When it comes to installing rain barrels, I am all wet

I bought two rain barrels recently, so that I could snag me some of that sweet state rebate money. I bought them online, so I did not have a receipt, only a "thanks for your order" email, which is—let me stress this here—not a receipt.

I know this because when I mailed a copy of my email into the state, they replied, in words more polite than these but with the same gist, "We think you are trying to rip us off. We think the closest you have gotten to a rain barrel is seeing one being worn as clothes in a Yosemite Sam cartoon. Send us a receipt."

So I mailed them a copy of my credit card bill, photos of the barrel crates with my name on them in my back yard, and a letter written in a tone you used to see in colonial days, where they guy totally rips the other guy a new flintlock, but then signs it ever so politely, "your humble servant."

A week went by. Two weeks. Finally I got a terse email admitting I had probably bought rain barrels and would soon have the heck rebated out of me.

I even paid extra for two sets of downspout-to-barrel converters, not noticing, because of what these days I jokingly call my "attention to detail," that the converters were for rectangular downspouts. My downspouts are round.

I added the converters to the ceiling-high pile of similar mistakes in my garage which conveniently camouflage the Ark of the Covenant.

I was going to have to cut a hole directly into the side of my downspouts and insert a rubber rain collector piping the water to my barrels. As can be said of so many aspects of my life, I did not have the tools.

At the hardware store (where, on Halloween, it was full-on Christmas) I bought a hole dozer and, to attach it to my drill, an arbor. Got them home. Naturally, they did not fit my drill.

Truth. I had to buy an entirely new drill to water my roses. Finally, suitably armed, I showed those downspouts who was boss. I hooked up the barrels. Done.

I figure that after buying the drill stuff, the rain barrels, and the cinder blocks upon which to set them, even factoring in the rebate I still ended up in the red. But come next summer, my lawn will be sooo green.

. . .

 

 

Wednesday Wa Pic - Ominous Random Signs edition

There were no buckets. I guess they had all been kicked.

A little Halloween history as Daylight Saving Time ends

Another Halloween has passed and still no kids have soaped my windows. Slackers! It's not like I'M going to do it. I would rinse them, though, certainly. Squeegee them too. Kids these days couldn't find a bar of soap with a supermarket and a flashlight.

Daylight Saving Time ended this morning, which just means your kids were throwing up candy at 3 a.m. instead of 4. Your body clock is now shot for about a week, so don't fight it. Administer leftover candy corn every four hours until it's gone or it's Christmas, the latter being more likely. 

My children are older now, so the time I would have spent shining a flashlight on curbs last night trick-or-treating I spent instead watching a 20 year old video on the history of Halloween. It wasn't pretty. The 1990s production values, I mean, not the history.

It seems 3000 years ago in Ireland, the locals decided that this period of the year, transitioning from the light to the dark, meant those who had died in the past year might walk the Earth again. In order to appease them, they set out treats on the edge of town, hoping to keep them a respectable distance from the nicer retail areas. Or, as my wife said, "Stay in your grave—here's a Snickers."

To give thanks for nature's bounty, they sacrificed cattle and other animals, burned them on bonfires, and then the Druid in charge interpreted the charred entrails to predict the coming year's prospects for various individuals. Pronouncements like "Sorry, Siobhan, but this smoking cow liver says you should probably not be around knives this year" were common.

Christians, since they could not convince the pagans to give up their autumnal worship of dozens of nature gods, chose the same date to celebrate All Hallows Day. But people, as people will do, kept riffing on the holiday, so that over the centuries we ended up with British children burning effigies of a famous would-be Parliament bomber, and in the American south on Halloween, women began looking for omens of the faces of their future husbands in baked goods. 

Recently some Christians have created "Jesusween," and give out Bibles to children instead of candy. This probably does not go over big at first, but as I recall, back when I was a kid in the bathroom at 3 a.m. repenting my overindulgence, I would have been surprisingly open to salvation.

. . .

Wednesday Wa Pic - These days they sell EVERYthing

Back in in the '70's, we just wore our birthday suit and sneakers, and safety be damned! 

Tropical snake makes waves in a nervous pre-election year

A venomous sea snake, normally found in Central American waters, washed ashore this week in Oxnard, sparking jubilation among people who had been lamenting the end of the ebola scare last year. The yellow-bellied menace was quickly denounced as an illegal immigrant by Donald Trump, but died on the beach before it could be used in campaign ads.

"Yellow-bellied is right," Trump crowed, noting that the sea-faring serpent had not even had the "guts" to risk its life crossing the desert into Texas like any other self-respecting Central American.

The other 87 Republican candidates for president belatedly chimed in, criticizing the snake's clear lack of "gumption," "patriotism" and "legs."

Scientists blamed the growing El Niño weather pattern, which is shifting warmer ocean currents farther north than normal, resulting in "unusual occurrences of political opportunism."

Hillary Clinton, at an "It's Two L's, Not One, You Idiot" rally in Daytona, Florida, denied that the snake was a clever plot to draw attention away from her Private Email Server-gate. Bill Clinton quickly added, "No comment."

The black and yellow snake (whose Latin name, Pelamis platurus, literally means "undecided voter") was spotted on the beach by a surfer. Experts say the last time this species came to Southern Californian shores was three decades ago during a similar El Niño season.

"Clear proof of global warming," said Democratic presidential hopeful Martin O'Malley, while handing out "Martin WHO?" buttons outside a Wawa mini-mart in Huntsville.

Highly venomous and deadly, Pelamis platurus is known as non-aggressive, and will only attack if threatened or forced to choose sides, politically. "El Niño is wreaking havoc not just on nature but on liberal fundraising," said Rip Emoff, a fictitious political strategist.

"Stripey killer snakes are a sign of the End Times, and whenever people think the world is just about over, they tend to donate less to Democrats," he said. "Republicans see a nice bump, though."

By spring, when the expected heavy rains come to Los Angeles, voters' attentions will likely shift from snakes to mudslides, floods and Academy Awards fashions. But the venomous harbinger which appeared this week, foretold in legend ("And lo, a surfer will sight the beast") must not be far from the candidates' thoughts. It will be an election year, and the one who rises to lead us will be the one who remembers that Pelamis platurus is best known for biting you in the butt.

Wednesday Wa Pic - fancy soap edition

For those times when you want to give off that "ready-mixed" aroma.

Pomegranate products breaking new ground in multi-syllables

If ever a trend arises and takes the country by storm, you can be sure I will be right on top of it...just as it fades. So it is with the pomegranate health fad. While I wasn't looking, pomegranates moved from something you put in your mouth to something you rub on yourself faster than you can say "voodoo marketing."

I rub a lot of things on myself; don't get me wrong. I am not a snob. But never smooshed fruit. Mostly, it seems, they market "pom" to moms. Moms will pay a lot to exfoliate. (I have always thought it would be cheaper just to not foliate in the first place, but I am no expert.)

They sell something called "pomegranate cleansing milk." Three great words by themselves, yes, but together they just sound like something the ad department made up. I am also unclear how they came up with pomegranate "body butter." Or "firming cream." It seems as if the dairy industrial complex has been infiltrated.

Pomegranate frozen yogurt, on the other hand, sounds good because you put it in your mouth. Pomegranate lip balm, too, because it's close to your mouth, like nature intended. I do not think nature intended "hand-harvested pomegranate-infused sea salt." Nature is not fancy. Nature came up with the manatee.

But fancy sells. I found one company which sells "100% organic ultra premium and extra-virgin cold-pressed pomegranate seed oil." God forbid they should press it hot. What madman would press it hot, I ask you?!

The company touts that it is rich in Omega-5 "conjugated" fatty acids. I think in marketing class they learn to just plug four-syllable words into random products. I would not be surprised to see pomegranate juice touting its "hydroelectric" properties and silky-smooth "orthography."

This country is so great, we even have anti-oxidant pomegranate dog biscuits. Dogs love the taste of pomegranate, in the sense that dogs like the taste of everything small enough to fit in their mouths. They even sell "washer whiffs"; pomegranate drops you can add to your laundry to make your whole load smell, I don't know, like it just reduced its cholesterol?

The fad is waning, but not nearly fast enough. I fear one morning I will wake up to find they have created a strain of pomegranate-infused kale. My friends, no society can recover from that.

. . .

Wednesday Wa Pic - What will they blow out next?

I do not know what keratin does, but this doesn't sound pretty.

Two animals icons of viral video fame have a chat

If you use the Internet, you probably saw the now-famous video of a rat intently dragging a slice of pizza down the stairs of a New York subway. The slice is twice as long as he is. The guy who shot the video, admiring the rat's determination, called the rat "the new Statue of Liberty." 

All but forgotten is last summer's viral sensation, Tara, the Hero Cat, who chased away a dog that was attacking a boy. I put Tara and Pizza Rat together via conference call recently to discuss the nature of fame.

Cat: I saved a kid. You dragged a slice across the ground, and yet we are in the same pantheon now.

Rat: Pantheon, huh? That like a sewer or something?

Cat: No, YouTube fame. Public renown. An anecdote for the ages.

Rat: Whatever. Seven million people have watched me drop my dinner. I will never understand humans.

Cat: I think they just thought it was funny to see a rat carrying food larger than himself.

Rat: Hey, I've got big bones.

Cat: I don't doubt it.

Rat: They thought I was funny! They should come back in three weeks and behold the freak show that is the New York City subway at Halloween.

Cat: Actually, people are already selling Pizza Rat costumes. Grey fur and plastic pizza. And for ladies, Sexy Pizza Rat.

Rat: I'm a meme. I have become a freakin' meme. Somewhere I am probably even an animated gif.

Cat: Trust me, it will blow over. I was huge a year ago. Now I can't even get a retweet from Oprah.

Rat: What a thing to get famous for. You wouldn't know it to look at me, but when I was young I wanted to be a busker.

Cat: A street performer? Doing what?

Rat: Three card Monte, but set to hip-hop music.

Cat: Take the pizza fame. Just...take the pizza fame.

Rat: It IS a little embarrassing, though.

Cat: Look, are you getting girls?

Rat: Sure! But the wrong kind. They're all looking for a Pizza Daddy.

Cat: Ah.

Rat: Just once I'd like to meet a girl who isn't hungry.

Cat: This is your 15 minutes of fame. I say you go big. Drag a leg of lamb down the stairs. Drag a Peking duck.

Rat: I'm done dragging. Besides, Scorcese wants to do a biopic on me.

Cat: Dream big, my friend. Dream big.

. . .

Wednesday Wa Pic - Signage fail by a special contributor

Premium. Because you're worth boneless.

. . .

Special thank you to Heather L. for sending this in.

A science quiz for the rest of us

I took one of those online science quizzes recently, the kind which make you feel about as smart as peat moss. I missed the question on whether water boils at a lower temperature in Denver compared to L.A. I thought it boils faster. No, it boils lower, which means, in effect, it cooks slower. I will remember that next time I am whipping out my spaghetti while camping in the Rockies. I will bring a good book, I guess. Thanks, science.

So you won't miss out on the fun, here is a short science quiz I wrote just for you.

1. Peat moss is:

a) moss which got trapped in a bog, decomposed, and now all you can see is its tusks sticking out
b) not as prolific as repeat moss
c) about as smart as you
d) a linebacker for the Colts

2. Photosynthesis is:

a) sold in a bundle with Microsoft Office
b) not as "green" as its proponents would have you believe
c) a way for plants to convert sunlight into a viable Ebay business
d) not what it was back before deregulation

3. Vulcanism is:

a) quips which Mr. spock lets fly after a few too many Romulan ales
b) a curable form of circus fandom
c) just to the right of the Tea Party
d) when you've totally had it and you lose your Vulcan temper

4. Electricity is created by:

a) God, while walking briskly in corduroy pants
b) harnessing the power of robo-squirrels
c) any two Judd Apatow characters
d) magnets, a plate of cronuts, and a dream

5. Californium is:

a) an element of the periodic table famous for saying "No waaaaay"
b) the place you wanta be, so they loaded up the truck and they moved to Beverly
c) Hills, that is
d) the only ion stable in aqueous solutions, which, while impressive, doesn't exactly pay the rent

6. A vaquita is:

a) a small endangered porpoise
b) Esperanto for "undeclared voter"
c) not the kind of word I would translate in a family paper
d) like a chalupa, but more classy

6. It is important to know science in today's world because:

a) it is an easy word
b) without science, science-deniers would have a whole lot of time on their hands
c) two words: Dippin' Dots
d) otherwise, scientists would just be tists, and hard to employ

The important thing is not whether you can pass a random quiz. It is that you remember science is all around you, so you must be vigilant, and try not to get any on you.

.  .  .

Wednesday Wa Pic - A few words you can never un-see

 "Belching Beaver Peanut Butter Milk Stout."

Everything you always wanted to know about Canadian politics

While relief from our current political unpleasantries is still 14 months away, Canada is having its big election in about three weeks. (Fun fact: "Canada" is a French word meaning "dirty fries.")

Canada's 2015 campaign cycle was the lengthiest in its history: 11 weeks! This is in stark contrast to the U.S. election model, whose length is determined by capitalist television criteria, and can be summed up by the phrase, "As long as it sells frozen pizza rolls."

The Conservative Party is currently in power in Canada, followed by the New Democratic Party (actual slogan: "Ready for change." They have evidently been ready for change for a long time. The NDP was established in 1961.)

The third major party, and the one which was in power for fully two-thirds of the 20th Century, is called the Liberal Party (actual slogan: "Real change." I am fairly sure that, by law, a political party's slogan must contain at least one of the words "ready," "real" or "change.")

And sure, you've got your Independent Party ("Real independent") and your Green Party ("Real green"), but every country's got those. Canada, however, has the only Rhinoceros Party ("Real horny," I'm guessing.) It was established in 2006, and in only nine years has managed to not win any seats anywhere. It has promised not to keep any of its promises if elected, which nobody has to worry about them not keeping. If only we could get those kinds of assurances from American politicians.

If elected, the Rhino Party promises to:

• Give lottery winners a Senate seat
• Promote "higher education" by building taller schools
• Nationalize Tim Hortons (a kind of Canadian Dunkin' Donuts)
• Repeal the law of gravity

Canada has an Animal Alliance Party (hopefully they are allied with some meat eaters, which would certainly spice up the door-to-door campaigning), a Marijuana Party, and a Pirate Party. Yarr, dude, these do not appear to have slogans. Or voters.

Canadians have the reputation for getting along, and yet Canada not only has a Communist Party but a Marxist-Leninist Party as well. They could not agree on enough to merge the two! This is the political equivalent of building a combo Denny's/Coco's. Oh, Canada.

Best of all, in Canada, political parties get reimbursed by the government for 50% of their election expenses! I had always suspected Canadians had a sense of humor because of their flag, but that cements it.

. . .

Then again, some parties are really out there... 

 

Wednesday Wa Pic - Vanity plate mystery

Is it possible Aunt Jemima is still driving at her age? Or is this referencing an obscure superhero I just never heard about?

To sleep or capture rain for later—that is the question

When the rain began to fall before dawn last Tuesday, I apparently incorporated it into my dream, because I was suddenly surfing with Kim Basinger. It did not strike me as weird at all, even though nobody has seen her since 1992. 

The waves roared and carried us to shore, where Billy Crystal stood holding out a Mai Tai for each of us. He was in a lime green tux, and as the dream fizzled, he morphed into a frog which croaked, "I'll have what she's having." 

When I woke up, I realized the weirdest part of the whole thing was that it was raining in September. Hard. Oh, we got some drizzle in July, which was also strange, but not satisfyingly so; a lot like the last five or six Johnny Depp movies. 

Tuesday morning it was pouring, just gloriously pummeling my roof, as if, like they say in Greece, it was raining chair legs.

It being 3 a.m., I knew if I got up to set out buckets it would take another hour to get back to sleep, so I let it go. I felt guilty, but there is nothing more soothing than a shear of thunderless rain, so I melted back into slumber like a pat of sleepy butter. Unfortunately, I didn't dream up a better metaphor.

Different cultures around the world use different colorful phrases to describe when it's really coming down. In the Czech Republic, they evidently say "Tractors are falling." In Denmark the phrase is, it's "raining cobbler boys." In South Africa they say "It's raining old women with clubs." In the Netherlands, they are so cultured it rains "pipe stems."

In Portugal it rains "pocket knives," in Germany, "puppies," and in Norway, "troll women." My favorite, though, is Argentina, where they say "it's raining dung head-first." I think we should borrow that one and use it when Congress is in session.

Once up, I put on my raincoat and went about capturing as much water as I could. I felt like one of the brooms carrying buckets in "The Sorcerer's Apprentice." I got completely soaked, but next month my thirsty lawn and flowers will get some relief. 

I may have to stick to the back yard, though. If things look too green in the front, the neighbors will assume I'm a water waster, and these days that's even worse than being a climatologist.

. . .

Wednesday Wa Pic - Cultural misunderstanding, part MMXXXXXXVVVVVIIII

 I do not know what "it" is, but I saw "Silence of the Lambs," so I'll pass.

An interview with Queen Elizabeth, in my dreams

This week, Queen Elizabeth II became England’s longest-reigning monarch, surpassing her great-great grandmother Queen Victoria, who remained unimpressed at the time of this writing. Queen Victoria reigned for 23,226 days, a record thought unbreakable in the era before dietary fiber. In honor of this milestone, I sat down with Queen Elizabeth for a casual and largely fictitious chat.

GW: Your Majesty, thank you for taking time out from being feted by admirers for breaking this monarchy-record thingy.

Queen: It's a relief, to be honest. You'd think people had never seen a lady reign her butt off before.

GW: Did you just say 'butt'?

Queen: Blame it on the champagne. I've spent the last week being feted till my feter is all feted out. Butt butt butt.

GW: (to the waiter) Bring some coffee, please.

Queen: I have reigned over Great Britain, Australia, New Zealand, Canada...

GW: Sierra Leone.

Queen: Not any more, dear.

GW: Uganda?

Queen: We lost Uganda in '63. A shame. The hats were marvelous.

GW: You've still got Tuvalu.

Queen: I AM still the queen of Tuvalu, and Papua New Guinea.

GW: You are the queen of Barbados.

Queen: Yes, and the Bahamas. I like to say they love me anywhere it's breezy. (Laughs.)

GW: (Laughs.) There is something I promised myself I would ask you if I ever met you. Does it feel funny to use money with your own picture on it?

Queen: Use money?

GW: Yes, use money. Oh. Right.

Queen: I have seen it used, of course.

GW: Of course. You have people for that.

Queen: So many people, yes. And cars. And buildings. I count them sometimes when I can't sleep.

GW: So. Sixty-three years on the throne. What are you proudest of?

Queen: I came up with the whole "keep calm and carry on" bit.

GW: No!

Queen: It was just something offhand I said to one of my corgi dogs when he was startled by a colorful ottoman. The next thing I knew, it was on buses.

GW: They are good words to live by.

Queen: Indeed. It's gotten out of hand, though. "Keep calm and smoke weed"? I mean, really. With my crown logo and everything.

GW: Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.

Queen: Perhaps I should receive royalties. Get it? Royalties.

GW: Ha! Nice, but don't quit your day job...Oh. Right.

Wednesday Wa Pic - Public art, private fantasy

 In my dreams, he takes off the hard hat and strikes the same pose. 

Please make the dreams stop.

A wacky riff on this day in history, September 6

Exactly a century ago on this day, September 6, the first-ever tank, nicknamed "Little Willie," was tested for war. Little Willie did not live up to expectations. (They can put that on my tombstone too.)

So they built Big Willie, who did a very efficient job of removing souls from bodies long before Fox News was invented.

Tanks are supposedly called "tanks" because, for secrecy, the military told tank factory workers that tanks were to transport water on the battlefield. I do not think that fooled anybody. Even factory rubes would have known you don't deliver water through a 50 mm gun.

On this day in 1522, the one surviving ship of explorer Ferdinand Magellan's arrived in Spain after completing the first ever circumnavigation of the earth.

"How was it?" the king asked in Spanish.

"We lost the other four ships and Magellan got killed in the Philippines, but on the bright side, we found what you sent us around the world for."

"The Starbucks?"

"Yes, your highness. I'll draw you a map."

It is ironic that Magellan is the brand name of a major GPS manufacturer, considering he never made it home. The symbolism is not great. "Your car will make it back, at least" is not a slogan I see selling a lot of units.

On this day in 1628, the Puritans settled Salem, Massachusetts, so that one day there would be no shortage of clothing stating "My parents drowned a witch and all I got was this lousy t-shirt."

On this day in 1847, Henry David Thoreau left Walden and moved in with Ralph Waldo Emerson. They soon made a pact that nobody could join their club unless he had a middle name that everybody had to say whenever they said his name. Sadly, Francis Scott Key had died four years earlier.

On this day in 1901, Leon Czolgosz, whom history inevitably reports to us was unemployed, shot President McKinley, who had a job. Czolgosz, who was found to be suffering from too many consonants, was electrocuted by the state.

This is still not the worst thing that has ever happened in Buffalo.

In 1930, game designer Charles Foley was born. He would go on to invent the game "Twister." Before Foley, the phrase "right foot green" had a decidedly more dire connotation.

History has a lot to teach us, you see, none of which you just read.

. . .

Wednesday Wa Pic - A bad case of roof pandas

 On paper, the eucalyptus shingles did seem suspiciously cheaper than the alternatives.

Dropping daughter off at college brings bittersweet feel-splosion

Last week I helped move my daughter into the dorms better than any of the other parents. You might not think it is possible for this to be competitive, and then again, you might not be American.

Some parents required multiple trips back and forth to the car, but I pulled off the elusive and coveted "one-tripper." Set my hand truck horizontal like a flatbed and Tom-Joaded the sucker. Stacked it like a Vegas deck. On the half-mile trek from the car to the dorms, nothing budged. Steinbeck would have penned a sonnet on sight.

Sending your firstborn out from under your roof for the first time is emotional, and in the absence of alcohol, requires a good stacking and hauling task to pull off. Dropping a kid off at college tends to induce flashbacks from her childhood; pincurls bouncing to her shoulders, daddy horseyback rides around the living room, squealing retreats from ocean waves, choir concerts in long black dress and faux pearls.

The elevator up to her floor was a rickety incitement to use the stairs, but necessary for our load. It is no accident that on the campus tour they only show you the ground floor.

We met her roommate, who is also a SoCal homegirl, and who has a car, a freshman luxury, considering the parking permit for a school year could fund a nice laptop.

The girls made forced small talk as I rolled around under the desk connecting the power strip to a half dozen miscellaneous chargers. My freshman year, the only phone I had access to was mounted on the dorm lobby wall. The only charging I did was the cafeteria line at dinner time.

Right after 9/11 I read about a little girl who died on the second plane to hit the World Trade Center. She was four. Turns out she'd been born only one day before my own daughter. She would have been heading to college this fall too. Maybe her mom would have helped her settle in, except her mom was on the same plane.

When the bed was made and the clothes put in drawers and the Wi-fi connected, I gave my girl a hug and I left. It was a long, hot walk back to the car. Lou Gehrig aside, I felt like the luckiest man on the face of the Earth.

. . .

Wednesday Wa Pic - Who stands between YOU and follicular disaster?

 Some of the lesser superheroes have to stoop to marketing to make ends meet.

Horror convention gives father and son a ghoul time

Recently I went to a horror convention, which I want to assure my male readers is not, in fact, shorthand for a baby shower.

Baby showers are certainly horror enough for a man, even it it's your baby. If it's not yours, and the hosts are teetotalers, this veers beyond horror into cruelty. All those tiny, asexual yellow onesies are enough to make a man eat a fireplace poker.

But this was an actual horror expo at the Pasadena Convention Center. The only babies in evidence were props being dragged behind a woman dressed as La Llorona, the famously sad ghost mom.

There were quite a few attendees in costume, although less cleavage on display than your average Renaissance Fair. More giant, bloody mutant rabbits walking upright, though. I don't know what movie/comic book they were from. I don't really keep up with horror, unless you count politics.

I was there because my son is a fan of those horror mazes that amusement parks build in October, and there were discussion panels headed by the creative directors behind them. They were sharing spoilers about this Halloween's plans and getting cheers like the Dodgers used to get.

Who knew there were superfans of horror mazes, who follow news tidbits about upcoming designs the way baseball fans peruse disabled lists? There is a subculture for everything, it appears.

The convention was called "Scare L.A." and this was its third year. Aside from the panels, it consisted of 150 or so vendor booths (typical name: "Dapper Cadaver") selling stuff to scare trick-or-treaters off your lawn. Or spice up your love life. Depends on how you roll.

I enjoyed the exhibit hall the most, with vendors competing to emit the spookiest fog and sell the latexiest ghoul mask. (Horror knows no adjectival limits.)

You could buy a huge, four-foot wide clown face complete with light-up nose. Forget the lawn; that would clear your entire block.

They had severed limbs. Bloody axes. Not those cheap ones you see in the temporary Halloween stores. The good stuff, which appeared as if it had been used on actual screenwriters.

There were booths like "BoogerVampire" and "Brainfarto" and "Toxic Toons." My son is 14. He had the glazed-over look I get when an old Adrienne Barbeau movie comes on. Undiluted bliss.

It was a bonding thing too. You never forget looking at rubber torn-out throats with your old dad. Ah, they grow up so fast.

Wednesday Wa Pic - Grammar rule's are their for a raisin

 Apostrophe misplacement is one sign democracy has begun to falter.

Six flags over California? That's too scary a ride

The idea was floated last year to split California into six separate states, but it failed to make the ballot because, I think, the sponsor didn't give each state a cool enough name. This same issue probably also explains the short life of the Internet-enhancement device, "iSmell." What I'm saying here is—names matter.

Venture capitalist Tim Draper spearheaded the campaign, saying California is too large to manage effectively (subtext: since it's always Democrats doing the managing.) He spent millions of his own fortune on what detractors called "a solution...that didn't address any of our state's challenges."

Plus, who wants to live in the state of "Jefferson"? That is what Draper wanted to call the northernmost portion of California bordering Oregon. It's a reference to Jefferson sending Lewis and Clark to discover Oregon. Either that or Draper is just one huge fan of "All In The Family" spinoffs.

His other bizarre choice was to call the entire wealthy central coast region "Silicon Valley." This would allow San Francisco to be in Silicon Valley even without the assistance of an astounding earthquake. This would create perhaps the wealthiest state in the country. But the name's not cool. Me, I would just call it "Baywatch." Tourism would soar.

Draper divided the rest of the state into generic North, Central, West and South California. How could he not notice that North California has the greatest county in the entire U.S.? Yolo. There's your state, dude. "YOLO." You Only Live Once. Think of the zip-line franchises. Think of the t-shirt sales.

Central California, the food basket of the nation, has Kings County. Boom, the state of "Kings." That's how you name a state, my brother. The flag could be a head of garlic with a crown on it.

West California does not have any good county names to use, but since it includes L.A., let's just call the whole state "Kanye." The state song could be "Gold Digger."

South California we should just call "Julian." Give out an apple pie with each marriage license and be done with it.

Under Draper's plan, the U.S. would end up with 55 states. The cost of changing flags and maps would bankrupt every school district and state capitol. Worst of all, this would completely blow up Schoolhouse Rock's "Fifty Nifty United States" song.

Mr. Draper, have you no decency, sir?

Wednesday Wa Pic - The varied meanings of words

 

Toilet supply store? Brothel? I didn't ask.

Hitchbot, we hardly knew ye

Canada has a long history of trying social experiments out on the U.S. For example, Celine Dion. But its latest one feels like a setup.

A handful of Canadian professors created a festive-looking robot and sent it out into the world to "hitchhike." The question they wanted answered was, "Can robots trust humans?"

Well, it turns out that Hitchbot can trust Canadian humans and Dutch humans and German humans, but not the denizens of Philadelphia. After just two weeks in the states, Hitchbot's head and arms were torn off and its body discarded roadside like a bad Kardashian spinoff. Well, like a Kardashian spinoff.

With arms and legs made of blue foam "pool noodles," whimsical yellow rain boots and a large bucket-like head, Hitchbot was bound to get a beatdown in the U.S. Our tolerance for bucket-heads generally only extends to presidential hopefuls. We may be on the road to "post-racial" but I don't think Americans will ever be "post-robot." And certainly not "post-blue legs/yellow boots." Hitchbot could have been assaulted on grounds of fashion alone.

He was supposed to be picked up by altruistic motorists and driven around the country like a real hitchhiker, except without getting slain. Somebody in Philly jumped straight to the slaying part, which is just un-American. We are a car culture after all.

Hitchbot's never-completed "bucket" list included tanning at Myrtle Beach, seeing Yellowstone geysers and posing with the Hollywood sign. One could also add to his list, I suppose, the return of his own bucket at this point.

I might be tempted to think this whole thing was a setup to make Americans look bad compared to Canadians, except:

a) Canadians are too nice to even think of that, and
b) We don't need any outside help to pull that off

Hitchbot was powered by an iPhone in its head, evidently, which is reason enough for the decapitation and theft, and it's too bad the Canadians did not have the suspicious forethought to set up its "find my phone" function. Even if they had, I doubt that Canadians would go after the thieves. They would probably consider that too rude.

I like Canada. It gave us William Shatner and maple syrup. But it embraced its British forebears while we threw ours out and invented freedom. And, unfortunately for them, we eat social experiments for breakfast.

 

Armadillo-geddon!

I hear that leprosy cases are way up in Florida this year, and it is not even an election year. (That is a dig at somebody. I haven't figured out who yet.) Local scientists suspect that rising contact with armadillos is causing the uptick.

(Side note: I saw Leprosy Uptick at the Troubadour in '79, back when punk was still punk.)

"What's new in your state?" "Oh, we're having a leprosy uptick"...said no governor, ever.

Imagine if the entire U.S. itself were undergoing a leprosy uptick. The president would be blamed immediately for being "soft on armadillos."

They are adorable. Have you seen the babies? Like little grenades with faces.

Did you know that armadillos are the only other animal known to carry leprosy? I decided to compile a list of other traits which only humans and armadillos share:

• Indifference to U2
• Thick armor which even Oprah combining forces with Deepak Chopra cannot often pierce
• The enjoyment which only comes from spitting

All right, "enjoyment" is perhaps a strong word, but yeah. Armadillos spit when riled. Their spit contains the bacteria which causes leprosy. As armadillo habitat is destroyed for subdivisions, more armadillos are coming into contact with humans, and humans do not always use the greatest judgment, especially if they are Floridian humans.

The incubation period for leprosy can be between five and twenty years! Suddenly you are experiencing odd symptoms—skin lesions, claw-like hands, collapsed facial features—and you go, "Oh yeah, back in '95 you dared me to kiss that armadillo outside Hooters. What are the odds that would come back to bite me?"

The Center for Disease Control admits you are unlikely to contract leprosy from an armadillo, but recommends you avoid contact with them "when possible," which is always. It is always possible. Even after Jello shots, people. As the saying goes, if it's close enough to spit on you, it's probably already got a boyfriend anyway.

Luckily, in the U.S., leprosy cases are mostly found in Texas, Louisiana and Florida, states which can be easily avoided if you have a smart phone. I only know one person in those states, and she is unlikely to rile armadillos. Unless the armadillo is a Democrat.

Anyway, antibiotics can take care of it nowadays. Leprosy, I mean, not liberals. Donald Trump has been working on a cure for liberals for years. Trouble is, nobody wants to kiss him.

Wednesday Wa Pic - What The Animals would be singing about today

 This has not been the ruin of many a poor girl.

Infidelity dating site is hacked; slow news week is unaffected

By now you have heard about the Ashley Madison hack, or at least your lawyer has. If you do not know what an "Ashley Madison" is, look in the dictionary under "End Times--Harbingers of."

To keep it simple, it is a Web site where married people can search for people with whom to have affairs. Back in my day, we called this "community theater."

The pastime has gone tech since then, though. Now it's like shopping online, but without waiting for shipping.

"Ashley Madison" combines two of the most popular girls' baby names from 25 years ago, which is just about the right fantasy age target, I'm guessing, for men who sign up. Madison is still in the top 10 for babies, though, which is a little icky, frankly.

But the name is incidental. Guys being guys, they would jump on board if the site were called "Tugboat Repairs." Nobody knows the exact ratio of men to women on the site, but I would bet 100 to 1 would not be far off.

This week hackers purportedly acquired the names, addresses, fantasies and photos of Ashley Madison's 37 million members, threatening to release them if the site was not shut down. The site was not shut down. As of this writing, the members' info has not been released.

Well, they supposedly outed a guy in Massachusetts and a guy in Canada, just as a sample. Imagine, your odds are 37 million to 1 and you still get picked. I would get on a plane to Vegas. I'll bet my wife would pack my bags.

Ashley M labels itself the "most famous name in infidelity," but I think that governor, Mark Sanford, who "hiked the Appalachian Trail" is up there. Tiger Woods. Arnold Schwarzenegger.

It is the only one I just named which charges a fee, however. It even charges a fee to erase all traces of you from its site, so they get you coming and going, which is certainly fitting.

I'll bet you when this blows over, A.M.'s membership numbers will get a nice bump. I am sure there are people who had not even heard you could sign up for affairs as easily as ordering CDs from Amazon.

Despite the slick marketing, infidelity seems like a lot of work to me. Plus, when you're done, you probably feel like ordering a pizza. I say why not just cut to the chase?

. . .

Wednesday Wa Pic - Moments in bad marketing brainstorming

 Gives a whole new meaning to "Let it go, let it go..."

College orientation turns out to be blast for parents

My wife and I attended our daughter's college orientation last week even though, together, we don't even constitute one rotor of a helicopter parent. But since we had to drop her off anyway, parent orientation sounded fun. I thought we might learn some insider parent songs, at least. Maybe a secret nose-wiggle that would get us past the guard at the building with the gargoyles. Nope.

We were met by an army of student orientation ninjas, though, each spaced about 10 feet apart for a quarter mile, directing us to the student union for the presentation, What It Means To Be A Bulldog. (Actual college mascot altered for privacy, plus, let's face it, "bulldog" is the height of mascotry.)

What does it mean to be a bulldog? You should have pride! (I totally called it.)

The students went their way and we stayed behind so we could watch a video about how safe the campus is. Also how doctors are standing by to treat our precious kids whenever necessary, as long as we pay the mandatory annual medical fee. "But our kid is already covered by our insurance," several parents said. "What part of 'mandatory' do you not understand?" the admin asked (in so many words), the subtext being that college is as good a place as any for a kid to learn that bureaucracy is not just a word.

We were escorted out to the quad and into tents with nice box lunches for which we had prepaid, and, blatantly catering to our particular demographic, they played songs from our youth like "Night Fever" and "Girls Just Want To Have Fun."

An enthusiastic student then toured us around the school, pointing out the place where, in the fall, the science geeks launch pumpkins with catapults, and the medical building where there is a robot mannequin which gives birth 10 times a day for onlookers. Impressive, yes, until you find out there is a Starbucks right in the library.

The dorms were spanking new, and were just a few steps from the spanking new student cafeteria. There is also a little cafe if you are hungry after hours. In my day, car-less, we had to walk a mile to a Naugles for succor. Times have changed.

Even freshmen have it good. They have this thing now you can rent called a microwave-fridge combo. In my day—toaster ovens. I tell you, I was born too soon.

Wednesday Wa Pic - Moments in misguided gardening

 "Put them every 10 feet or that gravel will never sprout," the foreman said.

Wednesday Wa Pic - Company naming is crucial to success

 A focus group helped this company choose a name, after its original choice, "Blow It All," brought in few customers.

Anniversary getaway brings oxygen deprivation, good burgers

The wife and I spent a couple of days this week in Idyllwild, a small mountain town whose name in Cahuilla Indian means "Scented candles half off with your purchase of wind chimes." 

It is a touristy little hamlet in the forest where, apparently, some city ordinance requires every store to have a carved wooden bear out front holding a sign. I guess it's so if you are a bear, you will know you are welcome to come in and freely buy the incense/dream catcher/shave ice/buffalo jerky which is on offer.

It was our 20th anniversary, and the traditional gift for the 20th is china, but in earthquake country that is like tempting fate with bacon and a red velvet cupcake. So we decided a couple of days in the fresh piney air away from the kids was a better call. 

I am writing this from the balcony of a foresty cabin overlooking a creek. Birds are twittering back and forth, as if to say "Yeah, for these prices I think the wi-fi ought to be stronger too."

A place like this can't just give you ordinary soap. No. The shampoo was made from coffee extract, and came from the dispenser like some kind of punch line to a motor oil joke. I have to say, though, it smelled great, and my hair never felt more ready to take the SAT.

Towns like this always have great food. There is something about the lack of oxygen which, ironically, really allows a chipotle-pineapple burger to breathe. 

In the mornings, they delivered a basket of still-warm scones to our cabin door. I have seen every season of "Downton Abbey," but I would still not call myself a "scone person." Until now. Random related thought: currants are so lucky to have even this one job.

We spent some time hiking peaceful nature trails and taking in the view from scenic outlooks. We poked around the shops, and it quickly became clear that, like the wooden bears, each store was required to play ethereal new age music and sell massage oils (hemp seed is a favorite), watermelon soap, tie-dye dresses or funny kitchen slogan signs. We held fast and were not seduced by these worldly temptations.

Anyway, happy 20 years, honey. Without you, I might have gone to my grave never knowing just how many types of probiotic tea they sell.

. . .

Wednesday Wa Pic - But maybe not the best advertising agency

 If you have to put "best" in quotes, it kinda raises a question...

Wednesday Wa Pic - Don't lose your head over tennis

 My opponent had a really wicked backhand, but at least I found a career in sales.

Wednesday Wa Pic - Fill 'er up? Not very often, I'm guessing

 Because nothing screams "Date me!" like gas cap flair.

Wednesday Wa Pic - So you're stuck here with the rest of us

 And when you don't open it, or don't close it, it makes the sound of one hand clapping.

Photo credit: Jill Gold. Thanks, Jill!

Wednesday Wa Pic - But after Labor Day, it's considered tacky

 Because nothing says summer like appearing to hide a head wound.

Wednesday Wa Pic - Reanimation science jobs have their perks

 I always wondered why I never saw the good doctor's car on the street.

Wednesday Wa Pic - When fusion goes too far

 The original? You mean this caught on?

Wednesday Wa Pic - Ziploc with zing!

 The accent is on flavor.

Wednesday Wa Pic - That poor train operator

 But as soon as this train comes to a stop...it's ON.