Akin to Curt

I thought I might have mentioned the story about Curt, the guy who ran the Didde-Glaser printing press next to mine on second shift, somewhere along the line, but I cannot find it on the blog. Curt would come in at 3pm when the rest of us were getting off, and he was known to come in with a bit of a buzz. As he explained it to me, he would go down by the lake for lunch and sometimes have a six-pack somehow and then it was time for work. Of course, he was carrying on a tradition–some of the old-timers (they were all old-timers at the print shop which was over 100 years old by the time I worked there 1996 to 1998) would bring in six packs and drink them while they worked. Not a thing by the 1990s, and not a thing I would do working with industrial machines that could rip your arm off.

But sometime in the middle of my stint there, I was telling Curt all about how much you could find out about a person in the Internet. Bear in mind, this was 1997ish. And I was on America Online, the last company to buy Time Warner and die (I’d short Netflix if I could about now).

I came in with a printed (surely sheet-fed by then and not dot-matrix, but one never knows) pages including his address and a map to his house. And I asked him if that was his address even though the electric bill had a different first name.

It was his kid’s name–when he couldn’t make the payment, the electric company cut him off, and he had it reconnected in his kid’s name. As a certain segment of the population was wont to do in those days where the internet was in its infancy and all the things were not yet connected.

I thought about this yesterday when I mentioned to my oldest son, who is old enough to sign contracts now, that if he registered for a free trial of Fox One or whatever, we could watch the Packers game. I couldn’t do it because I’d used the free trial to watch the Packers game two or three weeks ago. I cancelled the trial before half time because it was not going well for the Packers.

And he did, so we watched the football game. Well, the boys watched the first half of it, and I stuck until the bitter and disappointing end.

But for a brief moment, I was just like Curt, briefly. I hadn’t thought of him for many years, maybe a decade ago. When I searched the Internet for him again then I found his obituary and was momentarily shaken. Because in my memory, he’s younger than I am now.

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Jet Set Brian

You are forgiven if you read the title like this:

Heaven knows I did.

This time last week, I was in Florida. My beautiful wife had purchased a “marketing package” from one of our timeshare companies in 2022, back in the days when I had an income. It was a three night stay at a resort in Orlando, and we would have to attend a pitch for buying more timeshare. She pushed it off as long as she could, but it finally came time to fly down or sacrifice our prepayment. So we did.

Springfield offers (likely subsidized) direct flights, but at odd times. So we were at the airport at 6:30, and we were in the Orlando area a little after noon. I say area because the direct flight was to Sanford, Florida, about an hour north of the southern part of Orlando where we stayed. We got to Orlando, had an early dinner, and I was wiped since I’d been up since 3am. So I read a bit and went to bed early.

The next day, we had the sales presentation. It was supposed to be only two hours, but they let us marinate for a full three and a half, sweating us or letting us discuss the pros and cons of an additional purchase. I said earlier “one of our timeshare companies” because when she bought the package, we had two, but this company bought our other company, so now we have one. Being the cynic I am and seeing how they’ve only partially integrated, I think company #2 is going to skim the best of company #1’s properties and get some of company #1’s owners to buy in and then spin the rump of company #1 off. These companies are always coming up with novel ways to acquire each other and to create new “ownership” products that are good for the company. It didn’t help that the place where we had the sales pitch was the same place we had it 11 years ago, when we bought. Back then, the plans were to develop the whole plot, with buildings surrounding the little “lake” in the center. In 2025, the project was not completed, and the company representative said they would probably not build new again since it was time-consuming and expensive, whereas fiscal gimcrackery was easier and has better ROI (well, I inferred the last part). So the great importance of buying now did not affect us, even if we could. I’m starting to wonder if the timeshares were a good idea at all, but we skipped a year and bugged out on our vacation this year. Eh, who knows.

But! I took a weekend trip. What did I do on my trip?

  • We went to an outlet mall after our sales pitch and the next day we went to an Orange County park. It was a low-key visit with no amusement park trips or anything especially touristy.
  • We had two dinners out and several in.
  • I read a bunch of magazines, a couple issues of First Things, New Oxford Review, and Reader’s Digest. Even though I did bring books (including What the Frost?, I stuck to the magazines. And during our walks, I made several allusions to what I read in Reader’s Digest. The others, not so much.
  • It was, however, a three-Wargames weekend. My wife mentioned she had seen the film again on a recent flight while we were flying; because the building we were staying in was the Ville de Falconi, I unlocked the room door at one point and said, “We’re in. It thinks I’m falcon!” (which she didn’t recognize because she doesn’t say it when logging into any new device for the first time), and New Oxford Review had a piece called “DEFCON, Neocon, Katechon” which alludes to the film.
  • I missed what might be my only chance to say “Mele Kalikimaka” to a native Hawaiian–the woman giving the group part of the sales pitch. One never knows when one will get another opportunity to speak to a native Hawaiaan in December.
  • Wondered if the decorators of the room knew that they had two of the same picture in it.

    Or if one of the housekeepers was playing a little joke.

  • Got to watch most of the Packers game which we could not do at home. But turned it off near the end when they were done before the Broncos were. Just like home in the days when we had DirecTV NFL Sunday Ticket.

At any rate, it was an okay trip. It was nice to spend some time alone with my wife–but we will someday soon be empty nesters spending all of our time together alone. We did have to leave Orlando at 3:45am to catch a 6:30 flight home, but I slept better and was able to function Monday afternoon. But it was essentially two travel days for two days of vacation which is a little much for my taste, especially as it involved airports.

Once home, though, the bad habits resumed. Spending too much time doomscrolling at the computer because my one contract needs me to be available even though I only bill for times I’m working–not all of the available time.

Also, I thought “Zoot Suit Riot” was Squirrel Nut Zippers, but it clearly is not. The rockabilly/Big Band sound had a brief moment back in the middle 1990s, ainna?

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Book Report: What the Frost? by Ben Wolf (2021)

Book coverWell, this book (which I just bought in October) is kind of a Christmas book. I mean, it stars Santa Claus, and he’s trying to save Christmas, so….

Okay, here’s the deal: Santa Claus’ marriage is in trouble because he looked at a Victoria’s Secret catalog a couple of decades ago. On Christmas Eve, as he’s preparing his trip, the reindeer, zombified, attack. After he dispatches them, he discovers only young Rudolff is unaffected. He seeks help from a cantankerous but inventive elf recently fired for drinking who provides him with an engine he developed and which NASA and SpaceX are interested in. They outfit the sleigh with it, but then Santa finds that the MacGuffin is missing. It’s a Timepiece, a time and space device that allows him to deliver all packages around the world in time. Father Time has taken it and offers it back in exchange with a night with Mrs. Claus. Santa says no, and Father Time sets a couple of zombie polar bears on the elves.

Santa looks to find Father Time and to save Christmas and heads into the blizzard with the inventive elf, whose dark elf cousin comes along to protect him. Then booby-trapped puffins attack; they join up with their weapons expert Vladimir Putin (this being before the current war made him into the tabloid supervillain he has since become); they fight zombies but are saved by mermaids; dinosaurs attack; et cetera.

So it’s a bit of a romp where you never know what might happen next. It’s chock full of allusions to pop culture, including Indiana Jones, Die Hard, Frozen, and others. It’s the kind of thing I would have written in high school, kind of reminiscient of Samurai Cat and not unlike Rickshaw Riot.

So I am down to two Ben Wolf titles…. Will I make it through them both this year? Tune in and find out!

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Movie Report: Pump Up the Volume (1990)

Book coverWell, since I just mentioned the film’s soundtrack, when I had a little free time, I looked for this videocassette which must be one of the most played ones I’ve ever owned. I bought it at Suncoast Video at Northridge Mall when I was in college, and as I had a small video library at the time and, somehow, a lot of free time even though I was involved in activities at the university and working full time, I watched it over and over again. Which probably means I got it my freshman or sophomore year when I was not quite as busy. Regardless, I’ve seen it enough times that even the previews before the feature (for The Book of Love and Metropolitan) were familiar.

At any rate, for those of you who haven’t seen it: A high school student, Mark Hunter (played by Christian Slater), has recently moved to Arizona from back east when his father has become the superintendant for the school district. His father bought him a short-wave radio to talk to his friends back east (this was in the days when long distance was expensive, young feller), but he instead runs a pirate radio station and broadcasts at 10pm every night. Although he is shy in person and has not made any friends, his broadcasts attract the attention of the local students, including Nora DeNiro (Samantha Mathis) who sends poems to his PO Box. Matters take a serious turn and the authorities start looking for him when he talks to a suicidal young man on the air. Suspecting it’s a prank, Happy Harry Hard-On (his on-air persona) teases the fellow but tries to calm him when he then suspects he’s serious–and the boy kills himself after hanging up. Meanwhile, the school principal is expelling students on thin pretexts to thin the herd while keeping the funding, and this comes to light as the FCC closes in on Mark.

The movie gives Slater a chance to go into on-air rants about the concerns of Generation X, and it spoke to me at the time. Come to think of it, the anti-consumerist and desire for authentic experience could probably apply today–I thought about offering to watch it with my young adult children to show them that some concerns might be universal for the age–but it’s an old movie by now and might as well be in black and white to them. Plus, Samantha Mathis appears topless briefly, and although that was a staple for late 20th century cinema, it is definitely not for 21st century movies, and they would be scandalized.

So although I’m not going to rewatch it every week or every couple of weeks as I did when the videocassette was new, I can definitely imagine watching it again.

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Not That Impressive

This Milwaukeean read 138 books this year. Which does he recommend?

I mean, it’s ahead of me–I might end up with 90 this year if I read fast (my book year ends the week after Christmas, although I have been considering calling a lid on it when I finish my current book because, 2025, man).

The late blogger Randy Jackson read thirty books a month. Jeez, he died like 10 years ago. Do I still have to use “late” when talking about someone dead that long? I’m sure there’s protocol on it.

I suppose 138 looks impossible to someone who maybe reads one or two or none, but if I changed my reading habits from doomscrolling blogs and Substacks, I could probably hit that mark consistently. Or at least once.

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Book Report: Mackinac Island by Robert E. Benjamin (2014)

Book coverThis is the third of the three local history books I picked up in our trip up north in 2018 which featured a brief visit to Mackinac Island, a famous resort island more famous because it does not allow cars, so people traverse the island in horse-driven conveyances or bikes. In the summer. I have to wonder if they use snowmobiles in the winter and presume so.

I read Mackinac Island: Its History in Pictures in 2018 and We Live on Mackinac Island in 2021.

This book, of course, is more like the former than the latter. A high-level history of the region chronologically, with a paragraph for various years starting in 1624 and continuing to the present day, although the story thins out toward the end “continued being a resort, basically” was the history. In its history section, it also goes far afield, talking about some of Schoolcraft’s trips in the upper Midwest and some of Pere Marquette’s trips which were outside Mackinac Island.

But it’s sprinkled with historical photos and starts with Indian legends and ends with touring information, so definitely a tourist take-away. Which I was and did.

We only visited the island for a couple of hours on a summer day. What did we do? Took a tour in a horse-drawn carriage. Walked around the fort. Walked around the lower commercial area a bit. And took the ferry back to the UP where we crossed the bridge back to the LP where we were staying.

When I showed my beautiful wife what I was reading, she started to daydream about places we could visit: Sanibel Island again, maybe the keys, Mackinac Island (staying on the island, perhaps)…. But, you know, that’s interesting and all, but when I do that sort of thing or when I’m on vacation, I think, “What would it be like to live there?” Like, for a period longer than a week? Wintering on Mackinac Island? Spending a year on Sanibel Island? I would still be an outsider–hell’s bells, I still feel like an outsider in Southwest Missouri even though I have ancestors from the area and I’ve lived here for sixteen years. Probably I’d feel like an outsider anywhere, and I would probably adjust and get bored living anywhere.

Perhaps it’s just best to visit places for a little bit and to read up on their history from the comfort of my own home.

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A Prediction That Did Not Age Well

I’ve often said, including on this blog in 2016, that Disney would buy Nintendo.

Ted Gioia says today on Substack that Disney itself might be a buyout candidate by a big tech firm:

A few weeks ago, Disney announced another miserable quarter—with profits from its entertainment business dropping 35%. Its margins are ugly, and there’s no clear plan for a turnaround in sight.

The company is so creatively drained that CEO Bob Iger actually wants users to generate their own Disney content. What’s next? Does he want us to build our own theme parks? Should I start my own troupe of Mouseketeers in the basement?

The company is looking for a new CEO—and the sooner, the better, if you ask me. But none of the likely candidates inspire much trust. So the company’s Matterhorn-sloped downward slide is likely to continue with accelerating speed.

I’m convinced that the House of Mouse will soon get swallowed up by a tech titan. I see Apple as a likely buyer, but Disney might also get acquired by Google, and bundled with its YouTube business.

He’s probably more right than I was.

My, the world has changed in those eight years since I posted that.

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Book Report: Bo Jackson: Playing the Games by Ellen Emerson White (1990)

Book coverI don’t know when I got this book, but I picked it up with a couple of other shorter books not so much because I’m looking to pad my annual stats (although I am), but because they were on the collapsed bookshelves where I last think I spotted Time and Again by Jack Finney which I wanted to pick up since I just finished Time & Again by Clifford D. Simak. I didn’t find the book I was looking for, but I did find this little Scholastic sports bio.

Bo Jackson was a big deal in the late 1980s, ainna? He played baseball and football and had a huge Nike ad contract–remember the Bo Knows commercials?

This book, written in 1990, was at the peak of his career. It’s kind of read that kind of bio, brimming with optimism. In 1991, a football injury caused him to miss time in the football season and the whole baseball season; he came back to baseball, won comeback player of the year, but retired in 1994. So he probably did not play long enough to get into either sport’s Hall of Fame–although he is the only athlete so far to have been a two sport all star. But that’s beyond the scope of the book.

The book itself tells about his youth, 8th of 10 chlidren and a bit of a J.D. but not a gangbanger or anything (apparently). It talks about him taking up sports after he straightened out and being a natural athlete who didn’t like to practice, but got through on sheer athleticism, much to his coach’s chagrin. He did multiple sports in college and completed his four years despite being drafted his junior year.

So the book’s a bit of a hagiography, of course, and geared to kids, although perhaps Jackson would not be the best inspiration for them, at least in how practicing and study of a particular sport go. However, he seems a standup guy. He’s remained married to his college sweetheart and has done charitable work after his retirement.

The book mentions, in passing, Deion Sanders, who was just coming into the leagues then. I mention this because I read a similar biography of Sanders in 2012.

So the hunt for the Finney continues after a couple of other books.

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Book Report: Time & Again by Clifford D. Simak (1951, ?)

Book coverWhenever I read Clifford D. Simak’s books (such as City, Mastodonia, or Project Pope), I think they’re…. interesting. But not compelling, which is why they are spaced so far apart in the archives (2010, 2017, 2020, and now 2025). They all feature great sweeps of time or time-travel or distant futures and big questions and although the characters are not bad, they’re do not make for heroes or compelling reading.

At any rate, in this book, a spacefarer who has been missing after going to an isolated and potentially dangerous planet returns after twenty years, but before he does, an unknown person or entity approaches an agent of Earth’s security forces to explain that they should kill Sutton, the traveler. The unknown person is from the future, and he wants to make sure that Sutton does not write a book. Because Sutton, who died in a crash on the planet but was revitalized by the aliens there and put in touch with the entity paired to him, his Destiny, which all living things have. And Sutton will write his reflections in a book which will become a religious text at the core of a inter-time war between a faction that wants Man to be the supremest being in the galaxy and to conquer and rule through a corporation that lasts a million years and one that wants to recognize the dignity of all life, particularly androids, which are not robots but rather are humans who are built organically but are sterile.

So that’s the setup, but it’s not the setup–it’s the story as it is revealed two and experienced by Sutton, the main character, who is approached by both factions and others and struggles with his Destiny–well, not the entity he calls Johnny, but he tries to wrap his head around how it’s all going to come to pass, whether he’s in real danger since he has not yet written the book, and discovering the non-human abilities he has been given by the aliens–including the ability to die and to then revive from the power received from twinkling stars–or a ship’s engine.

So it’s a lot of hopscotching and cogitating on the questions about destiny and the paradoxes of time travel, but events just seem to happen to Sutton, and although he’s a sympathetic character, a stranger both to the future where the factions are sending him back in time and to the past (1981, which is 30 years after the book was written, so the future from the book’s present but closer to the book’s publication date than to today), the alien abilities which are revealed as the book progresses makes him a bit of a Mary Sue, and the ending indicates how one faction has successfully nudged Sutton to fulfilling his destiny. So it smacks a bit of nudge and behavioral economics which I find unpalatable.

So I might have a couple of more Simaks lying around, but it is likely to be another half-decade or more until I get to it if I find it.

I do think I have a copy of Time and Again by Jack Finney around here somewhere, a 1970 book with the same title which also involves time travel. Maybe I’ll pick that up sometime soon (when I find it) just because it would seem to be just the right time to do so.

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“Kat Edmondson” Is How We Say “Stacey Kent” In American

KCSM has Kat Edmondson’s “I’ve Got My Love To Keep Me Warm” in heavy rotation this year.

To me, she sounds a lot like Stacey Kent.

Which does not mean she sounds like Stacey Kent.

But heaven knows I equate vocalists who are very different for some reason.

Will you find these Christmas albums on a musical balance post soon? Probably not; I’m topped up on Christmas music for the nonce.

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National, How?

A mass shooting carried out Saturday by multiple suspects in an unlicensed bar near the South African capital left at least 12 people dead, police said. The victims included three children aged 3, 12 and 16.

Another 13 people were wounded and being treated in the hospital. Police didn’t give details of the ages of those who were injured or their conditions.

Note that this took place in South Africa.

Why is this tabbed as “national,” AP?

Because guns-r-bad and we need to get the message out?

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Two Memories From One Post

The post and the comments at Neo’s place entitled When the only lettuce was iceberg led me to some reflections.

In my home, when I was growing up, we used to have salad with dinner most nights, and that salad was iceberg lettuce and a few tomatoes and cucumbers. With Wishbone dressing. There was no thought of any other kind of salad until years later.

We didn’t have salad every night because we were poor, and probably because my mother was not much of a cook and my father’s, erm, not ready to be married ways meant he was not home that often for dinner. Was he? I don’t remember having dinner as a family when I was young. Sometimes, when he brought some game or, erm, poached dishes to the table. But not every night. But, yeah, if we had a salad, even into my college years when I was living in my father and his I’m a little more ready to be married this time wife, salad was torn iceberg lettuce with some tomatoes or onions, maybe cucumber.

Memory one-and-a-half: In those days, I was working as a produce clerk in the early 1990s, and the grocery store in transition where I worked had only a couple types of lettuce. Mostly iceberg, but a narrow assortment of red leaf, green leaf, endive, and maybe some Boston/bibb lettuce. We had almost as many selections of cooking greens, but it was a store in transition, and not on the way up. The produce section of the lesser grocery stores offer greater selections now, and I pity the poor checkout clerks who have to become familiar with that many more mops of foilage.

Memory one-and-three-quarters: One of the commenter mentions:

And as a post scriptum, I had a friend who wrote a hilarious essay for a newsletter about what a delicious treat he would make with a head of iceberg lettuce:

He would cut it in half, and holding one half in his hand, over a kitchen sink, he would cover the open side of the head of lettuce with catsup and devour it by the bite, adding new catsup when he had taken a bite.

Back in those days, a head of lettuce was relatively cheap–like thirty-nine or forty-nine cents ($2000 in 2027 dollars), and I would often just take one for a snack. I’d salt it if I had salt available, or just munch on it as-is. It caused quite a sensation when the wife of the famously literate Swedish mechanic asked me what I was eating as I traversed her back yard to the famous Iron Maiden fan Dave‘s house.

“It’s a head of lettuce,” I said. And she recounted the story to my family and Dave’s family several times, incredulous. But in those late teen years, anything that filled the belly was a boon.

Memory two: Another commentor replies:

Catsup? I rarely see that spelling. Is it a regional thing?

Ah, gentle reader. I myself held onto that spelling long into the 21st century.

Commentors on my Facebook post indicated I was wrong. But, in my defense, the Dillon’s grocery store had this on its signage even then. Of course, Dillon’s is gone, replaced by a King Cash Saver (briefly) that has turned into a Red Racks and auto parts store (I have been here long enough that I can talk about what things used to be, and sometimes natives don’t even remember).

I’m not sure how I spell it now. I don’t have course to write it much, and I’m never the one to add it to the shopping list. But I’m probably still on team Catsup.

So how many memories did Neo’s post trigger? Two, or four, or more?

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Therefore But For The Grace Of God….

Dad dies after dropping barbell on chest in freak accident at the gym

I generally don’t have a spotter, either, unless my youngest and I are working on the same body parts during one of our infrequent trips to the rec center over in Republic. It’s funny: We signed up for 3 months to try it out, and we went all the time; we signed up for another 3 months, and we went all the time; we signed up for the full year, and…. Well, it’s a long way (about twelve minutes away, a handful shorter than the YMCA, but less expensive).

Which is why I don’t ever push it and max out on barbell bench presses. I know the risks. And I’ve only had to be helped one time where I worked to the point of failure and the bar would go no further.

I also wear gloves, so the bar doesn’t “slip” out of my hands.

But, geez. Makes me feel better about skipping this weekend.

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Another Wing Added To The Gallery of Regrettable Food

Spotted in Ozarks Farm and Neighbor magazine: Frito Cowboy Cabbage

That is, basically, cole slaw with canned black beans and Chili Cheese Fritos in it.

You know, for the most part, here on the Internet and in places where I go, people eat more elevated fare (or, in the case of the Internet, order it cold and expensive delivered).

But out in the real world, people with families are still trying to stretch their food budgets in novel ways.

So perhaps I should not comment archly here given that in 2026 or 2027, I might be eating noodles with fried eggs and rice with beans for two square meals a day.

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Seeds Sown Decades Ago

I dunno what I was doing–making the bed or folding laundry–and a song from the Pump Up The Volume came to mind: “Tail O’ The Twister” by Chagall Guevara.

I mentioned that movie, and I’ve mentioned that the soundtrack how the soundtrack is one of my favorites, and this might be my favorite song from it.

I mean, the lyrics don’t make a whole lot of sense, but it does mention Trump Tower. As did so many things back then.

I played the cassette until it warped, and I eventually got the CD. And I listened to it again yesterday. And felt, briefly, like I was 22.

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