Double Trouble

Not so long ago "double" had a positive connotation.  Double Bubble bubble gum, a Double Double from In & Out Burgers, doubling down on a promising blackjack hand and the ultimate double was a commercial featuring the always ultra hot Doublemint Twins.

"Double your pleasure double your fun

With double good double good Double Mint Gum"

No more!  Last year the the percentage of adult Americans considered obese went up from 25.5% of the population to an all time high of 27.7% and those of us in the 65 and older category jumped the most by adding 4 percentage points.  (Insert geezer high five here)  All of this lard we're sporting never winds up in a useful or attractive place.  Why can't it go to our shoulders or maybe our feet?  Nope, it all seems to want to orbit the gut or butt and, increasingly, our chin.  Actually it is more often chins.  Double and even triple chins are now the bane of most everyone over 40 and it sucks massively.  I believe my grandma called it a "full" face and insisted on associating it with good health.  Well, she's dead and can no longer peddle that BS.  It just looks FAT.

Of course some double chins are merely the curse of heredity but most are self inflicted.  Some wag once suggested that eating naked before a mirror might prompt all of us to ease up on the groceries.  Certainly the shock of dealing with your mug the first thing every morning has a sobering effect until all your self delusions have kicked in.  I don't think I'm the only guy who greets DAD in the glass these days.  There is enough chin blubber to go around.

There is some good news to report on the double chin beat and it doesn't involve surgery or dieting.  Tell you more?

There is now a specially formulated chemical called ATX-101 that can be injected into the skin and it kills off fat cells under the chin.  "Submental fat" they call it, most likely because it resides under your big fat head.  It's not Botox nor is it closely related to that always obvious facial fix.  It is a version of deoxycholic acid that occurs naturally in our bodies to help destroy fat.  Of course, the question that pops to mind is: WHERE THE HELL HAS THIS STUFF BEEN HIDING AND WHY HASN'T IT BEEN DOING ITS JOB?!

Tests are ongoing in both Europe and the United States and so far the results have been positive.  Sixteen-hundred patients have been injected and more than 90% have maintained a "meaningful reduction of fat after two years."

So, good news aging Boomers!  ATX-101 to the rescue!

However, it could be arriving just a tad late.  I Googled the Doublemint Twins yesterday just to refresh my memory and they appear to have been avoiding the salad bar just like the rest of us.  I'm guessing they must have doubled down on the buffet at Caesar's Palace when we weren't looking.  

To put a positive spin on this situation, they've probably lowered their standards considerably and may even be in the market for some attention from those of us hauling around a Y chromosome.
As  they say, "less is a bore."

Debbie Doublemint, now TWICE the fun!

Up In Smoke

I caught myself holding a pen like a cigarette the other day.  It was an absentminded move that, when conscience of it, I found more than a little strange.  How long had it been since I smoked?  With the exception of a couple of lapses, it has been more than forty years since I fired up a Lucky.

Remember candy cigs?

That got me thinking about how much change we've seen in our collective attitude toward tobacco in America.  Being a Boomer I remember growing up surrounded by cigarette smoke in the 50's and 60's. Everybody smoked!  At least it seemed that way.  My dad smoked as did my friend's dads and lots of the moms did too.  Adults lit up everywhere and nobody gave it a second thought.  Houses, schools, stores, just about everyplace had the smell of stale tobacco.  New car smell lasted about thirty seconds in the middle of last century.  I grew up thinking that long trips in the family car came with a headache and never once associated dad's chain smoking Camels with the malady.  He smoked all the time.  Dinner wasn't over until he had stubbed out a butt in his mashed potatoes or what was left of a piece of pie.  It was a way of life.  I remember buying candy cigarettes and school pens that looked like filter-tipped cigs because my pals and I all aspired to be smokers just like our pops.  Some of the girls did it too.  In the army the government was happy to provide a pack of five smokes in every C-ration they doled out to those of us serving our country.   After choking down not so culinary delights like "ham and MF'ers" the cigarettes were often the highlight of the meal.  Who knew that Chesterfields left over from WW II would keep until 1969?

College life in the late 60's and early 70's was filled with cigarette smoke.  There were machines in every building (even the medical school) that offered a plethora of brands and nearly every classroom had a stack of ashtrays on a table by the door that you could take to your seat.  On exam days the smoke hung in the air as an oppressive reminder of the importance of your grade.  There were some pipes and cigars but mostly we all smoked cigarettes.

I'm not sure of the actual date when I quit smoking but I remember that it was sometime after an extremely unpleasant bout with bronchitis.  I think a pack cost less than a dollar at the time.  I was working in radio and one of the other announcers wondered aloud how I could be stupid enough to smoke knowing that it would play havoc with my career.  He had a point.  I quit and was amazed at how much better I felt and how much more I could drink, which is a story for another time.  

When I married and had kids we became one of those couples that had NO SMOKING signs in our house.  Lots of folks thought it odd and some were put off by it.  We didn't care.  Our house smelled great and the kids had far fewer colds and respiratory problems than their friends.  Maybe there really was something to this idea that tobacco smoke was poisonous. 

How different it is today.  I can't remember the last time I was in a car or home where people were allowed to smoke.  There is no smoking in offices, on planes or trains and nearly every place that people gather.  Even bars!  Now days smokers are treated like convicted felons or child molesters and pay somewhere around ten dollars for a pack of this misery.  Every time I see a couple of freezing smokers huddled against the wind standing in a designated area OUTSIDE a building I recall how not that long ago they could light up anywhere and nobody gave it a second thought.

Change is what happens when you're not looking.  It has been more than forty years since the surgeon general told us that cigarettes kill people and it seems as if we have finally taken this advice to heart. There is less cancer and fewer heart attacks.  People are living longer and saving themselves some serious coin. Maybe Winston really did "taste good like a cigarette should" but  the world smells a whole lot better in 2015.

Coffin nails

GF? WTF?

Maybe they have been doing it for awhile but I've only caught on lately.  Restaurant menus are sporting appetizers, entrees, and desserts punctuated with the letters GF.  Not wishing to appear nearly as dumb as I look, I had been reluctant to ask until recently just what in the name deliciousness is this GF designation?  Get F***ed?  Go Fish?  Good For you--okay, that would be GFY.  How about Get fat?  No?  What the heck does it mean?!

"Gluten Free", my server--never waitress or waiter-- explained to me patiently when I broke down and finally asked.  "Oh," I replied while nodding my head pretending that it made perfect sense.

Items with lots of gluten, now considered food porn.

Okay, so I looked it up.

Gluten is now America's public enemy number one.  We are no longer failing as a nation because we are hypoglycemic, dehydrated, or merely phlegmatic those are yesterday's problems.  We are now victims of chronic fatigue, headaches and diarrhea because we're all suffering from celiac disease.    After years of telling us to commence carbo loading, eating too damn much wheat is now the reason we feel crappy and our pants don't fit.  Hot damn!  We now have something new to worry about.  I maintain that it is all part of a sinister plot to make anything that tastes good the enemy.  No matter that experts estimate fewer than 1% of us have celiac disease,  until further notice you are advised to PUT DOWN THAT DOUGHNUT and never mind the beer, pretzels, pasta or anything yummy.  Even though whole grain foods pack vitamins, minerals and fiber they are the new and improved reason that you can no longer see your shoes.

Simply eating less of everything is not an option.  The food police will be watching and you had better be paying attention.  Ignor the GF on the menus at your peril!  Wandering into Gluton Land may cause SEVERE TIRE DAMAGE!  Of course you could do what I have decided on as a plan of action.  Simply buy all the gluten loaded goodness you can get away with at your local supermarket and fill your spare tire at home.  Or, if you must venture out, make sure to ask for EXTRA gluten when you order that double stack of buckwheat cakes.  And, while you're at it,  tell the food police to GF themselves.

Gluten goodness with a head on it. 

Just Want to Cuddle? Shut Up!

"Let's just cuddle."

So now we have professional cuddle-for-hire services?

What the hell has happened to this once dynamic hard charging country of ours?

Apparently it is now possible to "just cuddle" with a paid provider for somewhere in the $80 per hour price range.  The thousands of not so red blooded Americans who get sucked into this nonsense are told to keep it strictly platonic and to keep tickling to a minimum.  

Naturally this service enjoys much popularity in parts of the country like Portland, Oregon and Madison , Wisconsin where sentimentality and symbolism rein and granola is a religion.  

"Aw come on.  How about a little lip lock?"

Guys who fought at Normandy and Iwo Jima must be thrilled that they saved the world for cuddling.  "For eighty bucks their was a lady in Palermo who'd take ya around the world and fix ya breakfast in the morning!"

We have become a nation of PC wimps.  Today's Americans are afraid of speaking their mind and demanding their moneys worth.  The country needs a good "talking to" and I have just the guy for it.  My longtime buddy Doug Steckler has been pissed off and yelling at just about everyone and everything for years.  Steck has been laying into the hopeless buffoons and liberal loons for all of the nearly fifty years I've known him.  His tirades are an unforgettable thing of beauty and memorable wonders to behold.  (Warning:  it's wise to stand back if he gets started on millennials and their smart phones.)

Steckler made his bones writing for TV and was instrumental in NBC's cutting edge comedy, SCTV.  These days he is mostly retired but spends every Friday evening alongside Tim Conway Jr. taking apart just about all the stuff they find unworthy. (Everything)

You can catch them on the web via streaming on the KFI/ Los Angeles website.

Which reminds me that I haven't checked in with Doug in a couple of weeks.  I wonder if he knows about the epidemic of candy ass cuddling that is sweeping the liberal sinkholes of America?

I'm going to call him right now.  This should be good.

Tim Conway Jr. & Doug "Mad Dog" Steckler

A Window of Time

It's snowing.  The sky over the lake as I look south has the ominous look of winter just getting ready to assert itself.  I find myself wondering if I'll be able to hold out until spring.  We really haven't had much snow, a few inches last week has now become mostly ice as cars and footsteps compress it.  This new stuff is starting to look serious.  I step gingerly to avoid taking an old guy spill.

On New Year's Eve there were two fireworks shows over the lake courtesy of the big resort just a half mile to the east of us.  It's a big deal every year and the owners know enough to have an early show for the little kids at 9PM and save the grown up pyrotechnics for midnight.  There is always a big crowd for both.

We invited two of the nice young guys who installed the entertainment system for our new home to bring their families by for the evening so that the kids could enjoy the early show from the front deck.  We have a gas fire pit out there which was just what was needed to put a nice dent in the ten degree air.  Both guys have lovely wives and beautiful children.  The youngest kid has only been around for ten months and the oldest, a girl, is ten.  All very well behaved, they were naturally excited for the night's festivities.  It was just what we needed since we said goodbye to our Christmas visiting grandson, Dan, just a week ago.  I actually found myself watching the kids' faces as they took in the ordinance exploding over the bay.  Fireworks, I've seen plenty of times but little people I find more fascinating as the years pile up on my odometer.

Earlier Linda and I had been discussing the very real fact that the year 2015 sounds pretty serious.  You know--like we're well into the twenty-first century and there is no going back.  Y2K?  Wasn't that a concern just last year?  Nope, it was fifteen years ago that we all worried that the wheels might come off the world.  I wonder what we now worry about needlessly as we head into this new year and also think about what will surprise us as it enters from left field.  There's always something completely unanticipated and it does no good to stew about it.

A few days ago and old pal sent an email with three pictures attached.  At first I wondered why he had sent pictures of complete strangers to me and puzzled over it for at least two minutes before realizing that the pictures were of Linda and me.  I didn't know those people!  The shots were taken in 1970 or '71 and it is now clear to me that forty-five years or so can do an incredible amount of damage.  "Look at that hair!"  I found myself wondering what I would say to this young couple who had all of those years ahead of them.  How can you explain the Internet, 9/11, computers and all the changes both personal and professional that lay just over the horizon?  Obviously you can't.

I thought of this as I watched the faces of the children engrossed in the sky show over the lake and took comfort in the knowledge that one day they might recall spending a New Year's Eve with an "old" couple on the shores of Lake Coeur d' Alene just having a good time.  Each, like all of us, has been given the clay of life with which to shape some sort of permanent monument to meaning.  I only hope that years hence they take pride in what they see when looking back through their own window of time.