Kakahead

Hallowe’en is a bit of a strange holiday to begin with, but it evolves into something more ghoulish every year: COMMERCIALISM. Is that a word?? I guess so… My friends call me a “tree hugger.” I guess I am. I go around hugging trees all day long and tell them I love them. Well maybe I don’t really do that… but all of the products that have sprung up for holiday celebrations have me wondering just how much more of all this manufacturing madness Mother Nature can take.

Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy jack o’ lanterns and fake skeletons and stuff like that there, but lights?? We never had Hallowe’en lights when I was a kid. Christmas lights, yes. But Hallowe’en lights?? Sounds like an oxymoron to me. I mean, Hallowe’en is all about having the wits frightened out of you IN THE DARK by witches and hobgoblins and such. So all these happy Hallowe’en lights are making big brightness of the night which transforms a perfectly scary night into orange-on-black-holy-cow-look-at-all-the-lights-on-that-house happy joy dead monsters fun world.

Or something.

Yes, they are cool in their own Hallowe’eny way… but I’m thinking maybe some of our neighborhood electric meters are going so fast they’re ready to blow an axle. And how in the heck do you sneak up on someone with all that light?? Sheesh. Now you wanna hear something really weird: when we were kids it was “cool” to walk around on Hallowe’en with a big fat sock full of flour. Why? So you could sneak up on people and bop them with it!! Makes a nice big mark that is really fun to apply, and easy to get off. And it looks totally cool when you swing your sock full of flour and connect with someone’s back or maybe their booty (never the face or head… this was supposed to be FUN). A direct hit produced a big “POOF!!” of white powder all over the place, and of course a nice sock print on the point of impact. This prank relied on darkness. You can’t sneak up on anyone in the midst of all these blazing Hallowe’en lights.

Simpler times… I know. Frankenstein’s monster scared the living crap out of us, because we just KNEW he was lurking in the dark. One dare not poke along on the Trick Or Treat mission, or “The monster” was surely going to jump out and rip us all apart. So we’d scurry from house to house with our pillow cases to get those yummy Black Cow suckers, Jujubes, Neccos and Mary Janes. And if you were lucky enough to hit a well-to-do neighborhood, you could even score a fair amount of chocolate! Once in a great while you’d stumble upon the “bad kids” who actually had eggs. Everyone knew the “bad kids”… and worse yet, you knew they would actually throw the eggs. At other people no less!! And again, successful egg tossing required a secret ingredient: darkness.

Well, Frankenstein’s monster is considered a big wuss now. Sure, in movies of yore the monster did indeed kill people, and the villagers told of his awesome strength and the ability to tear men apart with his bare hands. But these days, such a movie would flop unless the monster was shown opening his victims’ bodies with a machete, eating their kidneys, and washing them down with a Sierra Mist. No eating brains just yet…

And it’s all because of those stupid Hallowe’en lights I’m tellin’ ya!!

Ok, maybe not.

I hope all of you have a safe and Happy Hallowe’en. Maybe I’ll dress up like a dust mop and go hide behind the firewood pile or something. Should be nice and dark back there… We live “in the sticks” so we probably won’t get many Trick or Treaters.

That’s very OK. More chocolate for ME!!

Mom always said, “you gotta eat a peck of dirt before you die.” That profound statement was usually preceded by a piece of partially eaten fruit jumping out of our hands and landing on the ground. God bless Mom, because she did the best she could to feed us on a tight budget. So the “peck of dirt” message really meant: 1) pick it up, we’ll wash it off , and 2) you ain’t gettin’ no more fruit till that’s gone.

Little did I know how true this “peck of dirt” idiom really was. For example: there I was walking through the grocery store, minding my own business, when suddenly I reached for the grated Parmesan cheese. We buy the stuff in the plastic containers… a habit from how we were raised I guess. But foolish me, I had to read the label. Again. I’m always reading the stupid labels. I’m sorry, but I want to know what’s going into my mouth. At least, most of the time I want to know… sometimes I completely ignore the label when I reach for junk food. Anyhow, I noticed the Parmesan cheese ingredients include ”powdered cellulose added to prevent caking.” And I’m thinking to myself, “hey self, isn’t cellulose like, wood??” So then I get home, and decide to look up “cellulose.” Well, it’s the material that makes up the cell walls of plants… and the dictionary goes on to say that it’s the raw material for many manufactured goods like paper. Oh… that’s nice.  I remember reading about how paper is made. I’ve also seen many a logging truck pull into the chipping yard at the paper mill. So basically I was right when I was having that discussion with myself. They chop up wood to get that cellulose stuff for making paper.

Doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure this out: a) paper is made of cellulose, ok? 12) they chop up wood to make paper, right?? so therefore G19) the powdered cellulose in the Parmesan cheese is powdered wood. SAWDUST. Those boogers are putting sawdust in my Parmesan cheese! Mom never said anything about how many pecks of sawdust we had to eat before we die. But just for the heck of it, I looked at a different brand of Parmesan cheese. This one had a much fancier “anti-caking agent,” which they called “microcrystalline silica aluminate.” In other words, sand. Little teensy, tiny grains of sand! In the cheese! Dirt!! Mom was right!!!

What the heck has happened to our food?? Anyhow?? These companies take perfectly good food and pollute it with rocks and sticks. If I really want to eat sand or sawdust, all I have to do is go outside by the firewood pile and lick the ground. We have sandy soil, and I’m sure there are wood particles to be had, so there you go. Might even get some bugs, which of course provide protein and various minerals. But I’d really rather not, thank you. But this food pollution is really pervasive throughout just about everything you find in the stores these days. So, ok, I bought the Parmesan cheese. The one with the wood in it. I figure the wood might help my colon better than sand. Fiber you know. Well OK maybe not. But who said it’s OK to purposely put sawdust and wood in the food??

On top of all this, it seems like there are “foods” being invented just about every day. Take “turkey ham” for example. What the heck is that supposed to be? Where I come from, ham comes from pigs. Yes? No?? You don’t hear people going around offering you any “pork drumsticks” do you? Or how about “pig wings??” No, that sounds pretty silly. Sure, there are “Buffalo wings” which are really chicken wings, but that’s because it’s a style of cooking that originated in Buffalo. Sheesh. A few years ago, some jive nurkeyhead came up with a “food” called “turkey bacon.” Sorry folks, no such thing. Look up “bacon” in the dictionary once. Mine says, “a side of a pig cured and smoked.” No turkey or other such fowl meat is mentioned.

I guess with all the health consciousness and low fat everything, turkey seems to be synonymous with all things nutritious. Well, have you ever taken a gander at the label on a package of turkey bacon? Chemical soup. I’ll eat the fat and take my chances, thank you very much. But if this silly trend continues unchecked, I can see an awful change in the language of dining coming down the pike. Something like this maybe:

“Hi Frank!! Hey glad you made it to the barbecue! What’ll you have??”

“Dunno… everything smells great. Whatchya got??”

“Well, we got tofu dogs, turkey pork chops, and imitation seafood protein conglomerate salad… OH! And I knew you’d probably be coming so I set aside some nice chicken filet mignon for you!!”

“MMMMmmmm!!! Well geez Ken, you’ve outdone yourself. Don’t mean to disappoint you, but I had chicken mignon last night at our company party. But that imitation seafood protein conglomerate salad sounds pretty inviting. Does it have any of that yellow #5 in it?”

“Nope! Not a drop of artificial coloring. Just good old modified soy proteins and hydrolyzed vegetable amino acids.”

“No yellow #5?? You’re absolutely sure?”

“Yep. I’m sure as I’m standin’ here.”

“Oh… bummer. Well, thanks… umm… guess I’ll go with the old style stuff and have one of those turkey pork chops. Could you please make mine… oh I dunno… I’ll be brave and go medium rare. Just a hint of neon green inside.”

“No problem dude. One medium rare turkey chop comin’ up!”

Doesn’t that sound yummy? I’m drooling all over the keyboard here. As far as the chemicals in food goes, I’m either gonna have to quit reading labels or make even more stuff from scratch. Pass the sticks and rocks please. Anybody seen the bottle of yellow??

Here in West Michigan everyone seems to wonder what happened to summer this year.  Didn’t have much… it was cold in June and July, started warming up in August, then cold again.  For added enjoyment we had lots of cloudy days and rain, and here it is October already and it’s been “unseasonably cold” as the weather man says.  Now we all get to partake in the massive seasonal leaf gathering festival we call “fall.”

The colors are finally coming though… and I must admit it’s a beautiful thing.  Mom Nature is busy painting the landscape with the beautiful autumn hues we’ve grown to know and love. Yup, the leaves are busy sninkling (huh?) down from the trees and chasing each other to and fro all over the ground. In fact, you could even say they’re in full-sninkle!

Or maybe I’ll just say that…

Anyway, the garden is pretty much done and waiting for me to get my hiney out there to clean up the stalks and dead vines.  Lots of green pumpkins out there too… I planted them rather late and they didn’t quite make it.   For the first time ever, almost every tomato plant at our place died of  blight.  That’s been a rather strange experience for me, because I feel pretty good about gardening organically and having pretty healthy soil.   Small comfort came in the form of some articles about lots of people losing tomatoes to blight; and the wet, cool weather was perfect for airborne fungi spores to have their way with us.  Not much you can do about airborne stuff.

Before I saw these articles I did some backtracking in my feeble brain; searching for a possible cause for such a miserable tomato crop.  Did I do anything different?  What went into the soil last year that I haven’t used before?  Hmmm… HAY!  (And no, I am not misspelling the exclamatory interjection, “hey!”) (How’s that fer fancy talk?)  I used hay!  I switched from my tried and true practice of using leaves for mulch and switched to hay!  Hey… maybe that’s what made the tomatoes sick!!    But nope, that turned out to be false.

Back in May I did use what little hay I had left from last year.  When I ran out, I debated over whether to get more or go leaf hunting.  Hay is definitely more expensive.  I got mine from the Tri-County feed store in Montague at $5 per bale.  Last year I think I spent about $120 on hay.   Maybe more.  Leaves are free, but people tend to include “surprises” in the leaf bags.  Soda cans, fake flowers, toys, even smashed cell phones have appeared when I dump out the bags.  So, hay is garbage free but expensive.

When I first started leaf hunting, my beautiful wife did not find it amusing that I would bring leaves from other people’s yards to our house.  She never complained about the nice organic veggies though.  Over the years I’ve learned that I just need to make really sure our leaves make it to the garden too.  You see, I kinda like being married; and I’m not as dumb as I look…

I take everything:  maple, pine needles, and yes… oak.    The statement that oak leaves make your soil too acidic is an old wives tale.  Actually they build up the soil much faster than maple; and because of their high calcium content, any acid they contain is neutralized quickly.

A typical leaf hunting expedition involves me scoping out the neighborhood a few days in advance.  We have a few subdivisions down the road from us, and those poor souls actually bag their leaves up and put them out by the street for the trash man.  I usually don’t have to travel far, and everyone is very happy to be rid of them.  Well, most everyone…

I sometimes meet the owners of the leaves when I stop in front of their yard.  When that happens, I smile politely and ask, “you mind if I take your leaves?”   A rhetorical question really, because I’ve never been told, “heck NO you can’t take those leaves!!”   They just want the bags off the lawn.  Some folks even offer 17 more bags that are behind the house.

This was a memorable year though, because for the first time ever I was actually scolded.  I pulled up to a house and nobody was stirring so I commenced to loading up the leaves.  Suddenly I hear a gruff voice:  “WHAT’S GOING ON?!?!?!?”  I jumped back nervously at first, but then I smiled and said sheepishly, “I’m stealing your leaves…”  “WHAT ARE YOU GONNA DO WITH THEM???”  He bellowed while giving me the stink eye.  “I’m gonna put them in my garden… is that OK?”  “Oh, OK,” he snorted.  “Well if you don’t want them gone I can go somewhere else,” I offered.  “No, take all you want,” he huffed, and went back in the house.

Now, I had to chuckle (quietly of course) after he left.  My mind quickly zoomed into silly mode, and I began to wonder what kind of mischief a person would get into with “stolen” leaves.  Maybe he figured I was going to empty the bags all over the road while I drove somehow.  Or perhaps I’d secretly take them from HIS house and bring them to his neighbors across the street.   Boy that would be a hoot!

On a more serious note, 26 years of dumping leaves into what was originally sand has transformed my garden soil into rich black dirt.  I do love the convenience of hay but what can I say?  I’m a cheapskate.

Looks like I’m back in the leaf hunting game.  However, I hereby promise not to wear camouflage and come to your yard for a “leaf run” in the middle of the night.

I’m blessed with a good job, but it does come with a price:  I commute.   Work is about an hour drive away, most of it highway driving.  Fifty six miles.  As a bonus I get to enjoy the company of  fellow commuters who seem convinced that they own the roads.

Are drivers in general just completely losing their marbles???  I mean, there I was, 10,000 feet in the air, no plane, no parachute…  Oh… wrong story.  But like, there I go, each day, 56 miles one way on the expressway and some on the not-so-expressful-way, and I try to move right along but keep myself safe in the process.   Ever since gas went over $2.00 a gallon, I’ve set my cruise control to 65 mph on the highway.   Of course, that often means people are flying past me.  That’s fine with me.   When the weather is warm my Toyota Corolla gets 40 plus miles to a gallon when I cruise at 65.

I maintain a safe following distance:   driver safety folks say you should be AT LEAST 2 seconds behind the car in front of you or you can’t react quickly enough.  If you are in doubt you’re supposed to pick an object like a mile marker the car ahead is passing, then count aloud:  “one one-thousand, two one-thousand.”   If you get to the mile marker before the end of saying “two one-thousand” you’re too close.   This is a good rule of thumb for DRY PAVEMENT. Obviously if the road is slippery you should allow even more following distance.

I say “obviously,”  but too many drivers, young and old alike, seem intent upon sniffing my exhaust pipe with their front bumpers.  They are often so close that I really think they should at least offer me some candy or perhaps a nice dinner or something before they ram me in the hiney with their car.  I don’t let them stay there long.  If it’s daytime I turn on my tail lights to simulate braking.  When that doesn’t work,  I on go the emergency flashers.  By then most of the hiney huggers get off my tail and / or pass me.  Otherwise I get out of the way when it’s safe.   Oh, and if they decide to keep hanging on my bumper there may be times when I suddenly notice that my windshield needs washing.   Mr. or Ms. Hiney Hugger then gets a face full of  free washer fluid.  That usually gets them to back off, but not always.

I think I need to be careful with that washer fluid business.  I had a guy who got plenty mad at me  flashing my flashers and washing my washings.  Never mind the fact that I was passing traffic but still maintaining a safe following distance from the bloke in front of me.  So I found a safe spot and slid over, and the guy gets up in front of me and slows down.  Way down.  So I slowed down even more.  Then he motioned with his hand to come closer.  No way, I thought.  Then he stuck his hand out the window and motioned some more.  Well, there was no way in Guacamole Land I was gonna indulge in road rage with this idiot.

As it was, I was “saved by the bell.”  The traffic on the interstate ground to a screeching halt, apparently due to an accident down the road.  Mr. Road Rage was by this time hugging the bumper of a large truck, and followed it right past the exit I took to get off the road and evade the traffic jam.  I looked over at him and smiled, he looked back at me as if to say, “What the!!!  You get back here and be mad with me!!!”    Ha ha, I laughed to his funny place in traffic, ha.  Ha ha to him.

When I was a bit younger, I’d be happy to display one of my “more memorable” fingers to an idiotic driver.  You know, just to show that I appreciate them.   I’ll admit it was not exactly a complimentary gesture on my part.  These days, if I do gesture I give the coo-coo head a nice  “thumbs up.”   Lets them know how pleased I am at their “expertise” without escalating the anger.

I’ve read stories about people getting shot while driving, and then I began to rethink the wisdom of the washer fluid funnies.  So I don’t wash my windows as often.  Well OK once in awhile.  Alright, most of the time my windows end up being really clean. Most importantly, I try to drive defensively.  I’m much too young to die!

I’m very grateful to be working, but I truly detest the commute.  When I took the job I was quizzed about the drive.  I knew in advance they had a plant much closer to my home (15 minutes) and that the guy who was doing the computer support for that plant was older than me and would therefore be retiring within a few years.  I was able to negotiate the ability to transfer when he retires.   All I have to do is survive another 78 weeks.

But who’s counting??

Dear Perglezookeys,

Please don’t spread the word, but as I have already alerted some
of my comrades, I have been masticating during lunch. My mandible
enjoys this to the point where it is pretty much automatic. Please
be aware, however, that mastication is a pure, wholesome, and
reasonably natural process and should not be refreshed in the name
of Dondo Frijole. You personally may opt NOT to masticate, but do
so only with the precaution that you might be setting yourself up to
receive the Hindkick maneuver from your piers. Piers and maybe even
docks. If their are two such piers, well that of course would be a
paradox.

On the other hand, you may receive the Hand Lick maneuver, which is
totally disgusting and miserably ineffective. Your piers may not
even want to try it. And of course, if you add an “L” to “piers,”
you get “pliers,” and that’s what Herman the Zinc Miner will use to
pinch your septum every single time the Three Stooges investigate
the Twighlight Zone.

In the early morning night time, I opened the window and several
nonfurry checkbook carriers escaped and ran through the intersections.
As I saw this, I twinkled my toes and exclaimed, “Holy Photonic
Calibration!! There go four of my unused satellite receivers!”
If you see them, it’s likely they will be traveling with soup
and perhaps even potato cartilage. This flavor based combination
will intimidate even the best of all your political capuccino.
Why would anyone even attempt to varnish tomatoes is way beyond the
my constitution.

Clang clang clang go the whistles, enjoying help from Above and Oh
my God my socks are draining again. Above refers to a place higher
than me, where birds, helicopters, and dragonflies enjoy friendly
“Hey let’s watch the Exorcist again” parties. If you happen to be
near such a gathering, please run from the wildebeest and leave a
trail of Poppin’ Fresh doughnuts so we can find you when it’s time
to do the dishes.

Someone stole eleven percent of my brain. This makes the chore of
even normale typeikng vyery diffiddicult indeeded.n Sol I lleave
youoyou noww, bbefoorew I cane nlwo longerers type * at # Alle.’

By buy,

Zeb Rookenzool

Action Figure of Choice,
3003 Ozone Olympics

Summer is gone, leaves are changing color, people are sneezing, hacking, and speaking with altered voices.  There are bugs going around.  Flu bugs.  And people are bringing them to work and spreading them around for all of us to enjoy.  Coughs and sneezes spread diseases ya know.  Are you suffering from a cold?  Do you hab a stubby doze?  Or maybe you feel achy all over and are trying to cough your head off?  Well, if you must come to work, please don’t sneeze on my phone or anything.  And while the flu is attacking, please stay home and fight back so the rest of us don’t get sick.

Now, if you are achy and have coughing and stubby doze, you probably  are getting attacked by a virus.  So that means that if you go to the doctor and ask them for an antibiotic, you will get better, right?  Wrong… antibiotics are for bacterial infection.  They just don’t work on the flu.  The onliest thing that will kill the flu is YOU… in other words, your immune system.

We just got our free flu shots at work so hopefully we’ll be able to head off some of the strains at the pass.  Thousands of people die from the flu every year, but these days we have that special H1N1 or “swine flu” to fret about.  Funny how all the other strains have maintained relative obscurity but when we get a disease named after pigs everybody freaks out.   OK, it’s a nasty one; but we’ll just have to do the best we can.

Since I’m old enough to remember when the Beatles first came to the U.S. on the Mayflower, I’ve learned a few tricks that have really helped our family fight the “cold wars” over the years.  We’ve also learned from grandmothers, friends, and yes, even those “weird alternative medicine magazines.” One of my favorite weapons against flu bugs is garlic.  Lots of it.  Sure… people say, “ya, kill the cold and those around you!”  Well, I’m married, and my wife has promised not to divorce me over garlic breath.  This is a very good thing:   we both love garlic but I’m probably Mr. Garlic Breath of the family. One thing many people aren’t aware of, though, is that if garlic is boiled, it loses a lot of its cold killing power. Also, fresh garlic works best.  “Ok,” you may ask… or not… “how can I use garlic and not boil it??  Anyhow?  You expect me to eat it raw or something you crazy person you??”

Expect?  No.  Suggest?  Yup:  cut a fresh clove in half and swallow both halves.  It actually knocks the snot out of a cold.  Too weird??  Well Grandma Bunny used to swear by raw onion sandwiches.  Two pieces of bread with mayo and lots of raw onion just before bed.  Onions and garlic are close cousins, but garlic is the more powerful cold killer of the two.

One of the best cold killing methods we’ve ever found is:

A) Mince 3 or 4 cloves of fresh garlic

5) Heat one can (or about 20 oz.) of your favorite soup (for this, ours is Campbell’s Cream of Mushroom) until it just begins to boil <well OK, don’t heat the can… take the soup OUT of the can, put it in a pot and heat it up according to the directions>.

L) Reduce heat and add one teaspoon of ground sage, and also one teaspoon of ground thyme (help you breathe better)

9) Simmer while stirring for a couple minutes, and finally

!!) Remove the soup from the heat, add the garlic, stir thoroughly and cover.  Let stand for 15 minutes.  Eat the soup all gone just before you go to bed and you will kick the germ bugs in the booty.

Then, after you wake up, make with the vitamin C, the zinc lozenges, and lots and lots of water and juice and stuff.  Oh, and not to forget the herbal tea!!  Blecch you say?  Well it isn’t that bad ya know…

On the other hand, you have an ounce of prevention.  You know, eat yogurt a few times a week.  Have generous portions of green vegetables and fruit. Get plenty of rest.  And then there’s that nasty “E” word (exercise).

And garlic falls into the prevention category for me.  I love the stuff.  As my Grandma used to say, “it’s good for what ails ya.  If nothing ails ya, it’s good for that too.”   I like yogurt, green vegetables and fruit.  I like… well, ok, sometimes I even…  once in awhile, um…. exercise is good.  I need to do more of that “E” word.  Right after I have my chocolate…

Come on over some time and we can have a garlic milkshake and some avocado flavored yogurt with a nice salad of lima beans and bananas.  Then we can take turns on our combination treadmill / electric generator and we’ll not only get fit, but you can help us keep the electric bill down.

We try to be hospitable, you know.

Dear Earth Dwellers,

This is to advise all steam hangers that any further disguising of endocrine lamps will be postulated with electric germ tables on or about September 27, 2014. All related salivation will occur just before lunch has a chance to hit the fan.

This is NOT a drill.

I cannot inflame you strongly enough to cease and desist with the act of emulating small furry granola bars. After all, any irresponsible kazoo impresario will automatically endure greatly exaggerated facial expressions.

Gradually we will consult the prototype monkey bar infusion devices in an attempt to discern extraordinary methods of vegetable and / or marshmallow juice extraction. Until then, please return to your imaginary “safe place” and enjoy the gumdrop flavored caffeinated meat sticks.

If you have any questions about the arrangement of your bedroom furniture, please contact Moller Enterprises in Sedgewicke Valley, New Mexico and they will refund your pajamas with explosion resistant platform shoes.

Sincerely,

Barker G. Finkledust

a.k.a. “Vice President Insaney”