Santa Can’t, So I Will !

Just a note to wish you all a very Merry Christmas.  And if you don’t happen to celebrate Christmas, best wishes, anyway, for a fantastic Tuesday, December 25.

When I wrote my letter to Santa this year, I told him there was only one thing I really wanted.  It was for him to do something extra special for those of you who faithfully read this blog.  Now, considering the sincerity of my request, and the fact that I’ve been a pretty good boy for over seven decades, I was taken by surprise when I received the following note:

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Dear Paisano, 
     Thank you for your letter.  It is always refreshing to receive mail that requests nothing for oneself, but for others, instead.  That being said, however, I regret to inform you that I cannot give presents to your readers because the request violates Section D, Subsection 3f, of the North Pole Ethics Code.   It states:  “Santa shall NOT, at the behest of a person or public enterprise, give presents to others which blatantly resemble patronage or outright bribery, and whose goal is to keep those recipients active and involved in said enterprise.”
     I’m sorry, then, but I won’t be able to fulfill your request. Good try, however!  Perhaps YOU can come up with something to wish your readers a Merry Christmas!  After all, as Mrs. Claus often says,  "A little something is better than nothing at all."

Best regards, Santa
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Here, then, is my musical contribution to your holiday season.  I arranged and recorded it last Christmas for a family friend who absolutely loves to dance.  So, click the link, HERE, and get up and start moving!!  “Santa Claus Is Coming To Town.”  Peace,  love, and good health to you all in the New Year.

A Dental Patient’s View of the Mayan Calendar

(WARNING:  This post contains vivid descriptions of a type of oral surgery.  If you strongly dislike visiting a dentist’s office, or cringe and feel faint when some of the unspeakable procedures conducted there are openly discussed, then close this page and come back in a week.)

Back in September I wrote a post about the “Mayan Calendar and the End Of Time.”  Well, December 21, 2012 is less than a week away, and due to an emergency dental referral, I’ll be spending it  undergoing an Apicoectomy (Ape-icko-eck-tuh-me) at the hands of my local oral surgeon.  Of course, the confluence of this unplanned procedure and infamous date, made me begin to wonder if there was more than coincidence involved.  Were those pesky Mayans plotting to screw up my dental affairs?  Had they singled me out as the sole recipient of their calendar’s wrath?

Nah…, the procedure didn’t seem to be that big a deal.  After all, “ape” means a “large, tailless primate,” and “ectomy” means “surgical removal.”  So my initial thought was that my dentist was suggesting a therapy where I visited a zoo, and witnessed a tree surgeon removing a stranded orangutan from the canopy of a fake rainforest.  He wasn’t, however.  What he meant was far less entertaining than that. 

Similar to when I took Geometry twice, it seems an old root canal had given up and failed.  To POSSIBLY save the tooth, then, an apicoectomy was suggested.  He said it wasn’t a big deal.  The oral surgeon would simply cut a trap-door-like incision in my gum, then lift the tissue away and expose the tooth’s root.  Of course, he might have to remove some of the bone, too, but heck… he does that all the time. 

Now if the root isn’t cracked, this makes the chances better that the tooth can be saved.  In that case, the friendly endodontist will whip out his trusty saw, and chop off the root end of the infected tooth.  Of course, he might also have to scoop out a little more of the surrounding gum tissue to assure that all the infection is gone.  Not to worry, though… he probably has a little scooping tool made just for that. And I’ve heard he makes ice cream cones at Baskin Robbins on his day off.

After the root tip has been truncated, the cavern in my gum will be medicated, and the root sealed with a silver filling. (No, the Lone Ranger is NOT doing the procedure!)  Of course, the rest of the crater created by the now evacuated bone and tissue, will be retro filled with an expensive, synthetic bone material not covered by my dental plan.  Then the oral surgeon will reposition the gum flap like a puzzle piece, and suture it back in the correct place.  That shouldn’t be a problem either… as he learned embroidery from his wife, and it’s become one of his most passionate hobbies.
 
Anyway, when I awake from my peaceful slumber, my tooth will hopefully be  as good as new.  BUT… if by chance the good doctor happened to find a crack in the root while he was cutting and scraping and probing and scooping, it’s going to end up just like me in those Geometry classes I mentioned… up and out of there!   Yes… upon regaining consciousness, I may learn that dear old tooth #4 has be purged from my mouth, and become a discarded “former” member of the Paisano mastication team.

Considering this flood of new information, then, I must reluctantly admit there may well be a Mayan connection between December 21, 2012 and this pending apicoectomy.  And for me, it  might truly spell disaster.  Perhaps those “end time” theorists who are predicting a world-ending “polar shift,” were basically right, but made a slight translation error by switching two letters in the code.  Maybe instead of a “polar shift,” it really should have read, a “molar shift.”  That sounds like a tooth extraction to me… and a shift from my mouth to a trash can!

If Whales Can Sing, So Can We !

These days, one of the saddest things for local teachers, is they no longer have the time to teach creatively using materials they’ve developed and tailored for specific subject areas, as well as for the various learning styles of the children they serve in their classrooms.  Instead, they have a rigid schedule to which they must adhere, so as not to fall behind in that ever important task of year-end test preparation.

The era in which I was taught the craft of teaching, stressed education and development of the “whole child.”  And what we did each day was based on an honest attempt to give them skills for an entire lifetime.  These days it seems too many kids are being treated as “heads on a stick.” The short-term goal is packing their brains with information which is known to be on the statewide tests, then drilling them day after day until they become numb and just want the whole “learning” thing to end.  Of course, there is no long-term goal in this scenario, that is, other than perpetuating the myth in the public’s view, that good scores are always synonymous with a good education.

 Now, this post is NOT meant to be an in-depth discussion of how education of young kids has gone down the crapper.  If it was, I’d probably get comments from irate parents who couldn’t care one whit if their kids are being taught to THINK AND  PROBLEM SOLVE, as long as those test scores are looking good.  Let’s face it, there’s no real way to measure the benefit of things like art, music, discussion, and critical thinking in the classroom.  Maybe if there was,  and a quantitative score could  be compiled, such parents might cut old schoolers like me some slack, and wouldn’t see us as so cranky and out of touch.

The REAL purpose of this post, then, is to briefly contrast how radically classroom instruction is changing.  Recently I found a song I wrote in 1999, to use in my Second Grade classroom as a final review of the information we had gleaned in a science unit on “Whales.”  As I began collecting the information that might find its way to the final quiz, I thought the kids might enjoy singing this song each day while reviewing for the test as they sang. There were at least twenty-five “mentions” of things embedded in the song’s verses, that actually ended up on the unit final, either whale vocabulary, life-cycle facts, or geographic references that every smart whale would need to know.

Just for perspective, the way local primary kids would learn about whales THESE days, is to read a half dozen pages about them in the state sanctioned science book, then complete a similar number of “fill in the blank” pages in its companion workbook.  Little more would be added by the teacher, lest he or she veer off schedule and fall behind the district mandated timeline.  And, since “singing” is not important in the current  curriculum, use of my whale song might be considered an almost treasonous waste of classroom time.

Anyway, for all you “modern” educators and testing specialists out there… sure, I have NO PROOF that reviewing for a quiz by singing a silly song I wrote, made a statistical difference.  All I know is, the kids passed their unit quiz with flying colors.  Of course, it could have been because of my superlative teaching :), or the great notes we took, or the excellent books we read and video’s we watched.  Or maybe it was the drawings and diagrams we made, or the notebooks and picture files we compiled, or the art projects we crafted about all aspects of a whale’s life.

Maybe it was the tapes we heard of whales “singing,” or the whale artifacts we made into a classroom display and actually touched with our own hands.  Or it might have been all that whale math we did, computing and comparing their weights, and figuring out the mileage between locations on their migratory trek.  Perhaps it was because we collected money and adopted a real  humpback named, “Lightning,” and followed his “sightings” in at least two of the world’s oceans.  Yeah, come to think of it, that dumb ass whale song probably didn’t make one bit of real difference when everything is said and done. Oh, well… at least it had a catchy tune, and was great fun to sing!

(A Paisano Postulate:  The Creator thought it important enough to equip us with five senses.  It seems reasonable, then, that the more of these senses children use as they learn, the wider and deeper that learning will become, the clearer and more interestingly subject matter will unfold, and the more relevant and permanent their knowledge will be.  And, if education is truly about LIFE preparation, it should equip boys and girls to deal with the complexities they will certainly face when they become adults, not simply make them good test takers.)

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If you’d like to hear the song and learn a little about whales yourself, click HERE.  Thanks to Lo-Fi for “cleaning up” the original cassette recording, and showing me how to link it to this blog.

My First New Car

In my last post about the assassination of President Kennedy, I mentioned that my dad and I were in Los Angeles looking for an automobile when we learned the tragic news.  It turned out, that because it didn’t seem appropriate nor practical to do business on that bleak Friday afternoon, we came back a few days later to purchase what became, (tah dah,) my first brand new car.

Now, for a New York kid that was only twenty-two, I had already bought and owned four cars, each with money I had saved from jobs since Junior High.  One of them was a 1932 Plymouth that didn’t run, and was pretty much ruined when I tried to turn it into a rat rod.  The next two were Mercurys, a “hot” 1950 coupe powered by a 352 cubic inch Packard engine, and a 1953 hardtop that ended up blowing a rear end on a trip back from the Adirondack Mountains.  My last car before being inducted, was a blue and white 1956 Chevy that was, as we called it then, “cherry.”  Rather than put it in storage during my three year enlistment, however, I reluctantly sold it to a close friend.

Obviously, every car I had ever owned was bought “used.” So our trip to Felix Chevrolet on November 22, 1963, was indeed unique.  My dad had impressed upon me, that in California a CAR (not a dog) was man’s best friend, and without one that was reliable I might find myself stranded on a busy freeway, unable to get to classes.  So between my Army savings, and an unsolicited but generous contribution from him, the decision was made to buy “new.”  And buy we did.  I ended up driving off the lot in an amazing, fire engine red, 1964 Chevy Chevelle Malibu.

I was SO proud of my new “ride!”  I probably washed that car twice a day for the first two months I owned it.  And when my Jr. College Freehand Drawing teacher gave us a homework assignment to draw something at our residence, you can guess what I chose as my subject… MY BRAND NEW CAR !  So, for those of you who weren’t around in 1964, or couldn’t pick a 1964 Chevelle out of a lineup, I’ve included those pencil drawings at the top of this post… artistic renderings of my first true automotive romance.

Epilogue:  As it turned out, I ended up keeping this car for almost ten years.  I would have kept it longer were it not for the fact that it was totaled by a large district delivery truck in my school parking lot.  Seems the idiot driver parked on an incline, and forgot to secure the emergency brake, allowing the massive vehicle to roll fifty feet into my “baby,” like a bull charging a bright red, shiny cape.  It was an assassination, clear and simple… just like the one on the day we first met!

Memories Of The JFK Assassination

Forty-nine years ago today, President John F. Kennedy was gunned down in a motorcade through Dealey Plaza, in Dallas, Texas.  Bullets fired from high inside the Texas School Book Depository Building as his car passed, not only cut short the life of our youthful and vibrant 35th President, but ripped a hole in the hearts of citizens like myself, shattering for good what was certainly an era of American innocence.

As with most people alive when this tragedy happened, where I was and what I was doing at the moment of that fateful news, is still indelibly etched in my memory. A few weeks earlier I had just been discharged from the Army, and decided to take advantage of the local Junior College system by relocating from New York to California, and living with my dad who I hadn’t seen for almost twenty years.  On that Friday, November 22, 1963, the two of us were at Felix Chevrolet on Figueroa Street in Los Angeles, looking for a car I could use for school.  Our brief time walking around the huge lot had been more than strange.  Instead of being mobbed by hoards of salesmen eager to make a deal, it was absolutely deserted.  Even if we had been pushing a wheelbarrow full hundred dollar bills, not one salesman would have been there to notice.

After about twenty minutes we walked toward the showroom entrance looking for someone to answer our questions.  The moment we opened the double doors and stepped in, it was obvious that something was very wrong.  There were small clusters of people gathered throughout the building, many of them crying and sobbing as others held them close.  There was conversation going on, but in such a hushed manner that it was impossible to understand what was being said.  At one end of the showroom was a television surrounded by silent spectators, a few sitting on a lounge with bowed heads, but all with postures that indicated they were distraught.

Dad and I walked up to a man who was standing alone, away from everyone else.  We asked him what had happened.  Turning to us, his answer was tragically simple.  With tears still evident on his cheeks, he said, “The President’s dead.  They killed our President…!”  Dad and I looked at each other, absolutely stunned.  In the time it had taken us to drive the freeway from Orange County to downtown Los Angeles, we had lost our national leader.

The rest, of course, is history.  But it’s funny, isn’t it?  I still get emotional just writing about it.  Not only was the life of my President, my Commander-In-Chief, and the beneficiary of my first vote snuffed out that day, so was much of my youthful optimism about the United States of America. 

Inside A Special Ops Mission

Few have had the occasion to be privy to the blow-by-blow account of a covert Special Operations Mission in progress.  The last famous one was the takedown of Osama Bin Laden (see Post #44, January 2012), but even then Americans had to wait until  the debriefing was done before any details were divulged.  Today I will share with you, the official transcripts of a past Special Ops mission in New Jersey. While it was undertaken in the middle of a suburban neighborhood, it was no less dangerous than the storming of Bin Laden’s compound earlier this year.

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The Attack On Childhood By Frito-Lay

Looks like the Nannycrats are at it again.  Here in California, some Pasadena administrators have banned Flamin’ Hot Cheetos on their school campuses.  If found on the person of any student, the contraband snack will be confiscated, even if it was part of a lunch that was brought from home.

Many of the reasons for the ban are based on perceived health implications, like Cheetos being a junk food with no nutritional value, and containing too much fat and salt to be anything but a hazard to the kids that eat them.  And the ban campaign, gaining traction in two other states, is being nobly characterized as yet another battle in the fight against child obesity.

There are other reasons that bureaucrats want to eliminate these Chastised Cheese Puffs.  They include the allegation that when students share them with friends, they pass on germs which can make others sick.  It also seems that the bright red food coloring that visually distinguishes this scorned snack, is a burden on custodians who are purported to spend extra time and effort cleaning up tell-tale fingerprints all over school campuses.

Finally, a far more sinister reason has been advanced regarding the subject.  In an almost conspiratorial indictment of the processed food industry, some “experts” say that Flamin’ Hot Cheetos are manufactured to be addictive to those who eat them.  Labeled a “hyperpalatability” food, its carefully calibrated fat, sugar, and salt content is said to trigger the brain’s reward system causing eaters to crave and consume more and more in an almost  addictive manner.  In essence, then, the charge is that our kids are being turned into junk food addicts by big business.

Obviously, this whole ban issue is emotionally changed with a host of supporters on either side.  My opinion, however, has not changed since I wrote, “Keep Your Fingers Outa My Happy Meal,” in July 2010.  If schools don’t want Flamin’ Hot Cheetos on campus, a good start would be to take them out of their cafeteria vending machines.  As far as kids bringing them in their lunches, that’s a PARENTAL decision about which bureaucrats should have no say.  Instead of acting heavy-handedly, they should  inform, educate, and encourage parents to eliminate such food from their kid’s diets, and not presume that being a Nannycrat trumps being a parent.

Finally, to anyone who disagrees with me about this issue, I understand your concern that if the Flamin’ Hot Cheeto “epidemic” continues unchecked, frightening newspaper headlines may become the inevitable result.  God forbid we would have to read anything like the following:

 -  Brisk Underground Hot Cheeto Trafficking Suspected in District Elementary Schools

-  Individual Stashes of Flamin’ Hot Cheetos Found In Scores Of Hollowed-Out Middle School Dictionaries

-  Flamin’ Hot Cheetos Exonerated: Study Reveals Germ Passing A Result of French Kissing Behind Middle School Buildings

-  Teacher Fired After Bribing Students To Pass State Test With Reward of Flamin’ Hot Cheetos

-  Fire In School Dumpster Blamed On Flamin’ Hot Cheetos

-  Supreme Court Rules That Student Cavity Searches For Outlawed Hot Cheetos Are Unconstitutional

-  Area Rehab Centers Overwhelmed With Influx Of Juvenile Flamin’ Hot Cheeto Addicts

-  Local Second Graders Overdose on Flamin’ Hot Cheetos:  Remain In Frito-Lay Wing of Urban Trauma Center

-  Red Stool Sample Of High School Student Proves To Be The Result Of Flamin’ Hot Cheetos, Not Hemorrhoids

-  School Graffiti Cold Case Solved After Analysis of Flamin’ Hot Cheeto Fingerprints

-  District Drug Sniffing Dog Discovers Cache of Flamin’ Hot Cheetos In School Lockers, Misses Kilo of Marijuana

-  High School Students Caught Smoking Flamin’ Hot Cheetos In Gymnasium Restroom

-  School Board Upholds Rule That Wearing, “Give Me Flamin’ Hot Cheetos Or Give Me Death,” T-Shirts Is Forbidden On School Campuses

-  School District Removes Flamin’ Hot Cheetos From Vending Machines:  Loses 80% of Educational Revenue

-  Elementary Students Caught Snorting Hot Cheeto Residue Through Cafeteria Straws

-  Sixth Grader Becomes Sick After Ingesting Counterfeit Bag Of Flamin’ Hot Cheetos

-  Eight Year Old Student Arrested As Kingpin Of Flamin’ Hot Cheetos Distribution Ring

-  Child Protective Services Presses Charges Against Hundreds Of Parents For Allowing Students To Eat Flamin’ Hot Cheetos

-  Paramedics Extract Flamin’ Hot Cheeto From Kindergartener’s Nasal Passage

-  Despite Financial Deficit, School District Spends Thousands From General Fund To Post New Signs At Local Schools That State, “This Is A Smoke-free, Drug-free, Flamin’ Hot Cheeto-free Campus”

Thoughts About The 2012 Presidential Election

I absolutely hate elections, and more specifically years when it‘s time to choose a President!  Looking back, the first time I was authentically enthused with any of the national candidates, was in 1960 when Senator John F. Kennedy was running for the White House.  Being a young, liberal Democrat, I cast my first ever vote for him that year, and when he actually won I thought it was certainly because of ME.  In the end, however, he ultimately lost on November 22, 1963.

The next time I was truly enthused about a candidate, was in 1968 when his brother, Bobby Kennedy, was running for the Oval Office.  This time my enthusiasm was shattered when he was shot and killed at the Ambassador Hotel in Los Angeles after winning the California Primary.  And while my vote had helped him win here, I would never get the chance to vote for him on a national ballot.

As for all the presidential campaigns after that, they simply boiled down to voting for the least objectionable candidate on the ballot, or whoever I deemed to be the best of the worst.  No enthusiasm, no real political passion, just a personal exercise in fulfilling my voting franchise as a good citizen.  How sad a comment is that?

These days, my readers know I view most politicians as corruptible, feed-at-the-public-trough, special interest ass kissers whose main work ethic is positioning themselves for the next election.  And the only thing more distasteful than them, are the surrogate creeps that “spin” their every word in an attempt to stay on whatever script the campaign feels will make them look good, and garner future votes.  In this campaign the BS has been going on for well over a year, and it’s either turned most people’s brains into mush, or just turned them off completely.

I could list a page of other things I hate about elections in general, but one stands out as the most upsetting of all.  If you’re a moderate or conservative in a state like California these days, the vote you cast on election day is absolutely a wasted effort.  I mean, left coast pollsters could accurately predict winners and losers by simply asking ME who or what I just voted for.  That’s because I almost always end up on the losing side, whether it‘s for a specific candidate, a bond issue, or a statewide Proposition.  Oh, what I’d give to live in one of those “swing” states like Ohio, where I could at least embrace the illusion that MY vote will make a difference.  Here, NOT voting left of center is like peeing in the ocean and expecting to see it rise.

So what am I going to do in this election?  Obviously, I’ll bike down to my local polling place and vote as I always do.  But perhaps if I was smart, I’d service my bicycle, pack a huge lunch, and start peddling my ass off towards Ohio.  And were I to  make it there alive, coherent, and on time, maybe for the first time in many years I’d feel like my vote was actually going to count for something.

As to who will get my vote this year, let me tell you a story like one I might use in the Elementary classroom:

“Pretend, Boys and Girls, I inherited an old house that was falling apart, and I hired a contractor who convinced me he was SO DARN GOOD, that in four years my old house would be returned to good or better condition.  When the time was up, however, the house looked pretty much the same, even though the nice contractor had been on the job every day, and spent more money than I actually had.  Beyond that, some of the house looked even worse than it had when he first started, and his only explanation was that the bid he had won turned out to be VERY difficult.  Seems like he’d need four more years to deliver on his promises and fulfill the contract.

Now, this contractor was certainly a nice guy, and convincing in his promises to do better.  But the fact was, I had had to live in the broken down house during the first four years of his “fixing up” efforts, and that had been very hard on me, my family, and the neighborhood.  So the thought of having to do the same for another four years, plus me steadily losing confidence that this man and his company were even able to do the job, I turned to “Angie’s List” to find another contractor who might fix my house more quickly, and do it effectively.

In the process I heard about someone who claimed to have strong rebuilding credentials, and confidence in his ability to turn projects like mine around.  Realizing he certainly couldn’t do worse than the first contractor, common sense said to let the first one go and hire the replacement… with hopes that he and his workers could accomplish what the first hadn’t, or perhaps couldn’t.  In short, Boys and Girls, it was nothing personal. My switch of contractors was a simple business decision based on practical necessity.”

That said, Columnist Hal Lancaster once wrote this line that seems to sum it all up:  “Getting fired is nature’s way of telling you that you had the wrong job in the first place.”  Based on that, and despite my dismal winning record, let’s just say that this year I’m voting as a serious environmentalist… with a willingness to do what I can to help Mother Nature out!

That’s how the Paisano sees it, lose or win.  And, OH, by the way… don’t forget to honk if you pass me peddling east to Ohio!
 

A Way To Find My Old Stuff

This post is simply an index of all the things I’ve written since this Blog began.  I’m sure there was a more savvy way to do it with direct links and all, but since I’m technically challenged and couldn’t find a “gadget” to accomplish the task, I thought I’d just list every post since the beginning, for those who want to read older stuff on a variety of topics.

The posts are listed from oldest to newest.  The last portion of each URL gives the title of the post on that date.  Skimming just that part, gives you a pretty good idea of what the post is about.  You can go to that specific post by highlighting its entire address, “copying” it to your browser’s address bar, then clicking the “GO” icon.

 Of course, if you want to review posts by subject matter, you can just click on a specific heading in the “Labels/Tags” column in the right margin.  I hope this helps those of you who haven’t been with me since the beginning, and don’t have hours to plow through stuff that preceded your arrival.  And, thanks to my small but loyal band of readers who drop by every now and then!  Peace!

Paisano 

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http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2010/07/what-heck-am-i-doing-here.html    

http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2010/07/artichokes-who-would-have-known_14.html      

http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2010/07/safe-harbor-captain-phil.html          

http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2010/07/something-creative-from-past_18.html             

http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2010/07/keep-your-fingers-outa-my-happy-meal.html               

http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2010/07/forgive-me-little-black-sambo-i-let-you.html             

http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2010/07/happy-birthday-to-my-diabetic-friends.html          

http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2010/07/mayhem-in-express-checkout-line.html                   

http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2010/08/spam-e-mails-can-they-really-improve-my.html            

http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2010/08/political-porn-courtesy-of-washington.html              

http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2010/08/three-things-i-need-to-bag-and-toss.html             

http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2010/08/another-washington-payoff-another.html              

http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2010/08/another-creative-bit-from-past-teachers.html          

http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2010/08/little-kids-highly-underrated.html             

http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2010/08/elvis-presley-remembered.html         

http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2010/08/practical-suggestions-for-new-school.html              

http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2010/08/municipal-bonds-or-voluntary-bondage.html           
        
http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2010/o9/what-happened-to-honest-discourse.html

http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2010/09/why-I-don’t-tweet-twitter-or-talk-like_07.html

http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2010/09/conspiracy-theories-about-september.html                 

http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2010/09/something-from-paisanos-e-mail-file.html             

http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2010/09/kids-view-on-illegal-immigration.html             

http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2010/09/glimpse-back-at-print-advertising_24.html         
              
http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2011/02/its-wonder-im-still-alive.html
   
http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2011/02/my-teenage-escape-from-alcatraz.html            

http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2011/03/more-stuff-for-bs-bag.html             

http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2011/03/truth-it-all-depends-on-your-point-of.html              

http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2011/03/suggestion-for-new-survivor-series.html           

http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2011/04/cable-television-todays-traveling.html           

http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2011/05/another-diabetic-treat.html               

http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2011/05/science-and-religion-compatible.html          

http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2011/06/fortune-cookie-messages-lets-get-real.html           

http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2011/06/hardest-letters-I-ever-had-to-write.html
           
http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2011/07/improve-your-mental-health-talk-to.html             

http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2011/07/one-year-of-prattling-who-would-have.html         

http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2011/07/when-love-goes-down-drain.html               

http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2011/07/new-type-of-post-named-after-tiny-pasta.html        

http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2011/07/with-gratitude-to-mighty-oak.html          

http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2011/07/living-among-dinosaurs.html           

http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2011/12/when-life-itself-was-green-movemet.html
          
http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2011/12/diet-that-reflects-times.html           

http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2011/12/male-and-female-compatibility-another.html              

http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2011/12/preparations-for-new-year.html           

http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2012/01/my-theory-on-how-they-found-osama-bin.html        

http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2012/01/role-model-with-mask-and-gun.html          

http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2012/01/kids-view-on-dealing-with-world-bullies.html           

http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2012/02/about-parent-teacher-conferences.html

http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2012/02/feeling-at-home-in-ninety-nine-cent.html           

http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2012/02/success-is-only-signup-away.html
   
http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2012/03/you-cannot-multiply-wealth-by-dividing.html            

http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2012/03/chopping-away-at-bad-word-choice.html             

http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2012/03/is-it-authentic-or-high-tech-forgery.html         

http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2012/03/my-take-on-hbos-game-change.html              

http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2012/04/abbot-and-costello-discuss-government.html                 

http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2012/04/learning-from-firsthand-experience.html               

http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2012/04/jaywalking-on-history-street.html                

http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2012/04/tribute-to-patience-and-love.html            

http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2012/05/hey-weight-just-darn-minute.html                

http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2012/05/disappointment-at-30000-feet.html     

http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2012/05/some-time-ago-reader-said-she-thought-i.html        

http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2012/06/where-politicians-look-for-solutions.html             

http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2012/06/gassed-by-our-own-government_18.html            

http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2012/06/three-cheers-for-duct-tape.html           

http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2012/07/idiots-among-us.html                 

http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2012/07/which-word-says-it-best.html             

http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2012/07/no-hassle-corn-on-cob.html              

http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2012/07/some-geriatric-humor_30.html            

http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2012/08/the-freebie-frenzy-at-costco.html         

http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2012/08/e-mail-why-teachers-drink.html            

http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2012/08/government-subsidized-porn-in-golden.html          

http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2012/09/more-fuzzy-government-math.html             

http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2012/09/the-mayan-calendar-and-end-of-time.html             

http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2012/09/bulge-or-weapon-of-mass-destruction.html           

http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2012/10/the-bs-bag-is-back.html        

http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2012/10/more-from-mighty-oak.html

http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2012/10/a-way-to-find-my-old-stuff.html

http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2012/10/thoughts-on-2012-presidential-election.html

http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2012/11/the-attack-on-childhood-by-frito-lay.html

http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2012/11/inside-special-ops-mission.html 

http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2012/11/memories-of-jfk-assassination.html

http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2012/11/my-first-new-car.html

http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2012/12/if-whales-can-sing-so-can-we.html

http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2012/12/a-dental-patients-view-of-mayan-calendar_16.html

http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2012/12/santa-cant-so-i-will.html

http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2013/01/in-defense-of-dirty-old-men.html

http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2013/01/prattling-in-local-newspaper.html

http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2013/01/deer-me-another-california-study_21.html 

http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2013/02/fortune-cookie-messages-for-pessimists.html

http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2013/02/get-interested-in-interest.html

http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2013/02/to-immigration-reform-advocates-fight.html

http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2013/03/get-heck-out-of-my-way.html

http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2013/03/confessions-of-energy-vampire.html

http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2013/03/let-music-play-on.html

http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2013/04/young-paisano-public-prattler.html

http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2013/04/oh-how-things-have-changed.html 

 http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2013/04/california-not-so-golden-state.html

http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2013/05/the-slippery-slope-gets-slipperier.html 

http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2013/05/children-and-self-esteem.html

http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2013/05/the-instinct-to-get-around-stuff.html

http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2013/06/the-death-rattles-of-paisanos-prattles.html 

http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2013/06/the-famous-feline-got-it-right.html

 http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2013/07/for-better-or-worse-boys-will-be-boys.html

http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2013/07/romance-at-local-park.html

http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2013/07/another-attack-on-fortune-cookie.html 

 http://theprattlingpaisano.blogspot.com/2013/12/woes-of-solitary-man.html

More From The Mighty Oak

The other night I was flipping through the channels when I came across the last of the Harry Potter movies.  Now, while I’m not a rabid fan of the series, I have seen bits and pieces of each movie on HBO.  In this final installment, the evil Lord Voldemort raids the tomb of Hogwart’s Head Master, Dumbledore, in order to steal the powerful and sought after Elder Wand.  He plans to become its true master, which would make him not only invincible, but give him immortality in the Wizarding World.

Supposedly this “Wand of Destiny” was made of wood from the elder tree, a member of the Honeysuckle family which is sacred in Magic and Witchcraft lore.   I had never actually seen its design  before, that is until it was being taken from Dumbledore’s burial vault in the movie.  For just a short moment, the camera zoomed in for a close-up of the object.  And distinctly apart from the fictional element of its magic, I was immediately overcome by it’s simplistic beauty and artistic craftsmanship.

 Now as you might know, I love objects made of wood. (See post #38, July 2011).  And oak has long been my favorite from which to fashion things.  So seeing the Elder Wand up close prompted me to go out to the workshop and give the whole wand making thing a try.  What I ended up crafting was not the Elder Wand itself, but two others that just “emerged” as the wood and I interacted.  They’re solid oak, of course, and all you have to do is feel their rugged but delicate smoothness in your hand, to know there’s magic in them somewhere.

The BS Bag Is Back !

You may have noticed that I haven’t gotten the BS Bag out for quite some time.  That could seem to indicate that either the sources of aggravation in my life have dried up, or I’m heavily sedating myself so as not to notice.  In truth, both reasons are inaccurate.  For, some time ago I decided to use this special container for only the most outrageous and disturbing stuff I encounter on my daily trek.  And, the incident that “ticked me off” had to cause a blood pressure elevation of at least 180 over 100 before committing it to writing.

Well, today I got my latest property tax bill.  Immediately I was hit with a flashback of what made my sphygmomanometer blow up last year when I tried to, (for the first time I must add), pay these taxes electronically.  And since I consider what happened then to be bullshit of the vilest vintage, I thought it good therapy to finally exhume the distasteful memory, and give it a proper burial in today's bag.

Here’s what happened.  The electronic process forewarned, that if I used a credit card to pay the tax bill, a “Convenience Fee,” (whatever that is), would be assessed and added to the total.  Now in my book, any added fee is certainly not convenient.  But sometimes one finds himself in a weaken state due to fighting the “system,” and simply not in the mood to quibble over small issues of little practical consequence.  I mean, even an unexplained amount of five or so bucks wasn’t going to sabotage my budget for the month.  So I filled in the necessary information and proceeded to the “Check Out” page.

This is where the excrement hit the fan !!  In the box that represented the so-called “Convenience Fee,” I found a number more odious and ethically immoral than I could have imagined.  For someone’s “convenience,” (certainly not MINE), they had the nerve to access a total of THIRTY-FIVE DOLLARS !!  Not only that, in red there was a disclaimer that the “convenience fee” would NOT be going to the tax assessor, but to an outside agency that processes credit card payments.

Now, I assume the “outside agency” was the credit card company, itself.  And I’m almost positive I know why they wanted to charge me $35.00 up front.  It’s because they knew the chances of them making any money on this type of transaction, were questionable at best.  It had nothing to do with “convenience” of any sort.  They anticipated that I (and others like me who might use their credit cards to pay taxes), would be paying the full balance when it was due, and NOT sending in a “minimum” payment.  So they colluded with the bureaucrats to include their service fee up front, as part of the overall tax payment.

Now, if there’s one thing I hate, it’s an opportunist. And if there’s one thing I hate even more, it’s more than one opportunist teaming up to take advantage of me.  So the combination of a taxing agency AND a credit card company in cahoots, adds up to appropriate content for anyone's B.S. bag.  In the end, of course, I didn’t end up paying my tax bill using a credit card.  For MY convenience, I sent them a check which cost me nothing.

I’m thinking that maybe when I pay this newest bill, I should seriously consider showing the assessor’s office how repulsive I find  their monetary collusion with private sector Shylocks.  It might be as simple as just boxing up and shipping them the amount of taxes I owe… all in those rolls of PENNIES I've been saving over the years.  A rough calculation tells me it would add up to about 900 POUNDS of coins they’d have to process in order to call us even.   Now for me, it certainly would be a “convenient” way to get rid of all those pennies.  And for the tax assessor and his minions, it might be a “hands on” way to learn this concept: One person’s convenience, is another person’s pain in the ass.
 

Bulge, Or Weapon Of Mass Destruction?

Much has been said about the hit-and-miss way TSA agents  choose people to pat down at airport security checkpoints.  They have had their hands all over travelers as young as toddlers, and their mitts on seniors as old as Methuselah.  They have yanked people out of wheel chairs, babies out of carriers, and removed prosthetic limbs to search spaces filled only milliseconds before by amputated stubs.

Now, I don’t know if pulling aside and patting down such non-suspicious travelers is straight out of the TSA training manual, or just blatant on-the-job exploitation of a particular fetish.  All I know is that in “profiling” terms, toddlers and crippled old folks don’t meet my criteria of hardened terrorists, or passengers that might put a flight it jeopardy… that is, unless the toddler fills a stinky diaper after takeoff, or the senior ingested cabbage soup at an airport diner just before boarding.

It's a fact that airports have spent millions of dollars on fancy machines to expose those who might want to cause terror in the skies.  But even those don’t always distinguish the good guys from the bad.  A recent case at the San Francisco Airport proves my point.  TSA agents noticed a “suspicious” bulge in the pants of a male traveler.  Not sure whether it was contraband, or just the fact he was happy to see them, they had him step into the body scanner for further inspection.  Indeed, it did show a massive bulge on his thigh.  When asked if he had a growth “down there,” he bluntly told them it was his “d_ _k.”  Caught off guard by his candid admission, the embarrassed TSA agents thanked him for his time and let him go through.

That said, if TSA agents frisk kids and geriatric grandmas, it’s my opinion they should have asked this gentleman into a secure room and told him to drop his pants.  After all, a $170,000 piece of taxpayer paid-for technology had just deemed him “suspicious.”  Why take his word that the bulge was nothing more than a long shlong?  Everyone understands how clever terrorists can be these days.  For all those TSA agents knew he could have been concealing a  hose bomb down there, or a sausage casing full of C4 explosives.  Or it might have been a condom full of deadly nerve gas ready to release at 20,000 feet, or an anesthetized snake he planned to revive and let loose on the plane.  I mean, come on……the possibilities are endless.

In airport terms, then, the truth about a suspicious “protrusion” in one’s pants should rise or fall on its merit, not the word of the person involved.  And, considering that TSA agents continue to frisk children and seniors on a regular basis, they need to deal with such bulges in a more direct and hands-on manner.  After all, embarrassment should not keep one from doing his or her job in an effective manner, especially since “embarrassment” has never stopped TSA agents from questionable searches in the past.

Finally, lest you think I feel so strongly about this issue because it is rumored that the last time I went through an airport scanner my profile generated TSA questions as to whether I had undergone a sex change operation, that would be incorrect.  There were absolutely no questions asked.  After the scan they simply waved me through with a polite, “Thank you for your cooperation, Mam.”

The Mayan Calendar and the End Of Time

It intrigues me that so much is being made of the supposed ending of the Mayan Long Count Calendar in three months.  Just because in coincides with the alignment of the sun and Milky Way galaxy for the first time in 26,000 years, “doom and gloomers,” as well as “end time” theorists are convinced that buying Christmas presents this year will be a waste of money.  After all, according to them there won’t be anyone left after December 21st to give them to.

Now, nothing is beyond the realm of possibility.  But perhaps those worrying about the issue should replace some of their emotion with objective consideration of what is actually known.  First, despite human predictions of world calamity, the calendar itself never predicted any sort of doomsday result.  And if that were not enough, the calendar really doesn’t end on December 21st, anyway.  Murals have been found in the jungles of Guatemala that extend it MANY years into the future.  Looks like Christmas shopping is on this year, after all.

Now, just for discussion, let’s say that the Mayan calendar DID end on December 21st.  Why should its abrupt conclusion be so quickly equated to deadly meteorite showers or a reversal of the Earth‘s magnetic fields?  After all, things end suddenly all the time, and usually for much simpler and less sinister reasons.  Consider these mundane possibilities:
 

-  The head Mayan calendar scribe retired, and his apprentice son decided there was more profit in making ceremonial headdresses than carrying on the traditional family business.

-  The price of mural space in caves and huts became too expensive due to inflated real estate costs, and calendar making was priced out of the market.

-  There was a sudden infestation of bark beetles that destroyed the natural material needed to make the bark-paper books in which many scribes recorded calendar data.

-  The Mayan Calendar Union went on strike for higher wages, and found out it was easier to go on unemployment insurance than to actually go back to work.

-  Mayan Calendar makers gave up their craft due to constant complaints from customers that the calendars lacked portability and couldn’t be carried in belt pouches.

-  Finally, the Mayan calendar really didn’t end as abruptly as was thought.  Those strange glyphs at the end of the text (and soon to be translated), will say the following: “etc., etc., etc.”

More “Fuzzy” Government Math

Awhile back I took a break from partying with all those hot cuties at the Senior Citizen Home, and watched two panels being questioned on C-SPAN at the “House Oversight and Government Reform Committee Hearings.”  The topic in question was the latest “Labor Department Jobs Report,” with special scrutiny on the GREEN JOBS statistics.

Now, my concept of a green job has always been centered around  employment in the fields of emerging or advanced technology.  It has included scientists and engineers working on alternative fuels, technicians that assemble and maintain solar panels and wind turbines, workers who install devices like smoke stack “scrubbers” which reduce harmful emissions, or employees that build, sell, and service electric cars.  With that mental construct in mind, then, it’s been difficult for me to fathom the government’s claim that millions of NEW green jobs were created in the past three years.
 

I guess what confused me was the term “created.”  Assuming the word’s traditional definition which is, “bringing into being: causing to exist,” it was hard to imagine that so many new jobs could be added in this stagnant economy, without noticeable improvement occurring.  Come to find out, however, that’s because Washington uses its own kind of “fuzzy” math meant to make politicians look good, while tossing traditional definitions out the window.

Based on the hearings, then, this is how those millions of “NEW” green jobs were added in this lousy economy.  Simply put, the Feds once again compiled their data using a contrived definition that suited their statistical needs.  Conveniently included with jobs in fields such as renewable fuels, alternative ecological strategies, and other high tech environmental solutions, were American workers who do the following:

Now, while one might argue that these jobs do help improve the environment, let’s get real.  None of them is NEW in any sense other than its reclassification.  Each has been around for years, just like the dishonesty of the political hacks in Washington who always seem to use laundered statistics for personal gain.
 

In my opinion, the only jobs that should have been counted in the Federal “green” employment statistics, were those newly created and highly beneficial to the environment.  (And sorry, “Guy Who Sweeps the Garage Where Propane Busses Are Housed,” yours is NOT in that category.)  Such lists should include employees of companies that manufacture appliances like… let’s say, “fart filters,” (methane flatulence traps that can be affixed below the tail of every dairy cow in the United States to reduce air pollution).  And, should other creative firms invent and start producing devices that can be strapped over the mouths of politicians to fight global warming by reducing the “hot air” they spew each time they speak, their workers should be added to the totals, as well, and deemed the most important NEW “green” jobs ever created.

Government Subsidized Porn In The Golden State

Over two years ago in July of 2010, I wrote a popular post titled, “Keep Your Fingers ‘Outa My Happy Meal.”  In it I related the decision of progressive California legislators to slim down all our chunky kids by legislating away the toys in their McDonald’s Happy Meals.  A liberal politician’s wet dream, the Happy Meal  decision was only one example of how the “Golden State” was fast becoming the “Nanny State.”  And were that not enough, another  recent northern California decision is adding the dubious distinction of us now becoming the “Ninny State,” as well.

It seems that in San Francisco, a growing number of visitors to the public library have been going there to surf for porn on the internet.  I guess it makes sense.  After all, with the state suffocating under a 16 BILLION dollar shortfall, it’s easy to understand that private citizens have had to cut back on their personal porn budgets in order to make ends meet.  And in California, (where you can turn to the government to get lots of stuff for free), looking at porn on taxpayer subsidized computers seems like the most natural thing to do.
 

Now, a reasonable person might think that the quickest solution to the library porn problem, is to simply block access to offending sites using available technology.  But remember… I’m talking about “progressive” California here, and whether something is reasonable or not usually has nothing to do with the decisions that are made.  That considered, library administrators initiated what was considered a “creative” solution that was fair to everyone.  They simply installed privacy screens around some of the computer monitors so that horny patrons could watch porn privately, out of the sight of innocent passers-by.

Speaking with a local television station, one of the librarians explained the decision this way:  “We’re always looking for any kind of elegant solution that strikes a balance between the right to privacy, and folks that want to use the library for any other intended purpose.” Now, to know why she called the solution “elegant,” one would most likely have to see the screens that were installed .  Perhaps they are beautifully painted with bucolic scenes of lusty bees pollinating seductive flowers, or decorated with industrial tableaus of oil derricks pumping rhythmically into deep well casings… who knows?  But elegant or not, being able to surf for porn on the public’s dime seems to be as obscene as what might be hidden behind those screens.

I mean, what will the San Francisco Library bureaucrats decide to allow next in their attempt to insure “free speech” for their more hormonal patrons?  How about hand lotion and boxes of Kleenex at each computer station under the guise of public health?  How about a rack of skin magazines to promote the cause of “reading?”  What about a few shelves of “Vivid Productions” hottest videos to encourage research on the craft of filmmaking?  And while kids can’t get toys in their Happy Meals at the local McDonalds, perhaps the library can start checking out sex toys to help their adult counterparts burn calories without having to go to the gym.

You see, as pathetic as it sounds, the political topography in California is strewn with SO many “slippery slopes,” just about anything is possible in the Golden State.  This time it just happens to be public libraries at the forefront of such progressive activism… that is, at least until they run out of tax dollars to buy more of those elegant privacy screens.

E-Mail: “Why Teachers Drink”

Knowing I’m a former teacher, a dear friend sent me an e-mail this week titled, “Why Teachers Drink.”  It was purported to be a selection of whacky student answers to test questions on a variety of subjects.  While I have no way to verify whether they’re authentic or just the product of some joke writers, I thought I'd pass them along and put a smile on your face.

I must admit, part of the joy of teaching for me, was that every now and then students made my day with answers on quizzes that were absolutely hilarious.  Some were unintentional, of course, but most came from bright kids that hadn’t bothered preparing for whatever test they were taking.  Perhaps feeling obligated to offer some sort of response, they concocted answers that while wildly incorrect, made you want to give them partial credit… at least for comedic brilliance.  Here are a few such examples:


Q:  What was Sir Walter Raleigh famous for?
A:  He is a noted figure in history because he invented cigarettes and started a craze for bicycles.

Q:  What did Mahatma Gandhi and Genghis Khan have in common?
A:  Unusual names.

Q:  Name one of the early Romans’ greatest achievements.
A:  Learning to speak Latin.

Q:  How does Romeo’s character develop throughout the play?
A:  It doesn’t, it’s just self, self, self, all the way through.

Q:  Name the wife of Orpheus, whom he attempted to save from the underworld.
A:  Mrs. Orpheus.

Q:  What happens during puberty to a boy?
A:  He says goodbye to his childhood, enters adultery.

Q:  What is the meaning of the word, “varicose?”
A:  Close by.

Q:  What is the highest frequency noise that a human can register?
A:  Mariah Carey.

Q:  What is a fibula?
A:  A little lie.

Q:  Joanna works in an office.  Her computer is a stand-alone system.  What is a stand-alone computer system?
A:  It doesn’t come with a chair.

Q:  What is a vibration?
A:  There are good vibrations and bad vibrations.  Good vibrations were discovered in the 1960’s.

Q:  The race of people known as Malays come from which country?
A: Malaria

Q:  Briefly explain what hard water is.
A:  Ice.   

Q:  Why would living close to a mobile phone mast cause ill health?
A:  You might walk into it.

Q:  Explain the phrase, “free press.”
A:  When your mum irons your pants for you.

Q:  Name six animals which live specifically in the Arctic?
A:  Two polar bears and four seals.