Browsing "Blue Dog"
Jul 10, 2010 - Blue Dog    Comments Off

Living with Your Parents: Episode 143

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My dad has always been a “TV Talker –He has always talked back to the TV–and at 84 his skill is as sharp as Number 2 pencil run through an electric pencil sharpener twice

He’s Crow T Robot (Mystery Science Theater 3000) without the commercial breaks. If he was in a movie theater, he’d be annoying, but home in the living room he makes bad TV worth watching.

Today he’s watching a truly terrible British Hammer film “Quatermass and the Pit”. From the other room I hear his running commentary:

“Don’t go in there, you asshole. You’ll meet up with the aliens”

“(Alan Quartermain) “I’m very disappointed in this” (Dad) “We are too!”

“Hey, it’s 50 millions years BC? And they have a spaceship made out of plastic? Where do you get a spaceship like that 50 million years ago?”

“How do you know they’re Martians? How do you know they’re not from Pluto?”

“With hands like that, how can they drive a rocket?”

This isn’t “ha ha wink wink” stuff, just an old, blue collar guy having a conversation with his best pal, Mr. Television–and it’s very entertaining.

Feb 23, 2010 - Blue Dog    Comments Off

Glenn Beck is destroying my appetite.

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glenn beck

My parents idolize conservative TV performer Glenn Beck.

He’s on at 4:00 every day, still on when Mombo puts ‘supper’ on the table. Today I went into the “Holy Effing Gee” zone when he was ranting about the ‘charade of global warming’.

Last week, USA Today Magazine in the Sunday Milwaukee Journal-Sentinal ran a puff-piece cover story about Mr Beck in which he said:

He believes in global warming

“You’d be an idiot not to notice the temperature change,” he says. He also says there’s a legit case that global warming has, at least in part, been caused by mankind. He has tried to do his part by buying a home with a “green” design and using energy-saving products. “I’m willing to do anything but use the CFLs,” he says of compact fluorescent light bulbs. “I put them in once and couldn’t stand the way they lit up the room.”

Mombo did not like hearing this. “I don’t believe that”, she said—So I Googled it and showed Mombo the evidence. “Well, why don’t you call Democrats hypocrites when THEY lie? Huh?”

“Um, like who are you talking about?”

“Well . . . Like when Bill Clinton lied.”

“You mean about getting a blow job?”

“Yes. That’s exactly what I mean. I don’t see you getting irate about that and calling HIM a hypocrite!!”

Time to go to my room.

Nov 26, 2009 - Amazon.com, Blue Dog, Bookselling    Comments Off

Five things you could buy on Amazon—if you are a total knucklehead.

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Amazon.com is the new home of the weird, the creepy and the profane!

It’s like the Wild West out there. We independent book sellers moved in and did all the dirty work, setting up product pages, building links, enslaving the indigenous population—And soon giant agribusinesses, listing strip miners, and Big Lot department stores moved in, crowding the little guys out.

Lately, Amazon’s tried to reign in the small-time-sellers without infringing too much on the rights of their favored corporate sellers. That can only lead to one thing—Digital Anarchy!

Here are five intriguing examples of the ways Amazon sellers and buyers are dealing with encroaching marginalization.

  1. A $38 dead skinned bunny rabbit? Anyone see Roman Polanski’s “Replusion? Please, please, please—I beg you—scroll down and read the customer reviews. You will not be sorry. For example:

    These are NOT alive!, August 24, 2009
    By P. Breakfield IV “Tom”
    I’ll keep this short and sweet. We ordered one of these rabbits for our children this Easter and boy what a surprise. It is NOT a living rabbit. Someone has killed this rabbit and skinned it, I suppose for eating. Anyway, our children were traumatized and Easter is not the same holiday that it used to be for us. On the upside, we don’t have to fill their Easter baskets anymore as we told them the Easter bunny was killed by Amazon.

  2. Read more »

Dial carefully after midnight –

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Or I shall rise up from my bed of sorrows and smite you with a white-hot revenge, man.

1:19 am Monday night the phone rings.

Now, I live with my elderly parents who specifically DON’T have phones in their bedrooms. Why? Because someone with a lively personal life is apparently one digit away from their telephone number. Me, I’m still in the mindset of “Oh my Gosh. What if one of my kids got arrested and needs to get bailed out in the middle of the night?” or “What if my future-ex-husband was just nailed by a drunk driver and the hospital is calling to tell me I’m now a widow.” In other words, I ALWAYS answer the phone.

1:19 am I’m pulled from REM sleep by my phone. I bolt to answer, still remembering the downy kisses of–oh, never mind. “Hello?” “‘S Rog there?” “Huh? Who?” “Rog?” “Wrong number”, and I hang up.

But my mind does not hang up. I stare at the ceiling. I do Yoga. I eat crackers. I read my book. Two hours later, at 3:19 AM I’ve had enough. I pick up my phone and scroll down to my mystery caller’s ID, and hit dial.

When his cell phone prompts for a message (of course, and Rog’s friend is sleeping the good sleep of the non-introspective mind), I blurt, “How does it feel to get a call in the middle of the night because someone can’t dial the right number (beat) MORON!!” and I hang up.

If nothing else I got the last word. Ha. So there.