CALL ME SNAKE

Ah, the hypocrisy of it all. Hillary Clinton has chastised Obama for the words of Jeremiah Wright, saying “he would not have been my pastor.” But what happened when Bill Clinton got caught in a sex scandal some years ago, sending the family into crisis mode? According to this week’s NEW YORKER, “the Clintons summomed the clergy (including, by the way, the Reverend Jeremiah Wright).”

So why was that bombshell buried within a parenthetical, when it is big news in my book? I have no idea. Personally I think it’s enough to bring Hillary Clinton down because of the sheer hypocrisy–because she has been beating Obama so hard over the Wright business–while he was someone her family personally turned to in a time of P.R. need. So what’s the explanation: “You can pick your pastor but not during a highly-publicized family crisis”? I’d like to see this story become front-page news, which it ought to be, given the currently ridiculous tenor of the presidential campaign.

It’s Tuesday, which means it’s time for (what else?) Freaky Tuesday. Yesterday I was perusing an article on Telegraph.co.uk about the mathematician Grisha Perelman who is credited with proving the Poincare conjecture by exploiting a technique known as “Ricci flow.” Immediately below the Perelman article was a link to an article about another Ricci–the actress Christina Ricci. How’s that for freaky?

I saw a friend walking to work today–a two-mile-plus trek from Porter Square to Kendall–and I accosted him, yelling: ‘GET A CAR! GET A CAR!” I now realize I was wrong to have done so, as I completely forgot about global warming when I launched into my tirade (verbal tongue-lashing?). Sorry about that.

According to the website, ZOOMINFO.COM, I’m Vice President of Engineering for Srico Inc., a Columbus, Ohio-based concern specializing in integrated optical waveguide components. (Don’t be put off by the fact that I don’t know what integrated optical waveguide components are; that just means I’m overqualified.) My high-level executive position with Srico will come as news to many people who know me, none more so than myself. Every now and then I’m tempted to give up the freelance life and take a real job. Now I have a job–and apparently one with benefits–all thanks to the wonders of the internet.

A friend forwarded a note to me from a woman who’d been our housemate in 1981. Though I always thought she was nice, I didn’t know her very well at the time and was pleased and surprised to hear she’d gone on to live a life of travel and adventure, even chronicling her experiences in a recently-published book. If I were to have guessed 27 years ago, I would have assumed that I’d have been the one to have traveled more. But I would have guessed wrong as she’s definitely seen more of the world than I have. And she’s now the wiser for it.

On the other hand, I have legitimate reasons for my sedentary lifestyle. After all, somebody’s got to sit here and type idle thoughts into my computer. For if I don’t do it, who will?

I recently fulfilled a longstanding ambition; I’ve made the list of “AIRCONDITIONING BLOGS” posted on www.airconditioningworld.com. The entry that finally got me there was called “WHAT’S WRONG WITH OUR COUNTRY, Part 462.” Here’s an excerpt of that celebrated post in case you don’t recall:

“You’d better just crank up your air conditioning and try to get through it,” she said. Actually, it wasn’t uncomfortable at all. We don’t have air conditioning, and I didn’t even need to turn a fan on. But she said people better turn…

So much for my latest 15 seconds of fame. I don’t see how I can surpass that and am considering getting out of blogging game while I’m on top.

[Editor's note: The actual site in question is airconditioningiworld.com/. I deleted the "i" because it looked funny, but it is there. And there's probably a good reason for it--something that airconditioning insiders must know that the rest of us outsiders can only guess at...]

I have to write something about nuclear power, which used to be one of my specialties, though that was some decades ago. While surfing on Google under “nuclear power” and another keyword, I came across the following warning: “This site may harm your computer.” I did not need to go to that site, as there were plenty of others I could check out. Still the warning did intrigue as I’d never seen anything like it before. What was the story of that site? Was it evil? I guess I’ll never know because curious as I am, why risk it?

I never figured that Call Me Snake would morph from a volleyball blog into the fashion/glamor game, but life is funny that way; you never know what it’s going to dish out. Last night I caught part of an ad as I was turning off the TV and could not believe what I was hearing was true. Later I checked it out on the web and found out that my ears had not lied. Here are quotes taken almost verbatim (with some minor embellishments, distortions, and alterations thrown in for good measure):

Introducing new Touch Of Gray™, the first and only men’s hair treatment that lets you keep some gray. Works gradually. And it’s easy. No mix, no mess: just comb in and rinse. It’s for the generation that swore it would never get old. And didn’t…
     A little gray to show your experience, but not so much that it hides your vitality. Touch Of Gray™ comes in five natural looking shades…
     It not only lets you keep some gray, it lets you decide how much gray to keep. And it works gradually…

EDITOR’S NOTE: This product, as you can imagine, has thrown me into a tizzy. Do I hide the gray? Leave it alone? Or show some of it selectively? There are choices to be made (not only in Pennsylvania)–choices about which I had been blissfully ignorant less than 12 hours ago.

During my recent trip to Chicago, I mentioned to my mother that a local girl I went to grade school and high school with had a bestselling book about how not to get old. “There’s only one way not to get old,” said my mother scornfully. “You shoot yourself.”

School vacation is starting in a few hours and Call Me Snake is going to take a couple of days off. Happy fishin’ folks. You’ve earned it.

I find CAR TALK entertaining and am friendly (in a very casual way) with one of the brothers (Click, I think, or maybe it’s Clack). And although I haven’t learned much about taking care of my car from the show, I do occasionally get pearls of wisdom regarding relationships. A few weeks ago, Tom cited a recent study that showed that “active listening” does absolutely nothing to enhance marital bliss. Instead the only things that works is if the wife requests something and the husband does it. The moral of the story, I guess, is that “active doing” beats “active listening” every time. As for my own relationship, at least I’m getting half of it right as I don’t engage in active listening.

Every year, PARADE comes out with its mostly depressing list of what people earn. Like the hedge fund manager in New York City ($3.5 billion) who earned more than 100,000 times as much the hospital clown in New York City. Which one do you think brings more joy into the world? Then there was one guy who did not make the list: Keith van Horn who received $4.3 million in a trade two months ago and has not played a game since. I’m not a great basketball player but I am good enough to do that. As the saying goes: Why don’t I get jobs like that?

We all know that China is a rising power that may soon dominate the world’s economy. But most people don’t know why.  I have an idea about that which came to me as a result of hearing a friend/colleague last night speaking to someone over the phone in Cantonese.  He spoke incredibly fast–far faster than I’ve ever heard anyone speak in English. In fact, I don’t think it’s possible to speak that fast in English. My friend acknowledged that “Cantonese is a very fast language.” And that’s why I believe we are going to have a hard time competing with China: They can talk faster than us. By the time we’ve finished our sentences, they’ve already sealed the deal.

We’ve been hearing a lot lately about how much the middle class is hurtin’, and I know–from personal experience–how hard it is to make ends meet these days. I happened to choose a profession where financial renumeration has barely gone up in 20 years. The thing is, after tonight’s (last night’s, for the sticklers) debate between Barack and Hillary, I’m not sure I’m even close to the middle class. Clinton promised not to raise taxes for middle-class families earning LESS THAN $250,000. And she wasn’t talking about how much they earned in a decade. That was for a single year. I don’t know how you define middle class, and I have even discussed that very topic in these pages, but I never figured it extended up to that lofty register. By my standards, folks earning that kind of bread are way beyond middle class. Them are rich.

The YMCA I go to is the way I thought YMCA’s were supposed to be: urban, gritty, grimy. You get the picture. But yesterday’s Boston Globe had an article about the rise of valet parking and mentioned a suburban Y in Woburn, Mass. that has valet parking. You could not imagine valet parking at the establishment I go to and I’m glad. Valet parking and gyms don’t go together in my mind and should not so far as I’m concerned. Otherwise, maybe we could say: “After you park the car, would you mind working out for me?”

It’s Monday which means it’s time for Freaky Friday–a chance to celebrate the strange coincidences life throws at us. Take this morning, for instance. I was thinking about which T-shirt to wear and chose my Alaska one, which I haven’t worn for awhile. A minute later, my wife told me that today’s Globe had an article about a local man killed in an extreme skiing event in Alaska, which was the first time I can ever remember her telling me anything that has to do with Alaska.

An hour later, I was attending to my tax forms, writing checks to the IRS and the state, when I got confused by a form that I apparently was supposed to deliver to my tax accountant but hadn’t. Just that second, my tax guy called–the only time he’s ever called–asking about that form I was puzzling over at that very moment.

And this all happened by 10a.m. I’m sure the coincidences will continue to pile on. And why shouldn’t they? After all, it is Freaky Friday, the fact that it’s a Monday notwithstanding.

I’m no softie and am not prone to get weepy. But when I was working out this morning at the YMCA, the song “Falling Slowly” from the movie “Once” came on the radio and, I have to admit, my eyes welled up a bit. I found that song, and the movie as a whole, to be incredibly moving and haven’t felt that way about a movie for awhile. Next time I go to the gym maybe I’d better pack some hankies.

The funny thing about rain today–well actually yesterday-well actually there were a couple of funny things about rain, today or yesterday. First, he game for the girls soccer team I coach was called on account of rain but ironically the sun came out at around the time we were supposed to start playing and it stayed beautiful for hours on a day that was supposed to be a complete washout. (How did I know that? STORMTRACK 5 told me.) Another friend of mine coached soccer today (his game wasn’t cancelled) and he got a sunburn! Later in the afternoon, we went from sunny, summery weather to the cool chill of a thunderstorm. After that storm abated, I suggested to my daughter’s friend that we’d better bike to her home now so we don’t get rained on. But the girls were too busy with a beading craft and I could not prevail. Finally, by the time we started back on bike, the thunder and lightning were coming heavy. “I think we’re going to beat the rain!” my daughter’s friend called over the thunder. We pedaled fiercely and when we reached her house she cried: “We beat the rain! We beat the rain!”

“That’s great,” I said, but I still had the ride home and knew I would not be so lucky this time around. A second later, the deluge began and your humble narrator got soaked. This is the soggy tale that later emerged from his febril mind.

That woodpecker I wrote about a week or two ago is back. I’ve heard it for days but could not find it in our tree. Part of the problem is that my neck has been bad for the past couple of weeks, probably from playing handball. Or maybe it got bad from sleeping in an odd position and I notice it in handball because you need to move your head around a lot to follow the ball. Of course, I don’t need to tell you this after all that’s been said here about handball.

But getting back to that woodpecker. Our tree is very high and I had a hard time spotting him (is assuming it’s as he GENDER BIAS?) until this afternoon when my youngest daughter came back from school. This time I was able to follow the sound up our giant tree and finally see that guy going at our tree like a, uh, well like a woodpecker I guess. It’s nice to see some real nature at play (or work) in our backyard because most of what get in that regard is squirrels and the occasional skunk, raccoon, andopossum. In terms of wildlife, I’d call a woodpecker a step up. And given how tall our tree is, it’s actually a big step up.

Our society loves outsourcing. I learned about this some years ago when our kids were in preschool and some parents got tired of cleaning up the school, which had been their responsibility for decades, and decided to outsource the job. I read in the Boston Globe the other day that other parents have gotten tired of teaching their kids manners and instead pay big bucks to enroll 7-year-olds in etiquette courses. When tragedy strikes at our schools now, teachers and parents outsource the job of dealing with the grief to professional counselors rather than muddling through it on their own with the students and children. We’re getting close to the point where we might just as well outsource our lives. Surely there must be others out there who could do a better job with it and make it all it ought to be.

Am I getting old? Getting soft? It’s hard to tell but I am enjoying movies I never would have watched, or liked, when I was younger. “Dan in Real Life” is one such movie. I would not have bothered with a maintream movie like that, say, 20 years ago but last week when I saw it on DVd, I had a good time. The same can be said for my viewing of the “Jane Usten Book Club,” which I never would have bothered with 20 years ago. And not only did I “bother ” with it, I actually liked it–yet another sign of my incipient daftness.

I’ve noticed that it’s impossible to open some bags these days like the potato chips bag from Trader Joes. I’m in reasonably good shape & cannot pull open the bag at the top like I’ve always done with these products. I need to use a scissor or knife on it. I’ve found this to be the case with many other bags as well. Who were they designed for, people with superhuman strength? Maybe the materials science revolution has taken us a step backwards in this case.

How many times in a movie have you seen two characters disrobing near the doorway and making their way into the bedroom? Too many to count, I’m sure. But how many times have you seen one of those characters taking off a bicycle leg protector? I’ve only seen it once, in “The Jane Austen Book Club,” which is enough to qualify the movie as an original in my book, even if it did seem contrived in parts. The guy wearing the leg protector was played by Hugh Dancy, whose performance alone made the movie worth watching. How can those Brits do such a good job of playing Americans when I’ve yet to see the American actor (male or female) who can convincingly play a Brit?

I bought some computer equipment at Micro Center on Friday and the salesperson pointed to the receipt saying, “Here’s a web address for a survey you can fill out.” I wondered why people would bother. “What’s in it for them?” I asked.

She looked at me as if I were simple: “To get a better Micro Center, of course.”

Of course. Now why didn’t I think of that?

I happened upon a strange but endearing sight the other night, while I was walking down Mass. Ave. between Harvard and Central: a man and a woman walking together. That wouldn’t be unusual in itself, of course, except for the fact that this man and woman looked almost identical. They both had similar haircuts (on the short side), hair color (blondish-gray) and outfits (navy blue jackets, khaki pants, etc.). While it doesn’t seem that out of the ordinary–no bizarre hairstyles or hair colors or body art or piercings–it was still one of the oddest things I’ve seen in awhile.

Yesterday in the paper, I saw the picture of a woman I knew (vaguely) in grade school and high school on the cover of her new book. Not to be crass but as a middle-aged woman (whom I hadn’t seen in more than 35 years) she didn’t look too bad. Of course her book is all about not looking old, so I guess that’s the whole point–”fast, effortless ways to look 10 years younger, ten pounds lighter, and feel 10 times better.” She’s been on Oprah and done the whole bit and is arguably the most high-profile person to come out of our high school in decades which, when you think of it, is a bit sad (not that I have anything against her nor do I begrudge her her 15 seconds and then some). If I had time, I’d go to the shopping mall next week for her book signing, but instead I’ll probably skip it and, instead, think of ways of looking 10 years older, 10 pounds heavier, and feeling 10 times worse.

I heard this from a friend, a heralded blogger in his own right, as he recently helped me try to debug my computer. Here’s the joke, which I embellished and probably ruined: A kid gets a part in the school play as “the Jewish Husband.” His mother gets upset and tells the teacher “that after all the work he’s done, he deserves better. The least you could do is give him a speaking role.”

Yesterday, after dropping my kids off at school, I was bicycling through Harvard Square where some construction is going on. I stopped at the red light and then walked my bike across the crosswalk as there were no pedestrians around. “Go ahead,” a policeman yelled at me. “Run the red light. You can do anything you want in Cambridge today.”

I resented his smart-aleck comment since I wasn’t doing anything really wrong. On the other hand, he hadn’t issued me a ticket so I guess I was ahead of the game. Plus, for the first time in my life, I had a free pass–license to do, well, anything. And what did I do? Nothing.

About a year ago, I complained about Barbie.com and what they said about my daughter’s name. The word they used was “naughty,” by the way.

Now out of the blue comes this missive from someone who calls herself madamgoat50: “I found this site when I was searching for “Barbie.com customer service”. The same thing has happened to my daughter–who is old enough to read the comments about her name–and she’s quite angry with Barbie to say the least!! While I applaud the efforts of the site to keep children away from in-appropriate language, I think they need to find another filter to use. My daughter is named for her great-grandmother and has a perfectly lovely, old fashioned name. It in no way sounds like, looks like or relates to anything ‘naughty’!”

Others whose children have been similarly traumatized at the hands of barbie.com should contact us re. the new support group we’re forming called “WHAT BARBIE WROUGHT…”