Ramblings Compiled #1
Compiled from my 2000-2002 "Ramblings" blog at goofiness.com:
Anyway, the other day my wife was telling me about a conversation she had on the phone with a client where she works. As she was saying goodbye, she had one of those brain locks that each of us has at some point. During the final stages of a normal phone call, one might say 'Goodbye' or 'Thank You' or 'See you soon'. My wife, who just helped the client with a problem, decided to interject a little variety but couldn't decide whether to say 'You're Welcome' or 'No Problem'. In the less-than-a-second she had to decide this, she had brain-lock and ended up with a concatenation of the two phrases, which unfortunately turned out to be: 'Your Problem'. Funny that it hasn't caught on like 'Goodbye', isn't it?
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Every Tuesday, I volunteer for an hour at my wife's daughter's elementary school. Usually, I give spelling tests, individually, to the students. The teacher comes up with 8 spelling words -- words the student misspelled in his or her journal -- and I ask the student to write down the correct spelling. These are second graders.
The other day, one of the students only had 2 spelling words to be tested on. Apparently her teacher forgot the other 6. Instead of bothering the teacher, who was in the midst of a class discussion, I just made up 6 more words. Well, I didn't make them up, I chose 6 random words I thought a second grader could spell. The girl did great, even though she wasn't able to study. Being the dunce that I am, one of the words I asked her to spell was 'ocean.' Doesn't seem hard to you and me, but to a second grader... She spelled it 'oshin' -- which is pretty good, really.
After that, I began to think. Once I caught myself I stopped immediately. However, I dropped my guard and accidentally began thinking again. Here's my thought:
English is a horrible, horrible language. Any 'rule' is broken many times over in the spelling of our words. Hell, even PHONETIC isn't spelled the way it sounds!!!! So I thought, here is what we do. We pay a good voice -- me, for instance -- to sit down and read *every* single word in the dictionary onto a bunch of CDs. We then duplicate that CD thousands of times and send it to every second grade class in the country. Then we randomly select certain words for each student in the class to spell. We do it so at least 5 students, from different parts of the country, spell the same word. We take the closest two or more spellings and use that as the new spelling of the word.
You see, second graders haven't learned the stupid ways we spell words yet. They are perfect for this! We would have words that are spelled the way they sound. Sure, it would be like the metric system to those of use who know spelling 'the old way' -- but I'm willing to make the sacrifice for the sake of future generations. We would no longer have to ask 'Hey, Bob, how do you spell ___' -- we would know.
Perhaps phonetic would be spelled foanetic.
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I've always dreamed of owning a dog named Help. It wouldn't be hard to do, all I'd really need is my own dog. Actually, it would be better to simply borrow a friend's dog for a few days, and name it Help for awhile. The dog, whose real name would be Spot or Rover or something, wouldn't know Help from Russian, and of course wouldn't respond. That would be good, because then when the dog ran away I could run around my neighborhood yelling "HELP! HELP! HHEEEEELLLLLPPPPPP!"
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I am a private person. I probably could have become a movie star or a rock star or the head of the local PTA by now, but I value my privacy. I went out on a limb last year and became a member of my homeowner's association. The tabloids, thankfully, haven't gotten wind of it yet.
Due to my concerns for privacy, and to throw off the papparazzi, I declare here and now that I will no longer use my automobile's blinker to indicate which direction I am about to turn, or that I will even turn at all. It's an invasion of my privacy. In fact, I plan on giving head fakes or lurching my car left then going right. Not every time, mind you, or else I'd become predictable. If you see someone driving like Barry Sanders runs, chances are it's me. That is, unless you don't live in my town. In that case that driver is probably talking on his cell phone.
And I'll never drive in New York, where they can now find out what radio station you are listening to by scanning your car if you use the EZ Pay toll booth paying system, which allows you to drive through a booth without having to stop and pay toll. They'll bill you later. For what reason do they need to know what radio station you are listening to? So they can invade your privacy! Aren't you following this? Clearly, it's very important for the municipal governments of the larger cities to know what radio stations you are listening to so that they may plant subliminal messages targeted to you specifically. Ever wonder why you have six end tables in your living room, but only room for two? Subliminal city government advertising. They are in cohorts with the Furniture Cartel of Iowa.
"They" can also find out where I go by tracking my car via the OnStar system from Cadillac. OnStar is used in order to have some ex-phone-sex operator from New Jersey open your car door via satellite if you lock your keys in your car in the parking lot at the supermarket or -- gasp! -- adult video store. No, I don't own a Caddy, but I'm sure that someone has snuck into my garage and installed a OnStar system without me knowing about it. That's probably why my brand new SUV only gets 14 miles to the gallon. Obviously the OnStar uses about half of my fuel.
My cable company tracks what I watch on TV. They even say so in the fine print. They also say that they'll share this information with anyone that presents them with a subpoena. And the reasons are very clear on why someone would want that information.
(Knock, Knock. Door opens.)
Me: "Yes."
"We're here to discuss your sports viewing habits," They say, "we feel you should be watching more local and regional sports. Yankees games are not in your region, so don't make us take you to jail to prevent you from watching. Also, your child seems to be watching a lot of the Teletubbies. Did you know one of them is gay? Sir, you'll have to come with us. Is there a next-of-kin we should notify?"
In some areas cops are now trying to search cars for drugs as part of roadblock sting operations. The Supreme Court has okayed roadblock breathalyzer tests, to detect drunk drivers, because drunks can pose an immediate threat to road safety. Searching for drugs without probable cause, even in some kind of wide-ranging sting, does not solve any immediate-danger problems. Pretty soon, they'll be checking our homes for drugs, then for kids sitting too close to the television and plants that haven't been watered in more than four days.
Contrast my paranoia with those nitwits on "Jerry Springer" or "Battle of the Sexes" or "CNN" that will gladly tell and/or bare all just to be on TV. Far cry from me worrying about my blinker. Like Darva and Paula have said, "I just want my privacy." Oh, and don't forget to pick up this month's Playboy -- I'll be the centerfold.
Next time someone doesn't use their blinker to indicate which direction they are going, put down the gun. Applaud their stand for the rights of all Americans, including yours. If you don't seize your right to privacy now, someone else will. And then we'll all be speaking Chinese.
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I'm not one to bemoan the lack of originality in Hollywood, that the big studios do little but rehash the same story over and over again. Big deal. I don't go to movies much, mostly because of that originality thing, but I don't care anyway. It's right there at the bottom of things I care about, next to the sex life of my parents. My parent's sex life probably has more originality than Hollywood, but like I said, I don't want to think about it.
All those original Hollywood movies everyone is always talking about weren't so hot anyway. I've seen some of the old classics my grandparents rave about. They weren't very good. The acting wasn't so hot, the sets were very bad and the dialogue wasn't realistic. They are classics only because old folks grew up on them and that's what they like. Back to the Future and Ferris Bueller's Day Off will be classics when I'm old, if they aren't already. The acting is as good, the dialogue is better ("Bueller ... Bueller ... Bueller?"), the plot is more realistic and the sets are real, as in a real tree, not a drawing of one. Ever see the Gregory Peck version of Moby Dick? There isn't hardly a scene in the movie that wasn't done on some sound stage in Hollywood. And the few scenes actually shot on location even look like some sound stage in Hollywood. Leave it to Hollywood to make an ocean look like a cheap painting from my aunt's foyer.
The original Hollywood material wasn't very good, so remaking those from the heyday might make sense. We can use real boats. We can film on water. We can do it better now. And perhaps someday we will. Thankfully, Disney is doing it's best to do achieve perfection with 101 Dalmatians. It is apparent that Disney will be making the 101 Dalmatians series -- originally a cartoon, then a live-action film and now a live-action sequel -- until they have perfected the Cruella Formula. On my deathbed my great grand-children will be conspicuously absent because they are out watching 173 Dalmatians.
It is fortunate for Disney that all the families in America haven't yet been entirely fleeced. I think I saw a guy the other day buying food for his family. There is a target, Hollywood, better get another screenplay out the door quickly so you can have his money by Christmas 2001. Dr. Suess has red-lined the grave-spinning tachometer as his How the Grinch Stole Christmas is being turned into one of the biggest commercializations of Christmas ever. Oh, heck, what was the theme of that book? Something about the evil commercialization of Christmas -- 40 Years Ago! You ain't seen nothin', Doc.
My wife knew a guy who ran a puppy mill that slammed into overdrive to meet potential demand for more dalmatians when the first live-action Dalmatians came out a few years ago. Kids see the movie, want the dog. Parents buy the dog, the kids love it until it reaches that age where it is no longer cute and cuddly. That age is the second day you own it.
So your new dog -- all $600 of her -- gets shipped off to the dog pound before you've even settled on a name. Your kids want a dog? Tell them No. Can't do that? Tell them you'll think about it and will let them know at some unspecified time in the future. "Soon" is a good unspecified time, kids don't know what it means. If they try to pin you down later, just tell them it depends on what their definition of "Soon" is. Worked for Clinton. A week later, you'll have your hands full with their desire for a baby sister, and they'll have forgotten all about the dog. If the kids promise cross-my-heart stick-a-needle-in-my-eye to walk and care for the dog and you fall for it, send me $25 and I'll ship you a copy of my one word self-help book titled "NO" for you to read.
If you can't say No now, good luck saying No when it comes to the car, dates until 2am and buying them a bottle of Jack Daniels for their very own bedroom wet bar. And why shouldn't you say "NO" to your children? Is that cruel? I've heard rumors that kids didn't always get what they want, that in the olden days kids were sent off to bed without supper, spanked and had to do things like chores, and that's when they were good. You don't think you have a problem saying No to your children? Well, maybe not the first sixty times. So you've just taught little Jimmy that he need only pester you sixty-one times and he'll get what he wants. You are better off just whipping out the wallet on the first request. It makes less of a scene in the grocery store checkout line.
To be a successful parent with an actual bank account and kids you are not ashamed to be seen around, you may wish to start practicing that precious word. The dictionary even has the pronunciation, if you can't remember how it sounds. If you don't get used to saying No, get used to the look of your accountant's red ink, the long lines during visiting days at the state penitentiary or your local IRS auditor's untrimmed nose hairs. You'll be seeing a lot of him because dalmatians can't really be deducted as a donation to your local pet shelter. Uncle Sam loves the word No.
