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Monthly Archives: February 2012

Consumer Reports: Movie-theater food – scary!

In the interests of full disclosure, I do not view movies in movie theaters. Not at matinees, not in the evenings, not with discounted tickets, not with gift cards and absolutely not with money from my limited stash of cash. I view movies on television and enjoy them immensely, and I will continue to view them and enjoy them immensely as long as possible.

Should I lose my eyesight, I will enjoy movies on television by listening, and should I lose that sense I will wait—impatiently—until 3-D television with a hands-on feature is perfected and then I’ll simply handle movies on television. With bated breath I will wait for the industry to develop hands-on television, with the fervent hope that the Playboy Channel will be among the first to develop and broadcast first-run films featuring HanzOn 3-D. Note: The word show could have been used instead of broadcast, but the term broadcast was too tempting—hee, hee, hee.

I repeat—I do not view movies in movie theaters. I’m providing my readers—those that attend movie theaters—something to mull over before they patronize the refreshment stands in the theater. Consumer Reports has kindly permitted me to share this report on movie theater food.

Click here for the ConsumerReports video and the full narrative—enjoy!

That’s my story and I’m sticking to it—with assistance from Consumer Reports, of course.

 
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Posted by on February 16, 2012 in fast food, Humor, television

 

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In response to “Sewing with Jasper” . . .

Far back in July of 2010 a blogger, one of my three daughters, the one that lives, loves, laughs and labors in North Virginia posted this item about one of her children, one that is gleefully gamboling in Elysian fields while waiting to be reunited with her at the Rainbow Bridge. If you are not familiar with the Rainbow Bridge, please do yourself a favor and click here. It’s an extensive site and you’ll need to scroll down a bit to be treated to beautiful music and the story of the Rainbow bridge. And while you’re still online, linger awhile at this site for a visit to a fantastic garden, replete with fabulous floral fotographs, prophetic prose and various visits to places ranging southward from Alaska and Canada to the South Pole and eastward to various European countries.

I commented at some length, a fault (?) for which I have been scolded, on her Sewing with Jasper post. I recently reviewed my response and was so pleased with its length and its scholarly tribute to Jasper that I am now moving this pearl of prose from the dark of comments into the light of day. It would be beneficial for you to read the blogger’s original posting before perusing my comment. Enjoy!

My original comment follows:

I have some serious doubts as to whether Jasper can be trusted with his decisions on the quality of Karen’s sewing shams. In the first photo he is looking up in rapturous wonderment, showing love and understanding of your efforts with the promise that he will still love you regardless of the quality of your stitches.

Now study the second photo:

Jasper is staring intently at Karen, the seamstress, as she strives to produce perfection, fully aware of the inspector’s attention. His eyes are heavily hooded, his brow is deeply furrowed and his hind legs are curled under. He is prepared to pounce—his entire visage and his body language telegraphs his intent to seriously damage Karen if she drops even one stitch. His left paw is outstretched, ready to punish with razor sharp claws for a dropped stitch—just look at his eyes and read his lips!

That’s exactly how Al Pacino looked in “The Godfather” when he excused himself from a restaurant table, probably on the pretext that he had to pee, went to the restroom where he retrieved a pistol from behind the commode water tank, then returned to the table and pumped bullets into the heads of his erstwhile dinner companions—a high-ranking police official and a top-ranked Mafia boss—and then fled to Italy where he met and married a really cute girl and lived happily ever after until she was blown up by a car bomb intended for her husband.

See there? With a cat like Jasper around, even Karen’s husband could become a target, victim of an exacting “better get it right the first time” feline quality control inspector.

Postscript: Get ready for a delightful visit to Green Spring Gardens in Alexandria,Virginia. Click here for an invitation to Cindy Dyer’s pending show entitled Garden Muse: A Botanical Portfolio, scheduled for February 28-April 29, 2012, so there’s plenty of time to come see it if you’re in the Virginia/D.C. area or are planning to visit this spring.

 
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Posted by on February 6, 2012 in pets, PHOTOGRAPHY

 

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My plan for panhandling . . .

I am sharing this video with my readers with the hope that they will understand why I am posting this plea for help. Many, perhaps most, panhandlers are out to make a buck without contributing anything in return. I intend to become a panhandler, but I will be a panhandler of a different kind. I won’t ask for money or food or sex or warm clothing regardless of the weather. My plea is for compassion and companionship, and I believe this video will help put potential contributors in a giving mood.

My soiled cardboard placard will announce my burning need for kindness and understanding, and will read as follows:

Please help me – I am desperate!

No matter how menial or laborious the task may be, I will work for conversation (on any subject), adulation (sincere or otherwise), hugs (sincere or otherwise, but please don’t squeeze my Charmin!) and cuddling (spooning is optional) at any location at any hour of the day or night whether undercover or in plain sight, whether in a furniture store on a recliner, sofa or a PosturePedic mattress, either undercover or atop the covers, whether at the Ritz-Carlton, any Red Top Inn, Motel 6 or at your house or mine.

As an aside, please remember that my offer to work for conversation, adulation, hugs and cuddling is offered to anyone who is willing to pay my price. There is only one exception. The offer applies to males, females and anyone in between, but cuddling applies only to the opposite sex and I am of the weaker sex, namely male.

If you have dawdled in traffic long enough to read this placard, traffic is probably backed up for miles and you should stop laughing and move on, and I’ll settle for a smile, a frown, a wave or a honk (from your horn, not your proboscis) and if you must frown then make your best frownie face and hope it doesn’t freeze that way, and may God speed you safely to your final destination following innumerable intermediate stops along the way.

Signed: Juan Hung Lo (a ruptured Hispanic/Oriental male)

Special note: The name and the ethnic terms above are fabricated for fun but the ruptured part is an unfunny fact, and I have the hospital discharge papers to prove it!

That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

 
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Posted by on February 3, 2012 in Uncategorized

 

Madonna and Child . . .

The floral image below is a photograph that was created by a multi-talented blogger. She is a professional photograper, desktop publisher, artist, sculptor, gardener, writer, event planner, party hostess, homemaker, loving wife, and a lover of all animals whether feathered, furred or scaled. She has other diverse talents, but in the interests of brevity I’ll settle for just these few.

The following image was posted on her blog. Click here to begin a wild ride through a kaleidoscope of images from a great number of our states, from countries ranging from Canada to the South Pole and from various countries in Europe. The text below the photo shows several comments made by visitors to the site. The first comment is by the blogger, and the third comment is my evaluation of the image.

What follows is a comment from the creator of the photo above. She is one of my three daughters, the middle one in years, the one that lives, loves, laughs and languishes in Northern Virginia. The comment that follows is in her response to Scott, a viewer who asked how she achieved the “glow” in the image.

Scott, this morning glory was blooming just outside my office window, below the fence line—and when the sun came through, it was a directed beam through the railings on the front porch—the glow caught my eye and I ran outside to catch it before the light changed! It helps that the background was dark (the shed and the woodpile), so that makes the glow pop even more. I guess the secret is to always pay attention and be ready to capture the light—ops like this are so fleeting. I’m just glad my camera was next to the computer, the battery wasn’t low, and there was actually a CF card in it.

Katie, another viewer, made this comment:

The middle of the flower looks like a female silhouette. Was that done on purpose? if not, amazing–if so, still amazing!

And (finally) my comment on the image follows. It is rather lengthy, but I was so smitten with the work that I felt that a pithy analysis was in order. I had to put the resemblance to the Mother and Child in its proper perspective, and that ain’t easy!

Just as an aside, the word pith got me into trouble with my eighth-grade English teacher, a buxom and pleasingly plump lady who wore short skirts and low-cut blouses and dresses, and she would often drop her chalk and bend over to retrieve it. Normally she would turn toward the class, but in one memorable instance she faced away from the class and bent over at the waist to pick up the chalk.  I suppose that she wanted to avoid exposing even more of her buxomness than the low-cut blouse provided. In one instance that posture, that incredible vision, spurred me to acknowledge it with a whistle, and said whistle was then acknowledged by said teacher. She returned to an upright position, turned her blushing face to the students and demanded to know the culprit.  The entire class turned around, pointed to me and in unison said “He did it!”

Bummer!

I’ll make that a separate posting soon, and I will include the incident involving the word pith—that’s not a threat, it’s a promise! But I digress, so on with this posting.

My comment on the image follows:

Katie is right on—there is definitely a female silhouette in the bloom. I can’t believe I missed it—thanks, Katie.

And I can see in the outline that the female is holding a child—great Scott, Cindy! You have captured the Madonna and Child—no, not that Madonna—the one that artists have portrayed over the centuries. Raphael is one of the most famous, but many have painted the Madonna and Child, The Holy Mother and Son, Mary and Jesus.

I can remember stories about images of Mary or Jesus or both being found in tree bark, in a toasted cheese sandwich, in a piece of toast, in an oil slick on the pavement, potato chips and Doritos, and there are probably many more that I missed. And all have drawn crowds of one size or another.

If the news of your Holy Vision in a picture of (whatever that is) gets out, especially to this part of the US and to our nearest neighbor to the south, the faithful will be beating a path to your door. They’ll leave all sorts of flowers, emblems, wreaths, burning candles and notes with wishes and prayers. You’ll have to hose them down just to get out to your car—the faithful, not the burning candles—although the candles could pose a problem for the local fire department.

And it’s possible—nay, probable, that some will bring sick and suffering friends or family members so they can be near such an apparition, in the hopes they will be comforted, perhaps healed.

I believe that you should submit this photo to your local papers, to one or more photography magazines, perhaps present it to some of your local theologians for inspection and comments. You need to protect your rights on this one—it may be a real winner.

And, of course, a closer look may lead one to believe that the image shows a woman holding one child aloft and pregnant with another. Hey, it could still be Mary—we have no way of knowing whether it is, or is not. After all, Joseph had been waiting on the sidelines for quite awhile before the Babe was born, probably with mounting impatience (no pun intended), and he must have been filled with joy that the Child, the first of their marriage, had arrived.

Most husbands, at least those with children, should be able to relate to the joy that Joseph felt—I know I did. My wife conceived and birthed three children, then committed herself to nurturing them. She projected her sweetness, honesty and joyful love of life into each of them, and bequeathed me three beautiful daughters, each a good person in every respect.

I was filled with joy at each birth and I remain filled with joy to be their father.

That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

 
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Posted by on February 2, 2012 in Uncategorized

 

George Costanza’s comment on Seinfeld:

“Yes, significant shrinkage!

This posting is my comment on a post made by the blogger who created a cereal bowl for little people, specifically little people with small appetites. Reward yourself by going to her blog to find out exactly what happened. You can find it here. You should plan on devoting several hours on your first trip to the blog, because you’ll be surrounded by gorgeous one-of-a-kind photographs of flowers, gardens, landscapes, sunrises and sunsets, animals and people, and various activities such as constructing concrete leaves, beading jewelry, knitting, wedding planning and a host of other diverse creative projects, all presented with erudite and stimulating descriptions.

Yes, I said stimulating—some of those blossoms rival—nay, surpass—some of the fabulous and highly suggestive photographs produced by the immortal Georgia O’Keeffe. And then, of course, I could be wrong about that.

The following is my original comment on the posting:

It’s beautiful, and I love that shade of blue. I suggest that you ditch the spoon and the hands in future photos intended to support marketing this item. Photograph the bowl only and advertise it as a cereal bowl, and avoid details concerning its size. Just say that it can be used for cereal but don’t specify strictly for infants, or even as an outdoor bird bath, but don’t specify strictly for hummingbirds.

In your copy you say that the bowl, or bowls, may be returned for any reason, exactly as packaged by using the original packing. Most recipients of the item, or items, will have tossed the original packing by that time and they will be stuck with their purchase.

You will eventually, of course, be added to the Better Business Bureau’s blacklist and be required to turn belly-up, so to speak, and go out of business, but just consider this—the world’s population exceeds some six billion people—that’s a six followed by nine zeros, and the United States alone has about 330 million people–that’s a couple of threes followed by seven zeros.

If you only captured ten percent of the US population with your cereal bowls before joining Mr. Madoff, the Ponzi scheme gentleman now serving his 150-year prison sentence, you would have earned at least $3,300,000, minus expenses, of course—just think of all the things that could be enjoyed by your relatives that remain outside the prison walls and trust me, we would come out of the woodwork.

I know, I know, I have fartoo much time on my hands. Hey, I just created a new word in the previous sentence when I failed to space between the word far and too. I didn’t correct it because I may copyright it.

Oh, and by the way, George’s comment referred to certain anatomical features of homo sapiens. It had no relation to shrinkage of ceramic items when fired.

That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

As everyone remembers, George’s comment was anatomical and did not involve shrinkage of ceramic bowls.

 
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Posted by on February 1, 2012 in Uncategorized