Honest to Pete, what's with media people that the first question they ask in the after-game analysis is can New Orleans do it again next year? Perhaps the majority of the viewers are still basking in the glory of THIS win, hardly thinking ahead to making it to work tomorrow, but the prognosticators want to know about next year. I doubt I can handle an entire year of sports analysts asking that question, much less listening to the inane "answers" to it!!
The first half was, as so many first halves are, so-so, but the second half was energizing, perhaps as an antidote to The Who. Sure, it's better to be out there, to be willing to give it one last big public hoo-rah, but The Who? Yeah, I recognized the CSI theme, probably more for the pre-recorded sound track than the old-timers gyrating and windmilling on the stage while holding instruments. Whatever happened to the marching bands, the drumlines, the intricately choreographed performances? To the pep squad and song routines that are historically a part of the football experience? Hyping these big band gigs earns megabucks for the performers, but as an annual viewer, I'm so not impressed.
And, yes, before you ask, there was no "wardrobe malfunction": that was a planned sneak peek at Janet's expensive cosmetic enhancements. Too much time, effort and money go into costume construction for there ever to be a "wardrobe malfunction." That was a planned tear-off that generated just a little too much negative publicity and had to be explained away. Else why did JT even reach for that part of the costume? Hmmmm?
I'm sorry that the game had to end with a Brett Favre moment: the intercepted pass turning the game into the home stretch. I was torn between Brees and Favre in the semi-finals, knowing that it is Brees' time, but wanting Favre to have this one last moment of glory. Manning sat on the bench for most of this Super Bowl moment, generating frustration, rather than momentum, so it's not totally accurate to say that he lost the game; it's just that Brees went onto the field and won it several times over. Even the Saint's kicker made 3 field goals that put his name into the record books. It was just that kind of a day for the team, as well as the coach, who went for the win in unexpected ways, which added a layer of intensity and excitement that is far too often missing in the Big Show.
As for the commercials, I loved the young neighbors, a Clydesdale and a bull, running with the fence between them: it was cute, it made a subtext point about differences not determining relationships, and the final shot of the grown-ups running together pulled the message together. I hated the building of a human bridge to get the beer delivered. The subliminal message here is that beer is more important than people, an iffy choice for a media message. Additionally, there are far too many young people who will see that animation and think it is real -- and then try it for themselves. When we plant seeds in the minds of impressionable individuals, we should not be shocked when we see the fruits they bear.
As was said in the media all week, the Saints were the sentimental favorites, but everyone knew that the Colts would win. Or not.
Monday, February 8, 2010
Sunday, February 7, 2010
TP Turner
A dear friend who stops by once in a while prefers to pull the tp from the over position, rather than the under style I favor. After she leaves, I go to the guest bathroom and return the roll to the under style as she changes the roll every time she visits, whether it's for a one-stop potty visit or an overnight.
Yes, I know that Martha says the paper should flow from the top, but I also pull the paper towels from under for the same reason: it's the way I want it to be in my home. In my decades-long experience, I have determined that less paper is used when it is pulled from under, both in the bathroom and the kitchen. Older tp users naturally seem to be less enthusiastic in pulling paper to finish their business in the bathroom, while younger toiletiers enjoy the unfettered ribbon flow of paper that results from the over position, often leaving a floor-length stream of paper behind for the next toiletier to deal with: do I tear it off and use fresh paper, or do I just use the streamer so it doesn't go to waste?
We all know that there actually is no correct way to position the tp roll: it's a matter of personal preference regardless of Martha's mandate. It's sort of like believing in God: if you are a person of faith and you've made a personal commitment to believe in God, then there is a God. However, if you don't believe there is a God, there is absolutely no way anyone can ever convince you to the contrary because it's not their decision whether you believe in God or not -- just like it's your decision which way the tp comes off the roll in your bathroom!
On the other hand, in those odds moments that seep into a leisurely rainy day, long-repressed thoughts seem to pop into the present, such as the tp paper over/under issue. It matters not one whit to me what anyone does with the paper in the privacy of one's own home, but it amuses me that a guest in my home changes the roll from under to over. I'll hazard the guess that a person who switches the tp in another person's bathroom also goes through their medicine cabinet and the vanity, two areas that are, in my world view, off limits. I also don't meander through the guest room closet, bureau, or other pieces of furniture that may be included in the decor because ... it's not my bedroom, not my furniture, not my place to paw through another person's belongings. As a matter of fact, I think it's extremely presumptuous of anyone to check out the medicine cabinet, the vanity, and/or the contents of a guest room. I'll save my comments about checking out the kitchen cabinets and 'fridge for another rainy day.
I could just ask her why she changes the roll, but it's much more fun not to acknowledge her actions; instead, I write my own script about her motivations, her apparent glee at fooling me by changing the tp roll, and the satisfaction she must feel in thinking that she's been getting away with this outrageous behavior for the past decade. Or not: perhaps she spends a rainy day wondering why I've never asked her why she always switches the tp in the guest bathroom!
Yes, I know that Martha says the paper should flow from the top, but I also pull the paper towels from under for the same reason: it's the way I want it to be in my home. In my decades-long experience, I have determined that less paper is used when it is pulled from under, both in the bathroom and the kitchen. Older tp users naturally seem to be less enthusiastic in pulling paper to finish their business in the bathroom, while younger toiletiers enjoy the unfettered ribbon flow of paper that results from the over position, often leaving a floor-length stream of paper behind for the next toiletier to deal with: do I tear it off and use fresh paper, or do I just use the streamer so it doesn't go to waste?
We all know that there actually is no correct way to position the tp roll: it's a matter of personal preference regardless of Martha's mandate. It's sort of like believing in God: if you are a person of faith and you've made a personal commitment to believe in God, then there is a God. However, if you don't believe there is a God, there is absolutely no way anyone can ever convince you to the contrary because it's not their decision whether you believe in God or not -- just like it's your decision which way the tp comes off the roll in your bathroom!
On the other hand, in those odds moments that seep into a leisurely rainy day, long-repressed thoughts seem to pop into the present, such as the tp paper over/under issue. It matters not one whit to me what anyone does with the paper in the privacy of one's own home, but it amuses me that a guest in my home changes the roll from under to over. I'll hazard the guess that a person who switches the tp in another person's bathroom also goes through their medicine cabinet and the vanity, two areas that are, in my world view, off limits. I also don't meander through the guest room closet, bureau, or other pieces of furniture that may be included in the decor because ... it's not my bedroom, not my furniture, not my place to paw through another person's belongings. As a matter of fact, I think it's extremely presumptuous of anyone to check out the medicine cabinet, the vanity, and/or the contents of a guest room. I'll save my comments about checking out the kitchen cabinets and 'fridge for another rainy day.
I could just ask her why she changes the roll, but it's much more fun not to acknowledge her actions; instead, I write my own script about her motivations, her apparent glee at fooling me by changing the tp roll, and the satisfaction she must feel in thinking that she's been getting away with this outrageous behavior for the past decade. Or not: perhaps she spends a rainy day wondering why I've never asked her why she always switches the tp in the guest bathroom!
Thursday, February 4, 2010
Movin' On
What a hoot: the Dems have characterized the Republicans as the "party of no," without realizing how an oft-repeated phrase is shaping their image. I don't watch TV as much as listen to it, the same way that I listen to the radio as I'm driving, so words pop and catch my ear, especially when they become the only answer to a touchy situation.
Lately, I've noticed that the Democrats are the party of "let's just move on." The President makes a joke about bowling like a special needs child; he apologizes; "let's just move on." The President slams people who spend money in Las Vegas--twice; he apologizes; "let's just move on." Rob Emmannuel calls people who don't go along to get along retards; he apologizes; "let's just move on."
If I have to be labeled,I'd rather be a person who consistently says "no" rather than an individual who makes offensive comments, says "sorry," and just moves on.
Lately, I've noticed that the Democrats are the party of "let's just move on." The President makes a joke about bowling like a special needs child; he apologizes; "let's just move on." The President slams people who spend money in Las Vegas--twice; he apologizes; "let's just move on." Rob Emmannuel calls people who don't go along to get along retards; he apologizes; "let's just move on."
If I have to be labeled,I'd rather be a person who consistently says "no" rather than an individual who makes offensive comments, says "sorry," and just moves on.
Monday, February 1, 2010
Grace
The stiffly-starched whiteness of the collar ringed the neck of the black nylon polka dot dress, securely fastened from white collar to hemline with brilliant white buttons diligently kept spotless. Along the edge of the unnaturally white collar, a small edging of tatted lace softened the starkness of the silently still woman sitting on the bus bench, her knees held tightly together, her ankles touching. Old-fashioned highly polished black shoes were tied to her feet, the black laces forming a measured bow across her instep, a proper chunky two-inch heel adding a Sunday touch to her appearance. Age was indiscriminate, hidden in the creases and folds that belied the victim of servitude and sunshine. Squarely across her lap, wrinkled hands blended into the handle of the firmly clutched black bag that looked as if it had spent the weekdays on a closet shelf for many years.
This was not a woman of means, but a proud woman waiting for the city bus to take her to church services. She looked straight ahead, not wanting to attract attention to herself, sitting alone on the far end of the bench as if waiting for other travelers to join her. Cars passed, which she neither saw nor acknowledged, filling the early morning air with noise and dust. No one thought to stop and offer her a ride, perhaps a familiar Sunday sight that formed part of the ordinary routine of the small rural community who had asked before and been politely declined. “I'll wait for the bus. Thank you for your kindness,” a proud woman used to doing for others, not being done for in even the simplest ways.
A slight shifting of her hands indicated that she heard the bus down the road a ways and she began the process of standing to signal to the driver to pick her up. Her head never moved, eyes neither right nor left, but her feet edged slightly apart to provide balance as her body leaned slowly toward the street, momentum providing the assist necessary to become erect. Once standing, her feet again tucked tightly together, her head facing the street, she waited, knowing that she’d take her customary seat at the back of the bus and sing silent hymns as she journeyed to her destination.
This was not a woman of means, but a proud woman waiting for the city bus to take her to church services. She looked straight ahead, not wanting to attract attention to herself, sitting alone on the far end of the bench as if waiting for other travelers to join her. Cars passed, which she neither saw nor acknowledged, filling the early morning air with noise and dust. No one thought to stop and offer her a ride, perhaps a familiar Sunday sight that formed part of the ordinary routine of the small rural community who had asked before and been politely declined. “I'll wait for the bus. Thank you for your kindness,” a proud woman used to doing for others, not being done for in even the simplest ways.
A slight shifting of her hands indicated that she heard the bus down the road a ways and she began the process of standing to signal to the driver to pick her up. Her head never moved, eyes neither right nor left, but her feet edged slightly apart to provide balance as her body leaned slowly toward the street, momentum providing the assist necessary to become erect. Once standing, her feet again tucked tightly together, her head facing the street, she waited, knowing that she’d take her customary seat at the back of the bus and sing silent hymns as she journeyed to her destination.
Snippets
The worker finishing up the guest room remodel had to work on the weekend because the construction boss, who told me twice last week that HE would be by to finish what has been waiting for 6 full weeks and countless other promises to be kept, was funny. First, he hollared for me to come help him because Mia was biting him, which she does not do. I locked her inside the rest of the house, but she stayed on the floor right outside the room the entire time he was here. He also told me (and seemed sincere) that I should "find someone" to be with me because I'm a nice lady and I have a nice house. I paid him because the boss sent a worker to do the job he told me HE was going to do -- and he knew that I would not pay him another dime as I already paid in full for the job before it was finished.
Yeah, I know, so we don't need to have that discussion again.
It's challenging to choose between the two most disgusting commercials on TV: the dust mites partying in my mattress or the yucky mucus guys whooping it up in my chest. These are both commercials that I'd rather never see again.
Let's say that I'm a really famous entertainer who has been nominated to receive honors and awards in my field. The presentations will be made on TV and beamed to every corner of the world. Would I really show up unprepared to accept these awards? Would I really not write an acceptance speech that was well-organized, appropriate, and sincere? Would I really just get up and gush whatever into the microphone?
3-D has been around for many decades, so why are the 3-D glasses still those cheap pieces of paper crap that look like a prize from a box of Cracker Jacks? Even Beyonce couldn't pull off that look!
Why is there a Pro Bowl? Why is it played the weekend before the Super Bowl? Why, if unemployment is soaring and finances plummeting, are there so many fans in the stands?
Did anyone hear the President actually admit publicly that the Republicans are NOT "the party of no"? Obama admitted that Republicans have come to him, have offered both legislation and compromise, have voted in favor of many, many bills -- but if you weren't tuned in to the Republican retreat this past weekend, to which the President was invited, you may not have heard that message during the past year. It's so much more expedient to polarize than it is to compromise.
It's a new month already and time is flying. January is always the longest month of any year, so I'm glad that we're now heading into the shortest month, especially with a 4-day weekend right smack dab in the middle of it. Yeah February!
Yeah, I know, so we don't need to have that discussion again.
It's challenging to choose between the two most disgusting commercials on TV: the dust mites partying in my mattress or the yucky mucus guys whooping it up in my chest. These are both commercials that I'd rather never see again.
Let's say that I'm a really famous entertainer who has been nominated to receive honors and awards in my field. The presentations will be made on TV and beamed to every corner of the world. Would I really show up unprepared to accept these awards? Would I really not write an acceptance speech that was well-organized, appropriate, and sincere? Would I really just get up and gush whatever into the microphone?
3-D has been around for many decades, so why are the 3-D glasses still those cheap pieces of paper crap that look like a prize from a box of Cracker Jacks? Even Beyonce couldn't pull off that look!
Why is there a Pro Bowl? Why is it played the weekend before the Super Bowl? Why, if unemployment is soaring and finances plummeting, are there so many fans in the stands?
Did anyone hear the President actually admit publicly that the Republicans are NOT "the party of no"? Obama admitted that Republicans have come to him, have offered both legislation and compromise, have voted in favor of many, many bills -- but if you weren't tuned in to the Republican retreat this past weekend, to which the President was invited, you may not have heard that message during the past year. It's so much more expedient to polarize than it is to compromise.
It's a new month already and time is flying. January is always the longest month of any year, so I'm glad that we're now heading into the shortest month, especially with a 4-day weekend right smack dab in the middle of it. Yeah February!
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