All posts by Dale Connelly

Media

Sea Hunt!

107 Comments

Today is the birthday of TV actor Lloyd Bridges in 1913. Bridges did a lot of different things in his 85 years on Earth, including a stint in the Coast Guard. But he was a favorite in my family for his role as expert frogman Mike Nelson on the 1960’s TV show Sea Hunt.

Because so much of the show was shot underwater, Bridges did voice-overs to describe large parts of the action. Of course there was lots of silent struggling with various people, sea creatures and obstacles (both natural and man-made). I became convinced if I ever went scuba diving, I was going to get trapped inside a shipwreck. Which is why I’ve never gone scuba diving.

To this day, nothing makes me hold my breath like watching actors who are pretending they can’t breathe.

Many of the episodes are available for viewing on You Tube.

Sea Hunt set the high water mark for our family viewing time. Even after its cancellation, every dramatic adventure series that came along was given a shorthand title that referenced this seminal classic, with which they were almost always unfavorably compared.

Star Trek was “Space Hunt.” Bonanza was “Horse Hunt”. The Avengers became “Spy Hunt.” The Fugitive, naturally, was “Guy Hunt.”

Lloyd Bridges and Jacques Cousteau convinced me at a young age that it is smart to take care of the world’s oceans – something I have attempted to do mostly be staying out of them.

What’s a favorite family entertainment from your childhood?

Poems

A Curse, of Course

54 Comments

Even for non-football fans, the agony of the Minnesota Vikings faithful was palpable yesterday and no one was isolated from the anguish. It was all around us.

This is part of the entertainment and social value of sports – big losses create a drive to make sense of suffering that ultimately leads rational people to the “it’s only a game” explanation. Irrational people, however, will continue to search for a reason to explain why their fondest wishes stubbornly refuse to come true.

This is where a curse comes in handy. The Chicago Cubs still have the Curse of the Billy Goat to fall back on when their team disappoints. The Boston Red Sox had a long run justifying their misery with the Curse of the Bambino. But if there is no curse, you have to make one up so the world can feel logical and orderly again.

All I know is this – Trail Baboon sing-song poet laureate Tyler Schuyler Wyler retreated to his garret immediately after Sunday’s game with a plate of hot wings that were picked totally clean by the time he emerged with his latest lame ditty:

When the team that you follow is hapless
and each year it appears to get worse,
you’ll feel lost like a traveler who’s map-less
’til you’ve found a believable curse.

A good curse can make sense of the losing.
With a curse there’s a way to explain
why the squandering squad of your choosing,
fails again and again and again.

“We were cursed by a player we traded.”
“There’s this powerful spell gypsies wrote.”
“It’s the vengeance of teams we berated.”
“We were hexed by a mystical goat.”

“There’s a burial mound in our end zone.”
“Once a shaman was carded for beer.”
“Voodoo dolls wear our uniforms – hand sewn!”
“Our team mascot insulted a seer.”

If the fans become flustered and frantic
and their trophy dreams ride in a hearse
the futility gets more romantic
When they’ve found a believable curse.

Have you ever been on either end of a curse?

News, Science, Travel

Embracing Rush Hour

33 Comments

With so many people and (lately) nations agreeing that we have to reduce our carbon output to preserve life as we know it on this planet,  it is reasonable to expect that we will all be driving less in the future.

Except that there’s no way we’re going to be driving less.

Humans, especially American humans, are too much in love with their cars and the ease of personalized combustion-engine-powered travel to give up these convenient machines anytime soon.

Technology may make our cars “cleaner”, though even the most advanced electric vehicles simply trade emissions created at the tailpipe to emissions created at the power plant.

And while computer-driven cars will certainly be more fuel efficient thanks to the removal of the lead foot from the equation, there is some thought that unless we get the laws right, autonomous vehicle technology could result in more miles traveled (and gas burned), not less.

Here’s a startling look at Rush Hour from a director named Fernando Livschitz and his company, Black Sheep Films.  Livschitz did the opening credits sequence to Stephen Colbert’s new show on CBS.

RUSH HOUR from Black Sheep Films on Vimeo.

Hilarious and terrifying, in that it feels like someone is going to die but you’ve gotta love the music and the timing.

Describe a close call you had on the roadway. 

Poems, Words

What Rhymes With Affluenza?

51 Comments
Header image from free Photobank www.tOrange.us / CC by 4.0

Around water coolers everywhere, the strange tale of the “Affluenza Teen” is all the rage right now.

Ethan Couch, while still a minor, sought to evade responsibility for causing four deaths while driving drunk by using the defense that his pampered upbringing left him unable to tell the difference between right and wrong.

He managed to avoid jail time with an extended probation, but when it began to look like he would be prosecuted for violating the terms of the probation, Ethan and his mother fled to Mexico.

Yesterday, Tonya Couch was returned to the U.S.  Ethan has appealed his extradition and will remain in Mexico a while longer while authorities work out the details.

He will most certainly be returned, to much fanfare and derision.

When Trail Baboon singsong poet laureate Tyler Schuyler Wyler learned of this  sad (but uniquely American) story, he thought the topic was weighty enough to be worth at least three limericks.

I
Affluenza is quite a disease.
When you’ve got it, you do what you please.
but the symptoms ain’t bad
if your mom and your dad
keep on paying the lawyers their fees.

II
A pampered young man and his mum,
were so careless and reckless and dumb.
they made national news
which essentially proves
too much cake makes a good child a crumb.

III
A young Texan explained, in his view,
He was over-indulged as he grew.
The disease that he got
made him easy to spot.
As the guy with the privileged flu.

What’s YOUR excuse?

News, Science

Crows Got Tool Talent!

69 Comments

Thanks to cameras attached to the tail feathers of some New Caledonian crows, researchers have now observed the birds building tools and using them in the wild.

These elusive creatures were seen fashioning hooked stick tools to root out food – a remarkable discovery that sheds a bit of light on animal thought processes.

Or if it doesn’t, at least it shows us animal thought as interpreted via the cranial processes of humans like study author Jolyon Troscianko of the University of Exeter, in England.

“In one scene,” Troscianko said, “a crow drops its tool and then recovers it from the ground shortly afterward, suggesting they value their tools and don’t simply discard them after a single use.”

This is a likely explanation. But it is only one, and it assumes crows think like us, which may not be the case! I can think of at least three other options.

  1. The crow dropped its tool, forgot about it completely, and then in an “aha” moment, picked a hooked stick it suddenly found at its feet.
  2. The crow dropped the tool on purpose to fake out the potential food, and then grabbed the tool again when the mistakenly relieved morsel slithered into a more exposed location.
  3. The crow dropped the hooked stick when it realized it had a camera stuck to its tail and it was giving away the company secrets. And then picked the stick up again when it thought, “oh what the Hell,” if I keep acting like I’m committed to the hooked stick, they’ll never find out about all our other crow-made tools, like the cawk gun.”

Hard to know exactly what is going on in the tiny mind of a clever crow.

If scientists pasted a camera to your tail, what tool would they see you use?

Uncategorized

Cookie Church

40 Comments

We are ALL Dr. Babooner

Dear Dr. Babooner,

I have been on my feet in the kitchen for three days straight, faithfully baking the eleven different kinds of Christmas cookies my family expects to see displayed on the table when we sit down for our holiday meal.

Each cookie type calls for a specific set of ingredients and requires that I perform a carefully choreographed ritual that usually involves standing at the counter, kneading the dough, kneeling before the oven,  wearing the ceremonial mitts,  and arranging the finished offerings in a sacred tin.

At the meal, my cookies are the final course before we head off to church.  But at that point I’m sore from standing and exhausted from the cookie-baking effort.  I feel like I’ve already been to worship and I’d much rather take two ibuprofen and have a nap.

Does that make me a heretic?

Confusedly,
Aching Baker

I told Aching Baker she is NOT a heretic because all of her rituals seem perfectly ordinary and are widely practiced whereas heretics go very much against the grain. Also, “heretic” would be a good name for a twelfth type of cookie – probably something with a big fat walnut in the middle.  

But cookie baking is a form of personal sacrifice, and if she is concerned that not going to church after all that work will somehow count against her in the final tally, I would like to suggest that a good long nap is also form of sacred meditation.

But that’s just one opinion. What do YOU think, Dr. Babooner?

Poems

Solstice Claus is Coming

26 Comments

Today is the day of the Winter Solstice, the moment in the calendar year when the northern hemisphere reaches its most light-starved point. For those who care about such things, the nadir happens at 10:49 pm local time, and then we begin the long slog back towards summer’s warmth.

Trail Baboon singsong poet laureate Tyler Schuyler Wyler has been shivering in his garret pondering the importance of this astronomical moment, and how it is so completely overshadowed by other things.

Some say that Santa can’t be real
in thought or deed or word.
Because no one can go everywhere
in one night. That’s absurd.

Even if he’s supersonic.
Even if he’s extra quick.
There’s no way that any human dude
could do the Santa trick.

And it’s more than just logistics
There’s another glaring flaw.
It’s that Santa, in one moment
can bring joy and warmth and awe

to each person that he meets
as he completes his yearly rounds.
At the risk of understatement
that is tougher than it sounds.

Is it possible, however?
I don’t see it being done,
unless somehow we’ve conflated
Jolly Santa and the Sun.

As if two old songs collided
in their wholly separate lives
and then merged into a hybrid
by the Beatles and Burl Ives.

For he sees you when you’re sleeping
Little Darlin’, stay awake.
Been a long cold lonely winter.
Here he comes, make no mistake.

All the kids in girl and boyland
will be hoping they can spy
something red and round and plump
that’s arcing low across the sky.

You’re already on his list
to get a gift of cheer and light.
If you’re nice or if you’re naughty,
doesn’t matter, it’s all right.

Who is coming to visit you this Christmas?

Uncategorized

Men in Uniform

42 Comments

Today’s post comes from Congressman Loomis Beechly, representing all the water surface area in the State of Minnesota.

Greetings, Constituents,

I am often asked who I support for President in 2016.  Whenever this comes up, the first thing I have to do is check to see if I’ve thrown my own hat into the ring.  So far, every time I’ve looked I’ve discovered that I’m not in the running.  But I do like politics and I enjoy watching the debates for the color and pageantry, although usually with the sound turned down.

I know a lot of people complain about the number of candidates we’ve produced but I take it as a point of pride.  The United States is bounteous in all things, and when I see a platoon of prospective presidents take the stage, my heart swells.

And I have to say I do like the uniform.  Black suit.  White Shirt.  Red tie.

That’s for the men.  For the women, simple dresses in bright colors, with red a clear favorite because back in the day it was the one eye-catching color that could get Ronald Reagan’s attention at a crowded press conference.

There is very little room to depart from this formula.  Remember the shock and horror last summer when President Obama wore a brown suit?  People are pretty clear about what they want.  Like Top 40 music, presidential fashion has been thoroughly focus-grouped and the results offer very little room for improvisation.

I guess the tie can lean a little more toward burgundy, if you’re daring.

I want a commander-in-chief who will do whatever is necessary to serve our nation.  So I was pleased to see that at their debate last night, most of the Republican candidates toed the line and wore the uniform.  After all, if you’re going to win an election to lead the Land of the Free, you can’t be too independent. Those two guys who chose totally non-red ties must not want to be President  very much.

I know they all have policy positions too, but it’s still so early in the process I don’t have time to pay attention to that.  Those positions are bound to change anyway, as the pitch broadens out to include more  Americans.   I’ll catch up with the political survivors in August of 2016, when things like ideas start to matter.

But for now, it’s all about appearances.  That’s why, when I see the uniform on display, as it was so clearly last night,  I shake my head in wonder at the marvelous system we have created!

How do you dress for success?  

 

 

Poems, Science

Brain Sex Science

57 Comments

I was delighted to learn last week that after scientists conducted a close examination of the one sexual body part no one obsesses over, it was concluded that human brains are not distinctly male or female.

That’s right  – no real difference.  Both sexes come to the dance with the same basic between-the-ears equipment.

When I revealed this to Trail Baboon sing-song poet laureate Tyler Schuyler Wyler, he swept out of the room with no comment and tromped up the stairs to his tiny garrett.

I couldn’t tell if he was hurt, angry or inspired.  Until he appeared several hours later with this:

A research shelf is where they sat.
The bottled brains of May and Matt.
Who once, in life, met in a bar.
Now side-by-side, each in a jar.

Their first encounter didn’t last –
an opportunity both passed.
But in the lab, a perfect date.
Paired up by color, size and weight.

The lab assistants, on a whim,
located hair for she and him.
On the containers, fitted snug,
A girly wig. A manly rug.

The hair was fluffed and teased and plump.
They called them “Marilyn” and “Trump”
And everyone enjoyed the laughs
of brain jar hairstyles, over glass.

But years went by as well they must
The jars and wigs collected dust
Experiments were rather rare
for brains floating beneath fake hair

Until the lids came off one day.
They lifted out both Matt and May
and placed them in sink to drain.
That’s a big deal for an old brain.

With samples taken, back they went.
To their containers, both were sent.
Except no one had thought to ask
which brain belonged inside which flask.

But still they float inside their jars.
Which brain is Venus, and which Mars
has not been proven to this day –
without the wig and the toupee. 

Describe your favorite headgear.

 

Science, Travel

A Weekend Getaway

61 Comments

Although there’s no real reason to want to escape on this mild December weekend in the heart of what is already one of the busiest travel times of the year, we do have the opportunity to transport ourselves to Pluto today, thanks to new images released by NASA.

I would not have guessed even last year that I’d be able to sit in my living room on a sunny Saturday morning and do a flyover of Pluto. The texture of this distant terrain is fascinating, but not so much that I’d like to see it first hand.

The heat source is a bit distant for my comfort.  I’m fine watching from here.

The image above is of Pluto’s moon, Charon.  They’re calling the dark smudge at the top of the moon “Mordor”, which sounds like the first bit of travel marketing for this far end of the solar system.

No doubt the Plutonian Tourism Agency (PTA), when seeking to book tour groups, would have a big challenge in closing the deal, with an average surface temperature of -384 F.

One time honored tactic is to show impossibly beautiful people having fun in the location being advertised.  But its hard to see those models when they’re sealed up inside their spacesuits.

And for outright fun, how about “surviving”?

What travel marketing tricks work on you?