Where are you Mrs. Coffman?

Halloween in the small community where I grew up was a tad on the limited side.  Every house sat on an acre with most of us having another acre empty lot in between.  The housing development wasn’t ever developed to its potential, at least not while I was a kid (later on after I graduated high school the place really boomed and is now covered in houses).  It was almost like living in the country because between us and the nearest signs of civilization was about five miles of grassland or farmland.  The advantages of being able to roam around the countryside were great but you did have those moments when you realized this kind of life had its disadvantages for kids.

Halloween was one of those moments.  There were only 10 houses in the community and two were filled with mean old folks who didn’t do Halloween so you were limited to the eight.  All of us kids would dress up, walk around to the other seven houses, come home, swap costumes, go again.  Two times around was the limit so you knew your candy intake was limited from the start until that wonderful day the Coffman family moved into one of the mean old people’s houses and Mrs. Coffman set up shop.  She made sure we made their house the last stop because it would be the climatic event of the evening.

This lady knew Halloween!  You walked into the house and were treated to spiderwebs, complete with spiders, multiple jack-o-lanterns, Frankensteins, Draculas, and yes, witches.  In fact, Mrs. Coffman always dressed up as a with and served us punch out of a cauldron, steaming cold from the dry ice inside of the brew, and had the best treats.  Rice Crispy bars, caramel apples, and colored popcorn balls were always on hand along with whatever Halloween cookies she had baked up.  For a kid it was hog heaven and it made the evening complete!   I know all of the other mothers around the housing development suffered from Halloween envy but that was okay because it tended to make them get better treats to give out each year.

Every Halloween I wonder where Mrs. Coffman is and if she still makes this night magical for neighborhood kids.  I kind of doubt it though since our society has become dangerous enough that no one hardly knows their neighbors much less trust their kids to walk around alone in the dark on Halloween.  Heaven forbid you allow your child to go into a house all decorated up by a matronly soul dressed up as a witch because you just know that she has to be a perv, right?  Isn’t it sad that the innocence of youth has been swept away and the Mrs. Coffmans of this world are no longer allowed to treat kids to what Halloween used to be about – pure fun and imagination.  I think this country of ours needs to find Mrs. Coffman and let her lead the restoration of innocence to our society.  Would it really work?  Of course not but at least we can dream that it would.

Tonight I think I will treat myself to a caramel apple and wonder out loud, “Where are you Mrs. Coffman?”

The Four Meme

Winding the day down and thought I would post something so I stole this meme from Dana, who has a slew of memes on her blog.  I know, no thinking involved but really, who wants to think at the end of the day?

Four Jobs I’ve Held:

1. Machinist
2. Preacher
3. Community Relations/Volunteer Coordinator
4. Farm hand/Tractor  driver

Four Films I Could Watch Over and Over:

1. Kuffs
2. Hatari!
3. A Bridge To Far
4. Phantom of the Opera

Four TV Shows I Watch:

1. Shark
2. House
3. The Office
4. Pushing Daisies

Four Places I’ve Lived:

1. Amarillo, TX
2. Canyon, TX
3. Tuscola, TX
4. Abilene, TX

Four Favorite Foods:

1. Rare steaks
2. Grilled Pork Chops
3. Asparagus
4. Cranberries

Four Websites I Visit Daily:

1. ESPN Sports
2. Yahoo mail
3. Wikipedia
4. Google Search

Four Favorite Colors:

1. Forest Green
2. Navy Blue
3. Black
4. Orange, Burnt Orange baby!

Four Places I Would Love to be Right Now:

1. Greer, AZ fishing for trout
2. Valera, TX hunting for whitetails
3. Memphis, TX hunting for mule deer
4. Anywhere on the coast, fishing

Four Names I Love, But Could/Would Not Use for My Children:

1. Jedidiah
2. Zephaniah
3. Hunter
4. Xonapher

Get it right, man!

There are times when I am watching movies that I have to stand up and scream at the screen, “GET IT RIGHT, MAN!”  If you are going to use weapons in a scene that is “historically correct” then by all means, make sure that weapon existed!  Better yet, if you are going to do a close up on a weapon, be sure it is accurate or don’t come in close at all!

Case in point; I was watching Blue Steel the other night, all happy because a) Jamie Lee Curtis was in it and b) it was an action/murder mystery flick.  So there I am just happy as a clam until the scene where Jamie Lee is getting busy with the Homicide Detective while the murderer is standing in the bathroom loading the pistol he had stolen and being using on multiple victims.  The camera moves in for a close up so we can watch him slide the shells into the revolver’s cylinder and bam!  Right there in front of Charleston Heston and everybody we see that primers on each shell has already been indented by the firing pin.  In other words,

YOU DON’T LOAD ALREADY SPENT SHELLS INTO YOUR GUN, YOU MORONIC HOLLYWOOD DWEEBS!  EVEN WORSE, YOU HAVE THE KILLER WALK INTO THE BEDROOM WITH A GUN FULL OF SPENT ROUNDS TO SHOOT THE HANDSOME HOMICIDE DETECTIVE TWICE!

I have to tell you it ruined the film for me.  I couldn’t watch Jamie Lee after that because I was embarrassed for her having to act with such incompetence.  I think maybe that is why she did so many bad movies immediately after this one, all that shame wearing on her.

My goodness, you might as well put a wristwatch on a trumpeter  in Ben Hur.  Oh wait, they did.  See they can’t even get that right… sigh.

Friday Fugue

My understanding of a fugue is that it is a musical composition that starts with a theme that is retold by several distinct voices throughout the piece (typically orchestral voices) leading up to an episode that ends with a coda of the original theme where the piece is brought to a climax of explosive sound that is following the original theme. Whew, I almost need a cigarette after that explanation. Anyway, I wonder why poems can’t be written in a fugue mode. I suspect it is because poets and composers have a natural hate for each other that started from a rather ugly incident between a drunken Beethoven and a coffee sipping Peter Altenberg at the Cafe Central during a reading of an essay extolling the virtues of executing deaf composers.

Beethoven, having to read Altenberg’s lips, mistook the phrase “Who can bear another mind numbing chorus? Do we really need Fugue 2 Beethoven?” as a personal insult and proceeded to whip Altenberg’s butt with a beer stein. It goes without saying that each camp of artists defended the action of their man and from that time poets have avoided writing anything vaguely familiar to a musical composition. The purists even look upon the lyricists of the day as nothing more than a Judas Iscariot who borders on being an artistic whore.

I say we let bygones be bygones because of several reasons.

1. I’m not a composer and really have no enmity against poets.
2. I’m not a good poet so I can’t really take a self-righteous stand against composers.
3. I’m pretty much going to write about what I want to write about anyway so why let their feud stop me from having a little fun?

So here goes, a vain attempt at a poetic fugue.

Friday’s Fugue

(I’m starting the subject piece here, with several different “voices” chiming in to repeat the theme)

The laundry is piling up

My store of fresh underwear thin

Of detergent I  have but a cup

Not enough to even begin.

The laundry is piling high

The colors sorted from the whites

I’ve no Dockers on which to get by

So I should do laundry sometime tonight.

The laundry is covering my floor

Wet towels and dried rags scattered

And there are socks by the score

Stinking like they really mattered.

(Now we are sliding into the “episode” segment of this poetic fugue)

I drove past the laundry a minute ago

And the washers were all taken

The laundresses are moving to slow

And look to have eaten their fair share of bacon.

I stand at the door and stare them down

Giving them an impatient glare

But they chatter on in faded gowns

As if they didn’t even care.

I pace down the aisle of humming machines

Lifting up lids as I pass

A woman mutters something obscene

That would’ve made my dear momma gasp.

(Okay, pay attention now as we leave the “episode” and journey back to the “subject” or theme in a climatic fashion)

The laundry is piling up my peeps!

My store of underwear is thin!

My colors and whites are separated you creeps

And the smell of the socks makes me cringe!

The laundry is piling up fast!

Can’t you understand?

My poor wardrobe just cannot last

Without washing my clothes, man.

The laundry is piling up!

The laundry is piling high!

The laundry is scattered on my floor!

The laundry is piling up.

(At this point we would fade in a whimsical way that would leave the reader/listener with a bit of angst at the unresolved conflict of my laundry being in a bad need of washing.)

Well there you go! I hope the dust of ol’ Ludwig and Peter is resting easier after having experienced this little Friday Fugue.

Hope you all have a fine weekend.

Travelling Life in an 8 Seconds Eighth of a Mile

I’m not sure at what point tonight I cried with joy but it may have been when Jim asked me, “Frustrated, would you like to go for a ride?” Maybe it was when I was pulling on a flame retardant jacket, strapping in, pulling a helmet on… or perhaps it was even during the burn out and the thrill of having the ‘85 GMC Jimmy pop a wheelie as we started our trek down the quarter mile track and covering it 8 seconds.

The Jimmy can do it much faster but about a third way down the track we started to weave and swerve because the track had only been prepped for street racers which means the first 100 feet is treated so when you have slick tires and hit untreated track your vehicle becomes unstable if you don’t back off a bit. It was a rush nonetheless and I have to tell you I have never thought I would be strapped in a $30,000 rebuilt S15 Jimmy that has 500+ horsepower with 525 pounds of torque feeling your body pressed against the seat as you lose sight of the track and are seeing nothing but sky for a brief moment until the truck comes down and is on its way towards the finish line.

I think I finally understand the adrenaline addiction these folks have when they pull up to the line and why they drop oodles of money into rebuilding old cars to make them come close to flying.

It was a rare moment of feeling the raw power of American ingenuity. How sweet it is.

TT 13 for 10/25/07

Thirteen Items That Should Never Hit a Halloween Bag

Having been a connoisseur of Halloween for ages, I believe I speak for every child when I list the following 13 totally uncool items to toss in a Halloween bag after the call of the Trick or Treat.

1. Broccoli.  In fact avoid anything you can boil and cover with cheese.
2. Carrot Sticks.  Yes they are colorful but they aren’t that good with a Reese’s and do  you really want to be known as the House of Dweebs?
3. A copy of The Watchtower.  Although it does make for a scary costume if you want to dress up in black with ultraconservative shoes and pass these out.  In fact that is almost terrifying.
4. Make that any religious tract or symbol. It is a night for kids to find the almighty sugar rush, not salvation and believe me, they won’t find salvation in a carefully worded tract with an agenda attached.
5. Homemade caramel apples covered in plastic wrap. These are great items to get, but let them pull the one of their choice off of a tray and eat it while trick or treating. That way it won’t melt in their bag.
6. Cheap off the wall brand named candy. You know what I mean… that stuff that you can’t even identify that you paid $1 for a 20 pound bag.  Believe me, all those pieces go into the trash or into the mouth of a toddler who doesn’t know any better.
7. Those coconut candies that have red, white and brown stripes through them. Even dogs won’t eat those, what makes you think a kid will?
8. Pencils. Okay, kids do chew on pencils during a hard test while they are absorbing thinking enzymes from the leaded paint on the pencil, but don’t ruin the night of fun by reminding them they are heading back to school the next day.
9. Sugar free gum. This night is about obtaining the all time sugared high and to diminish that challenge in a child is just criminal.
10. Apples or oranges. Okay, I’ll concede that these make great throwing items but if you are only trying to keep them healthy then wait until two days later when they are so sick of candy they are ready for something healthy.
11. Toothbrushes. Sheesh, give them a bar of soap and a wash rag while you are at it.
12. Colored hard boiled eggs. Wrong holiday Ishmael.
13. A lecture. If you don’t like Halloween and refuse to participate, turn your lights off. They’ll get the message and not bother you. If it was a lecture that they needed, they would’ve gone to the local college to garner their treats.

Halloween Meme

I finally had a chance to check up on my Minnesota friends and I stole a couple of meme’s from Dana just to pass the time. I am not into tagging but I will tag Slvr and Beef just because she has the most interesting scary dreams and he is into scary movies so this one should be right down their ally. Anyone else is free to tag yourself…

What’s the scariest movie you’ve ever seen?

The Grudge I found unsettling. I think the scariest of movies just might be Honky Tonk Man because Clint Eastwood thought he could sing.

What was your favorite Halloween costume as a child?

Anything with multiple wounds or scars.

Given enough money what would be your fantasy Halloween costume?

Shrek. Full sized body and all.

When was the last time you went trick-or-treating?

Long, long, ago in a galaxy far, far away…

What is your favorite Halloween candy?

Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups or Paydays.

Tell us about a scary nightmare you once had?

I did dream once that all of the radio stations only played Country and Western music. I know, terrifying thought isn’t it?

What is your supernatural fear?

I don’t have any but if I did I would probably find lycanthropes a bit unsettling especially if I caught them marking territory around my living room.

What is your ‘creepy-crawly’ fear?

Centipedes or scorpions.

Tell us about a time when you saw a ghost, or heard something go bump in the night?

Once after being up for more than 72 hours straight I watched a white balloon circle about the house. Two things make that weird, 1) there were no balloons in the house and 2) there wasn’t any helium around either to make the balloon fly. I went to bed shortly afterwards.

Would you stay overnight in a real haunted house?

Sure as long as the poltergeist wasn’t flatulent.

Are you a traditionalist or a creative carver of your Jack-O’Lantern?

I start off as creative but if I make enough mistakes I end up a traditionalist to cover up all those unsightly gashes.

How much do you decorate your house at Halloween?

I don’t because I am always decorating someplace else for a carnival and by the time I get to my house I’m over the thrill.

What do you want on your tombstone?

I wrote a whole blog on this once and my favorite one is “The worms! The worms!” but my kids assure me that isn’t happening so I think I’ve limited it to the bottom five;

• Maybe so/Maybe not/But did you know/You’re standing on my plot?
• Okay guys you can quit kidding around now. Seriously. Come on guys, stop messing around. Guys? Guys?
• Did you know your lips move when you read tombstones?
• Well this is nice but it sure ain’t no Forest Lawn.
• Oh now I can grow hair.

Leading the Singing

Hello. My name is Frustrated and I am a Kiwanian.

I know that sounds like the opening to a 12 step program but I do enjoy this organization as we have some silly rituals that we go through every week but most of all, I just enjoy fellowshipping with other club members who work in about every conceivable sector of business within our community. The networking is great!

Back to those silly rituals… one is the singing portion of the meeting. We will sing a couple of songs with one being the song leader’s choice and the other being of a patriotic nature. I have only led singing twice before and that was over two years ago. Since they haven’t asked me to lead singing again I was pretty sure they realized my level of talent in that area is marginal and they were lucky to have survived the first two attempts.

Entering stage left is a new member who has the pleasure of recruiting song leaders who in a pinch asked me to lead singing today. I was at first panicked as I am pretty sure they hang bad song leaders or even worse, banish them to the Lions Club (who are notorious for bad singing). Searching frantically for a viable excuse on why I couldn’t lead singing I found myself, much to my horror, agreeing to his request. Really, I’ve got to stop doing ’shrooms before Kiwanis!

Now I sit here wondering what songs I should pick. Three Steps comes to mind but for some reason it isn’t one of the songs listed. I can’t find anything by the Stones, Styx, Kansas, Asia, Black Sabbath or even the Eagles listed so I will have to look for something a little more archaic.

Well, it is almost hunting season (rifle and pistol) so maybe I should find a suitable hunting song. Something from Bavaria or perhaps Scandinavia… Rats, they don’t have any such thing in the official song book. Hmm, maybe I should go for a song about technological advancements in computer design since that is what our speaker will be yakking about today. What? They don’t have any songs about that? What kind of songbook is this anyway? Surely they have a nice little ditty that will address our celebratory attitude about autumn. Nope, songs about summer is about all they have and I’m beginning to think I am in a heap of trouble.

It looks like I’m stuck with going with one of the standards such as Home on the Range or I’ve Been Working on the Railroad.

Sigh. Free Bird would’ve a been nice change.

Malibu Burning

There are times I am extremely happy I don’t live in California (I think in my last scientific calculation that worked out to be 99.67341% of the time) and last night as I sat watching the news special with Twyla about California burning, I think I upped my happiness level of not living in California to 99.89402%, give or take .0005% percentage points.

I hated to see Malibu burn because I have always wanted to visit there, mainly because of Pepperdine University, but just because it always seems so pretty on TV.  Now I am thinking I probably don’t have such a hankering to visit there and wonder if Glenn Fry might want to rewrite The Last Resort since it doesn’t seem to be such a wonderful piece of property now.  All of those million dollar homes gone… I wonder if insurance companies will be pulling out of California now like they did Texas after the black mold fiasco.

Watching Malibu burn holds a weird fascination for me because it reinforces the desire I have to ask Californians the following question;

“California is hit constantly by mudslides, wildfires, earthquakes, which are conveniently covered up by the smog…. so why in the world would you want to live there?  The standard of living is unbelievable, gas prices higher than anywhere else, real estate prices are totally outrageous which in essence is a commitment by you to live in a disaster area waiting to happen and willing to pay out the wah-zoo for that privilege.   Tell me again, why do you want to live there?“

My heart goes out to the folks who are suffering from the fires but really folks, you might want to consider moving north.  I hear the folks in Washington and Oregon would love to have you come live there.

Frantic Lies

“So what did you think of my performance?” My brain went into hyper-mode taking all available possible scenarios, processing them in multiple best/worst case scenarios and then aligned them next to all possible “tell the truth” scenarios with a final result coming to the frontal lobe bearing a 35.4% probability of a median to good result (which generally means I won’t be a) slapped or b) left standing with a hysterically crying wannabe artist).

“I can honestly say that was the most unique rendition of “Tomorrow” I have ever heard. The added lyrical runs up and down the G# chromatic scale was an added joy since the song was performed in C. I’m not sure just anybody could pull that off.” I wait nervously for their response hoping beyond hope they do not understand music (which seems obvious after witnessing their performance) or realize that my eye twitching is not normal. I am lucky as they smile and begin to tell me how long they had practiced on this particular number. A quick reminder that practice makes perfect is given by me with an even more impassioned encouragement for them not to stop practicing (ten or twelve hours a day wouldn’t be enough) because every true maestro knows your craft is never truly perfected. They nod half-heartedly as they are seeking out their next victim who must also lie to avoid hurting their feelings.

Why is it we ask questions that put folks on the spot? Is it because we know most folks won’t tell the truth and will tell a frantic lie in order to not offend us but instead, add credence to our already cleverly constructed illusions? I’m thinking, “yeah, exactly.” It must be that or we wouldn’t be asking or be asked the following questions;

• “Is that not the best rendition of (fill in the name of the song here) that you’ve ever heard?” Uh no… it isn’t. There is a reason those folks are making buckets load of money to sing that song and you aren’t…
  
• “Am I good or what?” I’m thinking “or what” would be the appropriate response since what you just performed for us would be considered basic skills by most people.
• “Why can’t I get a date? Is it because my talents scare them off?” Why yes, that must be it! It is what I call the train wreck syndrome… when the train is off the tracks and disaster is lying everywhere, no one notices what color the grass is and if you are going to insist on wearing clothes from the 70’s and washing your hair once a week, maybe you should start thinking about the train wreck syndrome a little harder.
• “Does this make me look fat?” Hey, I’m overweight myself and even I know that anything I wear is going to make me look fat. They don’t make skinny fat clothes in the real world… although with a couple of hits of Acid you just might find such attire is available if you can find it before the world melts away.
• “Do you think I come on a little strong?” Absolutely not! Your cologne/perfume drives everyone away at least five minutes before you arrive so how can you even begin to think you come on too strong?
• “Do you like it? It’s my own special recipe!” I do like it! Oh I know my face is scrunched up like I just ate a green persimmon and that whole projectile vomiting bit was just to demonstrate my prowess of hurling on command. Listen, who says enchiladas can’t be purple and the fact you went out on a limb and added alum to the sauce just screams that you are one live-on-the-edge-adventuresome cat! BTW, where is your cat?

I think you get the idea. We can never say what we want to say because somewhere in our history our sweet mother pounded into our brain to be kind and considerate and then strapped us forever with the admonition of “if you can’t say anything good then don’t say anything at all.” Oh, BTW, that doesn’t work either because the one time I chose to follow such advice after my mother prompted me with, “Mrs. Smith worked hard on this casserole. What do you have to say Frustrated?” and I responded with, “Well I think I shouldn’t say anything at all about this casserole” I found my butt getting a little warmer with a switch from Mrs. Smith elm tree. Yikes, talk about confusing a kid!

Maybe we should say what we think and stop the frantic lying. After all, honesty is the best policy… right? What do you think? (I know, I know, I came at you with one of those loaded questions. I’ll leave it up to you whether you want to respond with a frantic lie or just toss the ol’ truth right out there.)