Of Trans Fats and a Good Book

"STATE BANS TRANS FATS AT EATERIES"

That was the headline that got me going this morning.
It's tough enough putting up with the confiscatory taxes in the nanny state of California, but now the lame brained liberal, commie, hippies who rule in Sacramento want to control what we ingest.

Just one more reason to head for the border if you ask me. Let me clog my own arteries any damn way I want to...thank you very much! And while you're at it, LEAVE ME ALONE!

There, I feel better.

Turning to page three of the newly "up for sale" San Diego Union-Tribune my gaze falls on the sad news that Randy Pausch has died. Wow, I'd almost forgotten about him.
I hadn't wanted to like him, but...I did. I read his book.
In case you've been out of touch, Randy was a professor at Carnegie Melon University who wrote a national bestseller called: The Last Lecture. It's a dandy. If you haven't read it, DO. It is an amazing story of courage and love that will inspire you and fill you with admiration for a gifted and intelligent man who was handed a death sentence and turned it into a powerful message for the rest of us.

The Last Lecture is one of those books that will stay with you long after you've put it down. As I mentioned, I hadn't wanted to like him. He was a little too "up" for a guy who has been cranky since childhood, but he grew on me as I got into the book.
I know The Last Lecture has caused me to re-think my long tucked away escape plan in the unlikely event that I might hear, "you have six months to live" from my primary care provider. (That's what we call doctors in California.) My original plan involved a short drive to my local Beverages & More! store to re-connect with my old pal the ever faithful, Jack Daniels. We went steady for more than thirty years; it should be easy to fall in love again.
Hmmm. I wonder if Lucky Strike would like to rekindle the old romance?

No...the good professor has much better advice:

His lecture is about achieving your childhood dreams and the importance of overcoming obstacles; of seizing every precious moment you have.

"Obstacles serve a purpose: They give us a chance to show how badly we want something," says Randy Pausch.

"Brick walls are not there to keep us out. The brick walls are there to stop the people who don't want it badly enough."

He is humorous, inspirational and intelligent.

Professor Randy Pausch, dead too soon at 47.

Do yourself a favor and read his book.

Doin' My Part...

They've opened a new supermarket in our neighborhood.
I can now hoof it to fetch my daily gallon of Dr. Pepper and jumbo bag of Cheese Puffs.

Also, just to be helpful, I have given BP and Exxon the go ahead to drill in the backyard.

Anything to help us through this energy crisis.

I've parked my gas loving rides too...all three of them. They still look good...and so do I as I sit in them on alternating sunny afternoons. I don't drive anywhere. I just sit there looking FINE.



What do these automobiles have in common?










They just happen to be some of the most ugly cars ever produced in America.
Rolling embarrassments to any and all drivers unfortunate enough to have ever fired one up.



Most of these crapmobiles have gone to that big demolition derby in the sky; never to bring shame to their owners again.

There is one more thing they have in common.

None of these cars is as hideous looking as this hybrid turd burger!


They actually want us to drive one of these things?


Uh....NO!


Not now. Not ever!

DRILL, DRILL, DRILL! I've got places to go.

Slap Leather and Don't Annoy Me

This calls for drastic action.
It has GOT TO STOP!

It's mostly TV's bodacious news babes, in fact I don't think I've heard one of the male empty news suits do it yet, but it's coming. I refer, of course, to the incessant overkill of....(drum roll)
"Thank you SO much."
Not "thank you", that apparently isn't enough. NO, when wrapping up a report or finishing an interview the anchor must now say: "Thank you SO much."

I really hate to call this to your attention because now it will drive you nuts. They do it ALL THE TIME.
Since when is a simple thank you not enough? Why must the SO be shoehorned in there? It's not needed and it's really starting to piss me off.

It would be tons more fun is if the close out went something like this: "Nice report Bob. Now, get out...DIE!" Or, how about: "Thanks Sue. Where's the fifty bucks I floated you last month?" At least it would be different and not so damn phony.

Since I'm venting, here's another one I'm hearing way more often from seemingly intelligent people: "He's out the house." Instead of saying "He's out of the house" it's just..."out the house". Last week in a network interview a woman who looked educated and affluent said this: "It looks like our house is safe from the fires, but all it would take is someone throwing a cigarette out the car..." I guess excising the "of the" allowed her more time to pack up the good dishes before getting out of Dodge.

Sorry for the Mr. Persnickety Pants diatribe, but I feel better now and that's the important thing.
Also, this one gave me a chance to use that really cool Richard Boone shot from "Have Gun, Will Travel".
I'm sure old Paladin would thank me for the plug but, he's OUT THE HOUSE.

'Scuse Me While I Blow Something UP

I choose to do this on the 4th of July because...
Well, because it may help mask my incompetence.

My gas grill has be acting weird lately and I have procrastinated long enough. It is now time for action! The damn thing is leaking propane from some "out of whack" location and it is no longer possible to burn meat on the grill. At my house this is a major malfunction.

For years I was a strict disciple of the church of charcoal. Not too much can go wrong when all you need do is toss a match onto a pile of briquettes and walk away for awhile. It's simple; not too messy and there is very little chance of breakage. I should have stuck with it.

About seven years ago I was seduced by the siren call of propane at my local barbecue store. "Just flip the switch... and your fire is ready! No more waiting for the fire to be just right."
For most guys this makes perfect sense, but for me it only means that there is one more piece of equipment around the old homestead that is ready to quit on me at an inopportune time.

You see, the world is composed of two kinds of guys: Guys who can fix stuff when it breaks and guys who can merely look at broken things and wonder who to call. I fall into the latter group. I come by it naturally. My father never had more than a hammer and a couple of screwdrivers in the house. (He actually knew the reason for the existence of the Phillips and the other one.) He was never able to fix anything that was on the fritz, but he tried. Once in awhile his always ugly fixes would work...but most of the time they would only temporarily buy him some time before Mom would call in an expert to remedy the situation. Dad would mutter about there being "no need to call anyone...it works just fine", but we all knew better.

So anyway, here I am on the 4th of July quietly giving thanks that we have no plans for a big backyard "do" because, (after seven years of faithful service) the dumbass gas grill has decided to spring a leak. So here is the plan: Instead of my usual fix it scenario where I merely move the busted appliance to an out-of-the-way location until I trick a non fix it phobic pal into doing something about it, I will attempt to fix it myself. I'm tired of rolling things to the curb and hanging a FREE sign on them after deciding they can't be restored. This time I'm making the move to the group of guys who can repair inanimate objects and return them to useful members of the household appliance brigade.

Who am I kidding?!
If I'm lucky I'll be able to time this disaster to coincide with the amazing and explosive finale' from the fireworks show at Legoland.

Here's to a flaming Fourth!
Pass me that wrench...