?`s and ANNEswers

Ten minutes to write. Less time to read.

Come for the Commercials, Stay for the Game

Tomorrow is Super Bowl Sunday; and we’ve invited another couple over to watch with us. But I’m not sure we’re watching the game as much as we’re watching the commercials. Unless your hometown team is in the play-off, it isn’t much fun. And our hometown team isn’t anywhere near the stadium in Indianapolis.


I understand some of the commercial air time went for millions of dollars. Probably promoting pizza or fast-delivery sandwiches or tax savings if you use H&R Block. Of course, I bet the Clydesdale horses make a showing too. Beer is always a safe bet. And a sentimental one where the horses are concerned.

Then there’s half-time, which – this year – features Madonna. Hmmm. That woman is in her fifties and continually re-inventing herself. I admire her for that, but I only hope she doesn’t have a costume malfunction. I also hope I can understand the lyrics to her songs.

The Super Bowl has become a week-long hype to the point where the actual game itself is almost anti-climactic to anyone other than the players on the field. Maybe that’s why the commercials are beginning to take center stage. I for one will watch both, but I’m willing to bet the commercials will be more entertaining. And we won’t have to live with instant replay.

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Crusts

The tea party is a thing of the past . . . except for the crusts. In preparation for this event, my friend and I de-crusted four loaves of bread. All the while, my mother’s admonition of “Eat the crusts” reverberated in my head. My friend didn’t want the crusts, so I obligingly took them home.

But four loaves of crusts is a lot to eat. So I’m coming up with ideas to use them. So far I’ve considered bread pudding, stuffing, and bread crumbs. As a last resort, I can always feed the birds.

Earl, however, has come to the rescue. We have a big pot of soup which I made earlier in the week. It didn’t turn out as creamy as I’d hoped; rather it was more broth-like. But Earl has been taking the crusts, breaking them in bits, and lining the bottom of his soup bowl with them. Then he pours a serving of soup on top and microwaves the entire thing. It’s pretty good.

The trick now is that we’re running out of soup. So I should still think of things to do with the remaining crusts. I’m open to suggestions.

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Tea for Twelve

You’ve heard that old song “Tea for Two.” It was written for the 1925 musical “No, No, Nanette.” If you want to be technical, it contains abrupt key changes between A-flat major and C major and consists mostly of dotted eighth notes and quarter notes. It has morphed into a jazz standard over the years as well as a cha-cha and a ballet.

Today a friend and I provided Tea for Twelve, and it had nothing to do with music. Well, just a little to do with music. We hosted our monthly book club and invited members to read Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland written by Lewis Carroll in 1862. Then we plied our guests with an honest-to-goodness tea party complete with finger sandwiches and tarts worthy of the famous Queen of Hearts who loved to threaten to lop off peoples’ heads at the slightest offense.

We encouraged members to dress in costume; and I, being more flamboyant than my friend, attempted to re-enact the White Rabbit and his pocket watch. The Cheshire Cat, the March Hare, the Mad Hatter, and other various characters made appearances; and I was thrilled that this group got into the spirit as eagerly as it did. For a group of retired women, we’re pretty cutting edge.

And the music . . . we did play Jefferson Airplane’s rendition of “White Rabbit” from the sixties and the score from Tim Burton’s “Alice in Wonderland” starring Johnny Depp. I think we slipped The Beatles’ “I Am the Walrus” in there too. It might not have been as sentimental as “Tea for Two,” but it sufficed.

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Stop

The phone rings. My caller ID says someone in California or Texas is on the other end. I quickly calculate who I know in those states; and, since I actually know people in both, I push the little green telephone icon and say, “Hello.”

Silence . . . and I know I’ve been had. An automated voice is going to come on the line momentarily. It does and cheerily tells me I’ve been randomly selected as part of a political poll and would I answer just a few questions. I click off.

I don’t care if I’m randomly chosen or scientifically chosen or chosen by the Good Lord. I do not want to share my political opinions with strangers. I hardly want to share them with friends or my husband, since my opinions and theirs rarely coincide and I truly don’t want to offend.

I don’t understand why political entities can call me since I’m on the “Do Not Call” list. Are they exempt? Perhaps they are, but I didn’t get the memo. So in the future if my caller ID says the call is out-of-state, I think I’ll just let it go to voicemail. My friends know I will call them back.

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If by Whiskey

Time magazine occasionally hits the nail on the head. In the February 6 issue, there is an article by David von Drehle about the 2012 election and the vetting of the GOP candidates. But one paragraph could pertain to all candidates on all levels and finally explain flip flopping.

Von Drehle quotes Mississippi lawmaker Noah Sweat, Jr. (1922-1996). I checked Sweat out to make sure he really existed and wasn’t some fabrication. The quote concerned whiskey and is a classic example of doublespeak, according to Wikipedia. I love it.

“If when you say whiskey you mean the devil’s brew, the poison scourge, the bloody monster, that defiles innocence, dethrones reason, destroys the home, creates misery and poverty, yea, literally takes the bread from the mouths of little children; if you mean the evil drink that topples the Christian man and woman from the pinnacle of righteous, gracious living into the bottomless pit of degradation, and despair, and shame and helplessness, and hopelessness, then certainly I am against it.

“But;

“If when you say whiskey you mean the oil of conversation, the philosophic wine, the ale that puts a song in their hearts and laughter on their lips, and the warm glow of contentment in their eyes; if you mean Christmas cheer; if you mean the stimulating drink that puts the skip in the old gentleman’s step on a frosty, Christmas morning; if you mean the drink which enables a man to magnify his joy, and his happiness, and to forget, if only for a little while, life’s great tragedies, and heartaches, and sorrows; if you mean that drink, the sale of which pours into our treasuries untold millions of dollars, which are used to provide tender care for our little crippled children, our blind, our deaf, our pitiful aged and infirm; to build highways and hospitals and schools, then certainly I am for it.”

Change the subject to the economy or immigration or tax reform, and does this sound like any politician you know?

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Men in White Coats

There is a respite in politics tonight: no debates, no speeches, just the nightly news touting its predictions. But that’s normalcy these days. So I’m diverting to other topics.

“Men in white coats” means different things to Earl and me. In my case, it’s synonymous with medical situations, where doctors examine patients or – even more drastically – control those with emotional issues by subduing them in straightjackets.

Earl’s definition extends to his belief that Hammacher Schlemmer, that catalog of the exaggerated that claims it “offers the best, the only, and the unexpected for 164 years,” never includes a product unless its men in white coats have approved it. It’s like the Good Housekeeping Seal.

Here is an example of some of the items in Hammacher Schlemmer’s most recent catalog that arrived at our door earlier in the week. I leave it to you to determine if any of them need research done by men in white coats.

Item #1: Circulation improving leg wraps that inflate and deflate to soothe sore muscles and reduce swelling in the lower extremities. Honestly, this reminds me of those things they put on my legs when I had surgery a couple years ago. They’re like giant blood pressure cuffs and just as aggravating.

Item #2: A periscope binocular called the Doppelfernrohr used in the Cold War era for observation along the Berlin Wall. Of course, the Cold War has long ended, but this piece of optics is still for sale. The catalog’s description says it provides 10x magnification and amazing depth of field just as it did fifty years ago. It lists for $15,000 dollars.

Item #3: The Cat’s Phantom Mouse Teaser, a toy that entertains and exercises your favorite feline friend by encouraging it to stalk an elusive mouse that scurries beneath a fabric skirt. Do cats really need this?

I wonder if these items really need men in white coats, or in any color coat for that matter, to determine their worth to humanity. Earl swears by these men, but I scoff. I think the men in white are more a marketing concept than anything else.

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State of the Union

President Barack Obama gave his State of the Union Address this evening in accordance with Article II, Sec. 3 of the U.S. Constitution which states, “The president shall from time to time give to Congress information of the State of the Union and recommend to their consideration such measures as he shall judge necessary and expedient.”

On January 8, 1790 our first President, George Washington, personally delivered his message to Congress. Back then “instant communication” was through newspapers only; and it remained so until 1923, when President Coolidge’s annual message was broadcast on the radio. Fast forward to today with instant communication, and our Presidents still adhere to the requirement of the U.S. Constitution.

Here’s my beef. Why does the opposing party – it doesn’t matter if it is Democratic or Republican – feel the need to offer a rebuttal? There is no provision the Constitution for this. In fact, the first official opposition response to a president’s annual speech didn’t occur until 1966. And then, as now, we had a Democratic president and a Republican rebuttal.

I’m probably too idealistic, but if the Constitution requires the President to make such a speech, why do we turn it into a political back-and-forth, especially at election time? For one night out of the year, why can’t we consider that the President is merely doing his job and doesn’t need a second opinion?

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Stuffy Head

I am beset with a cold, not the worst I’ve ever had but certainly in the running. You know the symptoms as well as I do: watery eyes, red nose, voice an octave lower, and a chest that wonders if my lungs are doing their job.

I’ve tried to mentally revisit the past few days to determine whom I might have had contact with and gotten this “gift” from. But most of my acquaintances seemed relatively healthy; nobody gave me forewarnings when we greeted; and, on top of everything, the weather has been so mild this winter that wet feet and damp heads haven’t been an issue.Perhaps it’s politically induced.

How could this be? Well, let’s suspend reality a moment and consider these past few weeks on the campaign trail. They have been filled with vitriol and venom of all kinds on regular display via “debates” (I use the term loosely.). Could they be toxic? Could they attack the immune system if one if feels out of sorts with the political scene? Could they induce a low white blood cell count?

I have no empirical data, nor am I interested in spending time finding some. But I think I shall not watch the debate tonight and see if I feel better in the morning. Ignorance could be bliss.

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More Newt

Yesterday was a Charles Dickens Day for Newt Gingrich.

It was the best of times as Governor Rick Perry stopped his campaign for the Republican presidential nomination and threw his support to Newt who, in turn, gave public thanks. I’m a little confused here. Wasn’t the former Speaker of the House one of those Washington insiders that Perry criticizes? Regardless, there is one less contender in the race and Gingrich seems to be gaining momentum.

But it was also the worst of times as Marianne Ginther, Newt’s second wife, went public with her version of the waning days in their marriage. Evidently, Newt was having an affair with Callista Bisek at the time and wanted Marianne to accept this. I’m not sure why she wouldn’t, because Newt had an affair with her while married to his first wife, Jackie Battley. However, she did not agree and used the term “open marriage” on ABC’s “Nightline” last night.

It’s all very confusing, and it makes me wonder: “Is Newt more Mormon than Mitt?”

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Newt

Whatever you think of Newton Leroy Gingrich, you have to admit he’s persistent. Given both his personal and public histories, other people would slip away. But not Newt; he’s in it for the long haul . . . again.

Nobody denies that he has a brilliant mind with a Ph.D. from Tulane University. Nobody denies that he can think on his feet and debates well. And according to Wikipedia, Time magazine once voted him the Man of the Year for his role in ending forty years of majority control by the Democrats in the U.S. House of Representatives. That was in 1995. Yet, he resigned from Congress in 1999 because of ethics accusations. Four years vs. forty.

Since then he’s formed companies, traveled the speaker’s circuit, divorced his second wife, married his third, and is currently campaigning for the Republican Presidential nomination to run against the incumbent, Barack Obama.

Earl and I saw Newt up close and personal about ten years ago when he came to the local Economic Club. I wasn’t a fan then, nor am I one now; but I was impressed with his confidence and ability to charm an audience. This is not the same, however, as being able to provide substantive information instead of words merely well strung together.

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