CALL ME SNAKE

[EDITOR'S NOTE: I wrote this a week ago and meant to post before my trip but evidently it did not get up there. Sorry about that folks though I'm pretty sure it was somebody else's fault.] I’m tying up loose ends, taking stock, getting ready for a trip. I had to buy a few items in Harvard Square and twice during my bike ride, I came across the strong scent of weed among the pedestrian walkways. Was it the same pothead or is the Square full of them these days? One of the items on my list was gym shorts, so I stopped at City Sports, the likely place for this sort of thing. I couldn’t find the ones I wanted so I asked for help. “What are your cheapest gym shorts?” I asked a clerk. He took me to an area where the so-called cheapest shorts were, except that they cost nearly $10 more than another brand I’d already seen. “They’re comparable,” he explained when I asked him about it.

“Yes they are,” I replied. “And when you compare them, the ones you showed me were $10 more.”

Moving on, I stopped off at a friend’s to return a book we had borrowed, JACK&THE BEANSTALK. And I wanted to pay off some gambling debts my wife had accrued at a Hanukkah party a few weeks back. She had bet against his kids on which candle on the menorah would go out first and had lost twice, owing on 5 cents and the other a quarter. I paid off the total, plus the interest, so that I could head off on vacation and into the New Year’s free and clear. Free and clear, that is, except for the mortgage, and second mortgage, and credit card debt, plus a few miscellaneous IOUs floating around.

Happy New Year everyone. CALL ME SNAKE will be taking a brief siesta. We’ll be back in a week or so with a dazzling set of new stories. I can’t wait to share them. But I’ve got to live them first.

It’s hard to believe it, looking from the outside, but December 2007 is shaping up to be a banner month for Call Me Snake with well over 6,000 individual visitors before all is said and done and more than 400 visitors on a single day–a record for this site. Personally I’ve had a hard time understanding it, as it seems like, if anything, interest has dropped off rather than grown. So I did a little bit of research to see how people got here, what searches brought them to Call Me Snake, and here are some of the phrases that led them here: “maggot therapy” “history of chips ahoy” “snake pinata,” and the perennial favorite,“Brazilian butt fill.”

I’ve sometimes had aspirations of putting out some kind of highbrow fare but it’s clear from the foregoing that if Call Me Snake has any appeal at all, it is to the Lowest Common Denominator. So here’s to my comeuppance, and Happy New Year to you too.

Sometimes fame is fleeting. Warhol spoke of 15 minutes. In this case 15 seconds is probably more accurate. But attention spans are short these days, and 15 seconds is not bad. In any case earlier today (or yesterday, if you want to be that way) the following notice suddenly appeared on a popular blog called, “Knight Science Journalism Tracker.” Well here’s what the “Tracker” had to say about yours truly, from one blogger to another: “AND FURTHER, should you wish to read a stupefyingly scholarly, if not merely stupefying, analysis of the Holy Grail in its greatest sphere of excess please consult “Decontructing Astronomy’s Holy Grail” by S_ _ _ _ N_ _ _ _, in the Annals of Improbable Research, May-June 2006.”

Personally I’m honored. I’ve never seen my work referred to as “stupefyingly scholarly,” if not merely “stupifying.” (It has, on the other hand, been referred to as “scholarly” on a number of occasions–primarily by me in this blog.) Well, I think my 15 seconds is up. If I continue, it will become 30 seconds and I might risk overstaying my welcome. Farewell gentle readers and thanks in advance for your unfailing support.

I recently got an email referring to some big question that was being put to important thinkers in the world of science. There was nothing unusual about that; I often get emails of this sort and delete them reflexively. But this one was different; this time I was one of the “thinkers” whose views were being solicited. I stared at the list of luminaries in disbelief and wondered: What was my name doing there? There must be some mistake, I told myself. I have been accused of many things but I’ve never been accused of being a thinker. Still my name was on there and unless it was due to some kind of computer glitch or virus, I’d have to try to rise to the occasion. The question was challenging for me because, as I’ve said before, I’d never thought about it and had no obvious example to draw on. But maybe if I stretched things a little bit I might be able to provide the illusion of answering the question. Which I did. And it seems to have worked. But for how long? As the old sane ghost, you can fuel sum of the peepholes sum of the thyme, but you can’t fuel oil the peepholes oil the thyme. Or words to that effect…

After handball, the other night, my handball partner asked me in the locker room if I’d heard about the black hole that ate the galaxy. He’d heard from someone else that it was 12 billion light-years away. That sounded far away to me but I hadn’t read any of the articles about this even though quite a few had been sent electronically. A guy in the locker room I’d never talked to said he’d read that it was only about 1 million light-years away. That sounded too close to me but I told him I hadn’t seen the articles yet.

Later that night, I looked it up and found out the guy was right. The very next day I ran into him on the sidewalk and told him he was, in fact, right about the black hole that ate the galaxy. “It WAS about a million light-years away.” That pretty much ended our conversation and we may never speak again. But why should we? We’re not likely to top that story.

Maybe Apple salesmen are under pressure to unload their IPhones. I was at the mall the other day trying to figure out a way to download digitial pictures from a new Sprint cellphone, which I’d just purchased for my wife, onto her Mac. I went to the Apple Store, which was right next to the Sprint Store, to try to find an adaptor that would do the job. They acted like I was crazy–like the kind of technology I was looking for did not exist. My best best, they said, would be to buy an IPhone (at a cost of $399). But I just need a USB adaptor, I insisted. Sorry, I was told, but we don’t know how you could patch something like that together. Rather than buy an IPhone, I went down the hall to Best Buy, where I purchased the adaptor I needed for just $14.99. In this case, the store lived up to its name.

We all agree the presidential campaign goes on for too long, but it does provide time for us to get to know the candidates and one thing we’ve learned about Mitt Romney, the pious one, is that he is a pathological liar. He has said repeatedly on the campaign trail that he had seen his father, George Romney, march with Martin Luther King, Jr. Only it turns out he didn’t “see” that in the literal sense, only in the figurative sense. As quoted in the Boston Globe, Romney said “I saw him in the sense of being aware of his participation in that great effort.” Oh good, glad we cleared up that little misunderstanding, except for the little problem that his father never marched with Dr. King.

And how does he explain that other statement he made in the Boston Herald, some years back, about how “my father and I marched with Martin Luther King, Jr. through the streets of Detroit”? Does he mean “marched” in the figurative sense too, as in “being aware of my participation in that great effort”?

My five-year-old can get pretty silly before bedtime and last night was no exception. First she asked me if I ever tried coffee. I told her I hadn’t. She said I should try it. When I asked her why she mentioned something about these little things out there that we couldn’t see. I pressed her further, trying to figure out what little things she was referring to. Finally she said that there were tiny strings everywhere, too small to see, that tied the world together. I asked her if she’d ever heard me talking about that before. She swore (on her pinkies) that she had not. I told her that some very smart people believed in ideas that were very similar. That made her very proud because she thought she’d just made it up. She then asked me if I believed in the little strings. I said it was the best idea anyone had had so far but we didn’t know for sure if it was right. “We’ll never know for sure,” she said, “because you can’t see them.”

I’m either losing my mind or felt the need for some extra exercise this morning. After walking with the kids to school this morning (about a mile–through the snow, I might add), I stopped halfway home to buy stuff for dinner. That’s when I realized I still had their lunchboxes in my backpack. So I hiked back to the school to drop off the lunchboxes and came back to the store to retrieve the groceries. Then I went to the bank to do a couple of transactions, the nature of which shall remain confidential (though it did involve deposits and withdrawals). More than halfway home from the bank, I realized I’d left a bag of groceries in the bank. After retrieving that, I made it home without incident. But at that point my two-mile walk had become nearly four and I either needed a new pair of shoes or my head examined.

It’s Wednesday which means, you guessed it, time for one of our most popular features here at Call Me Snake, Freaky Friday. A bizarre thing happened yesterday which just might qualify as “freaky.” I was doing something on my computer when a document entitled “New Order!” suddenly appeared on my desktop. I closed the document and was asked whether I wanted to save it. I said no and it disappeared, gone forever, leaving no trace behind nor any plausible explanation for it’s sudden appearance. The only thing that comes to mind is the quantum vacuum, where particles regularly pop in and out of existence. Maybe the same thing happened here only instead of the quantum vacuum, it occurred on my lowly desktop.

I’m not going to complain about the weather because I think there might be something to the theory that New Englanders are no longer the stoic, hardy lot of old but are instead becoming wimpier by the day–a trend arguably fueled by the sensationalistic weather coverage on local TV news in recent years. But I will relate an anecdote: After two snowstorms of nearly 10 inches each, with some rain thrown in too, they told us to shovel snow off our roofs, especially flat ones, to keep them from collapsing, which is exactly what happened to some drugstore (a Rite-Aid?) shown in the Globe yesterday. I was shoveling snow off my deck on Sunday morning as a neighbor behind me was standing on his roof, doing the same. After we exchanged greetings, he said: “This is why we put up with those hot, sticky days in August.”

About a year ago, I came across the cartoon competitions in the New Yorker and soon after that in the Boston Globe. I sent in many excellent entries, certain that all of them would win. But none did and I realized the people running those things didn’t know what they were doing. So I decided to run one on my own, the right way.

To get the ball rolling, I’m going to post a sample entry. I can’t do the artwork myself–I contract out for that, don’t you?–so let me instead set the scene. The establishment is called JOE’S DINER, SAVINGS&LOAN. Behind the counter is a slobby-looking guy in some kind of white chef’s outfit who asks the customer: “Do you want fries with that CD?”

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OK, the rest is up to you. And sorry in advance for setting the bar so high.

I read in the Globe (and therefore it must be true) that New Englanders are whining more about the winter weather than they used to. And given that that must be true, it may be true as well. I certainly am one of the guilty parties. For instance, I live on the righthand (even numbered) side of our one-way street and I’ve noticed that nine out of 10 snowplows pile the snow to the right. Which means our driveway can get plowed in a half dozen during a big storm while our neighbors across the street get a free pass. That hardly seems fair now, does it?

Especially because I’m a lefty and all my life have suffered the indignities and inequities (like righthanded desks in lecture halls, etc.) that come with it. So for once in my life I’m on the righthand side of things. And once again that seems to be the wrong side of things. That hardly seems fair now, does it?

Last night, Channel 5 News in Boston ran the kind of tough news stories that most stations don’t have the guts to air. It had to do with the nasty weather in Boston on Thursday and the havoc it created. One dad was all bent out of shape because he’d spent $100 for two tickets to some kind of kid event–The Jingle Ball, or something like that–but was unable to make it there because the roads were so bad. He felt like he was owed a refund.

I feel for the guy, I really do, as 100 bucks is a lot to blow on entertainment, especially when–owing to circumstances beyond your control–you’re not able to be entertained. But really, should this sort of thing be on the “News”? I can only wonder what Edward R. Murrow would say. Probably something like: “Good night and good luck”?

In the heyday of this blog, we ran bumper sticker contests every month or so and some of the entries were outstanding. There hasn’t been enough correspondence these days to make such a contest seem like a viable option. So instead of announcing one, I’m going to reprint a good bumper sticker I saw last weekend:

WALMART, YOUR SOURCE FOR CHEAP, PLASTIC CRAP.

If anyone wants to try to top that, or has a bumper sticker idea (original or not) they want to share, be my guest. Maybe we can revive that grand tradition (now that baseball, in some people’s eyes, no longer qualifies. A new national pasttime, bumper sticker contests? Could be an idea whose time has come.)

The snow is really coming down right now–our first big storm of the winter. The expression, “Let It Come Down,” keeps popping into my head. But that’s not the image I really want to have in mind here on this beautiful evening, because in the Paul Bowles’ novel of the same name a man in the grip of narcotic-induced psychosis wailed on his hammer, driving a nail through the ear of another man. So I say, as the wondrous white flakes fill the sky, let it come down, though not in the way Paul Bowles wrote it.

I don’t know where you stand on sophomoric teenage sex comedies, but there is one recent movie that stands out from the crowd, and that movie is SUPERBAD. Watching it alone, late at night while the rest of the family slept, I laughed so loud I was afraid I might wake the whole household, as well as the tenant downstairs. Funny, demented, and wise, all at the same time, this is one to watch–that is, if you go in for sophomoric teenage sex comedies. And if you don’t–if you actually have a life–all I can say is more power to ya.

I’m sick and tired of the “media” treating Mitt Romney’s Mormon speech as a serious discussion of faith, putting it in the same league as JFK’s Catholic speech of 40-some years ago. Everyone in Massachusetts knows Romney to be a lying, self-serving snake–and I mean that (“snake”) in the bad sense, rather than in the good (“Snake”) sense–without a genuine bone in his body. When will the rest of the country get wise? Of course the same might have been said four and eight years ago about a certain former governor of Texas.

It’s the time of year for holiday parties and I usually get to a couple of ‘em. I haven’t thrown any really big parties for almost 20 years, except for my wedding, and the thing that happens when you go to other people’s parties–sometimes year after year–is that you’re always hanging out with other people’s friends. They can be very fine people but it’s still not the list of folks that you would have drawn up yourself. I suppose that’s a familiar lament for any freeloader like myself.

This appears to be my lucky day. When I came out of the grocery store with a full backpack and two bags [paper only, of course] I found a penny sitting on the middle of my bicycle seat. Although I try not to repeat myself (Rules for Writing, #38), I’ve still got to say: This must be my lucky day.

Now let’s just hope that some of my luck rubs off on the Patriots. So far, so good (up 24-13).

Maybe it’s nothing to brag about. Maybe I should just keep my mouth quiet. But I can’t help feeling pleased about publishing something that I first wrote 20 years ago. I did, of course, revise it and amend it and so forth in that time, but the final printed version is not dramatically different from the original version. And I have to admit, it was gratifying to see it in print after many tries and many close calls. Others, who are not particularly fond of this particular effort, think I had so much trouble publishing it because it wasn’t so hot in the first place. Maybe I should have let this one die a quiet death, they say. And maybe they’re right. But such an act would have required far more restraint, maturity, and wisdom than I have yet attained. So there it is, my little essay having its run in the published literature–enjoying its 20 minutes (or 20 seconds) of fame, 20 years later.

Who would have known that my five-year-old daughter has a thing for blue-footed boobies? And why on Earth did a blue-footed booby (stuffed version) arrive, unannounced, in my parents’ mail? Another of the universe’s mysteries that may remain unanswered. Reasonably enough, they had no idea what to do with this stuffed animal–that is, until, my daughter’s drawing of said animal arrived, unannounced, in their mail. Then they knew there was only one place they could possibly send their errant booby. And that’s the end of today’s sermon; please collect your booby prize at the door. On your way out.

True to form, President Bush has shown himself, once again, to be an uncompromising man of principles–the main principle being he is not one to let facts stand in the way of what he wants to do. And what he wants to do, it appears, lies at the heart of the neocon agenda–saber-rattling with Iran and maybe worse owing to their alleged nuclear weapons capability. The fact that we now know they don’t have such a capability does not change anything in his mind. And why should it?

You’ve got to feel bad for a genuine, sincere guy like Mitt Romney who would never pay a cent more than $300 for a haircut. My bleedin’ heart is bleedin’ for this guy: After all his tough talk about illegal immigrants, he got caught still employing illegal immigrants. So what did he do? Instead of admitting that our economy need these the laborers, he talked tough to the boss of the company employing the workers. And sent the company packing, never to sully his doorsteps again. To make things worse, the timing comes on the eve of Mitt’s highly anticipated speech, with him on the verge of delivering his Kennedy sermon on “faith.” Now there’s the man from whom I want to learn about faith.

While working last night, I listened to the Patriot’s game on the radio last night. But as it was pretty close, I decided to watch the last 10 minutes on TV. I’m glad I did. It was a thrilling finish to a close, tightly-fought game. The Patriots should have lost this one. They came close to losing on so many occasions yet somehow, miraculously, hung on (making their record a perfect 12-0). Despite all the luck falling the Patriots way, the Ravens still had a chance to win it all in the finally seconds but fell two yards short of what would have been the game-winning touchdown.

There was a movie about the boxer, Rocky Graziano, called “Somebody Up There Likes Me.” At the moment, the same words seem to apply to Tom Brady and the entire Patriots team.

The good news and the bad news, starting with the bad news: I was apprehended for a traffic violation last night. Now for the good news: I was stopped a few minutes before 7 a.m. while I was still dreaming. I had the choice of being arrested or waking up a few minutes before my clock radio went off [set at 7:04] and I chose the former. It’s hard to wake up on a Monday morning, especially for a night owl like me, but today I didn’t mind getting up a few minutes early. Not that I want to be pulled over by the authorities every night. And if I am pulled over again, can you please make it a few minutes later?

Welcome to Multimedia Saturday and please don’t spoil the fun by pointing out that, technically, it’s already Sunday. (I hate when people do that.) Many of you know about Freaky Friday, one of our most popular features here at Call Me Snake, and might be wondering whether Multimedia Saturday is destined to become another new feature. I think it’s too early to say, but it certainly has that feel.

What I mainly planned to talk about today was life. And how it’s changing. Take my life, for example. (Take it, by all means. Be my guest.) In the olden days of this country, at night you had few options: Read by candle light, get drunk, go to sleep, or do some other things people sometimes do at night. (Or during the day, if you prefer, and I hope that’s not too suggestive.) These days, the choices are broader. Earlier this evening, my family and I went with some friends to see a Buster Keaton movie that was accompanied live by a brilliant pianist. Then we went home and I read a book to my older daughter. Then I went out with some friends to hear a blues band. Then I did some computer/internet stuff. And if it’s not too late, I’ll watch part of a movie on DVD (though it is too late and usually is). The point being, between the old movie and the piano playing and the book reading and the blues band and the computer/internet and TV/DVD that’s a lot of media for one evening. And that sort of thing is not so rare these days. Just another Multimedia Saturday, you might say.