up the heat, and find the culprit.

Turns out the crime happened almost 15 years ago, and an innocent, bright eyed, trusting kid had his naivete pulled out of an unprotected ice box, and eaten.

It seemed that most of the people employed at the time have left to "pursue other career opportunities." So that narrows the search "parameters."

In fact, besides Bil (who is probably not guilty of this crime) and John, most of the people in this department were not there, which means they probably did not steal Bil's pizza.

So, we started with John, who categorically denied knowing who stole Bil's pizza.

"Seems a little odd that you are so emphatic about not knowing who stole Bil's pizza. What made you think we thought you knew who stole the pizza? And why so touchy about the theft of somebody else's pizza, anyway?" I said leading him toward my trap.

"Because you said you were sure I knew who stole the pizza, and I don't. Plus you keep shining that stupid flashlight in my face, and it it beginning to irritate me."

"Oh, sorry about that, it is kind of dark in here, and that mannequin downstairs really gives me the creeps. That thing is strange, and it keeps moving. who keeps a mannequin around, anyway? It isn't like we sell clothes or anything. I was going to throw it away, but I'm not touching that thing. Not to save my life. Not no way, not now how." I said, and a thought, a terrible thought of making John hold the evil mannequin while he answered questions crossed my mind. But I was not going to be stuck in a room with that thing. Nobody knows what would happen, and I don't intend to find out.

I let John go for the day. That mannequin talk had really taken it out of me.

Over dinner I was telling my wife of my plans to get to the bottom of this, no matter what it took. Even if I had to alienate my all of my coworkers, even if it meant draconian tactics, torture, waterboarding. Nothing would stand in the way of the truth. I told that unlike pain a crime does not diminish with the passage of time, and the culprit would be found, no matter the cost.

Finally, over dessert she said, "Oh, all right, I stole the damn pizza. Now will you shut up about it. Here is ten dollars tell Bil to buy another pizza." Then she rolled her eyes up to the heavens, probably asking for forgiveness.

Well, another case solved, Time to go break the news to Bil, that my wife took his pizza. Oh well, he will be happy to have the five dollars.

Life Explains Cold Case Part 1.

Dr. Dawg was sitting in his cramped office. Tumbler of cheap bourbon on his desk, shade from his fedora covering the steely, absolute fix of resolute determination in his eyes. Smoke from his cheap cigar wreathing his face in angelic looking, toxic, stinking fog. He took a big puff, and coughed so hard he fell out of the wooden chair. Remembering he didn't smoke he threw the smoldering, noxious thing in the day old coffee sitting on his scarred, ancient desk.

He climbed back in the chair, wobbling and twisting because of the missing caster. Took a drink of bourbon, and started gasping for breath, "cheap crap, anyway, he managed to spit out between shakes and convulsions.

Finally he stumbled over and got a drink of water from the bowl he kept on the floor, by his food. Which, conveniently was in a bowl, on the floor. He thought about what a wonderful system this was.

With a mighty crash the door to his small, cramped, dingy office slammed open, the logo Dr. Dawg Private Investigator Life Explained stood in bright contrast to the squalid, dank air of the room. He thought "I need to put in one of those springy door stops that scares the crap out of me every time."

In walked Bil, an employee of Life Explained for the last 15 years. "I'd like to report a theft." He said, sitting down, and watching Dr. Dawg finish the last of the food in the bowl, on the floor.

After a drink of water, Dr. Dawg took his seat, and said "what was stolen?"

"Someone took my pizza out of the refrigerator. It was my lunch." He said, his voice breaking with anger, sorrow, and hunger.

"We had pizza?!?!??"

"No, I had pizza, and it was good, too. It was, admittedly, a long time ago. Right after I started. Since I was new I didn't want to make a big fuss. But it has always kind of bugged me. One of my coworkers stole my pizza, and ate it." A tear formed in the corner of his eye.

"Tell me about the pizza.." Dr Dawg said. His eyes intense under the rim of his fedora.

"Well, it was deep dish, from Montoni's on Garfield Street." Bil said.

"On man, those are so good, almost criminal. What were the toppings? Tell me about the toppings."

"It was a supreme, with extra bacon, and olives, and I had them add some of that spicy Italian sausage, you know the stuff with pesto. Plus, they used cheddar and mozzarella cheese back then, and extra jalapenos. I had some fresh ground parmesan cheese, and garlic butter for the crust, man I was really looking forward to lunch." Bil said, sorrow, and remorse evident on his face.

Dr. Dawg moaned softly, his eyes closed and he fell out of his chair. Jumping up he said, "sorry, sorry about that. I think we will need to call in a specialist for this job." He dialed the phone.

That is when I got involved, I'm Tim the Refrigerated Leftover Forensic Anthropologist. I track down lunch stealing thugs and bring them to justice.

To Be Continued.

PART II

Married Life, and Other War Stories #FixThePlus

Anybody who knows me will tell you I love to go grocery shopping. It is a thrill, aisle after aisle of tasty treats. Food from one end to the other, with beer, and wine, and in some stores, bourbon. When you shuffle off this mortal coil and join the choir invisible you may actually get a job working at Kroger (our favorite grocery store). Of course, all of the customers will have a tab that never needs paid so they just stop by and grab what they need, thank you profusely, and go home. While you get to stock the snack crackers right next to the canned, spray cheese, and realize that there is a heaven.

Anybody who knows my wife can tell you she does not like to take me shopping with her. She is a shopping machine, a super human calculator. Constantly adjusting her savings strategy based on availability. Scanning coupons, and combining mentally the "8 for 8" sale, of the "Buy 10 save 10" values. While performing some complicated mental mathematics involving the various discounts from combining several specials, and coupons she doesn't want to stop and talk about how delicious a root beer float might be after dinner, "oh by the way, what do you want for dinner? Chili dogs would be good."

All of this means I don't get to go very often. But, sometimes I weasel my way into her good graces, and she takes me. On those rare occasions I have to make sure things go according to plan. When she stops to choose the combinations of soups I drop a pack of boxed cupcakes in the cart. It has to be smooth, so she doesn't notice the movement. It has to be concealed, maybe behind the cauliflower, and broccoli. Here is today's shopping tip, don't hide them under the cases of bottled water, they become very difficult to eat.

It is a good idea to have a few handy phrases loaded up and ready to use. I like "Yes, I was kind of surprised when you grabbed the shopping cart with all of the candy bars stacked on your purse and the diet cola, and the fresh fruit like that." Another old favorite, "Those cookies must have fallen in during that earth tremor while we were in 'aisle 6, cookies, crackers, potato chips and assorted breakfast pastries.' What an aisle that is, huh? We should go through there one more time." It is important to say this casually, don't let your voice tremble. You have to be cool, or she will see right through you, this is just a little trip down memory lane.

That is enough for today, tune in tomorrow, to find out how to negotiate an action movie on Netflix, you don't want to miss that.

Santa Comes Early to Life Explained Ohio Office (LEOO)

Great news, when we got to work this morning there was a new freezer in the kitchen. Nobody knows where it cam from, Santa maybe. It had a logo on it, that might be a reindeer, or a horse of some type.

Anyway, it was filled these delicious goodies, hundreds of them. The instructions are all in Mandarin. But, if we know anything, here at Life Explained Ohio Office (LEOO) it is how to microwave a frozen burrito.

Of course we also know the perfect wine to accompany a burrito. With a bean burrito (microwaved on 75% power for 79 seconds*) you serve a Suavignon Blanc, chilled to 43 degrees. With a steak burrito (microwaved on 90% power for 81 seconds*) you serve a Merlot, chilled to 39 degrees.


Then there was an all day pass to the amusement park for Sunday from a company called the "Carolina Panthers." We don't know what they do, but for some reason they don't want us watching the NFL games this weekend. We are not sure why.


* Don't worry about the varying power of microwaves. These are immutable laws of nature.

Dreams, food, and shoes. that about covers it.

We, here at Life Explained, are developing a machine to capture and interpret dreams. Using patented technologies that are so complicated, so technologically intensive we could never hope to explain the process. We were lucky to actually construct the silly thing. It was really kind of an accident. Dr. Dawg fell asleep with the remote and his Chardonnay spilled onto the DVR button, and his stethoscope got tangled up with the cable running to the WiFi router.

When we thought we were going to watch the news in the morning we ended up with a long, drawn out series of food, from scrambled eggs, bacon and toast to prime rib, potatoes au gratin, and apple pie a la mode.

We all sat there, stunned at the delicious parade of food that was cascading across the screen. People were scrambling for the refrigerator, or their phones to order something to eat.

Dr. Dawg said "Hey, those are my dreams from last night. How did they end up on television. And, would somebody find a county fair and get me some corn dogs?"

It only took us a few minutes to figure out what had happened. We were thrilled. This was the breakthrough we had been waiting for!

We jumped, immediately, into action, after getting something to eat. We wired up some diodes, a few sensors, and some wires and stuff, and got to work. Most difficult was writing the program to decode the hidden meaning buried deep in the vivid imagery that construct dreams. 

It didn't take long to figure it out, it was built in the classic C++ language.  Using the standard translation of constant comparison, and evaluation. Everything revolved a central core, with a standard for deviation, and symbolic reference. 

People couldn't wait, every associate signed up and we had to use a lottery to choose the order.

Turns out everybody, man, woman, dawg, all dream about the same things. Finding the right pair of shoes. Turns out that was drove most of the innovation throughout the history of man. You just can't be happy if your feet hurt, and if your shoes are comfortable, you don't really need much. 

Now that we know we can move onto more important things, maybe lunch.

Corn Dogs, Controlled Violence and Entertainment.

Yesterday was an exercise in masculinity, a macho parade of manly activities, a mixture of jet fuel and fireworks and bourbon. All combined and stirred and sauteed in a pan with a touch of extra virgin olive oil until tender, at this point add a sprinkle of salt and a pinch of oregano. Now fold in the diced onion, gently stirring and carefully pouring into a 9 by 13...  Wait, it was a lot more macho than that.

We went fishing, and it was hot, and there had been a lot of rain so the water was thick with branches, twigs, and leafs. It was humid, and pretty miserable, and it takes a real man to suffer through that sort of misery.  But, we were not bothered by any fish. Lucky bastards, anyway.

This evening we tried something completely new, and different.  We went to an MMA match. Actually, it was series of matches, six in total. And, they were outside, and they were at the county fair. 

There is something magical about a county fair, something historical, barns filled with chickens, cows, and sheep, and dreams. Each one the product of hours of work, and care. Sleepless nights, sweat, tears, and the endless hope of success.

Which is probably very similar to the Mixed Martial Arts at this level. These are combatants with few fights, entry level bouts. But, everybody had to start somewhere, right?

After the heat and humidity of the day the evening cooled down beautifully. There were dark clouds, some rumbles of thunder, and a few flashes of lightning, but they stayed on the periphery. It was a great night for sitting outside watching two young men try to beat the living snot out of each other.

Mixed martial arts is kind of new to me, but my son likes it and I love to check out new things. Plus, it was at the county fair. We have watched it a few times, so I am not a complete novice.

It always seems to start with two guys kick boxing and then one grabs the other, throws him down, and tries to kneel over him and pound him into submission. It seems savage, and the formula doesn't change much, but it is interesting, once you get past the brutality. And it is obvious these young men train vigorously, and work very hard to earn a chance to climb into the six sided ring.  I am not sure why it has six sides.

But, it was quite an experience and trying new things is always a good idea.  Next week it is boxing and the demolition derby.  More mayhem and elephant ears. Don't pass the chance to take in something local, you will never regret it.

Raising healthy kids, a guide.

According to a study, published in the journal "Pediatrics" and reported on by Time.com dishes washed by hand could help prevent the development of allergies in children.

It seems the introduction of microbes early in life stimulates the immune system, making it more "tolerant," according to the author of the study, Dr. Bill Hesslemar of  Queen Silvia Children's Hospital in Gothenburg, Sweden.

Figuring that hand washing dishes might be an important aspect of developing a healthy immune system the team asked the parents and guardians of 1,029 children.  Only 23% of children from families who hand washed the dishes were afflicted by eczema, while 38% of children whose parents used dishwashers were afflicted.

Of course, this study is only the beginning, it does raise significant opportunities.  If eating from hand washed dishes proves healthier for children, what if the children washed the dishes themselves?  It would teach them the value of hard work, discipline and bolster their health.

If washing dishes is healthy, how about scrubbing the floor, washing and waxing my car?  Mowing the lawn?  It is crazy the things we are willing to give up for our children.

Think of the potential health benefits if children cooked the meals, raw meat, after all is filled with foul stuff, sure to add years to a childs life.  Then served the food to parents whose only care is the health of their babies, and cleaned up afterward.

Dirty clothes, are filled with bacteria, which turns out to be the staff of life, imagine how healthy America's youth will be if they start washing clothes.  Just think of the benefits made possible by taking in the laundry of single people who don't have to worry about the continuation of their blood line.  Plus, you might make a little cash, too.  Which is good for kids, they can make much better meals, giving them a higher sense of self esteem.  These kids might live forever.

Raising children is difficult, and perilous, filled with pitfalls, heartache, and sacrifice, but in the grand picture of life it will be worth all of the heartburn from rich, fatty foods, and the soft, supple hands from avoiding dish water.  You owe it to the next generation, after all.

Football, so good we need two.

Mike Raven, curator of The Blog of Thog. and I are going to try to sway public opinion, convincing everybody in the whole world, or at least the very wise portion that read blogs, particularly the geniuses who read our blogs that one brand of football is better than the other.  I am speaking for the American Brand of Football, and +Mike Raven will be representing the rest of the world.

American Football is so advanced because the entire country is filled with experts.  Every Saturday and Sunday, in millions of homes across this huge country, and in select military bases and bastions of civilization, around the world people are screaming instructions, and helpful advice at television sets.

We all know, deep inside, the officials, who have been hand picked from the ranks of the lower levels of competition, have trained for years and continue training and education year around, and are trying to make snap decisions regarding barely visible potential infractions are so biased they should end the charade and wear the other teams colors.  It is amazing our team can ever win a game the way the refs stack the odds against them.

Off we go, beer and pizza, and back to the game.  And it is obvious this coach that our university, city or state has mortgaged its soul to lure to our team is an idiot.  Sure, he can diagram plays that look like hieroglyphics, understands complex systems and schemes, and can speak at length about defenses and the best way to attack them.  Yes, he has won at every level, and brought home numerous championships.  But, now he seems to be slipping into dementia.  What an idiot.

Back to the kitchen for chicken wings, a few beers, maybe some nachos.  You know what mystifies the average American Football fan?  The way these athletes, who have trained, and conditioned since they were little children, and have managed to become the greatest football players in the world can be so incompetent.  The average fans grandmother could throw a better pass than that, and she is in a wheelchair, and has never even thrown a football.

So, as you can see, Mr. Raven, American Football is superior because the entire country is filled with experts. More honest than the refs, smarter than the coaches and more talented than the players.  With all of that ability in one country what else would you expect?

Thank you,

America

Hey, You Should Stop By, Tell Them Hello.

As many of you may know our vacation was over about two weeks ago.  It was a good time, and we had a lot of fun, ate a little too much, exercised a little too little, and enjoyed a cold beer or two, well maybe more.  Of course we put on a little weight.  But, we tried new places and new things and found some things we will try, or enjoy again, on our next trip to the Smoky Mountains.

As is normally the case, while looking for something we took a wrong turn, or missed a turn, or drove past what we seeking, or did not go far enough, anyway, for some reason we did not reach our original goal.  As is so often the case we found something unusual, wonderful, and fun.

Along a road that runs out of Pigeon Forge (I am not sure what direction, left if you are heading for Gatlinburg, how about that?) is a little treasure, beside a small prize, hidden behind a privacy fence.  It looks a little odd as you drive past, and it seems a little exclusive as you walk in.  But, don't be discouraged, it is a jewel.

If you are traveling on Wears Valley Road, and want a cold beer, a snack, and a fantastic experience, you should stop into "Friendly Falls, Food and Stuff."  It is a tiny place and almost impossible to resist if you have any sense of adventure.

There is little in the way of seating, and what is there faces scenery that really makes you believe you are in a magical place.  the Falls part is provided by nature, and it is gorgeous.  The water runs over the rock and almost dances with delight at being in such a wonderful place.  It is beautiful, peaceful, and relaxing.

You need to go inside and order for yourself, but even that is part of the fun, it is filled with little trinkets and treasures, and stuff.  The beer selection is plentiful, and served cold, plus they loan you a can insulating "cozy" so it stays that way.  The food is delicious, and unique.  We had the loaded fries, and they were wonderful, and "loaded" and worth the price.  We also had chicken wings, but my companions made sure I did not get the opportunity to try those.

They have live music, and it would be an ideal place to listen to an acoustic act, but we did not find this until we were almost ready to leave town, and did not get the opportunity.  Next year, I hope to tell you how delightful that was.

The Friendly part is provided by the help, the counter person, who is probably the owner, had a charming sense of humor, and a keen memory for names, and the charisma of a television evangelist.  She could sparkle and insult, and laugh, and tell stories, and make you believe she was interested in what you had to say.  I would probably vote for her if she ran for office.

If you get the chance stop in for a snack, a drink and a moment, you will enjoy all three.

Technology Marches Onward, And Inward.

Recently, Google Glasses went on sale.  People snapped them up.  Of course, there were some people whose vanity made them wait for the release of Google Contacts.  A very unique computational device guaranteed to increase productivity, allowing us to spend  more time developing close, lasting relationships with our families.  Not really, to heck with that, who wants to have a meaningful, thought provoking conversation with their loved ones when they can play Tetris by tapping themselves on the side of the head.  This is only the beginning, though.

Technology lovers are already putting a down payment on their Google Implants.  Tiny devices placed in the base of the skull, that respond to electronic signals from the cerebral cortex.  Beaming data through the ocular canal these microscopic devices generate a holographic image several feet in front of the user.   Of course, you will need to control what you are thinking, trials have led to embarrassing consequences.  One test subject lost his job when an image of his bosses head on the see, hear, speak no evil monkeys materialized in the center of the table during a routine meeting to discuss new "protocols restricting the posting of unauthorized signage, including the hanging of 'gonna get my drink on' signs above the coffee maker and water cooler."

Of course, the real excitement is for products still being developed.  Just wait until you try the new Google Epidermis, which will provide real time data to the user regarding temperature, wind speed and directions, and the availability of WiFi hot spots.  It will also react to the users condition, mood ring like, to indicate any number of variables, including emotional disposition, blood pressure, and serum cholesterol, eliminating the need for blood tests.  Plus, you will be able to watch movies and television shows on the palm of your hand.  It is not yet approved for use in "water situations."  Poor Steve found that out the hard way during his beta test, the services are scheduled for next Tuesday.  He is a brilliant shade of turquoise, absolutely brilliant.

What is generating the real excitement however, is Google Internal Organs.  We are not allowed to say too much about this project, but you will never have to say "I'm hungry, but I don't know what I want," again.  Now you will know exactly what you want, where to find it, and the best mode of transportation.  With future updates you will know the nutritional value in comparison to the caloric intake, and which members of your Google + circles enjoy similar foods, and which are hungry now, so you won't have to eat alone.

Don't forget to tune in tomorrow for the next installment of "Wow, where can I get one?"  when we review smart phone apps to summon the dead, is it a good idea?

Winter Vacations for the Cheap, and Broke.

We are proud to announce the new Travel Section of the Life Explained Blog.  With the Polar Vortex screaming across the frozen landscape of Canada it is time to escape to warmer climes, more hospitable weather, a place where frozen drinks are a welcome choice, not a bitter reality.  Unfortunately, recent events (mostly the vengeful retribution of the gods of chance, at the poker table) have left us a little short on cash.  But, there are wonderful options at hand for the more frugal among us.

"What, it's going to get worse?!??!"

Yesterday, here at the Life Explained headquarters it was twenty nine bitter, windy, icy winter degrees.  And that was pretty warm when looking at the forecast.  Turns out looking at the forecast was not such a good idea, soon the walls were closing in, the room was getting smaller, desks being crushed,computers malfunctioning, emails bouncing back, phones short circuiting, lamps flickering, faxes garbled, eyesight dimming, can't breathe, cold fingers of death tightening around ...  Maybe we need to get out and, maybe we should see the world and we should do it on a budget of $1.22.  And, so can you.

We just put on our insulated coveralls, parkas and, ski masks right over the top of our cargo shorts, flowered shirts and, sun visors, load up in the car and head to the grocery store.  If you are afraid to drive in these terrible conditions we  will pick you up at your house, drive you to the local store and, take you on a trip around the world, sort of.

Hello, Mr. Chips

Don't let gloomy, cloudy, grey, dreary days get you down.  Look at these, nothing says party in the warmth like a colorful bag of tortilla chips.  A splash of lime, and a few cacti, and all of the sudden the world is a fiesta.  Man, we feel better already.

Healthy and, multilingual pancakes.

If a bag of delicious, salty tortilla chips is not enough, take a look to the heavens, or at least the signs hanging dangerously over your head, it is conveniently translated into Spanish, the language of sunshine and parties.  Everybody repeat after me, "Fantastico, can someone get me a cerveza?"

So real it might be deported.

But, we are not done yet, why settle for phony, artificial Mexican food, on this almost real trip to the wonderful country south of the deep freeze we call home, when "authentic mexican" food is one a quick grocery cart push away?  You can almost hear hear the salsa music calling you to dance, and feel the warm breeze caressing your wind chapped, raw, red, cheek, like a Mother's kiss.

We will visit one day when we have more time.

Not in the mood for a trip south?  No problem, how about a jaunt across the pond?  Fish and chips, anyone?  A few warm beers, and some more fish and chips, (all right, we admit, we don't know much about British food, and did not pay that much attention, the store employees were getting a little suspicious by this point, and we had to hurry)  and we will all be singing "God save the queen," at least we think that is a song.  Maybe you are in the mood for something Mediterranean, nice and warm there, and very hip, for very cool people.  Here you will need to fill in your own food choices, maybe some pita chips and, humus, maybe a gyro, we are not sure and, we had no time to look around, the police were searching the store one "country" at a time and, were beginning to close on our location.

Dinner,

Then a nap.

After a hard day traveling the world, one aisle at a time, it is time to head over to the "outdoor living section," and enjoy the fruits of our labor, after a quick stop in kitchen appliances and accessories to pick up a can opener, and a dash into hardware to grab a box opener. Now, we are talking vacation!  Warmth, comfort, and convenient to the restrooms.  Pass around the chips, and salsa, and pop open a few cold ones, while I run over to the electronics department to grab a tv, and one of those of little, electric grills.  Now would be an excellent time to point out the dangers of burning charcoal indoors, it emits a lethal gas that can cause security personnel to go absolutely insane.  Trust us on this.

Don't forget to tune in next weeks episode, "Asia on the run, for the price of a postage stamp."

You Are Here, Please Go Over There.

Following is an item from The Hindu, an English Language Indian Newspaper with a large circulation base in Southern India, founded in 1878.

"Apple has bought the indoor GPS mapping firm wifiSLAM for 20 million dollars, The Wall Street Journal reported on Monday, in a move seen as a challenge to Google’s dominance of mobile mapping software.

WifSLAM’s technology could allow Apple to pinpoint the location of users inside buildings to within 2.5 metres — an asset that could be valuable to advertisers wishing to target mall shoppers.

Google already has an extensive catalogue of public floor plans which it used to map the interior of public buildings for users of its Google Maps service.

Apple tried to challenge the dominance of Google Maps when it released its own mapping software with the launch of the iPhone 5 and iOS 6 last year. However the software was widely criticized for being inaccurate and confusing and Apple was forced to issue an apology to users and recommend using third-party products."

There are many who see this as a creepy, big brother style invasion of privacy, while others see it as a blatant intrusion of direct and immediate marketing. More likely, this is the final piece of the puzzle. A technological implement that will transform the iPhone from a toy with a few useful applications for real life into the all encompassing, shining beacon of hope that everyone has dreamed about for so long.

Imagine, a trip to the mall, and a stop in the bathroom that lasts a little too long. A kind voice, nestled warmly in pocket or purse, says "Probiotic yogurt is on sale this week at Piggly Wiggly, five for $7.00." Thank you, Siri.

It is impossible to calculate the times a person has gone out, in public, wearing something that was not appropriate for their age, or size, or the occasion. Now, when they are shopping a stern voice will warn, "buying that shirt will be the biggest waste of money, and quite possibly cause the most embarrassment since your Junior year, maybe you should go look at the XXL Polo shirts."

Imagine the ease of saving money when one knows that Siri is going to say, sarcastically, "Are you sure you should be buying that, considering the amount you owe on your Visa Card?" the minute you get to front of the long line, filled with judgmental, smug, gainfully employed jerks.

People who are carrying around a few extra pounds will finally have the help they need to shed that extra weight, imagine the power of Siri shrieking "PUSH YOURSELF AWAY FROM THE TABLE, YOU FAT BASTARD."  Healthy, happy living through electronics.

Of course, it would be impolite to report what the iPhones say to each other, and would probably hurt a lot of people's feelings. But, this is one more step toward the complete reliance on technology and machinery for which mankind has been longing.