The unkindest cuts of all

I guess you could call yesterday Bloody Tuesday. In the morning my wife cut her finger badly in the kitchen, so we roared off to our HMO ... where we waited and waited. By the time they got to her, it's a wonder there was any blood left. Then in the afternoon, we heard the person who handles our savings alibi about why the account has been bleeding red ink.

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Speaking of money, I am learning that most bloggers make virtually none. I guess that's why the call the Internet a virtual world.

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You know how you sometimes mishear song lyrics? For a half century, when the chorus in Jimmy Dorsey's "So Rare" sang about "Angels singing the Ave Maria," I thought the lyrics were, "Angels singing way off in the rear."

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I don't mean to make a career out of writing about John Updike, but his final short-story collection contains a great quote: "It is easy to love people in memory; the hard thing is to love them when they are there in front of you."

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Years ago, I worked at a newspaper that had a photographer named Pete Zaharis. It didn't take long for our summer interns to name him Pizza Harris. (One of those interns went on to win a Pulitzer Prize.)

You've gotta love that shrieking duck!

Those insurance ads featuring a duck yelling 'AFLAC!" just get better and better. My father-in-law loved those ads so much that he would shout "AFLAC!" at random, and one time greeted a bride and groom as they walked down the church aisle after the cremony with "AFLAC!"  When he died, we buried him with a stuffed Aflac duck.

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I always thought there was something smarmy about Arthur Godfrey.

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I knew I shouldn't have stepped on the scales. I knew there was a reason I was avoiding weighing myself.

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Rachel Maddow is an American original.

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I can actually date when I gave up on popular music. It was after I heard Strawberry Alarm Clock singing "Incense and Peppermints."

 

Freddy is on the loose, or soon will be

Freddy the kitten may be little but he is devilishly clever. When I arrived at my daughter's house, Freddy was on the inside but not for long. He was cleverly moving a window screen that he had attached himself to, and soon half of him had found freedom. I was very sorry to do so but called attention to his escape plans.

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Many retired journalists write books or teach classes. I have never wanted to do either. So proud.

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Everybody has a Web page these days. My 82-year-old aunt has a Web page.

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I know this is out of season, but the other day I found myself thinking about how when I was 8 or so, I would go on a Great Chestnut Hun, scouring yards and streets for the fallen nuts and collecting them by the hundreds. I would admire their glossy coats and smooth bodies but after a few days it would dawn on me that the chestnuts served no useful purpose. Into the rubbish they would go. I repeated this practice for three or four years, I think.

Two lives that turned a final page

The other day I brought home "My Father's Tears," which presumably is the final collection of short stories by John Updike. When the author died in January, in a hospice in the town I live in, I found myself thinking about my friend Dick Iwanowicz, who died three decades ago of a brain aneurism. Dick was a big fan of Updike's writings, but his German-born wife thought they had a depressing effect on her husband. "You read too much of this Oopdeek," she used to tell him. So when I heard that Updike died, I remembered that unique pronunciation, and off and on throughout the day, despite my wife's withering glare, I shouted, "OOPDEEK! OOPDEEK!" in tribute to a great writer and to a good friend.

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My wife and I went to a health forum yesterday. The main speaker, a feel-good kind of guy, said something like, "We can't control what happens to us, but we can control our reaction to it." Gee, when something adverse happens to me, I usually shout, "OH F***!!!!!" in a voice loud enough to split the skies. It has a most satisfying effect.

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Cherry Dr Pepper is pretty good. That's something I've never said about regular Dr Pepper. (And, by the way, if you look at the can or bottle, you will see that "Dr" is not followed by a period.)

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Whatever happened to the "reasonable facsimile"? I remember announcers used to say things like, "Send in the coupon or a reasonable facsimile and we will mail you some useless junk." I suppose nowadays they would say, "Send in the coupon or Xerox that puppy." They still would send you useless junk, however.

The PT Cruiser rides into automotive history

This is the month that Chrysler officially stops making PT Cruisers, but what a ride it has been!

The roomy and retro car debuted in the 2000 model year, looking like no other car -- or at least no other car in the last half-century. The public fell in love, and Cruisers began to sell for as much as 10,000 over list.

Then a funny thing happened. People who bought the car because of its looks began to change them. They added chrome or flames or wood paneling, or sometimes all three. Cruiser owners who would wave or toot at other owners began holding gatherings, in Modesto, Calif., Niagara Falls, Wildwood, N.J., and indeed throughout much of the country. In some, more than 500 Cruiser owners would show up to vie for prizes or just to admire other participants' cars.

But, as they say, all good things must end. Apparently most everyone who wanted the  quirky car bought one, because sales began to slump. The cars took up semi-permanent residence on dealer lots, and Chrysler decided to put on the brakes. 

Many owners, however, still love their Cruisers, are keeping them in good repair, and wouldn't trade them for any other vehicle. Count me among those owners.

UPDATE: Chrysler has abruptly shifted into reverse and announced that it will continue to make PT Cruisers after all. For how long is a question yet to be answered.

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Yesterday as I was taking a brisk walk, a guy I didn't even know started telling me how we "older fellas" have to keep active. Older fellas? I kept active by punching him out.

That Gina is one angry woman, I'll tell ya

Sometimes, just for kicks, I ignore the directions my GPS gives me and take a radically different route. I like to get her all angry and frustrated and even screaming at me. I say "her" because a female voice gives the directions. Her name, I decided, is Gina Pamela Smith, or G.P.S. I have two other GPSes, one named Gertie Patricia Smith and the other, Giselle Pauline Smith. I believe they are sisters.

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Watch the ending of "Marley & Me" without shedding a tear, I dare you.

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I think John Lennon's most profound lyric is, "Life is what happens to you while you're busy making other plans." For Bob Dylan, it is, "He not busy being born is busy dying." Coming in second are "He bag production, he got walrus gumboot" for Lennon and "See the primitive wallflower freeze/When the jelly-faced women all sneeze" for Dylan.

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I cannot believe it is June already. Oh no I cannot.

Bart and Homer extend their deepest sympathies

I've just purchased a large quantity of the new 44-cent U.S. postage stamps depicting the Simpsons -- Bart, Homer, Lisa, Marge, et al. Just one problem: Suppose I have to stick a stamp on a sympathy card.

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There's a funny song out there by Hardy Drew and the Nancy Boys (great name!) as well as the Corrigan Brothers, titled "There's No One As Irish As Barack Obama." You see, his great-great-great grandfather, or something like that, was from Ireland, although why that would make no one as Irish is still a mystery to me. Anyway, my favorite lines are, "He’s in the White House/He took his chance/Now let’s see Barack do Riverdance." You can find the lyrics and video here. (Click on the second video.)