Kakahead

Hi Everyone… hope you all are having a blessed holiday season. This post will be short and sweet… a busy time of year you know.

Just wanted to thank all my friends and family for being who they are.

We are fortunate to know all of you.

May peace and love fill your home and your hearts.

Take care, Ken

Dear Friend,

I just wanted to send you some words to express how happy my heart is to be working all the time and not stopping for a heart vacation. I really like breathing and especially eating; so if my heart went on vacation I suspect I would not be able to enjoy smelling jelly or eating smelt pot pie.

Additionally, it truly warms my soul to know that:

A) I have the great pleasure of knowing you

4) You are a very nice person

Q) You don’t stab my toes with any garden tools; and

E6) You don’t live at my house.

Please keep in mind that if you ever need to live in my house, the shed is where you will be sleeping.

You may actually use the LARGER shed...

I do apologize but I cannot share my bed with any additional mammals.

As it is now; my wife keeps at least half the bed to herself, so that leaves me with about 12.4% of the total sleeping area. Then of course we have our two cats who are convinced that we require them to be sleeping on our heads. Nothing quite compares to a nice fur hat that purrs in the middle of the night.

Fortunately for us, Musky Da Husky has his own bed complete with squeaky toys and crunch bones. And yes, he’s all by himself on that bed but don’t even think for a minute that you get to share a bed with the likes of him. He is very defensive of his toys and crunchies, and will not hesitate to recite the U.S., Constitution and all its articles and amendments if he feels threatened.

So now we are enjoying the Holiday Season, which means of course that we get to spend large amounts of money on food and gifts and please just send me the money instead and I’ll make sure it gets put under my mattress for a rainy snow day.

I’m sure you are eager to buy me expensive gifts this year. Please be aware that I’m very easy to please but if you don’t get the gifts listed below I’ll train fleas to visit your tuna salad in the weeks to come.

Here is an abbreviated list of items I require:

1) 1 large bottle (371 milligrams) of Krampo’s Lint Be Gone (deep fried Twinkies are an acceptable substitute)

T) 4 bushels of Nestle’s Creamed Corn

0p) 1 tail light assembly for a 1959 Nash Metropolitan

z#) 17 small pine cones dipped in Aunt Ludmilla’s Avacado Gravy Mix

v12) 3 half pint jars of Crazy Willie’s Carpet Tacks

Well, you get the idea. If you choose to buy me something that is not on the list, well I guess maybe we could still be friends after you pay me extra.

In closing I’d simply like to point out that although there are many things happening on Planet Earth that give us a reason to cry; having a friend like you is much more valuable than, say, chocolate covered hubcaps or even liquid lobster protein supplements.

In other words, thank you kindly for being who you are.

Your friend,

Nive Tringleshorts
a.k.a. “Irving the Bug Biter”

My apologies: I usually try to write something funny or uplifting every week and call it “Happy Friday.” However, this past week my funnybone just didn’t have any tickles; so when I sat in the chair Thursday my writing fingers went brain dead.

This past Tuesday was December 8, the date a beloved musician and peace activist by the name of John Lennon was shot dead near his home in New York. When I first heard the news early in the morning of December 9, 1980 I cried. I cried all the way to work. Such terrible sadness.

Then, this past Thursday; Barack Obama received the Nobel Peace Prize. That should be a source of joy for a guy like me…

I’ll come out and say it: I voted for Barack Obama this past November. Along with many others, I had high hopes… and was especially smitten with his stance on world peace; global equality; and environmental stewardship. This guy seemed like an old peacenik tree hugger hippie’s dream come true.

I’m an idealist, a pacifist, an old hippie. What can I say? I have some silly notions that since humans proclaim themselves to be the dominant species on this planet, we have responsibilities. These responsibilities include wacky things like protecting the environment, treating all creatures (including other humans) with love and kindness, and sharing the bountiful resources with which we are blessed. I believe that The Creator loves everyone; and the least we can do is to live by the “golden rule” to the best of our ability.

Boy am I naive. Or am I? Well, lots of other people have similar “silly ideas.”

I’m very happy that Mr. Obama is not much like his predecessor. He and his administration have already repaired a lot of damage done to global relationships. Unfortunately, however, some things just don’t seem to veer too far from the status quo.

Many feathers were ruffled when Mr. Obama was nominated for the Nobel Peace Prize. I must admit it seemed a bit over the top, but I believe the Norwegians were laying down some expectations. I think they saw great potential in Barack Obama; much like what I perceived during his presidential campaign. Obviously the rest, as they say, is history because he actually won the award.

My sadness springs from what I consider to be some discouraging words in his acceptance speech:

“We must begin by acknowledging the hard truth that we will not eradicate violent conflict in our lifetimes. There will be times when nations – acting individually or in concert – will find the use of force not only necessary but morally justified.”

Morally justified? Silly me again… I never quite got the hang of believing that killing and maiming was ever morally justified. Am I naive enough to believe that we can lay down our arms and live happily ever after? No, I quit doing drugs many years ago. However, when I see our president sending troops overseas and putting them in harm’s way, I shake my head and wonder how this can be construed as “defense.”

I’m a Vietnam era veteran. I was never placed anywhere near a combat situation but I have friends who were. Combat should always be the very last resort to any conflict. And in my mind such a last resort should be reserved for a direct threat to our soil. In other words, bring the soldiers home and let’s focus on protecting our own; right here.

Idealist. That’s me. I still am astonished at so-called “religious” people who advocate killing as a way to solve problems. Anyone heard the commandment: “Thou shalt not kill” ?? I don’t recall any “unless” clause written into that one.

Anyway, I’ll continue to advocate for peace in my own meager way. I’m grateful that my wife and I succeeded in raising two wonderful offspring who also have these silly peacenik tree hugger ideals. And we have friends and they have friends… and all we are saying is GIVE PEACE A CHANCE. PLEASE.

Click here for a video – Let's at least just try…

Dear Ladles and Jellyspoons,

I have come to the conclusion that snow induces seizures in many automobile drivers. This I am knowing because of the spastic manner in which people navigate their jalopy zoomers as soon as the weather changes. Now the reader must appreciate the sheer folly of this, because we live in Michigan and snow is not exactly a foreign substance here. It comes to visit us every single year, and every single year many snow belt residents seem to lose all their winter driving skills and commence to having seizures while driving just as soon as the snow arrives.

Of course, these seizures are self induced, a direct result of drivers only looking as far as the end of their noses while assessing traffic situations. This is coupled with the idiocy factor, which seems to compel people to navigate their street rods as if they are the only person on the road. The end result is truly dangerous behavior that becomes very unsafe for them and all who might be around them. Of course, the idiocy factor is present all year long. Then the weather changes. Autumn brings rain, and as autumn slides into winter, the rain begins to freeze and then VOILA!! Snow. What a shocker, huh? Ya right… this is very normal for Michigan and all the rest of the snow belt.

So you have all these clam-headed bug poop eaters behind the wheel who drive as if they have absolutely no clue. An amazing concept: snow and ice make the road slippery!!! Now who would ever have imagined such nonsense?? Well it’s true. And hey, you know all those road hogs who think they will never get where they are going unless they go 98.36 mph?? You know, the jerkfaces who fly up to your tail while you’re already doing 75 or even 80 in the passing lane. You’re sitting there, minding your own business, passing cars, keeping a safe distance between you and those in front, when some snot licker decides that you are in the way. Bad enough they are basically threatening you by following way too closely. Then they add insult to injury by flashing their lights. Isn’t that special? They own the road you know. They paid for the whole thing.

They like windshield washer fluid. I know this because after I warn them with my emergency flashers that they are way too close, they still like to stay right on my hiney. I’m pretty sure they appreciate it when I wash my windows and they get free juice in their faces. Otherwise why would they hug my bumper so, even when I can’t go anywhere but the next guy’s bumper? And hey, sorry Mr. or Ms. Roadhog, I’m not gonna tailgate. You’ll just have to wait until I find a safe spot to slide over, and in the meantime, I think my windshield is not quite clean. Here’s some more washer juice!

Then the snow comes and adds a bit of spice to the mix. Now imagine you are again in the passing lane, but only going 55 if you’re lucky because the road is slick, but you’re still passing all the old ladies and frightened people who can’t get their cars to go more than 35 on the interstate. Here comes Mr. or Ms. HineyHugger. What appears to be going through their minds is: “Oh, now that the snow has arrived, I must try to lick your bumper with my hood ornament at every possible opportunity.” This appears to be the anthem of the tailgaters; who very soon enjoy crying and rolling in the ditch when the person in front of them has to hit the brakes. And all too many hit the brakes because of something like: “Holy Mackerel I Can’t See With All This Blowing Snow!! Oh Gosh There’s A Deer Or Maybe Not!! Who Just Sent Me A Text Message?? Where Is The Rest Of My Breakfast Burrito??!!” Suddenly they are sliding wildly; which increases their enjoyment of the early snowy morning drive. They are especially happy after learning the effect that saplings have on the underside of their car. Unfortunately, however, these idiots may get hurt but also may drag other unwilling participants into the ditch party.

So I would like to close with a plea. Please, no matter where you are, drive safely to and from your home and / or your non-home universe during this time of frozen precipitation and stupid people who think they are drivers but are actually eels in a small bowl of Jell-O with a nice lint frosting which is complemented by a run-on sentence just like this one.

You will know the eel-people by their affinity for car hiney hugging. Let them pass and enjoy their ditch races. It is especially wonderful when they are hopelessly stuck and try to drive out anyhow. Oh yes they do enjoy the burial of their tires in the muck so the wrecker has to bend its winches when trying to remove them from their ditch playgrounds.

Also, please PLEASE PLEASE never fight with idiots on the road. ROAD RAGE KILLS. It also makes dead people out of living ones. There are people on the planet who will actually use their car for a weapon! Please be careful!

OK, enough of my venting. ‘Tis the season to be jolly, and lots of people are bringing wonderful things for the taste flavors of your face and mouth parts. Please enjoy your everything and especially that nice treat that Mrs. Whosamajigger brought for Holiday Face Stuffing today. I like to rub cookies on my belly. Very good enjoyment, I’ll say. And above all, be kind to everyone you meet. Even the wacko driver ninnies.

Live long and don’t lick spiders.

Yours with no tail,

Zoonork Ventricle

a.k.a. Hobnar G. Wobbynock

Another Turkey Day at the Hansen House. Can’t believe the holiday season here already! All that slaving over the turkey hot dog casserole… and of course the obligatory mac and cheese. Maybe some cream corn and of course you need a few cans of cranberry sauce stacked up in the middle to give that elegant appearance. Then the dessert trays: all those Twinkies to unwrap and place “just so” on the pizza platter… And OH!! Not to forget the Hostess Sno-Balls and Moon Pies. Kool-Aid in fancy plastic cups… you know, the see through kind. A feast fit for a champion cow pie flinger!

HUH?? Oh wait, maybe that was the dream I had after those liverwurst sandwiches.

But seriously folks… I’m a very fortunate human. So long as I keep that thought foremost in my brain, life is really very good. I get annoyed at all the commercial hoopla this time of year. However, I’m getting much better at practicing the principle: “accept the things I cannot change.” I do my part in contributing to the family gift pile, but more importantly Thanksgiving kicks off a string of “gratitude days” for me. Now that I’m thinking about it, I’m grateful most of the time. But the holidays have a way of digging up memories of days long gone; and I get pretty mushy this time of year. We’ve had the good fortune of spending Thanksgiving at our dear friend Ruthie’s. Holy Moley that girl can cook. Of course this marks the second Turkey Day without our dear friend (her hubby) Lew. We all miss him terribly but enjoy Brussels sprouts made specially in his honor. When Lew was still here, he and Ruthie were over for dinner and I had prepared Brussels sprouts for dinner. I asked whether he liked them, and he used an expletive to describe his feelings: “F*%$ NO!!” Hence the honorary dish has been dubbed FN Brussels Sprouts; and we all get a nice chuckle while we fondly remember our beloved Lew.

This year our daughter, son-in-law and grandson when to the “other grandma’s” for dinner. I reminded my wife “we need to share nice ya know…” So the day after Turkey Day I’ll make dinner for everyone in our immediate family. Believe it or not, I love that stuff. I do the whole shebang: turkey (duh), bread stuffing, mashed potatoes, gravy, veggies, pie. All from scratch except the pie crusts. I’m just too lazy for that monkey business. This year it was pumpkin pie made from hubbard squash (punkins didn’t make it in the garden this year) with real whipped cream; and also “bluederberry pie” with vanilla ice cream. That’s right… bluederberry. It’s my nickname for pie with three cups of blueberries and one cup of elderberries. Pretty darn wonderful stuff.

The ritual of preparing all the stuff gives me lots of time to reflect. My Darling Honey Pie Beautiful Girlfriend Wife Person has been cranking the Christmas music since just after Hallowe’en; but I prefer quiet when I’m “in the zone.” Cook, reflect… cook, reflect. And now that we are “getting up there,” in our fifties… we have much to reflect on, we’ve had lots of loss in our lives already. Both of us have lost parents, family, and friends. Seems like yesterday we were caring for my Aunt Joyce, who has since gone to be with her son who died way too early from alcoholism. Just like his daddy. My mom and dad are both gone, my beautiful girlfriend’s mom is gone, well you get the picture.

Anyway, we reflect not only on how lucky we are, but on how fortunate we were to have all these people in our lives. And in our own little way they were all honored through dinner. Grandma Hansen’s stuffing and “stuffin’ muffins,” Grandma Bunny always had sweet pickles out for munching. Figs and dates (my mom again), Cousin John’s china and glasses, Aunt Joyce’s potato masher. Memories of my dad cutting the turkey… “forcing” the kids to talk on the phone to relatives. “We gotta call grammas and grampas,” we remind them. They respond with a groan. “Too bad!! It’s Thanksgiving!!” Typical kids. Even though they are adults now, they would rather sit like bumps on a log and watch the tube than actually communicate with anyone. Especially while in a “food coma.”

We are truly lucky humans. Plenty to eat, good jobs, cars that actually work! Pretty luxurious stuff when you think about it. I sincerely hope all you turkey eaters out there had a simply marvelous Thanksgiving. And I just hope that you are as blessed as we are.

Every year around this time, it’s the same thing.
Idiots with weapons go traipsing about in the woods and
fields, looking to kill anything that even remotely resembles
a deer.  Before the season opens, these dimwits seem
intrigued with the fact that 1.5 billion candle power
spotlights will actually light up a field and blind a bambi
or two that are trying to graze in peace.  I’m sick up and
fed with this.  I want my yard back.

We live in a semi-rural area, and the deer do quite well
here.  It’s not at all uncommon to see tracks in the back of
our five acre plot where Mama, Papa, and Baby Deer have been
moving around.  Very nice, ya know??  Deer are our friends,
except of course when they’re trying to dive into our car as
we book down the expressway.  Been there.  Done that.  Not
good.

Don’t get me wrong, I love to eat venison.  Yummy stuff,
youbetcha.  I smear it in my hair with gravy and noodles.
Maybe a little mashed potatoes on my eyebrows.  A pea or two
in my belly button.  Now that’s a party!!  But I just don’t
have it in me to kill them anymore.  I am a WUSSY.  Got one
when I was 14, and I haven’t hunted since then.

Yeah, yeah, I know we need hunters, or deer will
overpopulate.  No natural predators in these parts.  We
exterminated all of them long ago.  Just to make sure, we
also stole most of their habitat.  That oughta fix ‘em.  Dang
those wolves and cougars anyhow.  What rights do they have,
just because they were here first??

I know first hand about this vanishing habitat stuff.  We moved to
Wisconsin from Long Island, New York when I was twelve years
old.  While I was growing up, there were lots of woods in our
neighborhood.  Pretty cool place to live.  Long Island isn’t
like that anymore.  Sure, they still have the trees, but
most of the forests were flattened by dozers years ago.

The same is happening in Michigan.  Big sadness for me.
Everybody wants a house in the woods, and so many are being
built that the woods are beginning to vanish.  And with the
woods goes the habitat, so the predators don’t have a chance.
But deer (and other critters) have learned to adapt to this
and are eating people’s gardens for dessert.

Again, I don’t have a problem with hunting, per se.
It’s the idiots I have trouble with.  Have to give my Dad
credit.  When he started us hunting in Upstate New York all
those years ago, he was a stickler for safety and for clean
kills.  In between hunts, he made darn sure we were good
enough shots to hit what we aimed at.  His philosophy was
quite simple, really:  don’t shoot till you can get a clean
shot, and DON’T SHOOT TILL YOU KNOW WHAT IT IS.

Pretty silly, huh??  I remember reading a story in the paper
years ago about a “hunter” who called 911 to report a person’s head
stuck in a window with a bullet hole in it.  Police
investigation revealed a mannequin, and the “bullet hole” was
a price tag.  Boy, we got one sharp “hunter” there!

Something infests the brains of all too many who march
out into the hunt.  My grumpy old neighbor, who would shoo the
kids off his land each summer, figured it’s ok to put his
boot tracks all over mine come November.  Oh, and those
stupid shiners I mentioned earlier.  It’s illegal for them to
shine near residences.  They don’t care.  And then, there’s
the happy mixture of weapons and alcohol and other drugs.
Now there’s a healthy combination!  And in the Podunks of the
Northwoods, you even get the stores that cater to these
simpletons.  I have actually seen with my own eyeball things
a big flashy-light sign on a convenience store: “BEER, WINE,
AMMO.”

Y * E * A * H !!!   Makes me proud to be an American!!

Ok, ok.  I’ll get off the soapbox.  If I stay on it too
long, I just start thinking of weird things “hunters” should
do with soap.  Something other than washing.  Ok.  I admit
it:  yes Rebecca (or Robert) there really ARE real hunters.
They know what they’re doing, only shoot when the odds are
great for a kill, and actually understand that they should
not shoot each other.  They even hunt legally!  They ask
permission before they hunt on my land!  They hunt because
they enjoy Nature, and that includes a deep respect for it.
They eat what they kill.

Thankfully, our son-in-law is a prime example of a responsible hunter. Just aren’t nearly enough of those around.

I want my yard back.  Can you tell?

For a little over 6 years now, I’ve been a “happy” commuter… 56 miles one way to work. “Happy” is in quotes as a wee bit of sarcasm. Sure, I’m grateful I have a job, and after all there’s light at the end of the tunnel. In March of 2011 my friend Ray will retire from the Muskegon plant and I will take his place. My commute will dwindle from 56 miles down to 15 miles. For “inspiration” (more sarcasm) I’ve added a countdown clock to my Firefox web browser. Only 503 days, 1 hour, 32 minutes, and 8 seconds until March 31, 2011 !!

But who’s counting…

Anyway, often I’ll seize the opportunity to take some quiet time. Meditation if you will. I turn the radio off and reflect on what I’m grateful for; and then ask The Great Committee In The Sky for guidance. Then of course I’ll turn to technology for a diversion. Maybe I’ll play a CD or a cassette tape (my car has both!). Call me a dinosaur if you like… I actually said I listen to cassettes!!!

Oh God Oh God… So yes I’m a dinosaur and I’m not afraid to admit it. So there. I’m one of those weirdos who thinks paying for satellite radio and / or cable TV is a waste of money. There’s lots of stuff still available for free, and yes, we actually use a TV antenna for our viewing pleasure.

When the recorded music is done maybe I’ll tune in something on FM. Much of my FM listening revolves either around NPR or music. NPR is great for staying informed, but when I hear all the reports about war and suffering I get a really heavy heart. So when I’d rather hide on the harsh realities of the world I seek out some good old rock ‘n roll. Unfortunately most commercial radio stations seem to have their music selections stuck on AC/DC, Bob Seeger, and Lynard Skynard. WAY too much repetition. WAY too much repetition. WAY too much… well you get the idea.

On the other hand, you have AM radio. Say what??? Anyone besides me remember AM radio?   May sound like a silly question, but with all this “subscription addiction” (satellite radio, cable TV, etc.) lots and lots of people are amazed to “discover” AM radio.  AM is short for “amplitude modulation,” which is the oldest method of adding audio to a radio signal so it can be broadcast. The technology dates back to 1906, which is why many radio hobbyists refer to it as “ancient modulation.”

AM radio was pretty much all we had available for music when I was a kid. It’s like an old friend; and I’m very thankful that it doesn’t seem to be going away any time soon. We live in an area where Chicago stations come in all day long, and I still find myself clinging to ancient stations with only 3 call letters.  WGN (720 on your AM dial) is one of my favorites… those kids seem to have a great time being on the radio and they make me laugh.

Now that winter is knocking at the door that means I leave the house when it’s dark outside. And of course, it’s pretty much dark again when I get home. Something magic happens to the AM radio band after the daylight goes bye bye: SKIP. Skip is a very old radio term that describes when radio waves are bounced off the earth and into the sky and back down again. Kinda like skipping a stone across water. And it’s especially prevalent on the AM band between dusk and dawn. Sure the AM radio is plagued by noise and fading, but there are many high powered stations that provide reliable listening over a very wide geographical area.

In my professional opinion, this boils down to just plain fun. Even though I really detest the long drive, I do enjoy frolicking about on the AM radio band. For example: I recently tuned to 540 AM on the way to work and was listening to the CBC (Canadian Broadcasting Corporation) out of Regina, Saskatchewan. A mere 1000 miles away!! Never bothered to check down on that part of the dial before. So my friends I invite you to give this very old medium a whirl. You just might accidentally have some fun! There are lots of listings on the internet for AM radio stations if you care to check out other areas of the country and / or the world.

I leave you with a very short list of stations that are pretty easy to pick up between dusk and dawn, especially if you are here in the Midwest:

650 WSM Nashville, Tennessee (Check out the Grand Ole Opry on Saturday Nights!)

700 WLW Cincinnati, Ohio

720 WGN Chicago, Illinois (Home of the Chicago Cubs! Lots of other entertaining stuff too.)

740 CFZM Toronto, Canada (Wonderful music variety, excellent sound quality.)

750 WSB Atlanta, Georgia

760 WJR Detroit, Michigan

770 WABC New York, New York (This was a big rock ‘n roll station when I was a kid growing up on Long Island, NY. Mostly talk now, ah well)

780 WBBM Chicago, Illinois (All news all the time.)(I use this station for an “alarm clock” when I take a nap in my car at lunch)

830 WCCO Minneapolis, Minnesota

840 WHAS Louisville, Kentucky

880 WCBS New York, New York (News Radio.)

890 WLS Chicago, Illinois

990 CBW Winnipeg, Manitoba (CBC Radio)

1020 KDKA Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania (One of the oldest stations on the dial.)

1040 WHO Des Moines, Iowa

1060 KYW Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

1130 WBZ Boston, Massachusetts

1140 WRVA Richmond, Virginia

Take care and Happy Listening!

I’m here to say, that for me, there is no better stress relief than writing and / or reading nonsense. Well, there probably are other remedies for stress warts, but nonsense is a good for me one of those good ones.

Things.

Things include chocolate, the wonder drug of the universe. Chocolate is so doggone good it ought to be illegal. But someone wisely made it into candy long ago, so now it is completely acceptable in foot smelling contests and the 23rd Annual Rhubarb Flinging Derby. I often cover things with chocolate. My car is brown and slimy as a direct result of this behavior. This is a bit strange when it gets really warm outside, because as I approach expressway cruising speed I get brown globs of mugg that splook the windshield. This challenges my dexterity at times, because I often stick my whole face out the window for chocolate catching. I never enjoyed bug covered chocolate before this very time!!

STrEsS has a VERY ugly pair of pajamas that reeks of GIANT, TWELVE-TOED MONKEY SNAKE ENDOCRINE GLANDS. And believe me, that’s pretty darned green and fluffy! Now I know a fossil hunter when I hear one, and if you don’t put that stink bomb away right now I’ll sell you a brown leather bedpost at the crack of noon! Do you understand me?? Good golly, I hope not.

Now that you’ve sampled the goat raisins, you are ready to progress to the next step: wonkling. Wonkling can be very stationary and exquisitely mobile. Use something to do a task, throw it in the air, and use it no
more. This is the way of the stationary wonkler. Change lanes abruptly, apply heat to an iron molecule, and shake your hair until the electrons fall off. This is the way of the mobile wonkler.

Wonkle like you’ve never wonkled before. That will show them!! I find deep fried owl toes a most enjoyable snack while driving heavy whipping cream through the vegetable cemetery.

And now for the shaming:

Do you use toothpaste for tire repair? Of course not!

Do you slurp fried chicken through a cheese grater?? I hope so!!

Do you walk to school or carry your lunch?? Absolutely!!

Does cat fur remind you of candles made of Jell-O?? If so, you are my kind of pleeb!!

Remove this teleprompter from your jailing list.

Do it today.

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??