I'm switching back to publishing on Saturday nights, at 7:11 pm Eastern Time, due to a variety of factors.
The good news is that Abducted (part two) is ready to go and will be published tomorrow, 9/8/18 (at 7:11 pm).
In the meantime...
Here's a bit of unusual musical entertainment to tide you over. You never know when you might accidentally stumble on something beautiful, so pay attention, and be -- here -- now.
Poppa loves you. Have an OK day.
Friday, September 7, 2018
Friday, August 31, 2018
Bring Me the Head of Marie Osmond (Again)
If you're new here, this is a weekly column consisting of letters written to my grandchildren (who exist) and my great-grandchildren (who aren't here yet) -- the Stickies -- to haunt them after they become grups and/or I'm dead.
[Bloggaramians: Blogarama renders the links in my columns useless. Please click on View original to solve the problem and access lotsa columns.]
Gentlereaders, humbug alert: I'm only kidding. I wish Ms. Osmond, whom I'm sure is a very nice person, nothing but the best, but those damn Nutrisystem commercials make me crazy. More on that in just a sec'.
My dear Stickies, this letter is primarily addressed to my gentlereaders. However, it may be of some use to those of you, that like myself, are historically minded. A sort of zeitgeist snapshot if you please.
Deceptive headlines that turn out to be clickbait have gone mainstream. I'm not talking obvious clickbait, that nowadays is anywhere and everywhere, I'm talking about headlines on mainstream sites that that turn out to be clickbait, but you don't know that until you click on the headline.
On the FOX news website recently was the following headline, "Madonna Leaves America." I assumed this meant that she, unlike many of her colleagues who promised to do the same thing if the Donald was elected, was showing the courage of her convictions.
Or, perhaps the Secret Service took her announcement at the Pussycat Hat Protest, that she had been thinking about blowing up the White House, seriously, and had been harassing her. Nope, just clickbait. Turns out she's headed there for the time being to work on a movie and make "new music."
However, I highly recommend the article, it includes a must-see self-portrait. Ms. Madonna's creation is on a par with her best musical efforts.
Anyway, Ms. Madonna has parlayed (in my semi-humble opinion) limited artistic ability into mega-stardom by being a world-class exhibitionist. Is it too much to hope that an old fart (who is rapidly turning into a poster geezer for arthritis) might parlay his limited artistic ability into some dough by perpetrating a humbug or two?
For the sake of clarity, I must take into account that this may be read by one of my great-grandstickies long after I, or Ms. Osmond for that matter, are long dead. Also, I must assume, although I have my doubts, that it's at least theoretically possible that there are Earthlings, currently vertical and breathing, that haven't been subjected to one of these ubiquitous commercials.
I'm probably being overly cautious because I have it on good authority that a hologram of Ms. Osmond has not only been created, the programming and technology that powers it are regularly updated. Ms. Osmond -- like Elvis Presley and George Bailey -- could be worth more dead than alive, and shilling for Nutrisystem in perpetuity.
[Pray, enlighten us cranky one, why are you picking on this beautiful all American mother of eight kids, five of 'em adopted? asks Dana. Marie-Louise is wearing a certain smile and almost purring. She denies it but when it comes to other women she's about 50% feline. Iggy's in bed as it's a school night.]
I'm not picking on her, well, not exactly. It's those commercials, those damn commercials. I watch almost no broadcast/basic cable TV, mostly I monitor, at random, the alleged news channels.
Incidentally, did you know Al Sharpton, Al Sharpton of Tawana Brawley, taxes are for evil capitalists, not me, and a founding member of the International Union of Professional Perpetually Protesting Protestors & Perpetual Victims Of This, That, and the Other Thing (IUPPPP&PVOTTOT) has his own TV show?
Sorry, where was I? Oh, yeah, Nutrisystem commercials. I don't believe it's possible to watch the talking lamp for more than ten minutes without encountering:
Marie Osmond: "It's time to take control with Nutrisystem."
Announcer: "Introducing new Lean 13, from Nutrisystem. Lose up to 13 pounds and 7 inches in your first month. Lose weight FAST. Money back guarantee.
Marie Osmond: "I'm Marie and I lost 50 pounds on Nutrisystem.
At this point, we see the obligatory before and after pictures. Before is Ms. Osmond in a baggy purple top and denim jacket with a deer in the headlights sort of expression. After is Ms. Osmond in a form-fitting cocktail dress, hand on hips and smiling, her perfect teeth framed by preternaturally plump lips.
These are just the high points, but you get the idea. Now, the thing is...
[Waitwaitwait, I repeat, why are you picking on this beautiful all American mother of eight kids, five of 'em adopted? You're just jealous because she's a kabillionaire with a hit Las Vegas show and you're just a wannabe writer with arthritis and a Texas-sized prostate gland.]
The thing is, well, it's a three-for actually. America noticed, about a minute ago, that there are statues of dead people, most of whom almost nobody gave a damn about (the statues or the dead people) until a sudden outbreak of iconoclasm.
In the Middle East ISIS, fired up by demented mullahs, revels in this sort of thing. In America, politically correct types, fired up by the Infotainment Industrial Complex (left and right division), revel in this sort of thing.
[What on Earth has that got to do with...]
Well...nothing really, but it's been really bugging me. Sorry, I feel much better now.
Oh, anyway, first, America has real problems that need to be addressed. We have devolved to the point where there's one minute of advertising for every two minutes of infotainment (half of 'em Nutrisystem commercials!) on the talking lamp. This in spite of the fact most folks pay through the nose for the only locally available cable company or have to sign a contract for satellite TV that only a Harvard Law School grad could make sense of.
As I said, real problems.
Second, sorryladies female H. Sapiens, Nutrisystem will not enable you to look like Marie. Marie no longer looks like Marie. Nowadays, Marie looks like an animatronic version of Marie. She's, uh, had a little work done.
Third, the Nutrisystem system is a barely legal scam. Click on this headline, Drop 50 Now: Nutrisystem's Advertising Backed By Shoddy Science.
Fourth: you may have noticed...
[You said it was a three-for...]
Bonus: you may have noticed the tiny messages that flash rapidly on and off at the bottom of the screen when Ms. Osmond is urging you to give the Lean 13 dealy a shot. Access the commercial via YouTube and hit pause every time the tiny message changes. This serves two purposes. Not only will you encounter some interesting facts, you'll develop your hand-eye coordination. The tiny messages pop up and vanish very quickly.
Most importantly, while Marie may, or may not, be a little bit country. Donnie is not, never has been, and never will be, a little bit rock n' roll.
However, banality does have its compensations. While Donnie's unlikely to ever be inducted into the Rock n' Roll Hall of Fame (but who knows? Ms. Madonna was), copies of he and his sister are on display at the Las Vegas location of Madame Tussauds. Poppa loves you.
Have an OK day.
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[P.S. Gentlereaders, for 25¢ a week, no, seriously, for 25¢ a week you can become a Patron of this weekly column and help to prevent an old crank from running the streets at night in search of cheap thrills and ill-gotten gains.
If there are some readers out there that think my shtuff is worth a buck or three a month, color me honored, and grateful. Regardless, if you like it, could you please share it?]
©2017 Mark Mehlmauer
[Bloggaramians: Blogarama renders the links in my columns useless. Please click on View original to solve the problem and access lotsa columns.]
Irregularly Appearing Imaginary Guest Stars
Marie-Louise -- My beautiful muse
Iggy -- Designated Sticky
Dana -- Designated gentlereader
"I never had a sister growing up. Donnie was the closest thing." -Marie Osmond
Dear (eventual) Stickies & Great-Grandstickies,
[This column was originally published on 9.9.17, not quite one year ago. Due to the fact I'm currently dealing with an intense case of physical and mental fatigue, the primary side effect of the treatment that I'm receiving for a health problem, I'm reposting one of my "greatest hits."
Abducted (Part 2), which is what you should be reading, exists. However, it's a bit of a mess and I'm not letting it loose in the world till it gets its act together.
Anyways... When I pulled up this long, rambling piece for a fresh look I was struck by the fact that a year later:
Marie stills shills for the Nutrisystem people and is still performing in Vegas.
Purple Journalism is more pervasive than ever.
Celebs are still obsessed with the Donald.
Iconoclasm is still on the loose in the land of the free.
ISIS, although they've had a bad year, are still slaughtering innocents in the name of God.
Donnie still is not, never has been, and never will be -- a little bit rock 'n' roll.]
Dear (eventual) Stickies & Great-Grandstickies,
[This column was originally published on 9.9.17, not quite one year ago. Due to the fact I'm currently dealing with an intense case of physical and mental fatigue, the primary side effect of the treatment that I'm receiving for a health problem, I'm reposting one of my "greatest hits."
Abducted (Part 2), which is what you should be reading, exists. However, it's a bit of a mess and I'm not letting it loose in the world till it gets its act together.
Anyways... When I pulled up this long, rambling piece for a fresh look I was struck by the fact that a year later:
Marie stills shills for the Nutrisystem people and is still performing in Vegas.
Purple Journalism is more pervasive than ever.
Celebs are still obsessed with the Donald.
Iconoclasm is still on the loose in the land of the free.
ISIS, although they've had a bad year, are still slaughtering innocents in the name of God.
Donnie still is not, never has been, and never will be -- a little bit rock 'n' roll.]
Gentlereaders, humbug alert: I'm only kidding. I wish Ms. Osmond, whom I'm sure is a very nice person, nothing but the best, but those damn Nutrisystem commercials make me crazy. More on that in just a sec'.
My dear Stickies, this letter is primarily addressed to my gentlereaders. However, it may be of some use to those of you, that like myself, are historically minded. A sort of zeitgeist snapshot if you please.
Deceptive headlines that turn out to be clickbait have gone mainstream. I'm not talking obvious clickbait, that nowadays is anywhere and everywhere, I'm talking about headlines on mainstream sites that that turn out to be clickbait, but you don't know that until you click on the headline.
On the FOX news website recently was the following headline, "Madonna Leaves America." I assumed this meant that she, unlike many of her colleagues who promised to do the same thing if the Donald was elected, was showing the courage of her convictions.
Or, perhaps the Secret Service took her announcement at the Pussycat Hat Protest, that she had been thinking about blowing up the White House, seriously, and had been harassing her. Nope, just clickbait. Turns out she's headed there for the time being to work on a movie and make "new music."
However, I highly recommend the article, it includes a must-see self-portrait. Ms. Madonna's creation is on a par with her best musical efforts.
Anyway, Ms. Madonna has parlayed (in my semi-humble opinion) limited artistic ability into mega-stardom by being a world-class exhibitionist. Is it too much to hope that an old fart (who is rapidly turning into a poster geezer for arthritis) might parlay his limited artistic ability into some dough by perpetrating a humbug or two?
For the sake of clarity, I must take into account that this may be read by one of my great-grandstickies long after I, or Ms. Osmond for that matter, are long dead. Also, I must assume, although I have my doubts, that it's at least theoretically possible that there are Earthlings, currently vertical and breathing, that haven't been subjected to one of these ubiquitous commercials.
I'm probably being overly cautious because I have it on good authority that a hologram of Ms. Osmond has not only been created, the programming and technology that powers it are regularly updated. Ms. Osmond -- like Elvis Presley and George Bailey -- could be worth more dead than alive, and shilling for Nutrisystem in perpetuity.
[Pray, enlighten us cranky one, why are you picking on this beautiful all American mother of eight kids, five of 'em adopted? asks Dana. Marie-Louise is wearing a certain smile and almost purring. She denies it but when it comes to other women she's about 50% feline. Iggy's in bed as it's a school night.]
I'm not picking on her, well, not exactly. It's those commercials, those damn commercials. I watch almost no broadcast/basic cable TV, mostly I monitor, at random, the alleged news channels.
Incidentally, did you know Al Sharpton, Al Sharpton of Tawana Brawley, taxes are for evil capitalists, not me, and a founding member of the International Union of Professional Perpetually Protesting Protestors & Perpetual Victims Of This, That, and the Other Thing (IUPPPP&PVOTTOT) has his own TV show?
Sorry, where was I? Oh, yeah, Nutrisystem commercials. I don't believe it's possible to watch the talking lamp for more than ten minutes without encountering:
Marie Osmond: "It's time to take control with Nutrisystem."
Announcer: "Introducing new Lean 13, from Nutrisystem. Lose up to 13 pounds and 7 inches in your first month. Lose weight FAST. Money back guarantee.
Marie Osmond: "I'm Marie and I lost 50 pounds on Nutrisystem.
At this point, we see the obligatory before and after pictures. Before is Ms. Osmond in a baggy purple top and denim jacket with a deer in the headlights sort of expression. After is Ms. Osmond in a form-fitting cocktail dress, hand on hips and smiling, her perfect teeth framed by preternaturally plump lips.
These are just the high points, but you get the idea. Now, the thing is...
[Waitwaitwait, I repeat, why are you picking on this beautiful all American mother of eight kids, five of 'em adopted? You're just jealous because she's a kabillionaire with a hit Las Vegas show and you're just a wannabe writer with arthritis and a Texas-sized prostate gland.]
The thing is, well, it's a three-for actually. America noticed, about a minute ago, that there are statues of dead people, most of whom almost nobody gave a damn about (the statues or the dead people) until a sudden outbreak of iconoclasm.
In the Middle East ISIS, fired up by demented mullahs, revels in this sort of thing. In America, politically correct types, fired up by the Infotainment Industrial Complex (left and right division), revel in this sort of thing.
[What on Earth has that got to do with...]
Well...nothing really, but it's been really bugging me. Sorry, I feel much better now.
Oh, anyway, first, America has real problems that need to be addressed. We have devolved to the point where there's one minute of advertising for every two minutes of infotainment (half of 'em Nutrisystem commercials!) on the talking lamp. This in spite of the fact most folks pay through the nose for the only locally available cable company or have to sign a contract for satellite TV that only a Harvard Law School grad could make sense of.
As I said, real problems.
Second, sorry
Third, the Nutrisystem system is a barely legal scam. Click on this headline, Drop 50 Now: Nutrisystem's Advertising Backed By Shoddy Science.
Fourth: you may have noticed...
[You said it was a three-for...]
Bonus: you may have noticed the tiny messages that flash rapidly on and off at the bottom of the screen when Ms. Osmond is urging you to give the Lean 13 dealy a shot. Access the commercial via YouTube and hit pause every time the tiny message changes. This serves two purposes. Not only will you encounter some interesting facts, you'll develop your hand-eye coordination. The tiny messages pop up and vanish very quickly.
Warning: Possibly Outdated Cultural Reference Ahead
Most importantly, while Marie may, or may not, be a little bit country. Donnie is not, never has been, and never will be, a little bit rock n' roll.
However, banality does have its compensations. While Donnie's unlikely to ever be inducted into the Rock n' Roll Hall of Fame (but who knows? Ms. Madonna was), copies of he and his sister are on display at the Las Vegas location of Madame Tussauds. Poppa loves you.
Have an OK day.
Scroll down to comment or share
[P.S. Gentlereaders, for 25¢ a week, no, seriously, for 25¢ a week you can become a Patron of this weekly column and help to prevent an old crank from running the streets at night in search of cheap thrills and ill-gotten gains.
If there are some readers out there that think my shtuff is worth a buck or three a month, color me honored, and grateful. Regardless, if you like it, could you please share it?]
©2017 Mark Mehlmauer
Friday, August 24, 2018
Abducted (Part One)
If you're new here, this is a weekly column consisting of letters written to my grandchildren (who exist) and my great-grandchildren (who aren't here yet) — the Stickies — to haunt them after they become grups and/or I'm dead.
"Sometime I wish the aliens would abduct me and crown me as their leader."
-George Noory
Dear (eventual) Grandstickies & Great-Grandstickies,
No letter per se this week, part one of a story.
You're sitting on your front porch on a soft summer night, alone and ruminating. You're thinking about the ironic contrast between your rotten mood and the beautiful evening. He (or she) is gone. Looks like this time for good. Your heart is aching, but there's also a sense of relief.
Or, you're happily married, have two relatively well-adjusted kids, and a decent paying job. Everyone's asleep but you. You had a shitty day at work. You fear this is your new normal. Your new boss, a Type A V.P. with an MBA, is keeping you up nights, dreading the next workday.
Or, you're a...
[Blogaramians: Blogarama renders the links in my columns useless. Please click on View Original to solve this problem and access lotsa columns.]
Irregularly Appearing Imaginary Guest Stars
Marie-Louise -- My beautiful muse
Iggy -- My designated Sticky
Dana -- My designated gentlereader
"Sometime I wish the aliens would abduct me and crown me as their leader."
-George Noory
Dear (eventual) Grandstickies & Great-Grandstickies,
No letter per se this week, part one of a story.
You're sitting on your front porch on a soft summer night, alone and ruminating. You're thinking about the ironic contrast between your rotten mood and the beautiful evening. He (or she) is gone. Looks like this time for good. Your heart is aching, but there's also a sense of relief.
Or, you're happily married, have two relatively well-adjusted kids, and a decent paying job. Everyone's asleep but you. You had a shitty day at work. You fear this is your new normal. Your new boss, a Type A V.P. with an MBA, is keeping you up nights, dreading the next workday.
Or, you're a...
Blinding light -- the smell of an overloaded electrical wire -- a loud industrial, grating sound -- blackness. You awaken and find yourself comfortably ensconced in an easy chair. As you shrug off sleep you note that you feel incredibly well rested and peaceful. You notice warm, peanut butter swirled brownies and a glass of ice cold whole milk on a little table to your right. You take a bite of a brownie and wash it down with a swallow of milk. Mmmm. Repeat.
Looking around you notice you're in a room that looks like a set designer's version of the perfect grandma's living room. It occurs to you that you may still be asleep. You don't care though. It's a very nice dream.
A door opens and in walks a grandma straight out of central casting. She favors you with a warm smile and says, "Oh good, you're awake," and sits down in another easy chair, directly opposite you.
A door opens and in walks a grandma straight out of central casting. She favors you with a warm smile and says, "Oh good, you're awake," and sits down in another easy chair, directly opposite you.
And then things get really weird.
She explains that, for lack of a better term, you've been abducted by aliens from a planet called Tralfamadore. You mention that this situation doesn't seem to match up with any of the abduction stories recounted by guests on that late night radio show that you sometimes listen to. The one you find to be mostly goofy, but that can serve as a sleep aid. She smiles and says, "But a lot of those folks are crazy people dear, and a lot of them are just people trying to make a buck."
Obviously, you are dreaming, but it all seems, she seems, so real. You look around and everything in the room is sharply defined and, well, real looking. You stand up and walk around, start touching things. Curtains, plants, knick-knacks, furniture -- it all feels real enough. "Grandma" just watches. You sit back down and you notice grandma has a warm, genuine smile on her face. You get the feeling she's observing you closely. You return her smile, you can't help it, you feel so warm and safe. Who wouldn't if they met this old-fashioned movie version of a grandma, in this setting?
"I'm dreaming, right? This is just a dream -- right?" you ask.
"Well, yes and no dear. You're awake, and conversing with a, uh, person, that physically and emotionally embodies, via what, well, you'd call it software, has determined will provide you with a safe and comfortable environment for an interview."
"I see...," you reply, "Sort of. And who are you exactly? And what do you mean, interview?"
"I'm what you'd describe as an academic type. My field is what you'd call anthropology. Most of my colleagues specialize in a given planet, my focus is even more narrow than that, I specialize in a particular country of a particular planet, the one you're from, the USA. As to the interview, it's exactly what you might think. I simply want to ask you some questions."
"But why me, and why the USA? Wait a minute... are we somehow special, or different, or whatever, as far as a given country on a given planet goes?
Grandma chuckles. "Oh no dear, not to most, but I can't seem to get enough of America myself."
"Yeah? why me then, I... "
"That software I mentioned dear, I honestly don't know a lot about how it does what it does, not my field you understand. I do know it usually works very well though, and one of the many things it does well is to pick my interview subjects."
"But what if I don't want to be interviewed, am I your prisoner? What if... "
"Oh, you're free to go, dear, anytime you like, now or later. Shall I take you back?"
"Anytime?"
"Of course dear. It would be unethical to hold you against your will. Shall I take you back?"
"But what if I tell everyone, what if ..."
She interrupts. "Well, that's up to you dear, you could write a book, perhaps be a guest on that radio show you mentioned. If you'd prefer, I could erase all memory of this experience. Or, I could..."
"How about if I see how it goes?, I mean, this interview thing, it might be interesting. If I decide to pull the plug at some point, I'm still free to go?
"Of course, dear. Before we get started, could I fix you something to eat? Are you hungry? Would you like something besides the brownies?"
"No, I'm good, thanks."
"OK then! Shall we get started?"
[Poppa loves you.]
Have an OK day.
Scroll down to comment or share
[P.S. Gentlereaders, for 25¢ a week, no, seriously, for 25¢ a week you can become a Patron of this weekly column and help to prevent an old crank from running the streets at night in search of cheap thrills and ill-gotten gains.
If there are some readers out there that think my shtuff is worth a buck or three a month, color me honored, and grateful. Regardless, if you like it, could you please share it?]
©2018 Mark Mehlmauer
Obviously, you are dreaming, but it all seems, she seems, so real. You look around and everything in the room is sharply defined and, well, real looking. You stand up and walk around, start touching things. Curtains, plants, knick-knacks, furniture -- it all feels real enough. "Grandma" just watches. You sit back down and you notice grandma has a warm, genuine smile on her face. You get the feeling she's observing you closely. You return her smile, you can't help it, you feel so warm and safe. Who wouldn't if they met this old-fashioned movie version of a grandma, in this setting?
"I'm dreaming, right? This is just a dream -- right?" you ask.
"Well, yes and no dear. You're awake, and conversing with a, uh, person, that physically and emotionally embodies, via what, well, you'd call it software, has determined will provide you with a safe and comfortable environment for an interview."
"I see...," you reply, "Sort of. And who are you exactly? And what do you mean, interview?"
"I'm what you'd describe as an academic type. My field is what you'd call anthropology. Most of my colleagues specialize in a given planet, my focus is even more narrow than that, I specialize in a particular country of a particular planet, the one you're from, the USA. As to the interview, it's exactly what you might think. I simply want to ask you some questions."
"But why me, and why the USA? Wait a minute... are we somehow special, or different, or whatever, as far as a given country on a given planet goes?
Grandma chuckles. "Oh no dear, not to most, but I can't seem to get enough of America myself."
"Yeah? why me then, I... "
"That software I mentioned dear, I honestly don't know a lot about how it does what it does, not my field you understand. I do know it usually works very well though, and one of the many things it does well is to pick my interview subjects."
"But what if I don't want to be interviewed, am I your prisoner? What if... "
"Oh, you're free to go, dear, anytime you like, now or later. Shall I take you back?"
"Anytime?"
"Of course dear. It would be unethical to hold you against your will. Shall I take you back?"
"But what if I tell everyone, what if ..."
She interrupts. "Well, that's up to you dear, you could write a book, perhaps be a guest on that radio show you mentioned. If you'd prefer, I could erase all memory of this experience. Or, I could..."
"How about if I see how it goes?, I mean, this interview thing, it might be interesting. If I decide to pull the plug at some point, I'm still free to go?
"Of course, dear. Before we get started, could I fix you something to eat? Are you hungry? Would you like something besides the brownies?"
"No, I'm good, thanks."
"OK then! Shall we get started?"
[Poppa loves you.]
Have an OK day.
Scroll down to comment or share
[P.S. Gentlereaders, for 25¢ a week, no, seriously, for 25¢ a week you can become a Patron of this weekly column and help to prevent an old crank from running the streets at night in search of cheap thrills and ill-gotten gains.
If there are some readers out there that think my shtuff is worth a buck or three a month, color me honored, and grateful. Regardless, if you like it, could you please share it?]
©2018 Mark Mehlmauer
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