Portmanteau, Part Deux

We love our portmanteau words here at Salt in Wound. But with great power comes great responsibility. So I believe we must also serve as Portmanteau Police, seeking out infractions of the form.

Case in point: A radio commercial for the Subaru Forester that I'm guessing is not airing in the greater Topanga area. The voice talent mentions that the vehicle is "perfect for snow and mud, or the very common smud."

Oh, sure, "smud" is fun to say, and calls to mind "smog" (smoke + fog), which I think they do have in the greater Topanga area. But it places entirely too much emphasis on the mud half of the equation. No, the word that should've been used in this instance is snud.

And I'm sure William Safire agrees with me.

Ziggy

No doubt this escaped your attention, but the author(s) of Ziggy have lately become delusional over the idea of inanimate objects talking to us. This has had the unintended consequence of making the comic strip interesting for the first time in decades, possibly ever.

Often it's a computer doing the talking (Figure 1). These are actually not that interesting. Where it gets weird is when other objects use computer terminology (Figure 2). I simply cannot understand these at all. If these are meant as commentaries on how technology is controlling our lives, how does a seashell fit in?

The talking toilet (Figure 3) represents the most extreme example of the genre. What can this possibly mean? That there is too much inanimate chatter out there? Talking appliances have been around for decades, and have mostly been commercial flops. Recall the 1970s Buicks that warned you when a door was ajar, or the short-lived talking alarm clocks.


I thought perhaps it could be a statement on how AOL stock has gone down the toilet, but that isn't consistent with the overall pattern of comics. And why not say "You've Got Mail"? You don't get to be willfully obscure and indulge in cleaning up grammar at the same time.

Finally, and I really hope I'm wrong here, I thought it might be some inscrutable reference to being "regular", the sort of thing that only someone over 75 would understand.

Any insights from the readership would be welcomed.

White House Press Secretary's Book Excoriates Bush

Here I go again, introducing politics once more into our fairly non-political blog, but I had to get your reactions on this one. Bush's former press secretary, Scot McCLellan, has written a book that will hit shelves Monday in which he absolutely obliterates dubya. He talks about the unparalleled lying, the "culture of deception" and Bush's "decision to turn away from candor and honesty when those qualities were most needed" in our nation as it was on the brink of war. It's all stuff that we've known, but it is decidedly poignant when coming from another former insider in the Bush White House. Of course, the White House's official response via the current press secretary, Dana Perino, is that they all knew Scott was "disgruntled about his experience at the White House." Uh, yeah, wouldn't -or I guess- shouldn't you be??? A bit hard to get past being used as a pawn for the lies of others. Although, perhaps their real argument is that he knew what he was doing, so he should've said something then or not accepted the post out of principle. No matter which way you cut it, it's cynical to say the least, to try and portray yet one more former White House staffer with some insight as "disgruntled" and not worthy of paying attention to.

So here's my question: How high would you have to go in the chain of employees in this administration who have written or will write books, for the White House's official response to NOT paint that person out to be disgruntled and a liar? Will it take Dick Cheney writing a tell all on himself to finally get Bush's press secretary to step up to the podium and say, "Well, Dick knows a lot about... Dick, so this book does have some truth to it. He was -as he admits in the book- 'hell bent' on going to war in Iraq. And he did indeed 'sell that commie bitch, Valerie Plame, down the river' by outing her as a CIA operative. Also, he was in fact the 'de facto head baldy in charge' as it were, so much of the blame can be placed on his hunched shoulders. However, let it be said that President Bush and the rest of us are taken aback by the accusation that the president agreed on all fronts with Mr. Cheney. He certainly did not. It was Mr. Cheney's feeling, for example, that the president should actually keep playing golf throughout the Iraq War as a show of solidarity with the soldiers actually in the Gulf. This 'Golf for the Guys in the Gulf' campaign was too punny in the president's opinion. He much preferred 'Bagging Baghdad For My Dad' as a slogan. So with that in mind, you can see that this book is really just the disgruntled rantings of a former Vice President who really wanted to be president... even though, he actually kind of was president, but not really, at least in an official kind of way, okay?"
I guess that wasn't a question, more of a rant. I'm disgruntled though, so you have to forgive me.

Just for Fun

It so happened we were in S.F. when we stumbled upon Janis Joplin's house for sale. It's in Marin county, for a little over a million dollars. It was a nice wooded dead- end street.

"Yo' Mama" Joke I Wrote Today, End of Sixth Inning, Yankee Stadium

"Your mama is so skinny, when she does the YMCA dance, it's in cursive."

R.I.P. Dick Martin

Laugh-In and Batman were the first and last shows to get me excited about color television. But when I was excited, I was very excited.

The writing on Batman holds up better than the writing on Laugh-In. Even at the time, I knew it was sort of stupid. Ruth Buzzi, Arte Johnson, Alan Seuss and Jo Anne Worley were a freak show. And I found Lily Tomlin to be so huge and unfunny, I've had a hard time recognizing her as the genius she's acknowledged to be ever since.

What made the show work, aside from the obvious charms of Judy Carne and Goldie Hawn, was that it was a party you wanted to be at. And the person who made you want to be there was Dick Martin. He was a great guy with a great laugh who found himself at the center of things for a couple of years. He reminded me a little of my Uncle Alan. I'm guessing he liked to drink.

Anne of the Thousand Days versus The Tudors

When I was ten years old, a movie version of my grandfather's play, Anne of the Thousand Days, was released. He'd made his mark in the 1930s with several historical dramas, written in blank verse, including Elizabeth the Queen (later made into a movie with Bette Davis) and Mary of Scotland (the film starred Katharine Hepburn). Anne of the Thousand Days, about the romance of Henry VIII and Anne Boleyn, was originally staged in the 1940s. Rex Harrison starred as the king and won his first Tony Award.

I don't remember much about the movie, an overblown vehicle for a lusty Richard Burton, but I do recall being completely captivated by Genevieve Bujold as Anne Boleyn. The reason I remember is that the crush would stay with me for years, through high school at least, only reinforced when I saw The King of Hearts.

It's impossible to compare Anne of the Thousand Days to The Tudors because it is impossible to compare the incandescence of a young Bujold with the self-satisfied pig-faced presence of the modestly talented actress who plays the queen in the Showtime series. The only way she surpasses Bujold is in fucking more blatantly for the camera, but, for that, I really have to give partial credit to the changing times.

A Man for All Seasons is being revived on Broadway, no doubt due to the success of The Tudors. Can Anne of the Thousand Days be far behind?

Catch Me In "Recount" on HBO

Self promotion. What an ugly, indulgent, self-serving practice. So very Hollywood, and so very contemptible in every way. So, now that we've gotten that out of the way.... watch me! Please watch me! Okay, perhaps not exactly watch as much as hear me as I provide the voice for George W. Bush in the HBO original movie Recount premiering this Sunday at 9pm EST. As you will see in the film, they used actors who resembled Bush and Gore to play the on camera parts, but the voice of Bush was provided by me. Gore was some other dude. I've been doing dubya for 8 years now in cartoons and so forth, but it's sort of a fitting end to cap it all off with actually playing a more real version of him than the usual caricature version. Although, he is never far from caricature land no matter how hard you try to pull him out of it.

Anyway, I really enjoyed doing this gig and am proud of it, so I hope you enjoy it.

(and yes, the above picture is some Photoshop trickery on my part, apologies to Tom Wilkinson for kicking him out of the line up)

Toys for Girls

Spotted in a toy store in Chinatown, San Francisco:

UPDATES

Time for some updates on your most pressing unresolved Salt in Wound topics!


So how did that spelling bee turn out?


Did I mention that the previous one - the one I won - was held at a hipster bar? By 2008 adult spelling bees had become passé, replaced by Guitar Hero contests.

How about the trip to Estonia?

I have it all planned out, but I have yet to make any actual reservations. I've concluded that Estonian will be an impossible language to pick up over the next 4 months, and that I'm not nearly as good at the sport of rogaining as I thought I would be. Last place is a very distinct possibility. Should still be fun, though.


Has Keenan gotten to hear any Backstreet Boys tunes yet?


No. I was able to tell him they were quite literally just a swindle.


Did anyone ever pick up that sand?


Nope. The other day when no one was home, I sliced open the bags and shoveled all the sand into an inconspicuous spot amongst the brambles, from whence it came.


What about the traffic cone?


Wait, I haven't posted about the traffic cone yet? That will be my next post, I promise.

This is my office.

office light
Originally uploaded by Bklyneli

Test photo.

Paul walks to the blinking light sideways.

Paul walks to the blinking light.
Originally uploaded by Bklyneli

I'll test video and photo from flickr.

I can't post pictures

As usual, blogger is not letting me post pics. The photos are ftp'ed to the site through the upload (I host elsewhere, not in blogger) and then the snippet of code in the edit window fails to appear, so, they can't be seen. It's irritating. I did some scouring, did what I was told (switch browsers, clear caches) and no dice. Since I host elsewhere, I'm willing to port this somewhere else, but I don't know what's good (and what will be user-friendly to our mac people). I want something easy and that works. Stop laughing.

Did I Just Write a Sniglet?

In a previous batch of comments here on SiW, I mentioned the text-messaging quirk of the phone guessing the incorrect word as you try to type it in. (I first explored this topic on another blog.)

Tonight, a friend made a new addition to a subset of that quirk, in which the wrong word actually relates to the intended word, often to humorous effect. His discovery: "baker" and "cakes." My friend feels there should be a word for this phone phenomenon.

So I suggested....

Anagrahambell

Henry the Eighth I Am!

At Busch Gardens in Tampa a few months ago, I noticed that Herman's Hermits were playing. More precisely, Herman's Hermits Starring Peter Noone, the sort of band name that screams of interminable lawsuits. But since Peter Noone had been the singer in the original band, I figured this should at least be an above-average version of Herman's Hermits.

No one in my extended family was interested, so I left them at the queue for the Rhino Rally ride. I was able to walk halfway across the park, catch the show, walk back, and rejoin the family about 3/4 of the way through the line.

I expected the show to be either maudlin and/or boring. In fact, it was quite good, despite the fact that they played few of their own hits, instead relying on others from bands similar to themselves. Even the ten-minute version of "Henry the Eighth" (which was their biggest hit, but actually a cover of a song from 1911 or so) was entertaining. I guess this proves again how even the most fabricated music from 1967 beats almost everything that has come since. Why this is, I'm not completely sure, since the 58-year old women in the audience have displayed a lifetime of bad taste ever since.

Anyway, the city of Albany just announced its free summer concert series and the top headliner is none other than Herman's Hermits Starring Peter Noone! (Granted, others would argue this distinction should go to Dennis DeYoung: The Music of Styx). This time I'm going to bring Keenan.

The King Of Kong

Seeing that we've been blogging about video games a bit over the last week (or whatever derivation thereof the uWink establishment offers) I thought I'd recommend a terrific documentary about the world of classic video gaming. The King Of Kong: A Fistful Of Quarters is a compelling tale of one man's journey to beat the highest score ever posted on the original classic arcade game, Donkey Kong. The characters are brilliant and couldn't be written so specifically even by the greatest screenwriter in Hollywood. Sorry, Diablo Cody. Actually, New Line has already commissioned a writer to pen a fictionalized remake of the tale, believe it or not. I can't imagine it being nearly as entertaining as the real thing. Check out the original when you get a shot. And maybe while you're here, give your favorite classic arcade game. I was a Galaga guy. Still am. I have a fully functional version on my cell phone.

Happy Mother's Day

I just love this. I hope you do too.

Sandwich Maker Gets Grilled

In a textbook example of backfiring advertising, a Quizno's commercial inspired me to eat at Subway. Quizno's was copying Subway's $5 sandwich promotion, but Subway is closer to me. With Hoboken being such a quality sandwich town, I only find myself in the Washington Street Subway location a few times a year. But it's always very clean, and the staff is always quite friendly and helpful, and tonight was no exception. And I could get a meatball sandwich for $265 less than Bernie spent.

So I'm sitting there, eating my sandwich, drinking my soda, crunching on my Baked Lay's (sure, I made it a Combo!), reading record reviews from the back of MOJO Magazine. I'm as happy as a bivalve mollusk and minding my own business when two women enter: one in her late 40s I'm guessing, and the other presumably her mother.

"Could we get a grilled cheese?" the younger one asks the woman behind the counter.

My first thought was, had these women never been inside a Subway restaurant before? But because I'm a good citizen, my thoughts quickly turned to helping them. Where could I send them for a decent grilled cheese? Alas, the nearest diner was many blocks away. I felt useless.

The woman behind the counter was baffled by the request. Soon enough, a male staffer joined her, and a discussion took place. "Yes, yes, we can do that," he said. His confidence allayed my anxiety.

But that was the calm before the storm. "No, we want grilled cheese," said the customer. "Not grilled chicken."

She looked over to me with a "Is it me? Or is it them?" expression on her face. I sympathetically offered, "There used to be a diner on the corner where you could get a nice grilled cheese. Subway's not really the sort of place for that."

At this point I should add that this particular Subway branch is operated by an all-Indian staff. So perhaps cultural upbringing prevented the sort of improvisation that might have resulted in an acceptable, makeshift grilled cheese. Instead, I watched helplessly as a 6-inch rosemary-garlic roll was cut in half and layered with slices of American cheese. "Anything else on there? Lettuce?" asked the counterman. I shook my head sadly: The grilled-cheese concept was not getting through to this man.

The two customers consulted, and decided to put three slices of salami and some tomato on the sandwich. The lamentable creation was placed open-faced into the mini oven for an incredibly short time. I couldn't watch anymore. I buried my head in my record reviews as the sandwich was wrapped and the women left the restaurant.

And then I got even sadder. I could've sent them to nearby Panera! With the wider selection of bread styles and the panini press, I'm sure a very respectable grilled cheese could've been churned out. Oh hindsight, how you mock me.

I finished my meal and thought about typing up this story and getting a chance to use the "sandwiches" label again. And that's when the craziest thing happened: The younger of the two women re-entered the restaurant. I braced myself for her inevitable gripe that melted cheese on a sub-sandwich roll did not constitute grilled cheese. Perhaps she would also demand her money back. And this time I would redeem myself with my excellent Panera suggestion.

"That sandwich was really good," said the woman. "Could we get another one?"

Topanga Creek Cleanup

An article in the local Topanga newspaper gave details of an Earth Day creek cleanup. It explained the bagging of cans, bottles, and other trash, and then they found a couch which was

I Need Assistance

Our U Wink screen:


Yes, we went back to UWink at the urging of Isa and her friend. This time we brought Tomi, whose gorgeousness and single status would bring good fortune to our table. I posted earlier about a prior visit and subsequent UWink investor's comments. The investor commented on the fact the ladies having fun would bring me out of my negative funk to have fun as well.

Ok! This time I was going to have fun.

I tried to tell the waiter that we'd been there before, but Tomi objected; not knowing the 'training' to use the computer would take a solid twenty minutes. Three minutes in she realized she made a mistake, but there was no stopping the waiter at this point. "See where the picture of the drink is? Okay, so if you want a drink you press on that. You want a cocktail? Okay, then we need to press where it says "Cocktails." And on. And on. "I was a computer programmer for years, " I protested. "Plus, anyone who has ever waitressed since the 90's is going to know how to use a touch-screen ordering system."

The waiter looked hurt.

The kids had already ordered while we were receiving our training.

Finally I could order my drink. We noticed a man under the table next to us, arms filled with wires: a repairman. There was also a raucous crowd in the back, drinking beers and yelling out answers.

We found out very quickly that they had changed the system. They now give "credits" for food purchased that go toward the games, which aren't free anymore. I thought to myself, well, that's understandable, you can't have people nursing a coke and playing How To Be a Millionaire all day can you?

Isa and her friend ran out of credits within five minutes.

Tomi helpfully swiped her card to buy them ten dollars worth of credits, and six minutes later they were begging again for more. They were also asking to shop at the 'virtual store' for stuffed animals and other items like pink digital cameras. Tomi and I went over to their (greasy) screens to investigate their desperation. Turns out they weren't playing just games, but they were playing games to win prizes (such as the aforementioned cheap made-you-know-where crap) and these games took a lot more credits to play.

At that point, we heard a loud pop and our screens went dark. A collective groan emanated from the party in the back. Other tables were still happily poking away at the screens. "Maybe the computer has lost our order and we'll get a free meal," I thought, and the server moved us to a new table. Within a few swipes, Tomi's name and yes, our tab were waiting for us.

We let the kids each get a stuffed animal and one outfit, because in ten minutes there was going to be a restaurant-wide trivia game, and Tomi and I were feeling like a good team. Also, I knew that buying the bears was going to be a lot cheaper than the kids trying to win them. (I can say this because I consider myself to be excellent at both Chuzzle and Bejeweled I and II and there were games similar to that and I couldn't even get close to winning a keychain.)

In the meanwhile, our food came, and we weren't the best at not duplicating orders, so I requested assistance.

"Sarah" won the trivia game. We knew this because it was blasted on the giant screen. "Who is Sarah?" Tomi and I yelled, and right behind us a mousy woman with long brown hair and glasses cheerfully raised her coke to us.

We got more credits and were determined to beat Sarah.

She won the next game and the next. How did she know so much about sports? All the other players were pretty drunk so they were easy to beat. But Sarah, sitting there drinking coke and nibbling on a fry, was not going to waver. Tomi and I decided to come back again, without the kids, and win the trivia contest.

We got the bill.

$270.

Ease on Down the Road

The University of Minnesota is dealing with fairness over casting for The Wiz.
My high school did not grapple with such issues. Our all-white cast had none other than Barbie Andretti as Dorothy.
Yes, Mario Andretti's daughter.
I was a munchkin.

English

Nice.

Well, There Goes My Fantasy Baseball Team

Julio Franco has announced his retirement from the Quintana Roo Tigers of the Mexican league.

Overheard at Nail Salon Yesterday

I don't see the point in slathering one's nails in an acetone-based enamel paint; but Isa enjoys it, so I indulge her on occasion.
Overheard:

Lady: "So how was your trip to Japan?"

Tech: "It was great. It's really clean there and the people are so polite."

Lady: "What season is it in Japan now? Aren't they like, opposite of us or something?"

Tech: "Well, it was a bit cool, there were flowers everywhere...I think it was fall."

Lady: "That sounds right. Wow, Japan in fall...in April! How fun!"

Thanks, Amazon!

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The Complete Peanuts 1967-1968 (Complete Peanuts)
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Radioactive Cat

John is what I would call an extreme pet lover. Me, I'm different, I hail from a place where our neighbor's farm treated their cows lovingly and then slaughtered them and labeled the meat in the freezer with their names; animals had functions. An animal that didn't have a function was a frivolous thing. People in our neighborhood had cats and dogs, but I don't remember basic veterinary care being commonplace (except for the horses and livestock).
Hence, my confusion about where to draw the line for John's aging menagerie.
Our vet is always giving us a hard time about the dog and cat's teeth. She bugs us to get dental cleanings, and when I relented and allowed it, our cat Baloney was found to have a cavity. We were given a referral to a cat dentist who could fill the tooth. That one actually crossed John's line, and he said, "why didn't they just pull the damn thing?"
Last week, poor white cat Swee'Pea stopped eating. John was going away, I told him to say goodbye just in case. She was diagnosed with diabetes, and I was asked if I could give her twice-daily injection shots. I told the vet that I would do whatever John wanted, and here I am, two weeks later, injecting the cat with insulin.
The cat is doing fantastic, by the way. I almost feel guilty for my approach to these problems. Now we have an energetic, loving-once-more, insulin-dependent cat.
Then there's Baloney, the black and white tom. Now this cat has wormed a certain place into my heart because of his total friendliness to any person who comes over. What cat is ever like that? His good-naturedness has never waned in his new illness which is hyperthyroidism, a condition that has made him terribly skinny.
The vet put him on a daily dose of pills (which he willingly ate, what a cat!) and recommended a procedure to treat him with radioactivity to quash the tumor in his thyroid gland.
We learned that upon return from the treatment, that Baloney would be radioactive for two weeks, and that his urine must be separated and bagged, and that he can't be petted or touched until his system is free of the isotope.
John and I certainly waffled back and forth on this one. Should we do it? Have we gone too far once again?
We said yes, Baloney is officially radioactive and we pick him up tomorrow. My next new job: taking care of one radioactive cat.