Restless Old Brains

Today’s post comes from perpetual sophomore Bubby Spamden.

Hey, Mr. C.,

I was just about to ask you an important question about girls, but as soon as I started to write it I realized that you don’t know the answer. Not that you’re not old enough to have wisdom and all, because I’m pretty sure you are! But all the old dudes I’ve talked to about this kind of thing are pretty sure they know less about girls than they used to, which I think is totally weird.

How can you live such a long time and get dumber as you go? That doesn’t make any sense.

Cerebral_lobes

But then I read a newspaper article about this study that says your brain changes when you get older, and old brains have a harder time getting good sleep than young brains do. And it’s when you’re sleeping really good and deep that the stuff you just learned makes its move to transfer over just-found-out-about-it mode to long term memory! So if you can’t get what they call long wave sleep, it’s harder to learn anything new!

So now it kinda makes sense that you’re so clueless about a lot of new things, and haven’t really picked up any fresh insights since, say, 1975.

But don’t get me wrong. I still respect you for your wisdom and experience and all. I just have a better understanding of why you don’t know anything. So I’m forwarding you a link to the article. Take a look at it! Read it a couple of times for all the good it will do you.

One thing in there that sounds kind of cool – the idea of using electrodes pasted to the scalp to simulate the right brain waves to get the best kind of sleep. How long will it be before you older guys are plugging yourselves in at night, just like a cell phone or a Chevy Volt?

And since I know you’re going to ask anyway, the question I had about girls is why does my girlfriend get mad if I start to fall asleep while she’s talking to me? It’s not like I can help it. But to smooth things over, I told her it’s because I’m trying to commit what she’s saying to long term memory as soon as I hear it. I don’t get it, though. That argument just makes her madder. It’s like she doesn’t believe in science!

Your pal,
Bubby

I think Bubby has been a High School sophomore for so long, he’s the closest thing we have to a teenager/old man hybrid. Still, the most surprising thing in this message is that he thinks he has a girlfriend! I can only assume she comes from the same place as the one that beguiled that Notre Dame football player – Fantasyland. Although she sees through his sad explanation just as clearly as a real person would, so who knows?

What’s your most effective memory-keeping technique?

H.B., A.A.

Today is the actor Alan Alda‘s birthday. He’s 77.

He was born with a name that was much more of a mouthful – Alphonso Joseph D’Abruzzo. You might be able to get away with a name like that in showbiz today, but in the middle of the last century they wanted things to be simple and catchy. Wikipedia tells me that the name Alda is a portmanteu, a word created from two or more other words, or in this case, two other names. Alphonso Joseph DAbruzzo.

Of course you should take a moment here to think about what your Portmanteu name would be if you followed the Alan Alda template. I’d be Dale Dalco, which sounds like a good name for a NASCAR driver, although I would be the worst race car driver ever and would certainly wind up disqualified or dead or both in the first lap.

R.I.P. Dale Dalco. We hardly knew ye.

Fortunately for the rest of us, Alan Alda turned out to be a very effective name for making it big in the entertainment industry, and many are the lives that have been enriched by Alda’s work as Hawkeye Pierce on the long-running TV series M.A.S.H. Apparently he is the only person who appeared in every single episode. My recollection is that in many of them, he is talking almost constantly.

Not all actors are comfortable facing an audience without a script, but Alda seems at ease and is quite the storyteller. He has written a couple of volumes of memoir – “Never Have Your Dog Stuffed“, and “Things I Overheard While Talking To Myself.”

A guy who likes the spotlight and is a natural raconteur should need no prompting at all to churn out a couple of books, but Alda claims the inspiration for these volumes came only after a near-death experience.

When has a single experience changed the course of your life?

That’s How We Roll

You gotta love dung beetles.

All day, every day, they’ve got their faces in the worst stuff we can imagine. To them, it’s no big deal, but to us, spending life as a dung beetle is literally what it would mean to lose the reincarnation lottery.

By Kay-africa (Own work) [CC-BY-SA-3.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0)], via Wikimedia Commons
By Kay-africa (Own work) [CC-BY-SA-3.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0)%5D, via Wikimedia Commons

The good news is a dung beetle’s life is less than three years long.
The bad news is … for the entire time, you have to be a dung beetle.
But the latest bit of redemptive good news is … dung is not your entire world – there’s more. In fact, there’s the entire Milky Way.

Researchers have discovered that dung beetles use the stars to navigate their dung ball placement. But it’s not just a couple of little stars, it’s the center of the Milky way – a strip of light crossing the night sky that apparently gives them the reference point they need to know their dung ball is traveling in a straight line.

And by “dung ball”, I mean “your day’s work”, whatever that is. And pushing it in a straight line is quite an achievement. I’ve been putting my shoulder to various dung balls around for almost 40 years, and I can say with certainty that they haven’t traveled in anything like a straight line. I’m certain I’ve done some curlicues and loop-de-loops, and for quite a long time sat still in the very same place. But dung beetles reckon by the stars, and their efforts are rewarded with measurable progress. If a beetle veers off course, it climbs up on top of its dung ball and does a little “dance”, by which it gets its bearings and resumes its task.

I assume dung beetles will remain here after we’re gone because everything poops, and a key factor in survival is to have steady work. But in 4 billion years, when The Milky Way collides with the Andromeda Galaxy, the beetle’s sky-marker will be re-arranged. Will that signal the Dung Ball Apocalypse?

When you feel you are headed off-course, how do you find the right direction?

Victorious Secret

This is turning into “advances for women” week on Trail Baboon.  On Wednesday, we opened the door for female Neanderthals to take their rightful place in 1960’s love songs, and now we discover modern human women will have the opportunity to take (and give)  live fire on the battlefield.

I’ve never been in the military, so I can’t pretend to know anything about the possible effects of allowing women to have combat roles.  As a rule, I run from conflict. My only fistfight happened in fourth grade, and it was against a girl.

Naturally, she beat me up.

In my (too late to help now!) defense, I have to say that we were 9 years old, and you know how kids develop. She had me beat on height, weight and reach.  And I also suspect she had me on the killer instinct, which I still lack today.

That’s why I look forward to living in a society where women are permitted to freely express their kick-ass side. Maybe after a few decades of well-documented front line bravery by America’s women in uniform, my unfortunate childhood pummeling will seem less like a wimpy case of gender betrayal, and more like a typical rite of passage.

We’re in for years of discussion about who benefits and who loses in this new arrangement.  It’s hard to measure the value of dignity, service and respect against the steep costs sure to be exacted by the battlefield.  Who knows how this will play out?  But I’m pretty sure the only guaranteed winners in all this are Hollywood’s female stars, by virtue of the sudden increase in potential movie roles.

And you KNOW there will be movies.

Here’s the cast list from one of the all-time classics, when it comes to war movies: The Sands of Iwo Jima.

John Wayne … Sgt. John M. Stryker
John Agar … Pfc. Peter Conway
Adele Mara … Allison Bromley
Forrest Tucker … Pfc. Al Thomas
Wally Cassell … Pfc. Benny Regazzi
James Brown … Pfc. Charlie Bass
Richard Webb … Pfc. ‘Handsome’ Dan Shipley
Arthur Franz … Cpl. Robert Dunne / Narrator
Julie Bishop … Mary
James Holden … Pfc. Soames
Peter Coe … Pfc. George Hellenpolis
Richard Jaeckel … Pfc. Frank Flynn
William Murphy … Pfc. Eddie Flynn (as Bill Murphy)
George Tyne … fc. Harris
Hal Baylor … Pvt. ‘Sky’ Choynski (as Hal Fieberling)

Notice there are 13 men and 2 women.  But with females now in the real trenches, movie soldier possibilities for young, middle aged and even “mature” female actors just improved.   Do you doubt that Meryl Streep would have been amazing in the Jack Nicholson role in “A Few Good Men”?  If so, then “YOU CAN’T HANDLE THE TRUTH!”

Speaking of brutal truths, when the glamorous leading lady roles begin to disappear after age 35,  smearing some mud and fake blood on your face and crawling underneath some barbed wire will compensate for a lot of wrinkled skin.  So it’s a career-extender! An explosive future for America’s female actors begins today!

Nominate a Hollywood star to become the female John Wayne, or give us your  title and/or plot synopsis for the first classic women-friendly Army film.    

A Warm Bed

Today’s post comes from Bart, the bear who found a smart phone in the woods.

Bart Blackberry2

Hey,

Bart here. Just having an awake moment during my hibernation and thought I’d check to see if anybody texted me. Nobody did! Is it because you know I’ve already settled down for my long winters’ nap, or is it because we’re not really friends anymore?

Just wonderin’. That’s the sort of question that can keep you awake for hours when you know you’re supposed to be sleeping. Lucky I have lots of weeks left before it’s time to get up.

Ever just lie there awake in the middle of the night when it’s super cold out? That’s when it’s great to have a really solid den, which I’ve got this year. It’s in a gully with a fresh fallen tree on the one side and a kind of a hill on the other side, so we’re out of the wind and there’s lots of leaves and stuff. Really nice for hunkerin’ down.

Only thing missing is snow. I mean, LOTS of snow.

Snow is an insulator, but most people just think of it as super cold stuff. It’s not! There’s lots of stuff that’s colder than snow. Tonight, it’s the air and everything it touches.

Anyway, I’ve got that really happy feeling you get when you’ve got all your leaves and pine needles packed around you to make a nice cozy bed and your hair is dry and you’ve had something to eat but the place isn’t a mess it’s just warm and it smells like bears and you know you don’t have to go out!

I’ve got a few more months of torpor ahead of me so I think I’m going to nod off again. But if you’re about to send me a text, don’t stop just ’cause I’ll be sleeping. I have a bunch of these random half-awake times, and I need something to read.

Or ask me a question, even if it’s that one that everybody asks about hibernation and whether or not we have to go to the bathroom and if so how do we do it? But I’ll tell you right now, the answer is awesome, and it won’t make you feel any better about your situation.

Not only is hibernation the huge nap you want but will never have, it’s also more slimming than all the exercise you could possibly do in five months – and I sleep through it all!

I love being a bear!
Bart

How long could you stay in bed, if there was no reason to get out?

I’ve Just Seen A Face

There’s a fresh kerfuffle over an imagined proposal to use Neanderthal DNA to produce a clone of our prehistoric cousins.

The professor who supposedly made the suggestion claims his comments were poorly translated and misunderstood. Ethicists say it’s a bad idea in any case.

No one is enthusiastic about the concept of bringing back to life some distant relatives who might have been boyfriend/girlfriend material for early humans in the unregulated, romantic days of yore.

Far flung, anything-goes Yore.

Yes, everybody’s against cloning the Neanderthals, though I’m guessing the songwriters would see some intriguing possibilities in the adventurous sexual dynamic that could develop. Imagine, if human / neanderthal dating had been a possibility when The Beatles wrote this:

It might have come out more like this:

I’ve just seen a face,
that was extinct. With hairy grace
I think she winked. She’s a Neanderthal
but I don’t think my folks will care at all.
Na na na na na na

Had I loved some missing link
I might have worried what they’d think
Neanderthals are just like us
Except they’re stronger and they never cuss
Na na na na na na

CHORUS:
Cloning. Let’s do some cloning.
Start Twilight Zoning them back again.

I love every ridge
of her thick skull. Her name is Midge.
She’s never dull. A prehistoric Miss
My human heart, each time we kiss, is full.
Na na na na na na.

CHORUS

Yes I’d like a chance
To take a fossil to the dance
It’s not impossible to clone a date
No love affair has come as late as this.
Na na na na na na.

Who was your least (or most) compatible date?

The Inaugural Thrall

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

My Dear Constituents,

Well, what with the long wait beforehand, the political stargazing, the ceremony, the speeches, the ride/walk down Pennsylvania Avenue, the delay before the parade, the parade when it was new, the parade at middle age, the rest of the parade, the parties and balls and endless evening hours of whatnot, I now feel completely and thoroughly inaugurated.

I loved my vantage point on the swearing-in and the president’s speech. From where I stood, he was about as big as a large freckle on the knuckle of my left hand. I was too far away to make much of the fashion conversation that was swirling around the event, though even at that distance I could tell the First Family was dressed in complimentary shades of blue. And my hat is off to the designers of the formless color blobs they were wearing.

Inspirational!

Sandwich

I sure am glad I grabbed something to eat while I was on the way to my post. Try the corned beef from The Star and Shamrock Tavern and Deli at 1341 H Street, NE. It’s amazing, and unlike my neighbor’s cup of chili from the Union Station Potbelly, it was able to pass through security without a glitch!

Lots of commentators were pointing out that from now on, Obama is free because he doesn’t have to face the voters again. That may be so, but at no point during the day did he look to me like a man who could do whatever he wanted, especially during that parade. It might have been nice to take a nap right then, but I don’t think he would be allowed to do it, even inside that awesome car he was riding in. No question – the president and his family were kinda stuck. I guess it makes a perverse kind of sense that to be officially installed in an office that you spend years running for, it takes up an entire day.

And although there was plenty of adulation, anybody who has ever held public office knows that nonsense stops as soon as the last marching band turns the final corner, and the criticism begins.

I could only hear some of what the president said during his speech, but as the person who represents an all-water district I have to say I was dismayed that he didn’t mention fish, fishing, cabins, recreation, docks, lures, worms or speedboats at all in his Inaugural address. You’d think it would be easy to insert something so appealing into a big crowd-pleaser of a speech. Something like, “We, the people, still believe that every citizen deserves a basic measure of security and dignity and a bucket of live bait alongside a Minnesota lake.”

Simple, but apparently too difficult to do. Sigh.

Am I offended? Let’s just say that I’m kind of thinking I’ll never vote for him again!

Anyway, now that the pageantry is over it’s time to get back to the business of governing. Thanks as always for your support, especially since I seem to have such trouble accomplishing thing. But remember that as your Congressman, I am here to do what you would do, and I suspect you’d have a tough time producing results too! In that regard, I am proud to say I’m probably your perfect representative!

Sincerely,
Hon. Loomis Beechly

It sounds like Representative Beechly has a little bit of regret that he committed to the full slate of inaugural festivities and also to another full term as a phony member of Congress. But like a good public servant, he persevered.

When have you felt locked in to participation in an endless event?

Pompous Circumstances

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

Beechly Ice shark copy

Greetings, constituents, and H.I.D.O.! (Happy Inauguration Day (Observed))

I love the ceremony and tradition that surrounds the installation of a President of the United States, even if it’s just a re-swearing-in! This only happens once every four years. That’s why I’ll be there in the crowd, watching today.

I know – you’re thinking – “Hey, you’re a member of Congress – shouldn’t you have a special seat?” And yes, the answer is “I should, and I would if I was willing to schmooze and cozy up to the Powers That Be.” And it would also help if I was an officially recognized member of Congress, but that’s another story. Even some of the recognized members don’t have enough clout to sit up there on the platform. The truth is – I really love being among the people so watching with the thousands gathered on the National Mall is preferable – absolutely the best place to be.

And yes, of course I had to say that. Unlike SOME people, I will have to run for office again!

I know I’m in for A LOT of time spent on my feet. I’ll have to be at the mall several hours before the festivities start, and that’s extra true if I want to be able to see the stage. So while billions of people are viewing the festivities remotely, some in excruciating close-up detail on high definition plasma TV screens, I will be experiencing it as a true community event.

From my place standing near the back of the crowd, the president will seem like a very tiny speck hovering just above the left ear of the person in front of me – a man impossibly far away saying important-sounding things about common goals and shared values – a leader whose inspirational words will echo off the buildings all around me, his voice almost as loud as the grumblings of my empty stomach.

That’s why I intend to pack a meal.

I’ll have to keep it small since the security is going to be tight and anybody carrying a huge sack like the one I usually use for my picnics is bound to be stopped and questioned. Out of respect for those around me, I’ll hold the onions on my sandwich. And I probably shouldn’t bring peanut butter and jelly in case people near me have peanut allergies. I suppose the sandwich shouldn’t be too juicy either – ketchup stains have to be rinsed out right away! And I’m going to skip the kettle chips this time, because the crunching could be a distraction for my famished neighbors.

I guess that’s a true feeling of community for you – all of us packed in together, suffering equally and compromising for the sake of others.

Plus, I’m a public figure, so I have to be careful about everything that happens in and around my mouth. People are always looking for something they can use against you. As a politician, I’m keenly aware I could be accused of being locked in a “Baloney In, Baloney Out” cycle.

Hmmm. It’s starting to sound like I’ll be having two slices of lightly buttered bread – not exactly what I anticipated from a second term. But the real world so seldom measures up to our expectations!

Maybe I’ll just eat an extra-large breakfast.

Your Congressman,
Loomis Beechly

What’s your favorite sandwich?

Pizza People

homemade pizza

Today’s guest post comes from Jim in Clark’s Grove

It’s hard to imagine a modern American childhood that does not include a steady diet of pizza, but once upon a time, pizza was an exotic food in the United States.

I don’t remember going out to eat pizza with my parents. I became familiar with the food in the sixties as Pizza Hut and other pizza parlors spread across the country. Some time in the late sixties we discovered a recipe for pizza in our old reliable Fannie Farmer cookbook and made our first attempts at making our own pizzas at home.

With the increased interest in cooking in recent years, I am sure there are many people who produce excellent pizza in their own kitchens. When we started we didn’t know other people who cooked pizza at home -it was an unusual thing to do. We weren’t sure that we would be able to make a top quality product, but we have kept at it and it is now a family specialty and a Christmas Eve tradition.

Although there have been modifications, we are still using the same basic plan from the Fannie Farmer cookbook. I can tell you the recipe from memory. The ingredients for the crust are:

  • a cup of water
  • a package of yeast
  • one teaspoon each of salt and sugar
  • a tablespoon of cooking oil
  • up to 3 cups of flour

Mix the ingredients, knead the dough, and let it rise, spread it on the pan, and let it rise again. Then all you need to do is add the toppings and bake it.

Over the years I learned that it is best to add the minimum amount of flour required to get dough that can be kneaded. Too much flour gives stiff dough that is hard to work with and makes a crust that resembles cardboard which is what we produced when we started. The cardboard like crusts are edible, but not as good as they should be.

Our daughter learned about another technique – precooking the crust before adding the toppings.

Put the spread out dough in the oven until it is very slightly brown, then take it out and add the toppings before putting it back in to finish cooking.

The basic toppings, of course, are pizza sauce, and cheese with other optional additions known to all pizza lovers. When it comes to toppings, we found that a thin layer is better than a thick layer. You get a soggy pizza when you overdo it. Finish with fresh grated good quality mozzarella over everything.

Perfection!

What have you perfected over the years?

R.I.P. Dear Abby

I know I speak for all the Dr. Babooners in the house when I say we’re sad to hear that “Dear Abby” has passed away. It is truly remarkable that she and Ann Landers were twin sisters, and both in the mass advice business. It is a point of honor for Minnesota that she spent her final years here in the Twin Cities area.

This New York Times obituary also makes it clear that Pauline Phillips had a sharp wit, and was a clean, concise writer.

And of course John Prine sums it all up nicely.

What’s the best advice you’ve ever received?