CALL ME SNAKE

This just in from Nature, the world’s leading science journal: “No audience for your blog? No problem. A U.S. company will beam postings to outer space for extraterrestrials to read.” This comes as great news for me, as I have long thought of ways of broadening my readership. How about the cache of having readers on Alpha Centauri and Vega? Who knows? One day Call Me Snake might become the first intergalactic blog in history and the longest “link” ever established. If you’re out there ET, listen up: The Snake is coming at you. You’ll soon have the chance to read the latest updates on the ever-fascinating Antoine Walker saga.

Three weeks have passed since our last Bumper Sticker contest. I’ve just finished sifting through all those old entries, so I guess it’s time now for the latest BLOGGING BUMPER STICK SWEEPSTAKES. Here are the first five candidates (in what will undoubtedly prove to be a crowded and illustrious field), written by none other than yours truly, the Snakemeister himself.

1. BIG BLOGGER IS WATCHING YOU.

2. DON’T LOOK NOW. YOU’RE BEING BLOGGED.

3. “THE BLOGGING BEGINS IN 5 MINUTES.” –Ronald Reagan

4. ONE BLOG AT A TIME.

5. I WENT ONLINE TO BUY A T-SHIRT. ALL I GOT WAS THIS LOUSY BLOG.

Send in your entries today! Our judges are relaxing in Barbados now, with nothing to do but sip their pina coladas and wait for the deluge of blogging bumper sticker ideas to pour in. Early submissions will get special attention, so don’t delay! This could be your chance for glory–your 15 seconds of fame.

If you believe People Magazine (and I only know about this because I still have AOL for another two weeks before they cut me off for good), Jude Law still has some explaining and, more importantly, apologizing to do. I said before that Jude could set things right with his fiance through the use of a single word: “Sorry.” But if the People story is right–and when have they ever been anything less than truthful?–he might have to use that single word quite a few times or, better yet, incorporate it into a complex sentence as in: “Sorry I had an alleged affair with the exotic dancer in Chicago, who is OK as exotic dancers go but otherwise full of crap.” Or: “Sorry people (or rather People) are suggesting my ex-wife and I engaged in wife-swapping–a patent falsehood that I haven’t yet tried, though it sounds like it might be fun if things ever get dull around here, which, of course, they never will–not with you, Sweetie!” He’s free to use these lines if he wishes, and I’m happy to suggest other surefire lines as well. I’ll even throw in an original, “can’t miss,” blogger bumper sticker line or two for him to try out, as I seem to have an inexhaustible supply of those. But that’s the subject of another post, so I’m going to sign off here and end with a preemptive “sorry” to cover any lapses I might have between now and our next chat.

I was passing through Harvard Square today, trying to get my kid to camp (late, as usual), when I was accosted by a man bearing a placard that read: “YOU MUST CONVERT TO BORN AGAIN CHRISTIAN OR YOU WILL BURN IN HELL.” I thanked him for the information and told him I’d try to keep it in mind.

My last post was devoted to people who read this blog, or at least have done so on occasion. This is a tribute to people who, for whatever reason, do not read “Call Me Snake.”

People who do not read this blog constitute:

• an internationally-diverse group… (I have good friends in England, France, Switzerland, China, Thailand, and Africa [I'd like to be more specific but the exact country escapes me at the moment] and, to their credit, none of them read “Call Me Snake.” Not a one.)

• world leaders and opinion shapers. To the best of my knowledge, none of the people who read “Call Me Snake” quailify in that category.

That’s all I can think of for now. Which must mean everyone else is reading “Call Me Snake.” Sign on now! Avoid the rush!

I’ve heard grumblings in some quarters that this blog is too much about me. For once I’d like to put the focus on you. That’s right, YOU. Don’t look so surprised. This is a new me talking here. And the “How Are Ya’” blogs are soon to become a new feature at Call Me Snake. (We like to introduce “new features” here, and we do that all the time, though some might say we’ve been a little weak on the follow-up. But enough on that. Let’s get the focus back on you, where it belongs. Just where I said it would be…)

Dr. Max (see link on right), AFOCMS (which is a pithy acronym for A Friend Of Call Me Snake), often starts his posts with a rhetorical question: How is everbody doing? That strategy is so effective for him that I thought I’d try the same: How IS everbody doing? REALLY? You’re all fine? Well that’s great. Just great. Wish I could say the same. That things are great, I mean. But they’re not. Not that things are BAD. It’s not as bad as all that by any means. Basically, I’m fine. Just getting by. You know, one blog at a time and that sort of thing.

If I were one to complain, and I’m not, I might mention something about the weather. The heat part of it, that is. It sure can get to you, around here I mean, what with the temperature being what it is. And what it is is hot. Not to mention the humidity. And dewpoint and relative humidity and the rest of it. But don’t get me started. Like I said before, I”m not complaining and I ain’t bellyachin’ either.

Anyways, I’m glad to hear that everyone is doing so well. Keep it up, folks! You’re amazing–an inspiration to the rest of us. I’ve always said I couldn’t do it without you. I didn’t necessarily believe that, but I said it all the same. And now I think it might possibly be true.

Yesterday, while working on a treatise about flying squirrels, I needed more information about their wing tips and did the obvious thing–typed in “flying squirrels” and “wing tips” on Google. I checked out many of the results, one of which led me to a porno site featuring “big natural breasts.” That was a shocker that pretty much killed my whole workday. I mean how can a fellow–who’s just minding his own business, not looking for any trouble–concentrate on the subtleties of gliding biomechanics with all those giant breasts popping up all over the place? I’ve been traumatized ever since and things have gotten so bad, I’ve contemplated looking for another search engine. Does anyone have any advice? Perhaps I’ll ask my friend Jeeves, who’s always helpful in matters like these.

The story line in “The Magnificent Ambersons,” the 1942 film classic by Orson Welles, revolves around George Amberson Minafer and how he gets his “comeuppance.” I’d always considered it an entertaining tale until I too–like bad boy Georgie before me–got my comeuppance.

It happened yesterday, when I was least expecting it. There I was, feeling smug and self-satisfied–having a great day in other words. The weather outside was perfect–a dry, sunny, and breezy 80 degrees. Though I was chained to my desk, writing about flying squirrels, I did not mind. Then I got some email, a new comment from blog.com. I opened it eagerly–a welcome distraction from my manuscript–expecting the usual laudatory remark. Instead I got–I got my comeuppance is what I got.

The writer Lisa let me know I was a callous cad badly in need of humility. My only hope, she said was volunteer work, preferably with children or homeless people. OK, well, I suppose everyone’s entitled to their opinions. I didn’t ask for it, but there it was. And frankly it bothered me. I’m sure we all could stand to do more in the way of volunteer work, but why was I, of all people, singled out for this public-service assignment, when I could think of plenty of others more in need of salvation?

Maybe it was a harmless prank sent by some kids out for a laugh. Or maybe this Lisa is for real–someone who stumbled upon my blog and felt a powerful urge to dress me down in public, on my home turf. I guess I’ll never know unless Lisa surfaces again and decides to explain why she reacted so strongly to words intended to be humorous or moderately amusing at the very least.

I should have gotten to this days ago but, what can I say, I’ve had a busy week. Besides, this isn’t a newspaper, so I have the luxury of getting to things when I have the chance. (Too much other important news to report on, such as the lustful thoughts that might arise in the produce department of a high-end grocery store.) For those folks who tell me this blog is their “primary source of news”–a scary notion I try to discourage, as it puts too much pressure on me and I don’t respond well to pressure–I can only say “sorry,” a word I’m trying to bring back into common parlance. Go ahead, try it sometime.

But getting back to the news: The item in question occurred earlier this week when Massachusetts governor Mitt Romney took a ride on the “T”–Boston’s famed subway system–to show that it was still safe after the London incidents and that he was a regular guy to boot. He failed miserably on both scores. On the safety front, Romney was accosted by the so-called “Cat Lady” who screamed, “You killed my cats,” before transit police dragged her away.

Mitt was a bust on the “regular guy” front as well–always a tough act for him to pull off, given his monthly expenditures on makeup and hair gel. When asked by reporters how much the T costs, he said “a buck,” not realizing the cost has been $1.25 for more than a year and a half. Nor could he remember the last time he ventured into Boston’s famed subway system as part of another failed publicity stunt, no doubt.

There is, of course, a song (made famous by the Kingston Trio) about a man who took a ride on a Boston subway and never returned. The man in the song is called Charlie, but it would be OK with me if he was named Mitt.

It happens to the best of us. Shopping in the overpriced grocery story that I frequent (yet can’t afford), it is possible–say while browsing through the produce department (a well-known pickup spot)–to have impure thoughts. The same kind of thoughts that former president Jimmy Carter (“I’ve looked on a lot of women with lust”) is now famous for, perhaps more famous than for anything he did as president. In some circles, Bill Clinton was considered a sleazeball for having “relations” with a White House aide (and wouldn’t we all like “aides” like that?), as he discussed world affairs over the telephone with other heads of state. When caught after the fact, Clinton explained his transgression this way: “I did it for the worst possible reason, because I could.” I, on the other hand, didn’t do it for the worst possible reason: because I couldn’t. Does that make me the better person?

I don’t want to make light of human suffering or the fear induced by terrorist acts, but you’d have to call yesterday’s attacks on London a bust. As of this writing, only one person needed medical attention (and that was for an asthma attack) after bombs were set off on three subway trains and one double-decker bus. It makes you wonder whether the terrorists are missing those fun summer camps they used to have in Afghanistan, where they learned about making and detonating explosives and other ways of amusing themselves. We can only hope they fare as poorly in future attempts at wreaking havoc.

In a comment posted earlier today, Dr. Max named me a co-recipient of his “Most Frequent Comment Suppliers Award”–a hard-earned prize that I shall cherish forever. That reminded me that I have not done enough to thank the hard-working “comment suppliers” who have been essential to the unbridled success of “Call Me Snake.” With Dr. Max’s prompting, I’ll take the opportunity to do so now.

The award for the steadiest, most predictable commentary goes to Burt, who knows how to put me in my place in those rare instances when my ego gets the better of me. The aforementioned Dr. Max captures the award in the often-elusive area of “funny humor writing.” Gatemouth wins hands-down for “outstanding contributions in the field bumper sticker humor.” I hope you won’t find it patronizing of me to say: “You have a gift, son.” CheneyLover (aka Little Red Ride-Up, Mike Gorman, and other obscure handles) wins for all-around wit, irony, and biting commentary. Lindsey, meanwhile, wins the “most supportive” award, which can help a lonely blogger continue in this most solitary of avocations. Finally, I’d like to thank all those other people who write in from time to time to say what a tremendous writer I am and remind me that this blog is a “national treasure” and “bright spot in the otherwise dim realm of the blogosphere.” Thank you for saying that, and I want to thank the rest of you for thinking it even if you haven’t yet had the chance to say it.

In Cambridge, Mass., where I live, one hears the most amazing conversations, often carried out on the highest plane of intellectual acuity. Fortunately, with my “phonographic memory,” I can record these exchanges verbatim and often do to the delight of readers everywhere. Here’s a sample I overheard last night in the parking lot of the Whole Foods (a grocery store where you get to spend $100 without even filling a single shopping bag).

Man1: He told me I should start dating. Then she’d come crawlin’ back.

Man2: So have you?

Man1: Well there was this one woman kind of foisted on me. She seemed more than willing…

Man2: What about you? Were ya’ tempted?

Man1: Well, not exactly… But 20 years ago, I wouldn’t be here talking to you about it.

Man2: Sounds like you need a time machine. Pop her in, and while you’re at it, you ought to hop in too.

Sorry to mention it again, but people can’t apologize often enough in my opinion–”sorry about the torture,” “sorry about the assault and battery with intent to call,” and “sorry about going postal” being just the latest uses of this magic word. If he wants my opinion, and there’s every indication that he does, Jude Law ought to look his fiancee straight in the eye and make a clean breast of it (sorry about the pun but I couldn’t resist). If he takes her hand and casually remarks, “Sorry about the affair with the nanny,” I don’t see how Sienna Miller (or any woman in her right mind, for that matter) would hold it against him. Rest assured that Jude is fully prepared to put the whole sordid affair behind him, even though the nanny is better looking and generally more understanding, if Sienna is willing to look at the big picture for a change and not get sidetracked by scandal-mongering tabloids and blogs. To sum it up, Jude, in case I’m being too Obscure (even for a Thomas Hardy aficionado like yourself), all it will take to make things right are just seven words, none having more than two syllables. And it all starts with the word “sorry.”

It’s been more than 10 years, but today I finally cut the chord with AOL–a relationship that extends back to the early days of the Clinton era (if indeed there was a Clinton era, which may depend on what you mean by “was”). I really hadn’t been using AOL for more than a year, as I now get my email by other means, but I will miss the “content.” (That, not surprisingly, is another word I hate. Not long ago, practically everything was considered content and no one needed a special word to call attention to that fact.) I’ll miss, for example, today’s Entertainment News with headlines like “Sandra Bullock weds tattooed biker.” The article goes on to describe Bullock’s marriage to Jesse James, the founder of West Coast Choppers, who claims to be a distant relative of his even more famous namesake. “The pair arrived in a red monster truck with James driving,” the article recounts. William Shatner and Metallica lead singer James Hetfield attended the event, it continues, though I’m not sure whether the “event” in question pertains to the wedding or the red monster truck exhibition. But the point is, that’s why I’ll miss AOL. For all the trashy, shallow news I try to avoid by listening to NPR.

Well, goodbye, old friend. Please don’t let any old slob use my screen name. And as for my password, that’s going to stay our little secret, right?

Some reporters have claimed that President Bush is singing a different tune now that his trusted aid, Karl Rove, has his proverbial tit caught in the wringer. They say Bush initially vowed to fire anyone in the administration responsible for blowing the cover of once-secret agent Valerie Plame (who’s now better known than Britney Spears. Today, Bush says he will fire anyone in the administration IF AND WHEN it is proven they have broken the law. Bush, the malcontents claim, is not sticking to his word.

But they weren’t listening carefully enough. What Bush actually said was this: He would fire anyone working for him responsible for this act (which, in point of law, is a felony). Herein lies the catch: Karl Rove does not work for Bush; Bush works for Karl Rove and willfully, eagerly, does everything Rove says. When Rove pulls the string, Bush follows the lead like Ginger Rogers. He even jumps through hoops. So Bush was not inconsistent. And it appears that no one working for him has done anything wrong. The defense rests.

This month’s “Featured Blog Title of the Month” goes to “Jungle Jerk,” which is a blog that has a great title and, so far, little else. (See link on right.) Since the initial post in April, which consisted of 10 perfect words, the author (Jungle Jerk) has not seen fit to write anything further. I appreciate his philosophy: Why mess with perfection? But to make into the exclusive category, “Featured Blog of the Month,” the author will need to write at least one more word. Let’s hope he chooses wisely.

Once again, we’re offering an occasional feature: “Call Me Snake Goes to the Movies.” Today’s movie is “Bound for Glory” about Woody Guthrie. I saw the movie when it came out in 1976 and liked it even better when I saw it for the second time this week. David Carradine was superb in the title roll, and at the end of the movie I had nothing but respect and admiration for Guthrie, who traveled the country by foot and rail, bringing his music directly to the people. Guthrie wrote more than 1,000 songs and is, in my opinion, a true patriot.

When I shared that observation with my wife, she balked at the term, saying he was someone who really loved America but not a “patriot,” which in her view sounded too jingoistic. I know what she means but I refuse to hand over the term patriot to all those right-wing nut jobs who have usurped it. As Guthrie put it, “this land is your land, this land is my land.” That goes for everybody, not just the deluded extremists who consider themselves the only patriots in town. On the contrary, I don’t think bigoted, intolerant people are patriots at all.

Overheard on the mean streets of Cambridge, Mass… Man1: “Do you know what this is?” he asked, pointing to a cluster of black splotches on a sidewalk across from the high school. Man2: “H-m-m-m,” he said thoughtfully. “Too big to be gum.” Man1: “It is gum!” he replied emphatically.

I was just a passerby, trying to mind my business. But I think Man1 might have been on to something. There are black splotches all over our city sidewalks and they very well could be small pieces of gum that get flattened and stretched out, the more people step on them. At the same time, they get darker and darker from all the grit and grime that continually collects on them. You’ve walked over these spots every day, perhaps without noticing them or stopping to consider what they were from. If Man1’s theory is correct, our cities may soon be covered with one big, continuous, grimy, black splotch of gum.

Tread with caution, dear pedestrians, or you too may get stuck in a giant gummy patch. Over time, you will get flattened and black, becoming part of the dark film that’s gradually coating our urban landscape.

Earlier today, a Boston Globe sports columnist took a gratuitous dig at Winona Ryder in a piece that was supposed to be about the current Red Sox-Yankees series. Ryder was a pretty big star not too long ago, and she had talent as well. She was immortalized in the book “Primary Colors” by a character (a political consultant modeled after James Carville) who used the term “a real Winona” to describe a hot woman. Yet now she’s reduced to being the butt of jokes–even by award-winning sportswriters who have plenty of legitimate targets to pick on. The question is why? Is it all because of one shoplifting rap? If so, that seems awfully unfair. Plenty of people have done worse, lots worse, and bounced back. Right now Ryder seems to be “Girl Interrupted,” but maybe the woman that girl has since become will get another chance.

I got in trouble once for failing to show proper respect for Karl Rove, and I risk incurring the wrath of that same temperamental reader again, though I hope not to rile him as I don’t like being referred to as “pantywaste” (sic). But I can’t resist taking a potshot at our revered prince of darkness: In a dastardly act of retaliation, Karl Rove fingered an undercover CIA agent, a federal offense that put that person’s life in jeopardy. Although Rove did not actually name the agent in his conversation with a Newsweek reporter, he named her husband and did everything but point her out in the telephone book. The question now is whether the all-powerful advisor will get away with it.

Clinton got impeached for exercising discretion: He failed to admit to having oral sex with a consenting adult who happened to be someone other than his wife. Will Rove be punished for his transgression? Maybe not because Karl Rove, as everyone knows, is very important to President George W. Bush. Karl Rove, as everyone suspects, is the architect of our brilliant domestic and foreign policies. He’s responsible for many of the great successes of the Bush Administration (can you name them?). It’s doubtful that President W. could get along without a man who’s so skilled at pulling W’s strings.

On the other hand, it’s worth noting that Bill Clinton was very important to President William Jefferson Clinton, as well. And that didn’t keep him from being impeached.

Something’s happened to me. I’ve become a person I hate. Perhaps that’s putting it too strongly. But it is fair to say that I’ve become a person for whom I used to hold little regard. I spent the past weekend in the beautiful White Mountains of New Hampshire. Did I go hiking or mountain climbing or whitewater kayaking like I used to? No. I went to Story Land and rode on Dr. Geyser’s Remarkable Raft Ride, went on the Slipshod Safari Tour, and then took Cinderella’s Pumpkin Coach up the lane to Cinderella’s Castle.

The next day, I did get into the White Mountains, but instead of hiking, I sat on my rear and took the chairlift up Attitash (I call it “Attitush”) Mountain, and when I got to the top, I sat on my rear again and slid down the longest Alpine Slide in North America. It was so much fun, I did it twice.

The saddest part of this whole story is that I actually enjoyed myself so much. I had fun with my wife and young girls riding the Whirling Whales and Bamboo Chutes. It would have been nice to have climbed a mountain or two, or to have gone swimming in a river rather than in the Storybook Resort Pool, but hey, you can’t do everything.

And so it’s happened–a gradual process to be sure, evolutionary or devolutionary, depending on your point of view. Either way, I’ve become a person I used to thumb my nose at. And now I thumb my nose at that other guy–a self-righteous prick who doesn’t know what he’s missing.

After being suspended and mysteriously reinstated to the Funny Humor Writing WebRing on countless occasions, even more than I’ve chronicled here, I got the following news this morning: “The RingMaster of the ‘Funny Humor Writing WebRing’ has deleted your site from the Ring. The site was deleted due to the reasons cited below by the RingMaster.”

No reasons were cited and I’m forced to conclude that my humor is not funny. Or if it is funny, it’s just not funny enough. There’s something ominous about the word “deleted” that I do not like. There’s a permanence to it, an almost irrevocable nature, that seemingly wipes out my blog as if it never existed. Or if it did exist, that very existence is now deemed a mistake that has since been rectified.

Well, that’s the latest update. I have also been suspended from several other so-called “humorous” webrings during the past week, but I’m used to that by now and consider it hardly worth mentioning. I can take the occasional suspension in stride. But deletion, that’s another matter altogether. All other things being equal, I’d rather not be deleted.

P.S. I have promised on several occasions to explain what a webring is. Don’t worry, I have not forgotten my pledge (how could I forget with all the “helpful” reminders I receive?) and I’ll be sure to get around to that next time. Assuming there is a next time. Assuming I’m still in a webring, if only a “moderately amusing” one.

Entries to the Great Bumper Sticker Sweepstakes have been pouring in for days and our team of judges has finally read through them all and made its selections. And the winner is … ME! Well, actually, the winners are Gatemouth and me. Allow me to break it down by category:

In the “honk if” category, there’s a two-way tie for first place between “Honk if you believe in atheism!” (me) and “Honk if you hate honking” (Gatemouth). The runners-up prize goes to Gatemouth for: “Honk if you want to see some REAL road rage.” Honorable mention goes to Gatemouth for: “Honk if your meds are wearing off.”

In the “politically incorrect” category, first prize goes to Gatemouth for “Stop the war–draft Jenna and Barbara Bush!”

Finally, in the hotly-contested “politically correct” category, the winners are ME for “Every man for his or herself” and ME for “I’m not drunk. I’m just tired.”

I’d like to thank all the contestants for their boundless energy and enthusiasm. If we could find a way of bottling that up, somebody, somewhere might eventually find a use for it. I’d also like to thank the judges for taking the time to sift through the entries and, in the end, making fair and incontrovertible decisions that no one in his (or her!) right mind could reasonably challenge.

This is the third, and final, part of the Great Bumper Sticker Sweepstakes, the fiercely contested “Honk if…” competition. Allow me to present two (hopefully original) examples of this classic genre:

Honk if you believe in atheism!

HONK IF YOU’RE A SKEPTIC (who never falls for transparent “honk if…” ploys).

That’s the general idea. After the first two words, you’re on your own, guided only by the limits of your conscience and creativity. So don’t be bashful. Send in your entries right away, as the winners in all three categories will soon be announced.

Science has done it again! Overturned our preconceptions, toppled our worldviews, turned down up and up down. New studies from researchers in the United States and New Zealand have concluded that children who watch excessive amounts of television (defined in one study as more than three hours per day) fare poorly in their schoolwork compared to children who spend more time reading. Having a TV set in your bedroom takes a particularly heavy toll on academic performance. As with all good science, these findings have prompted me to reconsider my whole approach to child-rearing. What will they tell us next? That junk food is bad for you?

I forgot to mention a new category in the sweepstakes: Politically-Incorrect Bumper Stickers. Here are the first three entries in what will prove to be, I’m sure, a heated competition:

I brake for Republicans.

I brake for rednecks.

I brake for idiots.

Don’t get caught in the post-Independence Day rush; send your entries in without delay. The rewards, though hard to describe, are immense.

If you blog, you could be putting more than your reputation for, say, “funny humor” on the line; you could be putting your job on the line. Just ask “NB,” a former Harvard University administrative coordinator who was fired for linking her work email with her personal blog, where she trashed her supervisors for being anal retentive control freaks, among other shortcomings. Wow! That’s a wake-up call. As a self-employed person who’s put a lot of self-deprecating material on this blog (far worse than what NB said, by the way), I could be fired any day now. Henceforth, I’m going to be more careful about what I say about myself and will try to accentuate the positive, assuming that leaves me enough to write about.

In that vein, I’d like to point out that, overall, it has been great working for myself. Although we’ve had our differences over the years, for the most part, we’ve managed to set those differences aside and focus on our common goals. Please disregard any negative comments I might have made about my employer. Instead, I’d like to stress that, once you get beyond his many faults, he’s really a tremendous guy with several distinctive attributes. If you give me a few days, I could even tell you what those attributes are.

I’d like to announce the first annual Independence Day Bumper Sticker Sweepstakes, which follows the overwhelming success of last month’s bumper sticker sweepstakes (see “Blogger on Board,” June 8, 2005 and “And the Winner Is…,” June 13, 2005). The first two entries come from my successful (sorry to keep using that same word over and over, but our language offers few substitutes) POLITICALLY CORRECT (PC) bumper sticker line:

1. “Every man for his or herself”

2. “I’m not drunk. I’m just tired.”

Please send in your entries without delay. Winners will be picked by an impartial panel of judges (me); rest assured that good ideas will be exploited for financial gain.