Open All Night

This weekend was a diverse one. It started out by being informed that my niece had a bouncing baby boy. I am now officially a great uncle. I then got to the Tigers game Friday night and followed it up with some mini-golf on Saturday. Sunday was spent taking a car that ran perfectly well beforehand and managing to make it develop a lovely miss.

There was a theme present through most of those, namely children. The Tigers game was loaded with the little devils as it was fireworks night. They look even smaller when sitting in the third row from the top, actually strangely like a catcher’s mitt. I managed to avoid stepping on any, so I considered it a moral victory. The same was true at the mini-golf course, although I didn’t exactly endear myself to the parents in the group ahead of us after an expletive laden rant that followed a four putt. I was prepared for the runts at least at the mini-golf course, and was even patient with them as they held up our group. On the way to the links, we passed a number of farms that contained sheep, horses, and cows. This greatly pleased the city slicker penning this blog, and I pulled over to get a closer look. (*note - evidently there are appendages on the rear of the cow that make it obvious it is a male, even more so than the horns I was looking for).
Anyway, I was giddy to see all the animals, and it got me thinking.

I like animals, but I hate children. Do not get me wrong, I am indebted to those who want to reproduce, as it continues our race. And I understand why people have the desire to procreate, and I have no problem with parents. But, the gene must have skipped me, because I would rather care for an animal as they actually amuse me. It also leads to me creating “Michael’s Animal Ranking Scale.” This is the order, from most to least, that I like some types of animals. Sadly, I am only allergic to animals and not babies.

Pig (so cuddly!)
Dog (large)(St. Bernard for example)
Human (adult) (although this ranking is subjective depending on individual)
Cow (cute to me for some reason)
Dog (medium)
Rabbit (hmm - there seems to be a cuddly theme here)
Horse
Duck/Goose
Turtle
Sheep
Fish
Cat (good thing this isn’t a uselessness scale)
Hamster
Human (child)
Chicken
Bird (pet)
Dog (small) (if it fits in your purse remember that it is also very kickable)
Snake
Insect

Zoologically yours,
-Michael

I am not really in the mood to compose one of my rambling diatribes, so I suppose I will stick to just creating three smaller ones. So what if that adds up to one long passage. I care not, so there.

There are billboards around here for the last month or so that make no sense to me. I have passed them over a hundred times, and it just confounds me more each time. It is for a local radio station that plays “workday music”, which really means they play music that is somehow able to keep most women from going postal yet manages to sterilise the poor men that have to work in the typical female-dominated office environment. Anyway, the billboard has the station call letters, its catchphrase, and then a picture of a high heel shoe followed by a gas hose. It then proclaims “Pick Your Pump!” Ok, I get the play on words that they are both pumps and that the gas pump is a poignant reference given our current oil prices. But, why would you have to choose one over the other, and how is this at all related to a radio station? The only thing I can think of is that they are saying you could walk instead of drive, but then you assuredly wouldn’t be using a
high heel. Or, they could instead be appealing to foot fetishists, as the image of the two pumps as shown is quite phallic in nature. Yeah, that is what I am going with.

Speaking of music, we have long been under the spell of the music industry. They tell us what to listen to, and the lemming-run radio stations thus make it popular. Anyway, the most distressing part is that many of the absolute worst songs of late continue to get stuck in my head. This is particularly true of songs sung by female vocalists. My brain is partial to such ones. They get stuck in there, like bubble gum in my hair, and I recite them incessantly - the whole time muttering under my breath how much the song and lyrics are stupid. Some examples? Katy Perry’s “I Kissed A Girl” (umm - didn’t Jill Soluble cover the same concept say about 15 years ago?), Miley Cyrus’ “See You Again” (does she really have a best friend named Leslie, or does that just work because it rhymes?), and Scarlett Johansson’s “Falling Down.” The new Coldplay song also lingers in my grey matter, and while Chris Martin is a dude, he has an androgynous name and sings
effeminately, so he can get lumped in too.

I went to the mall for lunch one day this week. We hit up the ole Chinese Buffet. This one is a lot classier than most, i.e. you can actually touch the table without risking losing a 2″ x 3″ swatch of arm skin, but they are missing the calling card of Chinese buffets. Yes, I am talking about the soft serve ice cream maker. It does not matter how much sodium I have crammed into my body, or how bloated I feel, I need a little bit of ice cream to wash it down. But, on the dessert bar this time they had bowl after bowl of a white creamy substance, and it was on ice. Sweet! So I finished my meal, grabbed one, took a big spoonful (consistency was appropriate) and it was some sort of pudding. Ugh. I was so set on ice cream that I thus had to walk into the mall to the Dairy Queen to fill my sweet tooth. As I entered the mall, two gentlemen walked past us and one repeated the following line twice “Ain’t nobody like a crackhead.” And his voice
inflection obviously meant like in the form of “be fond of” not “similar to.” And he looked like a (former) crackhead. Yeah, the ice cream tasted even better after hearing that.

Randomly yours,
-Michael

The team made its debut outing for 2008 last weekend at Utica-Rome Speedway in Vernon, NY. The team enjoyed the facility there last year as the track is interesting (and groomed well), and there is more than enough space in the pits. Oh yeah, and it is a mere 15 minutes from home base in Rome. We don’t even have to get on a highway to get there! There are three races scheduled there this year, and we plan to hit all three. That should make it the most frequented locale on the calendar.
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I posted awhile back about my migration into “oldpersonville”, and how many of the signs were yet absent. But, I continue with one of them. I have begun watching the news on a daily basis. I used to when I was younger, but got tired of being depressed. After all, when your media outlet growing up is NYC, there tend to be a fair number of stories on fires, murders, rapes, etc. In fact, it was so bad that they stopped doing all the news up front and eventually broke it into segments. So, the teleprompter cycle would look something like this: Murder, murder, rape, injured child, weather, fire, bad car accident, murder, sports, embezzlement trial, armed robbery.

Detroit is a little different. On most nights there is one or two “bad” leads, but not enough to clog the entire newscast (believe it or not). In fact, some nights they really struggle for anything of substance, which brings me to last night. I turn on the TV while I finish eating my Ramen noodles and reading my Area Auto Racing News when I see a bunch of people huddling around a gas pump. And yes, they were praying in front of the gas pump, praying for lower prices. Evidently, this band of morons travels to gas stations around the country, buys a bit of gas, and prays while they are there. Unfortunately, given the slow news cycle last night, they stuck a microphone in front of these blithering idiots where we got to hear how “it has worked to lower prices in some places, we have seen them come down after we pray.” No it hasn’t! You and your band of merry closed-minded dolts do not have any effect on whether Mr. Gasstationowner can get his juice
any cheaper. What, do you think that God has smited us with higher prices because not enough people think of Him while they are filling their tank? We have people dying of cancer or AIDS every day and you are praying for gas prices to go down, while you drive around the country? There are better ways to spread the Word, even if this stupid stunt gets you some airtime on local news affiliates.

Although, it did make me think of the bumper sticker I saw yesterday that said “I’m doing everything I can to piss off the religious right.” That is brilliant. I was laughing so hard I was practically in tears. But the more I laughed the more lightning bolts I had to dodge. Maybe I do need to pray at a gas station.

Always Your servant,
-Michael