The Weird World is a Small World

When I saw this headline on the News Journal web site this morning, I felt drawn to the story, and not just because it may be the single greatest headline ever written:

Mouse makes off with man's dentures

When I clicked on the story, I was surprised to find the dateline "Waterville, Maine."

Waterville is where Colby College, my alma mater, is located. I spent four great years in that small town. I saw many things and learned a great deal.

I never saw denture-swiping rodent.

A Mr. Bill Exner lost his dentures. He eventually found them, dragged off to the mouse's lair in the bedroom wall. They retrieved (and boiled) the dentures, but the story is not yet complete.

The mouse apparently isn't done. It frequently comes out and stares at Exner, his wife said.

''He's taunting him -- I swear he's taunting him,'' Shirley Exner said.

The Final Crop?

We live in eastern Sussex County, Delaware, an area that has grown at what sometimes seems an alarming pace in the 21 years we've been here. Sussex has traditionally been a rural county, with an economy dominated by agriculture. Eastern Sussex, where our town of Lewes is located, is a retirement and resort area, featuring beaches, ocean and bays. We still have farmland, but it is devolving into developments around us.

That's why I'm fascinated by an art project in Arizona, near Phoenix. Matthew Moore is an artist who is watching his family farm fall to encroaching development. His response has been a series of art projects using the remaining fields as his canvas.

Rotations: Moore Estates is an exact replica of the first planned community being built on my family's land. The homes have been planted in sorghum and the roads in a black-bearded wheat. The project is a third scale of the actual development, which can be seen to the east of the project.

Mr. Moore has also carved a new-home floor-plan into a 20-acre field of barley.

I've always enjoyed corn mazes, but this is something bigger.

(With thanks to WFMU's Beware of the Blog)

What the...!

This white flag flapping along Route 9 in Georgetown caught my eye this afternoon. It is one of two flying in proud advertisement outside a cosmetic medical clinic.

In bright red letters on a stark white field:

COSMETIC
BOTOX-LASER

This is the sort of advertising approach I associate with a Used-Car lot. Not a medical office.

I can't help screening this mental motion-picture:

IRIS-IN. Interior. Medical Office.

A nervous-looking WOMAN sits on the very edge of an examination table.

DOOR OPENS.

A MAN enters, wearing a plaid, frayed, Doctor's Coat and with a slicked-back toupee.

MAN: Say little lady. Whats it gonna take to get a syringe-full of botulinum toxins injected into those sweet cheeks of yours today?

WOMAN: Ummm....

FADE-OUT

Conceptual Inflation

I realize that I am just a cranky literalist, but there are a few instances of "conceptual inflation" that have been bugging me lately.

Riding to work this morning I heard a character in a radio commercial say that she "would be more than happy" to do something. How can you be "more than happy?"

I also keep hearing that people are "110 percent" in support of things, or "120 percent behind" something. That's just not possible.

The problem is, I think, that we have debased our conversational currency to the point that we feel a need to inflate what we say. We've been too happy to do things. We've been too much in support of each other.

So now we have to be "more than" what is reality just to keep pace.

I'm happy to say that I think it's time for a market correction. I would be 100 percent behind that.

I Think I Like This, Sam I Am

Dylan-parody, as an art form, is about played out. But I've never heard anything like this: Dylan Hears a Who!

Why didn't anyone else think of this? Bob Dylan (classic 60's voice version) singing the words of Dr. Seuss.

I think this version of Green Eggs and Ham is definitive. But that's just me.

Oh, For Jack's Sake!

Sometimes a headline is just perfect:

Suit tries to put the 'Christ' back in 'Halloween'

This was the headline on an AP story on the News Journal web site this afternoon. A family in suburban Philadelphia are suing school officials because their 10-year old wasn't allowed to dress as Jesus Christ for Halloween.

The school has a policy against promoting specific religions, according to the story, and "the boy and his mother are Christians who object to the pagan elements of Halloween."

If I may be multiply politically incorrect for a moment, let me say that here we have dueling stupidness.

Christian fundamentalists, please calm down. It's Halloween. Just a day when kids put on costumes and ask for candy. Grow up and let the kids be kids.

School administrators, settle down too. If the boy wants to dress as Christ, let him. If he's proselytizing and annoying the other kids, I suspect they'll sort the little prick out in their own way. There's no reason to let this escalate into a media case.

This is just so stupid. And now we have a story for everyone to comment on. This will not go well.

Though it does give me a great example of what depresses me about the anonymous commenting on the News Journal web site. Someone calling him- or herself SaneHatter had this to say:

GOOD! About time people of Christian faith stood up to the anti-christian morons in this country with their hypocracy and whinny crybaby I'm offended crap. God bless you son, may you win many times over.*

I followed the links back to the whole wonderful collection of SaneHatter's thoughts. This is a very unpleasant and angry person.

* (No, I did not bother to edit for spelling or grammar)

Wanted (Desperately): A Sense of Humor

I've been missing Molly Ivans, and I didn't even know it.

America needs to lighten-up. We take ourselves far too seriously. We're losing the ability to laugh at ourselves, and we need that ability, lest we forget how truly foolish we all are.

Attack of the Cartoon Goofies
A guerrilla marketing campaign for a TV cartoon paralyzed parts of Boston this week. As part of a marketing campaign for Aqua Teen Hunger Force, panels of LED pixels portraying a pair of pusillanimous characters from the cartoon were placed around several cities over the last few weeks. Flickr-user xjohnpaulx found them in Philadelphia earlier this month. Only in Boston was this seen as a possible terrorist attack.

From the close-up photos of one of the devices that I've seen, it should have been pretty obvious that these aren't any sort of bomb. But I suppose someone spotted one, thought it suspicious, and called the authorities.

And if anything is clear these days, we take stuff terribly seriously.

The devices were blown up. The two young men who put them up were arrested, charged, and released on bail. Luckily, they see the humor. They refused to talk with reporters about anything but the history of hair styles. Watch the second video in this link. It's worth it.

Politician, Stifle Thyself
Can Joe Biden be elected president? He's certainly qualified, but some people are worried about his electability. Other people hate him with an astoundingly unreasoning passion.

Senator Biden got in all sorts of trouble this week; as far as I can tell it was because he speaks like me. Joe Biden forgot to measure, focus-group-test, and vet his words before he made what he thought was a flattering remark about Barak Obama.

I can understand how those words could be construed as insulting, but their intention was so incredibly clearly not insulting. Senator Obama didn't seem insulted.

But our political culture demands that we take any utterance at its worst, with no sense of humor whatever.

This is Where I Miss Molly Ivans
Molly Ivans was as sharp a political observer as this nation has ever seen. Her columns, looking at the wonderful world of Texas politics and later at the odd reality of national politics, were biting, but funny.

Back in 1993, she wrote a column (The Fun's in the Fight) in which she encourages activists to keep their sense of fun as they fight for their causes. She tells about great characters and how they spiced up their times. She describes the reaction of Austin progressives to a march by bussed-in KKK folks (Mass mooning).

So keep fightin' for freedom and justice, beloveds, but don't you forget to have fun doin' it. Lord, let your laughter ring forth. Be outrageous, ridicule the fraidy-cats, rejoice in all the oddities that freedom can produce. And when you get through kickin' ass and celebratin' the sheer joy of a good fight, be sure to tell those who come after how much fun it was.

We need to find this spirit again.

When the Music Hits Me Just Right

I had another one of those great runs of music today. There are times when, as I flip around among my favorite channels on the satellite radio in my car, I find song after song that I love. And occasionally, something new and delightful.

This evening was like that. Song after song after song. And then David Dye, of the World Cafe, presented me with Josh Ritter's Girl in the War.

I know I've heard music from this guy before, and I remember thinking him pleasant, but I hadn't heard this song.

He has a pleasant nice voice, accompanied by delicate acoustic guitar picking. It was the lyrics that hit me:

Peter said to Paul you know all those words we wrote
Are just the rules of the game and the rules are the first to go
But now talking to God is Laurel begging Hardy for a gun
I got a girl in the war man I wonder what it is we done

And

Paul said to Peter you got to rock yourself a little harder
Pretend the dove from above is a dragon and your feet are on fire
But I got a girl in the war Paul her eyes are like champagne
They sparkle bubble over and in the morning all you got is rain

Peter and Paul (the Apostles?) seem to be discussing great metaphysical issues, but keep coming back to "I got a girl in the war." That does two things. It brings us back to what's most important on a basic, personal level. And it spins the old war-time, homefront cliche from the "girl back home" to the "girl in the war."

Looking into this song this evening led me to a video (quicktime) of Ritter performing this song at a Center for American Progress event last fall.

"I came 2000 miles to play you this song," he says. "I meant to write about this country, and it came out sounding like a love song."

Our Land Is a Bit Less Delmarvalous Today

Scorchy Tawes has died. He was 86.

For years, Scorchy was a local television personality; the kind you are proud to have on your set.

He produced and narrated human interest and nature stories for WBOC television, out of Salisbury. His stories were folksy and sappy. He focused on the small joys of small town life. And on the grand beauty of the Delmarva Peninsula. He talked about "wandering this delmarvalous land of ours."

When he retired they tried to replace him, but the new guy, though competent, just wasn't Scorchy.

Scorchy did a story on the Lovely Karen once. It was back when she was working as a music therapist at Stockley Center. She had a bell choir of made up of some of her clients and Scorchy came in to film them playing Christmas carols. It was sweet.

There's irony in the timing of Scorchy's death. He'll be upstaged in the news cycle by the death of Barbaro. But he would have been all over that story; it's just the sort of story that he loved.

Rest in Peace Scorchy Tawes. You helped define life in Southern Delaware and the Eastern Shore of Maryland.

Neologism #1 (Updated)

Confunktified

1. (adj) : The state of being badly messed up or having gone seriously wrong as the result of two or more related things having gone wrong.
   
   "First the car wouldn't start, and then it started raining; my morning was, like, totally confunktified!"
   
   
2. (adj) : Made funkier by the combination of two or more instances of funkiness.
   
   "When the bass joined the drums, things got confunkified."
   

Etymology: This word was first coined by my colleague Dorothy Morris' teen-aged daughter Rebecca. (Circa 2006) May be derived from "funkified" (to make funky).

I believe that this word may actually count as a protologism.

Update: I checked with Dorothy and found that I had gotten the word slightly wrong. I was thinking "confunkified", rather than "confunktified." The former may indeed suggest "becoming more funky," but I think confunktified, with its slight odor of disaster, offers a richer (almost olfactory) imagery.

Grant Me Patience? Too Late.

I rarely do this, but let me take a moment to point, aghast, to a letter to the editor in today's Coast Press newspaper.

One Maria Johnson, of Georgetown, has written a letter asking "Is AIDS education a sly 'agenda'?"

Is it true that there's a poster contest in the middle and high school sponsored by CAMP Rehoboth to recognize HIV and AIDS? Do other organizations like heart or cancer foundations, pregnancy care centers, Alcoholics Anonymous, or domestic abuse groups go into schools and tie up young people's emotions, energy and brains with their stuff?

Okay. First let's check on that "is it true?" question. A Google search finds the CAMP Rehoboth web site, where a small amount of perusing shows us that, yes, CAMP Rehoboth did sponsor a Student Art Contest this fall as part of the local World AIDS Day activities.

The contest was one of two activities added by local sponsors for this year. The other was a Wall of Healing, Remembrance and Prayer at Epworth United Methodist Church.

The Art Contest wasn't intended to "recognize" HIV and AIDS, though. It was designed to call attention to the risks of HIV infection that young people face. Here's what the organizers had to say:

CAMP Rehoboth chose to sponsor the Student Art Contest out of deep concern with the latest statistics released by the Centers for Disease Control. The data establishes that 50% of all new HIV infections occur in young people under the age of 25. In addition, national case surveillance data for people ages 13 to 24 revealed that the burden of HIV/AIDS falls most heavily and disproportionately on black and Hispanic youth. CAMP Rehoboth believes that accurate, age-appropriate information is our best hope for reducing these trends for our young citizens. By working with Sussex County school districts, CAMP Rehoboth hopes to ameliorate this situation.

And yes, Ms. Johnson, quite a few other issues-based organizations sponsor student arts contests, essay contests, and the like. My daughters have both been winners in fire-prevention essay and art contests, and young people we know have won citizenship essay contests and that sort of thing. It can be rather a positive experience.

Let's see what else Ms. Johnson had to say.

There's a whole page of support groups in the Delaware State News. If there's a private matter that a student needs help with, maybe a guidance counselor could direct the young person to a support group or a helpful foundation.

I'm not sure why you would limit yourself to the State News, but directing kids to guidance counselors makes excellent sense. I quite agree.

I am not a gay-hater, but this example demonstrates that the gay agenda is being slyly and forcibly taught to children in schools. I think people should be aware of this, and I think CAMP Rehoboth should be kept out of our schools.

You are not a gay-hater? Let's leave that to one side for the moment. I can say, though, that something can't be both "slyly" and "forcibly" done. I think those two adverbs are mutually exclusive.

If the "gay agenda" is to teach young people about the risks of unprotected sex and the dangers of making poor choices, then I say bring on the homosexuals as soon as possible.

And by the way, let us not suppose that HIV and AIDS are only a gay issue. We know well that AIDS affects gay and straight folks alike.

But this is silly. CAMP Rehoboth is not in the schools trying to turn young Sussex Countians into gays and lesbians. If you spend your time worried about this sort of thing, please get a clue. Or a life.

As it happens, I have gotten to know a few of the founders of CAMP Rehoboth over the years. The Executive Director, Steve Elkins, is in the Epworth Church bell choir with Karen. His partner Murray Archibald, CAMP Rehoboth President, is a lay leader in the church.

Both gents are much more religious than I am, but I am sometimes at the church and they have been most welcoming and friendly, despite my less-Christian status.

By the way, if you were wondering, CAMP Rehoboth stands for "Creating a More Positive Rehoboth."

A Family Affair

This weekend, Karen, Colleen, Christina and I performed together in the Sussex Ballet's production of The Nutcracker.

Well. Colleen and Christina performed. Karen and I helped fill-out the party scene that starts the ballet.

Karen played the part of a lovely lady party-guest. In Green.

I played the part of the old guy who appears to be the man of the house where the party takes place, but who doesn't really dance all that well.

It was cool to be on-stage again. I used to do lots of community theater back before we had children. I enjoy it.

This was particularly fun. I was playing a very small part, with no pressure.

And I had the opportunity, at least for the first scene, to watch my girls dance from on-stage next to them.

Word. Up.

TechCrunch pointed me to a new site today that is just my sort of place: Wordie.

Wordie describes itself as "Like Flickr, but without the photos." It provides a simple way to list words. Just words.

And I like words.

Of course I created an account. My first two words were entered in honor of my brother John, who, when I became a news-person at a local radio station many years ago, offered me this simple advice: "Eschew obfuscation."

The Wordie : Errata blog includes a succinct site history, the begins:

11/21: Idea pops into my head, gets dismissed as a joke.

That's my kind of site.

It Occurs to Me Lately That...

...if is there is a culture war, I must be a part of the Great Army of the Progressives.

And, if I am a soldier in that Army, I must be on detached service in a small, special unit.

And that small unit clearly focuses on the isolated skirmishes known as "irony."

Therefore, I'm a proud member of the Ironic Detachment.

Literalists' Litany of Complaint: #367 -- At the End of the Day

I keep hearing various spokesfolks use the phrase "at the end of the day" to wrap-up a thought. As in, "of course the Iraqi army needs more training and support and yes, we shouldn't have disbanded that army, but at the end of the day the Iraqis will have to govern themselves."

At the end of the day? Why not at the start of the day? And what about over lunch?

Life-Changing Moment #381

This morning, I had the Tivo machine grab a showing of the 1933 Marx Brothers movie Duck Soup.

I'm indulging in a little Marxian madness this evening; I haven't time to watch the whole thing just now, but a few moments of Groucho, Harpo, and Chico are refreshing after a full week.

I find myself thinking back to the early 1970s, when I was a kid. A friend up the street invited me to the church his family attended one evening for a showing of Duck Soup. I had no idea what the movie was, but at that age, no longer a child but not yet a teen, any opportunity to get out with friends is worth taking.

Now, decades later, as the movie begins with its ornate 1930's crowd scene, musical number, and fancy costumes, I wonder what my initial reaction was. What was I thinking as he movie started? How did I react at the first entrance the wise-ass Groucho and the clowny Chico and Harpo?

I can say that that experience -- watching this insanity on a screen set up in River Road Unitarian Church -- changed my life. I became, and have stayed, a Marx Brothers fan.

It helped lead me to vintage movies, to vaudeville, to absurdist theater, to wider reading, and to an acceptance of silliness in all its wonderful forms.

I'd hate to think what my life would have been without it.

Protest Song Number (Fn:Count[PROTESTSONGPOSTS])

I heard David Dye interview the singer Will Kimbrough on The World Cafe a few days ago. It's well worth a listen, especially for his song Pride, which neatly sums up much of what I've been feeling of late.

The tune is from Kimbrough's new album, Americanitis. He says, of the song:

A good friend tried to warn me about being too preachy on the CD. I responded by putting a full blown sermon, complete with slide guitar solo, on there.

He calls it a sermon; but if the thoughts are preachy, the musical style is not. The song unfolds in a laconic American folk-song version of sprechstimme, with Kimbrough quietly skewering us for some of our sins:

There's no power in pride.
Pride is a man who goes to war to save face.

And pride is a man who cannot tell the truth
if it might make him look weak.
There's no power in pride.

Our sin is pride and we know it.
We just can't bear to talk about it.

We paste those [pride] stickers right next to the fish
we bought down at the Christian Store.
I'm not bashing Jesus,
But how 'bout we read what Jesus said for once.

I say for balance we take in a little Buddha,
And Johnny Cash.

He has a point.

Music. Two Very Different Sorts.

I have two very different music links to share. One is a rocking protest song I heard on the way home from work this afternoon. Another is a neat flash-based free-form music tool that I find soothing.

Who Said No One Writes Protest Songs Anymore?
Driving home this evening I found that the weird weather was scrambling the local NPR station. So I punched up the "Jam-On" station on my satellite radio. They played a new song from a soon-to-be-released album, Yell Fire!, by Michael Franti.

I think I've heard of Franti. He and his band Spearhead have been around for many albums. But I don't think I could have picked one of his songs from the musical mix out there. That may change.

The song was called Light Up Ya Lighter. It's one of an album's worth that he wrote and recorded following a non-USO tour of Iraq, Israel and Palestine. Over a tight hip-hop/reggae beat, Franti does a swinging reggae sort of rapping. He has a fairly direct take on the Iraq war:

The army recruiters in the parking lot,
Hustling the kids there juggling pot.
"Listen young man, listen to my plan.
Gonna make you money, gonna make you a man."
Bam, bam.
Here's what you get: An M16 and a kevlar vest.
You might come home with one less leg,
But this thing'll surely keep a bullet out your chest.
So come on, come on. Sign-up. Come on.
This one is nothing like Viet Nam.
Except for the bullets. Except for the bombs.
Except for the youth that's gone.
(Appologies to Mr. Franti. I was taking dictation from the PC speakers.)

Something about this tune really grabbed me. I like the energy. I like the rhymes. I like where the music lives: at the place where rock, rap, and reggae overlap. You can check it out on this MySpace link (I never thought I'd type those words!). The Spearhead website has several free downloads, including the first single, the title tune, from the new album.

I also plan to keep an eye on this guy on iTunes and buy some of his tunes when the album is released.

On The Other Hand....
I found a site called The Pianola a few days back. This is a flash-based application, entirely on-line, that uses little squares, floating in an enclosed space, to control a variety of tones.

The squares play sounds as they bounce off the walls, floor, roof and each other. They are affected by gravity, and their motion changes over time. You can combine tones yourself or start with several pre-sets, from Beethoven to more modern offerings. I particularly like the pre-set titled "F. Low."

This is a wonderful tool for on-line chill-out time.