I can’t quite grasp the breathless excitement of the writer when I find another article that touts the discovery of an amazing Earth-like planet found orbiting some distant star.
Typically the planet in question has qualities that make it tantalizingly similar to Earth – the size, the orbit, the gravity, the composition.
But there’s always a deal breaker.
It’s like searching the city for a new house – there are always so many variables. You may find one that has the right number of bedrooms and the perfect kitchen with a right-sized, sunny yard, but the bathroom is a mess, or there’s mold in the basement, or it’s on fire.
Dang.
I’m waiting to hear about a distant Earth-like planet that is really like Earth. I want an ocean full of fish and forests with animals and a sunrise worth viewing through an atmosphere I can breathe. Knowing there is a far flung place we can actually go visit would make all the difference in our attitudes about deep space exploration.
Until a reasonable destination planet is found, I’d like to recommend a moratorium on use of the phrase “Earth-like”. In this case the headline should read “Flaming Hellscape Discovered At Safe Distance.”
Today’s post comes from Bathtub Safety Officer Rafferty (B.S.O.R.).
At ease, civilians! Stay at ease and stay relaxed. And always, always be aware of your surroundings, Remember that your primary job is to preserve life and limb. As my Grandma Rafferty always said, “Mind your knitting. Unless you’re driving. Then mind your driving.”
This basic bit of commonsense instruction was apparently never given to the captain of the Costa Concordia, who sailed too close to the rocks while his illicit squeeze was watching him work. Never let someone watch you work! Never allow your attention to be drawn away by a distraction of any sort, such as showing off for some sexy someone whom you desperately want to impress.
If we counted up the cost of the rash things that have been done to leave a favorable impression with someone, it would leave a very unfavorable impression! That’s because wanting to impress anyone is ALWAYS a threat to life and limb, even if you’re trying to wow them with how SAFE you are.
When I was a senior in high school, I was courting the woman who eventually became Mrs. BSOR. I felt that I needed to demonstrate to her that I was not going to be fodder for one of those teenage car tragedy songs. I decided to do it by showing her how quickly I could become secured in the driver’s seat, literally grabbing the restraint system as I slipped into the vehicle and with one deft and powerful motion, slamming the metal buckle into its receptacle. As a result, I mangled my index finger and became hopelessly entangled in the seat-and-shoulder belt harness. Still trying to seem suave, I made a move to get out of the car quickly and gracefully, and in the process I hit the power recline button and wound up spraining my neck!
It was ill-advised and reckless of her to marry me anyway – a lapse for which I will always be grateful.
Y.I.S. (Yours in Safety),
B.S.O.R.(Bathtub Safety Officer Rafferty)
Today’s post comes from perennial sophomore Bubby Spamden.
Hey Mr. C.!,
I found out the other day that my whole generation has already turned its back on golf as a sport. That was interesting news to me, because I really had no idea golf still existed!
I mean, I’ve noticed when we pass by some of the courses in town that there are people out there driving little carts around on the grass, and that looks kind of cool except the carts go too slow and they don’t have big enough wheels. I’d want something more powerful and off-road. But still, driving a golf buggy could be fun for a while – maybe 15 minutes. I hear out in places like Arizona there are communities where people drive golf carts everywhere.
I don’t think I have the patience for that.
I asked my dad about golf and he said “The sport is doomed” because it’s too hard to learn, too expensive to play, it takes too long to get through a round, and all the people who love it are old and they wear funny clothes.”
That seemed pretty negative for a guy who has played golf all my life. So I asked him why he likes the game and he said he likes it because it’s a way for him to be with his friends where he can talk as much or as little as he wants. Because golfers have this “thing” about noise, it’s OK for a bunch of them to be together and still be quiet.
It made me think of when I’m with my friends and we all sit in the same room and focus on our phones instead of each other. And come to think of it, some of us wear funny clothes, too. So I guess I’m already doing something that’s kind of like golf and I didn’t even know
But at least what I do is cheaper. If you don’t count the cost of my data plan.
There’s one thing my dad told me that made golf seem like it might actually be worthwhile – at some of the courses in the summertime they have these cute girls who drive around selling food and beverages, including beer. For the most part the golfer guys are so old they really shouldn’t be flirting with the girls, but some of them do anyway. They get to be pretty heavy tippers out on the course, even though they’re not that way in the normal world. Kinda creepy. And then a lot of them buy beers and keep on driving their golf carts, which totally adds up to drinking and driving and not getting in trouble for it, which is something you can’t do anywhere else.
Depending on how many beers they have, they might also turn into heavy tippers when they go around a corner too fast. Golf can be dangerous.
Anyway, I asked my dad if I should take up the game, and you know what he said? This floored me. He said “No, look at you. A high school sophomore? You’re too old to start now. You’ll never be any good at it.”
He’s NEVER said anything like that before – it’s the first time I’ve ever been told I’m too old start something! A milestone for me – yay! Finally – an excuse for not being an achiever. I feel so grown up, I’m starting to have regrets about having lived so much of my life already – and all the stuff that’s passed me by.
I missed out on golf!
Your pal,
Bubby
If you could master any sport, which one would it be?
So now there is research to suggest that people with lower blood sugar levels have better memories and superior brain health compared to those with high blood sugar. That’s serious stuff, and a great cause of concern for someone with an incurable sweet tooth (like me)!
But the comforting news is – I’ll forget all about this alarming food-health connection after I polish off these delicious frosted brownies.
There is a cliche that those who are disappointed in love can find some solace in a sweets binge. Maybe now we know why. Or as the famous Nat King Cole could have said:
Unforgettable, that’s what you are
Or at least until I eat this bar.
Chocolate chips that whisper ‘Yum’ to me.
Now your name does not quite come to me.
In a few bites, you’ve dropped from my sights.
Unforgettable, make no mistake. That’s what you were ’til I had this cake. A delight I used to share with you. Now I’m stuffed, and unaware of you. And that means there’s more dessert for me too.
I don’t spend a lot of time looking at myself in the mirror – just enough so that I have to explain to people that I don’t spend too much time looking at myself in the mirror.
Some people assume if you’re constantly gazing into a pane of glass you’re a hopeless narcissist who can’t get enough of the one and only thing in the world you love. I wouldn’t know if such a motivation is even possible, but I contend that there could be another possible reason.
Reflection fanatics might be looking (and praying) for a new angle.
Ever walk past one of those three mirror alcoves in a clothing store only to be confronted with a side view of yourself? I do not recognize the side-view me as a real representation of me. I know what I look like, and it’s what I see head-on over the bathroom sink, 20 years ago.
But I do sympathize with the planet Saturn, which is almost always glimpsed on the horizontal or with its rings slightly tipped at a jaunty angle. Like an aging movie star, Saturn knew to keep the paparazzi at a distance, and always looking at that “good” side. That’s why it was so jarring when an “amateur image processor” from Croatia named Gordan Ugarkovic, produced this unusual image using 36 shots taken by the Cassini spacecraft. Cassini has been orbiting Saturn since 2007, sending back a steady stream of remarkable views.
This is Saturn caught in an uncharacteristic pose. If it were me, I would argue that my rings look too wide and that shadow is unflatteringly massive. Why, yes, yes, of course it’s me – there’s no denying. But you shouldn’t sneak up like that and just start snapping photos. Give me a moment to compose myself. We outer planets can’t be as photogenic as Earth, all colorful and swirly most of the time. After all, feeling prepared and having good complimentary lighting are really crucial when you’re a gas giant.
How many times have you been to an art museum, looked at a certain painting or sculpture, and started to choke up or cry, feel joy or triumph?
I certainly don’t recall any extreme emotional moments looking at art.
How many times have you looked at a photograph, read a book or a poem, watched a play, or experienced any other art form, and been moved to tears or other powerful emotions?
Once or twice? I’ll admit I’ve done that on rare occasions. A few years ago, I surprisingly choked up at the climax of The Help by Katherine Stockett. And yes, it was the book, not the movie.
Now, how many times has music brought you to tears of either extreme joy or great sorrow?
For me, dozens of times.
Right now, I bet some of you are saying, “Wait a sec. What about movies? Lots of movies make me cry. What about the ability of the filmmakers and actors to elicit such powerful responses?”
To that, I say try watching the movie with the sound turned off or the music edited out somehow. Example: the scene at the end of It’s a Wonderful Life where Harry makes the toast to “My big brother George, the richest man in town.” Everyone singing Hark the Herald Angels Sing sets up that line. Without the music, it’s just a happy party. The song signifies the town coming together for George and the apparent miracle that saves him. That’s why my waterworks start. The old cliché, “Cue the violins,” rings true because without an effective musical score, most movies would carry much less emotional impact.
This leads me to my point. I’ve stumbled across another one of those rare moments: a song that is arranged and sung so powerfully, so perfectly, that it stunned me into silence, then brought tears to my eyes. The last time that happened was the first time I heard Eva Cassidy sing Over the Rainbow on the Morning Show way back in February of 2000. I remember that day as vividly as September 11, 2001. It was just before 8:00 and I was cleaning up my breakfast dishes. Through the whoosh of the water, I heard this sweet voice and simple accompaniment. Mesmerized, I turned off the water, went to the living room, turned up the volume, and listened attentively. When she hit the last high note, then finished with that gorgeous chord progression and final arpeggio on the guitar, I melted. I couldn’t buy the CD fast enough, and when I got it, listened continuously for days. I’m sure I listened 100 times that first day, putting it on endless replay. By now, I’ve listened to Eva sing Over the Rainbow THOUSANDS of times. It can still make me cry on occasion, at the right moment for whatever reason.
This young man’s name is Sam Robson, and the performance I’ve linked of him belongs in the rarified strata of Eva’s best singing. I hope you enjoy it as much as I have. I only wish he’d put it onto a CD so I could buy a copy. In the few weeks since I first heard this, I’ve listened at least 100 times and can’t get it out of my head. Please listen on your best speakers, or better yet, with a good pair of headphones. And no distractions or multitasking. Just soak up this most beautiful noise.
Today’s post is a House of Representatives newsletter from Congressman Loomis Beechly, representing Minnesota’s 9th District – all the water surface area in the state.
Beechly Announces He’s Not Going Anywhere At All.
Greetings, Constituents!
I’m glad to report that the crisis is over and our government is open for business again! Hooray!
I got all your letters and calls, and though I didn’t exactly answer every single one I did read parts of most of them, so I know the past few weeks were very difficult for you. Thanks for your very graphic suggestions about where I could put things, and how I might atone (personally) for the behavior of some other members of Congress.
In spite of some very direct invitations that you sent me about moving to another district, state or country, I want you to know that I’m staying put and I’m equally certain that we all still think the USA is the greatest country on Earth!
And now comes the really important work – Forgetting Everything That Just Happened. Fortunately, this shouldn’t be hard since our research shows most people are bored by political tiffs and when all is said and done they have no memory of who started it and who got sucker punched. An old mentor of mine once said “You’ll never lose an election by overestimating the ability of a typical voter to totally disregard the most important details.”
And no, I don’t remember who it was that said that.
I guess the lesson here is the same one any craftsman learns – know what your tools can do.
When I was a small child I decided I could get my mother to buy me ice cream by holding my breath. The first few times I tried, it didn’t work. Then one summer day we were down at the lakeshore and there was an ice cream vendor there, and I asked if I could have a cone and she said “No” so I held my breath so long that I actually did black out a little bit, got kind of dizzy, stumbled, and almost fell in the water.
That’s when I found out that while I couldn’t use breath-holding to get ice cream, I COULD use it to make my mother super mad. That was a good lesson – and i realized it was not a very useful tool since I had lots of other ways to make the very same thing happen.
And just like the voters, over time she forgot my ridiculous behavior and kept a fierce love for me deep in her heart. Actually, the voters probably won’t do that, but mothers can be trusted to set aside the silly stuff. Eventually.
I guess my real point is that as bad as this whole episode was, and although it suggests our political system is broken and in spite of the way it left a strong impression that some of our elected officials are spoiled children, at least we don’t have to put up with giant hornets that kill people indiscriminately.
And that’s why the USA is a much better place to live than China!
God Bless America!
Your Congressman,
Loomis Beechly
If you had to live in another country, which one would you choose?
My husband and I just put our house on the market and I have a real estate question for you.
He is a scientist who uses rats to do research on addiction. Last year, he decided to experiment at home with an idea he had at work – that rats might find Oreo cookies to be as addictive as cocaine.
This was the kind of experiment he couldn’t get government funding for at the institution where he works – that’s why the study was set up in our laundry room. I objected, of course, because even with the precautions he took with regular clean-up and freshening the cages and whatnot, all my skirts started to smell like a Rat Barracks after a few short weeks. In part this is because he had to keep all the windows shut and doors closed on account of the presence of the cocaine and the fact that we live next door to an Elementary School.
Like I said, he was doing it on the sly.
Anyway, he started to find out that the Oreos are just as addictive as the other stuff. And with Double Stuff, the Oreos are TWICE as compelling. They have more allure than morphine.
It was all very exciting.
In fact, it was so promising, my husband got some federal funding and moved his experiments back into the lab.
Meanwhile, a few of the rats escaped and now we have a problem with a worthless bunch of O-heads back at the house. I mean it – they got totally hooked on Oreos and now they don’t want to eat ANYTHING else. At all. And even though we stopped buying the cookies, we live next door to an elementary school (I know I said that already) and the children regularly bring contraband out into the schoolyard.
Now the emboldened rats are literally chasing children on the playground just to score some of that lunchbox gold. It’s a good thing the tykes aren’t armed, though I know the NRA wants them to be. I’m afraid the random, panicked shooting would perforate our house.
Anyway, I’ve sworn off Oreos and I’ve told my husband he can no longer bring his work home – our neighborhood is terrorized by red-eyed vermin with blackened teeth and milk keeps disappearing from the refrigerator for no apparent reason.
So, back to the real estate question – I’m afraid that if we’re able to move, the new owners will quickly discover the local rats are crazed and the structure will have to be abandoned and possibly burned. I tried to find a way to disclose this on the Truth In Housing form but I couldn’t find a blank space big enough.
Dr. Babooner, is it always best to tell everyone the complete truth?
Sincerely,
N. Festashun
I told “N” that telling everyone the complete truth all the time would be exhausting and probably impossible. But there are some things one shouldn’t gloss over, and selling someone a house possessed by demon, cookie-craving rats is probably one of those things. Unfortunately. The real moral of this story is that grown-ups should leave their work at work.
But that’s just one opinion. What do YOU think, Dr. Babooner?
Frantic last minute maneuvers in Congress may yet avert a financial default by the U.S. Government.
Here’s hoping.
But anyone who cannot pay her bills should be prepared to offer an explanation. In the 1930’s, Popeye’s friend, J. Wellington Wimpy, had such an excuse as his catchphrase. Though “I’ll gladly pay you Tuesday for a hamburger today,” would not convince many people to float a loan in 2013.
But I think a disappointing message is received better when it is sung, and it just so happens that Wimpy’s signature dodge fits perfectly into the lovely, lyrical almost-our-national-anthem “America the Beautiful.” I couldn’t resist, although it feels like sacrilege to replace “purple mountains majesty” with what amounts an empty promise. But I contend that these are only song lyrics, and they are not nearly as awful as what is about to happen to our real national finances.
Some party bull. Some outright lies. Recurring waves of blame. Our fingers point to other guys And they point back the same. America! America! Has self-inflicted ills. A deadbeat now. A bum, somehow. Defaulting on her bills!
We’ll gladly pay you Tuesday for a hamburger today! We have to be selective which expenses we defray. America! America! The budget is a tool! Each party hopes the other dopes will seem the bigger fool!
A manufactured crisis is something that we still make. The part that isn’t nice is that it takes so long to break! America! America! I hope we can agree next time to skip the brinkmanship, and please don’t furlough me!
The original “Boy Scout” version of America the Beautiful has eight verses. I couldn’t come up with that many, but everything has been downsized since the sequester took effect.
In this case, that’s probably for the best.
Should some songs be off-limits to parodists? If so, which ones?
Washington – Recent figures show that 2013 is turning out to be a banner year for the tireless workers who turn the fertile soil of American public opinion, planting seeds of doubt and raising the hackles and ire that feed our public discourse.
“We’re seeing massive amounts of confusion over everything,” said Republican narrative farmer Walter Todd, who planted a new variety of Obamacare Satanis in early July and is reports it is already in full-flower coast to coast.
“All I did was I told my brother in law at a Fourth of July picnic that Obamacare would ultimately lead to the socialist re-branding of Disney World as ‘Occupy Orlando’. It was just something provocative to say – I chased it with a few beers and the thing took off. I didn’t expect it to grow so fast.”
Experts say just about any story that has an identifiable villain and ends in disaster will take root and grow tall this year.
“The environment has been perfect for it,” says Katie Boo, a professional fear monger in the Boston area. “The summer got a late start and people had to cram a lot of activity into just a few short weeks. They’ve been too busy to think much about what they’re hearing – they just believe the last person they talked to.”
All the hours and care spent sewing confusion are starting to pay off. Now that Autumn has started we’re seeing record crops of divergent convictions, from where responsibility lies for the partial government shutdown (Republicans or Democrats) to the real cost of failing to raise the debt ceiling (impending financial cataclysm or mere bookkeeping adjustment) to the true nature of orange Jello (tasty low calorie dessert or radioactive Hellspawn).
“Honestly, there’s fertile ground just about everywhere for pretty much everything,” said Lars Shrillstone, a freelance alarmist. “I was in Phoenix last week and ran into a really healthy variety of ‘Ted Cruz is an Evil Robot’. Usually it doesn’t take hold that far west, but this year, anything goes.”
the composition. 
Trail Baboon 