Nothing Beats a Chicken-fried Steak

But Have The Number of Your Cardiologist Handy 

From My Journal

The Road Less Traveled

March 2005

The other day on the way home, Lorraine asked, “Where does that road go?” So, being a dutiful chauffer, I took the turn and we followed that street from Harrodsburg Rd. over to Nicholasville Rd. Then we started down Nicholasville Rd., continuing on our way home. We went about a block when I noticed that we were right next to the Lone Star – Steakhouse, or in other words a place that has, or had in this case, good chicken-fried steak. So what with it being lunchtime, and Lorraine not wanting to go home and cook, we stopped and went in for some lunch. (Now those of you who have a devious mind might be wondering if in fact Lorraine knew where we were going to end up all along, and to that I say: “Shame on us!”)

We sat down and looked through the menu, seeking the Southern style chicken-fried steak. The Southern style in this case is very important. Northern chefs do a chicken-fried steak, but really don’t understand the heights of culinary excellence they can reach.

     The waitress came and we asked about the chicken-fried steak. She said they didn’t have any. We described it to her, which really didn’t help, and she left us to pick something else from the menu. Soon she came back and said the chef had agreed to make us each a chicken-fried steak. We thanked her and wondered if this chef really knew what he/she was doing. Soon she came back and asked if we would like to have mashed potatoes with that.

Then we knew we had a qualified Southern style chicken-fried steak expert in the backroom, because that’s normally the way this delicacy comes. This restaurant didn’t even have mashed potatoes on the menu. After a time the General Manager (David Nitishin) brought our dishes, then came back after the first couple bites and wanted to know what we thought. We assured him that it was all a chicken-fried steak should be.

We explained that being from Texas we were used to and knew a good chicken-fried steak. He told us that he was from Dallas and that his brother owned The Chop House in Sundance Square, downtown Fort Worth.

We licked up our plates and as we were leaving met him again by the front door and talked awhile. We suggested he put this item on the menu, so he gave us his business card along with the owner’s phone number and suggested we give the guy a call and make the suggestion to him, which I did. We traded stories about where we had lived, and what we had done in and around the Metroplex. It was an extraordinary dining experience.

 

“Welcome To The Walmart” – Ah Um – “Oh Yeah” – “First National Bank”

February, 2005

The hottest bit of financial news coming down the pike these last few days is that Walmart is going to try to get into the banking business. Now if anyone deserves some stiff competition that can think outside the 1,500 year-old banking box, it’s the banking industry. Of course the banking industry swears that if Wal-Mart is allowed into the financial banking fraternity, civilization as we know it, will cease to exist.

I can just see it now: I enter the First National Bank of Walmart (FNBWM). The first thing I notice is that the building doesn’t look like a cathedral, but more like a metal prefab Quonset hut. At the door I’m met by an 85-year-old person using a walker, who smiles and welcomes me to the bank. The security force is made up of dropouts from the local high school’s remedial-education program. But like their parent company, all the employees, except the top executives, are making minimum wage and no one gets in quite enough time to qualify for the benefit program. But they are allowed to gather together twice per shift to sing the FNBWM song, then be told how lucky they are to be a part of the huge FNBWM family.   

Another Stuffed Goose!

April, 2005

Speaking of livers: The state of Oregon is once again in the vanguard of protecting everything, in this particular case, geese. As many of you are aware, Foie Gras, a French delicacy, is made of goose livers. Well, why not, these folks also eat snails and frogs. I mean, even in Louisiana they draw the line above snails. As an efficiency measure, these geese are forced to overeat to enlarge their livers, therefore getting more Foie Gras per goose.

Goose raising--at least for Foie Gras--is not just your everyday back yard project, but is rather specialized, and in the U.S., done on a couple of large goose ranches, none of which are in Oregon, or even close to Oregon. So why is the Oregon legislature spending so much time on this issue? Most of them aren’t quite sure. They haven’t passed a K-12 Education budget yet, nor their Health and Human Services budget, but they have time for debating the inhumane feeding of geese, which isn’t even done in the state to begin with.

Not unusual for Oregon politicians, or so I hear. But if someone even thinks about overfeeding their goose in Oregon, the full weight of the Oregon law enforcement and judicial system is there to protect the goose. Now, if you are say, an abused kid, you have to stand in line, right behind the goose. Well, not too close behind, I mean an overfed goose and all--I’m sure you get the picture.

One thing I wish they had explained more fully--how do you force a goose to overeat?

 

You've Got To Avoid Those Predators 

Entries From my Journal 

Lorraine and I recently saw a program about Barnacle Geese. These geese nest at the top, or close to the top, of high cliffs. The reason for this choice of nesting site is to avoid predators. Keep this in mind. They lay their eggs and the goslings hatch, normal goose behavior. The only problem with this choice of nesting ground is that it is several hundred feet straight down to any kind of food supply. So once the goslings have reached the advanced age of three days, the parents leave and fly down to the bottom of the cliff. The goslings, coming from a long line of geese who have landed on their heads too many times, just step over the edge of the nest and fall down the cliff. They don’t fly, they don’t glide, they just fall, bouncing from ledge to ledge, if they’re lucky, or just one long freefall to the bottom of the cliff.

Now for the kicker. People who keep track of these kinds of things, (we might want to talk about them later), say that only fifty percent of these goslings survive the fall from the nest, where they were hatched to keep then safe from predators. Does that make sense? Not to me, but them I’m not a Barnacle Goose, at least not in this life.

One Car Looks Just Like Another

     A strange thing happened to me recently. I had stopped to pick up some drugs for Lorraine. I came out of the store, crossed the driveway, and walked up to the silver car sitting right where I had left it, or nearly so. I clicked open the locks and was just reaching for the door handle when I looked in the driver’s window and saw a woman sitting there eating an ice cream cone. I immediately withdrew my hand and walked around her big silver Cadillac and to my silver Honda, which was the next car. It’s really amazing the similarity of those two cars. As I was reaching for her door handle she was evidently going to take a bite out of her ice cream cone, but in her excitement to meet this dashing stranger who was about to open her car door, she forgot to open her month. As I was getting into my car I glanced over and she was trying to clean the ice cream off her face.

Only One More Tree 

So, what is the deal with cash register tapes? I stopped at Safeway and bought six items. The cash register tape listed the store name and the address. Then it listed my six purchases and a total. That took up about five inches of paper. Then there was nine inches of fine print explaining that the store was not responsible for anything and that if I wanted to sue someone not to come looking for them. Other stores will have blurbage explaining about the upcoming concert by the Manure Pile Deadbeats who will be playing at a local Music-in-the-Park shindig the week before Christmas. Plus that they give you a website where you can fill out a customer satisfaction survey. (Why they might think you would be in a good mood after reading all the extraneous fine print, I don’t know.)  

And for spending your valuable time on their survey they will give you a 1 in 50 million chance to win $1,000. Anyway, these receipts have verbiage that triples in length the strip of paper needed to show that you actually paid for what you’re carrying out of the store. I really can’t believe that it’s a viable bit of marketing.

You’d Better Not Have Cold Hands 

Being continually tuned into the world of cheese and what’s happening there, I came upon this bit of information: You can now buy Moose Cheese. That’s right, cheese made from the milk of moose, or mooses, or mees, no--that can’t be right. Anyway, you can buy this moose cheese, wholesale, for about $500 per pound. My first question was, “Why so expensive?” Then I guessed that it had to do with the cost of hiring people to actually milk the moose. Just think about it. How much would you charge to catch and milk a moose? I bet the turnover in milkers is ferocious. Just getting close enough to explain to a cow moose what you would like to do has got to be a challenge, let alone actually doing it. But on investigation I found that in northern Sweden there is a farm that has a few domestic moose, which they milk. So there goes all the entertainment out of the moose milking.

Death To All Microbes! Really?

     What is this deal with “hand sanitizer”? It’s in the grocery stores, in the library, at the Club, and in just about every other place a person goes. Every time you take your hands out of your pockets you’re given the opportunity to apply hand sanitizer. I mean this is all well and good but what about our friends the germs. Up until now it has been sort of a halfhearted struggle between the two species. We kill a few of them, they kill a few of us, they come up with new mutations, we come up with new chemicals, and everyone is happy with the status quo. Now however we have taken the benign cold war status of this conflict and moved it up about ten levels. The germs are going to get the idea that we don’t really like them and the more militant faction of their species may get the upper hand and push the whole clan into escalating to all out war.

And what would the result of that escalation be? It could be an ugly situation. This is why I think we need to rethink this “hand sanitizer” thing. Personally, I don’t use the stuff and I hope the germs are taking notice.  

Thoughts and Comments Part 3

From My Journal 

Anybody for Roasted Goat?

December 2005

     Well, like the headline said, “Vandals Burned Christmas Goat, Again.” Not a headline you see every Christmas. Let me explain. In a town in central Sweden, notice they don’t want to be identified, they have a tradition of building a 43-foot high straw Christmas goat. I’m not sure this is at all biblical. It also seems to be a tradition that someone sets the goat on fire and burns the thing. In the last 40 years, only 10 goats have survived past Christmas Day. Very seldom is the vandal or vandals caught, because it seems that many of these tricky Swedes are wearing Father Christmas masks. One exception was in 2001 when the vandal turned out to be a 51-year-old guy from Cleveland, which pretty much explains his problem. It’s rumored that this guy was given the choice of spending 18 days in jail, or eating some lutefisk. He took the jail time.

Traffic Hazards

April 2006

     The supermarkets have come up with a new way to terrorize shoppers, or at least some of us shoppers. Now, instead of having little kids safely ensconced in their mother’s shopping carts and out from underfoot, they each have their own little shopping cart.

Today was a good example of the results of this new system. There was a young mother pushing a shopping cart, followed by four little shopping carts, partially loaded, and being pushed by four little kids. Two of the kids were bawling their eyes out because the other two were trying to run them down with their own shopping carts. All four had runny noses, which did nothing to help the traction on the floor for us serious shoppers. Each little cart was partially loaded with stuff and each new addition was the start of a new loud argument between the mother and kid.

I’m going to share with this particular supermarket a new idea, which I came up with while waiting for this particular side-show to get out of my way for the 5^th time.

At the door, instead of miniature shopping carts, each parent with a kid, or kids, will be issued the appropriate number of leashes and gags. 

If It’s Not One Thing It’s Another Hedgehog

September 2006

     For those following the English hedgehog dilemma, you will be glad to know that the situation seems to have been resolved. The problem was brought on by the cups McDonald’s was using for their McFlurries, whatever that is. It seems that the opening of these cups was large enough for the hedgehogs to put their heads in, but not to get them out again. English hedgehogs are not known for their high IQs.

The hedgehogs were putting their heads in these cups to lick up whatever the McDonald customers had left before throwing their cups someplace where the spiny little animals could get their paws on them. Now McDonalds is making a smaller opening on these cups so the hedgehogs can’t get their heads in and thus can’t get stuck. Of course they can’t get any more McFlurry leftovers either. I wonder if anyone asked the hedgehogs. An even simpler solution would be for the British to stop throwing their McFlurry cups higgledy-piggledy all over the countryside.

Goat Stealing Made Easy

November 2007

If a person is going to steal goats, Australia is a tough place to do it. A person stole an Australian goat and hauled it into a church and performed some kind of satanic ritual with the smelly beast. The goat didn’t survive that triumph. And the court, now listen to this, made the person say they were sorry, not only to the goat owner, but also to the church. WOW! That should keep them from ever doing that again! The news article mentioned that some imbibing of alcoholic beverages had been going on before this goat rustler pulled this stunt.

HOLY FLYING COWS BATMAN!!

Sure enough, in none other than central Washington, around Chelan to be exact, a cow dropped out of the sky and landed on the hood of a car that was carrying a couple someplace. The car’s occupants were not injured, but the cow was not so lucky. It seems that the cow had actually fallen off a two hundred foot cliff.

Ah Nuts!!

A man, once again in Washington (what’s going on up there), Southworth to be exact, was trying to get the lug nuts loose on a wheel of his Lincoln Continental. Not successful using the normal lug wrench, he got his 12-gauge shotgun and tried to blast the nuts loose. Instead, he got ricocheted buckshot in himself from his chin to his feet, most of it below his waist. He did loosen some nuts, but not necessarily the ones he was pointing the shotgun toward. The report said that he wasn’t intoxicated. Too bad! At least he would have had an excuse.

Thoughts and Commentary Part 2

From My Journal

Where Have All The Diapers Gone 

June, 2014

     An article by Tom Foreman in the Yahoo News reported that somebody ripped off a bunch of diapers from a non-profit association’s “diaper bank.” They took 13,000 of the things, mostly sizes 4 and 5. The diaper-bank people claimed that these sizes are the most called for. They said “losing the sizes 4 and 5 diapers is especially difficult because babies can stay in them for up to a year ___”

     I’m not an authority, but our girls would not stay in a diaper near that long. After it had served its purpose they wanted out of the thing pronto and no ifs, ands, or buts, about it. And they were vocal about that.

     A couple things puzzle me. Or more like surprise me. One is that there is a “diaper bank.” Who’d a thought? The second thing is, “What do these thieves need with 13,000 diapers?” I mean can you see them hanging out in an alley entrance saying, “Psst, wanna buy a diaper.” Or maybe these things will show up on E-Bay or Craigslist, but that would take them forever to unload all their ill-gotten gains. Maybe they will end up in some third-world country where mothers are desperate for diapers and will pay an exorbitant amount for the things. 

Well, that’s all I got, and I’ve already spent more time on this than it’s worth.

Down but Not Out

You hear about how old people are being targeted by thieves and such because of their age. Well not all old people are that easy to take advantage of. Another news item that Yahoo News picked off the AP tells about one such case.

A couple in their eighty’s had just gotten home from a casino with $500.00 dollars in winnings when a man broke into their home and demanded money. The alternative to not giving him some money he explained was to get shot. The man told the thief that he was 85 years old and if the thief wanted to shoot him to go ahead. The thief didn’t, but started rummaging around the house. The couple took his momentary absence to run outside where the old gentleman clicked on his car alarm, which caused the thief to run out of the house and jump in a waiting car.

So for all the criminals out there, just because we’re old doesn’t mean that taking advantage of us is going to be a walk in the park.

A Lick In Time, Can Get You Time

A Reuters report out of Albuquerque, NM, and picked up by Yahoo News stated that, “A kitchen employee at a women’s halfway house has been charged with three counts of battery on a peace officer.” Okay, I can see where working in a kitchen all day might make a person a little testy, but what did she actually do? Well, it seems that she licked this officer’s sandwich cheese and ice cubes before serving them to him. So be careful what you lick while making lunch for the family or you could be facing battery charges as well.

As reported by Will Lerner and picked up by Yahoo , a 17 year old held a man at gunpoint, demanding that the victim empty out his bank account at an ATM. However, in the middle of the operation the perp fell asleep. Nobody’s sure why.

     The lesson here:  If you’re planning a mugging, take a nap first. 

Budget Cuts Strike Again

At a Pennsylvania school, a school aid served the fourth grade class dog treats and told they were cookies. The school district, after suspending the aid, explained that it was entirely her fault. None of the kids were reported as sustaining any ill effects, which is not a surprise as there is nothing in the dog treats that should be harmful to humans unless they have certain food allergies.

     Now modern journalism being what it is the story does not answer my big question. “Who tumbled to the fact that the treats were not really people cookies, but dog food?” I think it’s a good question, don’t you?

Some of This and Some of That, Part 2

From My Journal

Go Dave!

August 2005

     In this day and age one is hard put to find real heroes, but occasionally one comes along. Such is the case with David Owen Rye who was so annoyed by a noisy car alarm that he fired three bullets into a Toyota Camry, silencing the alarm and bringing the police. The police didn’t appreciate his actions and neither did the Camry. Now tell me if ya’ll haven’t wanted to do that same thing at some point in time. 

Strikers Beware

August 2005

     Today union strikers shut down England’s Heathrow Airport for most of the day. The report said that 70,000 travelers were affected. It caused more consternation, resentment, confusion, and misplaced people than the terrorist subway bombings that recently took place in London. The only difference was that no one was killed. That’s probably because the travelers couldn’t readily get their hands on the strikers. 

Running Was Never This Fun Before

Friday 2005

     You will all be glad to hear that after two days of the Running of The Bulls, in Pamplona, Italy, no one has been reported injured. I knew you’d appreciate that. But you have to understand what they don’t call an injury. They don’t call it an injury just because you have to go to the hospital to get your head sewn up, cracked ribs taped up, or put to bed until you come out of the coma. And they don’t call it an injury if a one-half ton bull puts a horn into your body, as long as he uses an existing orifice. Getting trampled or tossed through a storefront won’t even get you honorable mention. This year, for the first time since this insanity started, they are letting the fairer sex run. By that I mean women. (Now days you have to be specific.) And I say, good for them. Men have looked stupid enough for way too long, now we have some company.

Bears Beware

October 2004

     I was glad to hear that for the first time in about fifty years, the state of Maryland is having a bear season. That means that for a couple weeks people are allowed to go out into the woods to try and kill a bear. It seems that the state has more bears than they think they need. I’m not sure if anyone asked the bears for their opinion. Anyway, these hunters, to be able to sneak up on the bears, smear themselves all over with horse manure so that the bears can’t smell them coming. But the problem is the bears can smell the breath of these hunters, evidently regardless of how much mouthwash they’ve used. So some genius has developed a chewing gum that will confuse the bears--I guess, much like the horse manure thing.
     
     Now they don’t say what’s in this gum or what it tastes like, but I figure that if the house manure works on the rest of the body, why not--well, you get it I’m sure. How, when you think of high intelligence, a bear is not usually the first thing that comes to min—clever and quick learners up to a point, but higher reasoning ability is just not the bears’ thing. So we have these not-too-bright bears out in the woods, along with these supposedly much brighter hunters, who are covered in horse manure and chewing on something equally disgusting--I mean, from just a casual observation it might be hard to determine which specie has the higher intelligence.

“Put Down Those Nail Clippers and Slowly Back Away”

December, 2004

On the news the other day they said that in some airport, they, whoever it was, had placed a fake bomb in some luggage and it had gone whizzing past the inspectors without so much as a question. My question is why I can’t ever get these inspectors. After making me walk barefoot through their metal detector, they will confiscate my nail clippers with dire threats, making me feel that I’m lucky not to be hauled away immediately to Gitmo.

Some of This and Some of That, Part 1 

From My Journal

 

 

Be Vigilant

October 2004

In Kenya, a group of prisoners broke out of jail. They used loud singing of hymns and praying to cover the sound of their sawing through the bars of the jail windows. This bears out my philosophy that anytime you’re in the company of an over enthusiastic bunch of “psalm singers and tambourine whackers,” you’d better be aware of what else is going on. 

Some Hungarian scientists are saying that excessive cell phone usage can damage sperm. I don’t know about Hungary, but in Wisconsin, we hold our cell phones up to our ears.

Shoes For The Shoeless - Maybe Not

We were watching a nature program and part of the message was that we should ban things such as alligator shoes. I’m in total agreement, it makes it so hard for them to walk.    

“One Happy Meal To Go Please.”  “Ah So.”

Friday 2005

     The latest news is that McDonalds plans to consolidate their drive-up window order-takers in a few call centers around the country or world. Which means that when you are talking into the clown’s mouth, you might be talking to someone many states or an ocean away. So now, along with the World War I war surplus microphone/speaker systems these fast food places seem to utilize, we now have to contend with non-local accents. I think it’s a great idea, but only because I use this technology only about once every year.

Bits And Pieces

October, 2004

Today I read in the news the headline that said: “U.S. Stocks Expected to Open Flat.” I would have thought they could have at least been able to afford a nice apartment, if not a house.

Another headline stated that” “A Sicilian entrepreneur has offered to donate parts for organ transplants in an effort to keep his business alive.” I noticed it didn’t say whose body parts he was offering. 

November 2004

In Iran, police seized 18 kilos of opium after cutting open the stomachs of six camels, who were being used to transport the drugs. Think how embarrassing it must be for these poor camels to find out they’re being used as mules. 

For Sale – One Famous Bridge – Delivery Not Possible

December, 2004

We were watching a program about how they are retro-fitting the Golden Gate Bridge so that it can withstand an earthquake with the magnitude of 8.3. My question is, why save a bridge when you won’t have any people to use it anyway. They admitted that at 8.3, San Francisco would be pretty much leveled, the area north of the bridge would be pretty much leveled, the freeway and streets would be leveled, crumpled, split open, but most of all useless. So that leaves you with a beautiful bridge spanning San Francisco Bay, with no motor access to either end. It seems to me that there is a piece missing from their plan.

So Long Gerry

July 2005

     Today Gerry Thomas passed away. I can hear ya’ll exclaiming, “Oh no!” Followed by, “Who?” Well, some of you probably recognize Gerry’s name. For those of you who don’t, Gerry Thomas was the guy who invented the TV dinner. Rumor has it that he will be buried in a three-part tinfoil casket, with some shriveled-up peas in one part, and two spoonfuls of mashed potatoes in the other part, along with some gravy that will slop over and soak the thumbnail sized piece of cornbread. Like I said, that’s just a rumor.

“Please Pass The Petri Dish.”

The latest thing in burger world is burgers that are the product of tissue engineering. Now if that doesn’t make your mouth water I don’t know what would. Evidently these geniuses haven’t heard of Loma Linda, who’ve been making meat-like products out of non-meat-like stuff for years. So what are the advantages: the world wouldn’t need 10 zillion flatulent cows. The downside: cowboys of the future would wear lab coats, thick glasses, pocket protectors, and hairnets. It’s enough to make John Wayne cry. And what about the Marlboro Man? He would be even more out of sync than he is already. The rugged outdoor type would no long be in vogue. Instead the cool guy of the future would be a skinny myopic person, gazing into a microscope, watching a meat patty grow. Yum Yum!

    

 

Medical Advice, Good or Bad?

       Without a doubt we have available to us a plethora of medical advice. It is a muli-billion dollar business. Some of it seems to be good, some questionable, and much of it contradictory. Much of this advice comes with products you can buy. (Feature that.) For every piece of medical advice there is a study to prove a particular point. Some of these studies are legitimate, gladdening the heart of any statistician. Some studies are so miniscule and vague that it’s a source of entertainment for the same statisticians, along with the rest of us. The following is some additional advice.

        (Included in my family are many medical professionals, with more on the way by all appearances. None of these people had any part in compiling the following medical advice. After all, I want to be invited to future family gatherings.)


       You can ascertain its value for yourself.

From some unknown source - - mostly - - -

An interview with a famous Japanese doctor:

Q: Doctor, I’ve heard that cardiovascular exercise can prolong life. Is this true?

A: Heart only good for so many beats, and that’s it- - Don’t waste on exercise. Everything wear out eventually. Speed up heart not make live longer; that like say you can extend life of car by driving faster. Want live longer? Take nap.

Q: Should I cut down on meat and eat more fruits and vegetables?

A: You must grasp logistical efficiencies. What does cow eat? Hay and corn. What are these? Vegetables. So, steak nothing more than efficient mechanism of delivering vegetables to system. Need Grain? Eat chicken. Beef also good source of field grass which is green leafy vegetable.

Q: Should I reduce my alcohol intake?

A: No, not at all. Wine made from fruit. Brandy is distilled wine. That means they take water out of fruity bit, get even more goodness that way. Beer also made of grain. Bottoms up!

Q: How can I calculate my body/fat ratio?

A: If you have body and you have fat, ratio is one to one. If you have two bodies, ratio is two to one, etc.

Q: What are some of the advantages of participating in a regular exercise program?

A: Cannot think of single one, sorry. My philosophy: No Pain. --- Good!


Q: Aren’t fried goods bad for you?

A: YOU NOT LISTENING!!! . . . Foods fried in vegetable oil. How getting more vegetables be bad for you?


Q: Will sit-ups help prevent me from getting a little soft around the middle?

A: Definitely not! When you exercise muscle, it gets bigger. You should only do sit-ups if want bigger stomach.


Q: Is chocolate bad for me?

A: You crazy? HELLO. . . Cocoa beans! Vegetable!!! Coca beans best feel-good food around!


Q: Is swimming good for your figure?

A: If swimming good for figure, explain whales to me.


Q: Is getting in shape important for my lifestyle?

A: Hey! ‘Round’ is shape.

Well, I hope this has cleared up any misconceptions you may have had about food and diets. Also think about this:


The Japanese eat very little fat

And suffer fewer heart attacks than Americans

The Mexicans eat a lot of fat

And suffer fewer heart attacks than Americans

The Chinese drink very little red wine

And suffer fewer heart attacks than Americans

The Italians drink a lot of red wine

And suffer fewer heart attacks than Americans

The Germans drink a lot of beers and eat lots of sausages and fats

And suffer fewer heart attacks than Americans

CONCLUSION

Eat and drink what you like. Speaking English is apparently what kills you.

My Old Kentucky Home - - Blog 3 

Excerpts from My Journal

Shopping In Kentucky

September 2009

     The last time I was sent to the grocery store I had on my list “fresh organic basil.” Now basil is, according to Wikipedia, “any of several aromatic herbs (genus Ocimum) of the mint family.” Now that we have that cleared up, let’s get on with it. It looks like most any other weed that a person might find clogging up his garden, lawn, pasture, or whatever. The main difference is that at some point someone took a fancy to the way this stuff tasted and put it in a recipe, and there you go.

This fresh basil comes in a little plastic package that was designed by the people who did Fort Knox. And checking the price on the basil I can see that they are protecting a very valuable commodity. Now my instructions said “organic”, so I made sure that the label said “organic” and snatched up a package of this stuff. Close inspection led me to believe this basil had been harvested by some farmer kicking it loose with the side of his shoe, then kicking it over to the truck that hauled it to wherever it got packaged. In other words it was pretty beat up. 

Now I’ve looked at enough organic produce to know that most of it has this same look, at least here and in Wisconsin. Like it was picked and packaged by a herd of very casual baboons. Why it has to look that way I don’t know. I’ve seen organic produce in Portland markets that looked great, almost good enough to eat, so I have to assume that the Kentucky Kroger market is a place for these “Organic Farmers” to unload their 2nds. Oh well, just one of the prices one pays for living in Kentucky. 

More Kentucky Shopping

I’ve read and heard drivers talk about the lightning reflexes needed to drive the Indy 500, the nerve to handle a Le Mans, or the endurance to last through the Baja 1000. These drivers wouldn’t last ten minutes at Kroger’s on the Old-Codgers-Discount-Day just before Labor Day weekend. The competitors come in all different sizes and shapes. From little old grannies screaming up and down the aisles, trying to see with their coke-bottle spectacles, shod in racing-stripped Nikes, to 300-pound guys riding those little motorized shopping carts they supply for people who can’t ambulate well.

And then there are the tandem teams, which usually consist of a man driving while the lady throws stuff in the cart and shouts directions, ostensibly because the man’s at least partially deaf. Chugging past the end of an aisle he says, “You don’t need anything down that aisle.” She replies, “How do you know that? I’m sure I could find something down that aisle that I could need.” And down the aisles she goes. Two aisles later, the man looks around to see why his wife is not answering his questions, ostensibly because she’s at least partially deaf, and he finds that she has disappeared. Not believing in the Secret Rapture, at least for her, he retraces his steps to find his lost wife. 

 Most of these people are very label conscious, for two reasons: one economic, and the other health. Of course, it takes time to read and decipher these labels, then decide if this particular company has lied to them before. That they are parked smack dab in the center of the aisle is not a consideration, at least for them. They discuss the merits of ten different coffee creamers before finally choosing one. That they have nothing else to do this day is obvious.  

In the meantime most people, seeing my shoes smoking and the wheels on my shopping cart glowing a dull pink, tend to move out of the way. The whole experience is rather entertaining if a person maintains a certain attitude.

There Should Be A Place For People Like This

 

Today I had to stop at a local store to pick up some envelopes for CMDAD use. I also picked up two large bags of animal cookies for Lorraine. When I got up to the checkout counter I was behind a lady and her three school age, but less-than-teenage, children. She only had a few items in her basket, but as they were being scanned, one kid decided he wanted a drink. Luckily there was a drink cabinet right beside the checkout counter so he was able to grab one, but then decided it was the wrong one. By the time he had selected one that looked like something he wanted he had cooled on the drink idea and decided on a candy bar instead.

His younger sister then came on line and decided she needed one also. So the mother sent all three off to pick out candy. She on the other hand, found out that the size on one of her purchases was wrong, so went flying off to exchange it. By now the clerk was finished scanning and was waiting for this family to get its act together. All three kids came back with large Hershey bars. As the clerk was scanning these the sister pointed out that the younger brother’s bar had almonds in it. This seemed to disturb everyone, especially the younger brother, who was evidently allergic to almonds. The girl seemed to really enjoy bringing this information to the attention of everyone in that area of the store. By this time the mother had returned and insisted that the younger son go and get a bar that didn’t have almonds. So the two brothers went galloping off, but soon returned, and the older brother announced that the original bar really didn’t have almonds in it at all, and he proceeded to dress down the sister for, what he felt, was maliciously causing problems based on manufactured pretenses.  

Just before the brothers came back with this news, the mother decided she had time to run back and pick out another piece of clothing for one of the kids. She went roaring off. At this point I looked at my watch to see how long it would be before she returned. It took her 7.5 minutes. Now that is not usually a life-threatening amount of time, but when standing in line with nothing to do except observe this family, as entertaining as this proved to be, it seemed much longer. As soon as the three candy bars had been scanned, they were unwrapped and commenced to disappear down the gullets of these three kids. The bars were not the biggest slabs of chocolate I’ve ever seen, but if these bars had been put side by side they would have provided shade for my Honda. At the end of the 7.5 minutes the mother returned with the garment, got it scanned, and after rummaging around in a massive handbag, found a card of some sort and paid for her purchases. 

In all this she didn’t act like she was aware that there was a line of people waiting for and observing her.

Vellanoff’s Journal

Stop That Cab! Good Luck With That

One summer it was my pleasure to be assigned by the Company to escort around the city of Chicago a high-ranking official from Ukraine. I was chosen because this fellow was, first of all, enamored by the theater, of which I was of course a modest part, and secondarily because I could speak Russian.

One afternoon we took a taxi over to the Museum of Natural History. I got out and paid the driver. Boris got out behind me and closed the door. As the cab moved forward, Boris discovered that he had closed his coat in the door. Not wanting to tear his coat he started to run alongside the cab while trying to get the cabby’s attention. About two blocks down the street the cab driver realized something was wrong, noticed Boris, and immediately stopped the cab. (Obviously this cabby was new at his job.) The driver jumped out, released Boris’s coat, then asked, “Are you all right?” “Yes,” gasped Boris, “How much more do I owe you?”

One Picky Elephant

On one of our swings through the South, we played in a small town in Georgia. We knew things would be slow for the show when we saw that the Dangling Brothers Circus was in town and would be for about a week. The night before we opened a bunch of us decided to attend the circus. As the program proceeded, we really enjoyed ourselves. Then to my surprise out came the Flying Busalatos. Now the name didn’t mean much to me, but I knew those guys. They were my second cousins, the sons and daughter of my Uncle Smirnoff who had to leave Russia because of the very probable political persecution, which followed closely on the heels of a scam he had run on the local governor. Anyway, it was because of his small wiry body that he had been able to hide in the center of a wheel of cheese and get himself shipped to Italy, where he settled down after several name changes, and raised a family. How the hole got in the center of that wheel of cheese is another story--but we digress.

As they started their act I didn’t realize that we were about to witness circus history. Yes, boys and girls, the first, and well, last, pachyderm high wire act.

You should have seen the look on the face of that elephant. It was--well the elephant was blind, so he didn’t have the slightest idea that he was eighty feet off the ground. He walked back and forth, rode a bicycle, and balanced a guy on his head while standing on his hind feet.

 The trouble came when they prematurely tried the finale. My cousin Eke, or that was his name when he crawled into the cheese, was supposed to come out onto the wire also blindfolded, and, after lifting the animals trunk, put his head into the elephant’s mouth. As I said they were a little ahead of themselves and the elephant was facing the wrong way when Eke tried his trick. Well, the elephant took exception to what he considered an invasion of his privacy and in the process of turning around to slap Eke up against the opposite side of the tent, fell into the net, which didn’t really slow him down much, and landed on a clown.

The audience thought it was the funniest thing they’d seen. The coroner showed up to fix the clown’s cause of death, which was quite an exercise in itself. After moving the elephant, they just rolled up the clown like a large multicolored throw rug and two other clowns carried him out of the center ring. The audience howled with delight. 

It was in this same town we were asked by the police to make this announcement before our show. “The police are looking for a small man with one eye.” Some wisea - - guy in the front row shouted out “If the man is so small why don’t they try using both eyes?”

 

To Stop or Slow Down

One summer our troupe was playing Lexington, Nebraska. These folks loved Hamlet, but had no idea who Shakespeare was. One beautiful day we decided to take a drive out in the country, despite the lack of scenery.

Roy drove us out into the country. We came to a stop sign at a crossroads. Since we hadn’t seen any other cars in half an hour, Roy decided that he only had to slow down a little, which he did and then proceeded through the intersection. Unfortunately for him, a young sheriff’s deputy saw him and pulled him over.

“Sir,” said the sheriff “That’s a stop sign.”

“Son,” said Roy “I’ve been driving for twenty years and have yet to have an accident. There’s not a bit of difference between ‘stop’ and ‘slow down’.”

“Well sir,” said the sheriff, “I’m going to show you the difference.” He hauled out his nightstick and began beating Roy on the head and shoulders.

“Now, sir,” said the sheriff “Do you want me to STOP of SLOW DOWN?”

 

 

 

My Old Kentucky Home - - Blog 2 

Excerpts From My Journal 

There Goes Another Freedom

July 2008

     Religious freedom is at risk in the state of Kentucky-- again. Down in Middlesboro, the pastor of a church, along with ten of his parishioners, were arrested by Kentucky Fish and Wildlife people, just because they had 100 snakes, many of them deadly. The pastor and members had been using these snakes in their worship services. They handle these reptiles as a way of proving their faith in God. The pastor was also selling some of these snakes over the Internet. Of course having or selling these snakes is illegal in Kentucky. First the snakes, next it will be illegal to sell hymnbooks.

 

Useful Things to Know 

May 2011

     While living in Kentucky I served as a voting precinct judge. In each precinct, we had two judges, a “sheriff”, and a clerk. Our job was to see that the voting process was all legal and aboveboard.

     One such day while waiting for voters to show up at the polls I learned something. In Kentucky, and probably the rest of the South, you can say anything about another person and if you follow it up with a “God Bless’em” it makes it okay. It doesn’t negate anything you said, but takes the sting out of the comment. Such as, “He’s a dirty rotten scoundrel, God bless’em.” 

And Then There’s the Accent

September 2009

     Today in church a gentleman was telling the children’s story. It was about a donkey that fell down a well. This guy sounded like he was Kentucky born and bred, and has an accent like some relatives I could mention. He explained that the kind of well he was talking about was the hole in the ground and not some big thing swimming around in the ocean, “even though they both sound the same”, he explained.  

A Kentucky State Trooper pulled over a pickup and sayed to the driver, “Got any I.D?” and the driver replied, “Bout wut?”