Fisher Cement

 As a boy, I went to a Presbyterian church regularly. I suspect that my mom sent her kids there so that she could do some godawful sex thing with my step-father. I have no proof, but there is evidence. She did have another kid when I was 4, and then again when I was 14. And 18. It was a small house and Sunday morning was about the only time they had the house to themselves. But that’s a story for another day.

When the family visited my grandparents in southern Illinois, we spent Sunday mornings at Ten Mile Baptist Church, where my grandparents were regulars. Most weeks, the only miles driven by Grandpa Carr in his rusty 1934 Chevy were the church’s round-trip miles. I think his speed on those gravel roads topped out at 23, but that’s a story for another day.

 

Whether it was the Baptists or the Presbys, I don’t know, but one of their hymnals contained a song called “I Will Make You Fishers of Men.” Not that anyone in those pews used a hymnal; everyone knew the tunes and the words, which are:

I will make you fishers of men,

Fishers of men,

Fishers of men,

I will make you fishers of men

If you follow me;

If you follow me,

If you follow me,

I will make you fishers of men,

If you follow me.

 

If I had heard the words clearly, I would have been confounded by “fishers of men” because that would not have made even the slightest sense to me. Fishers I got – had to be someone who fishes. For fish. I had done that. Men are not fish (or so I thought at the time), so fishers of men wouldn’t have made any sense.

 

In church, they made a big deal out of a virgin birth and I tried to understand what that meant. But without knowing what virgin meant (nobody, in 1952, would provide real insight into virginity to a 9-year-old), my confusion just increased. Not making any sense was indeed the prevailing atmosphere in church, but that’s a story for another day.

 

I misunderstood the words “fishers of men” – I thought I heard the congregants singing “fisher cement.” Which made no sense. Every time that song got sung, I went home wondering what the hell (and I did know the word hell back then, although saying it out loud was a punishable offense) fisher cement was. I thought I knew what fishers meant, and I thought I knew what cement was, but I couldn’t think of any, even oblique, connection between the two. 

 

Maybe I asked my mother, or maybe I didn’t. She was fond of answers like “To make little boys ask questions.” Pressing her for a reasonable answer was generally not conducive to my health and safety, but that’s a story for another day.

 

Fisher cement. I wondered many times: What could that mean? I was born into this world. I didn’t design it, just tried to understand it. I didn't know what fisher cement was, but I knew I didn’t want to be any kind of cement. When church became optional for me, I quit going.

Finding Things at Walgreen's

 It's a breeze. They are extremely well organized.

The Mod Squad

Turned the TV on to a sports talk show named RALLY today and took this photo of the screen; my brain flashed back 50 years to The Mod Squad. It was a cop show introduced in 1968, so lots of people won't remember it. 

Back then, it was quite revolutionary to cast a white guy, black guy, and blonde girl as the hero cops. Come to think of it, it kinda still is.

E.D.

I have been diagnosed with E.D. What a bummer. 

Just returned from a 5 day trip to Nashville. I usually carry $200 cash, but when packing for the trip, I supplemented my money clip with an extra $100. Seemed reasonable to me. Got back home with $268 cash, so my cash outlay on the trip was $32. 

My son, who is younger than I am (and I mention this because it is significant), advised me years ago to reduce the amount of cash I carry. I think he generally carries about $3. Of course I didn’t listen. Why would I? He's just a kid! 

As it turns out, the world has changed, and I have not. Cash is so 20^th century. In Nashville's honky tonks, the bands' tip buckets have a QR code (you old people look that up on your Google machine) on the side. Through some kind of mystical magic, the QR code can be used to tip the band with something called Venmo. 

I could have gone to Nashville with zero cash. Which is less than $300. 

So, yeah, there you have it. I have Evolution Dysfunction (E.D.)

Make Up Your Own Caption

 Your Caption Here

Choices

Cardinals have been fun to watch lately. Doing everything well. Winning.

So I’m watching the B-backs game on a Sunday afternoon, and the Cards are making it interesting. They take the lead in the top of the 7th. After the 3rd out, the broadcast doesn’t cut to commercials — Phoenix’s stadium announcer asks people to please rise and sing along as we pay tribute to our great nation with the singing of god bless america. Cue camera #3 to zoom in on the stadium organist, who proceeds to play the tune while a fraction of the crowd sings along looking bored.

The network, Bally Sports, gave up whatever revenue they could have collected. For the god thing blended in equal parts with the lukewarm ‘Merica thing.

A bank commercial would have been more enjoyable.

DON'T BUY NB!

I got this pair of shoes a few weeks ago and they have been occasionally and lightly worn. I have no idea why New Balance would claim they were "Made in USA" -- they don't look all that bad, but they are literally falling apart.

If I could find the receipt, I'd be returning them for sure.

Age of Aquarius

When the moon is in the seventh house,

And Jupiter aligns with Mars,

Then peace will guide the planets

And love will steer the stars.

 

OK, I’m game. Can’t wait. Our planet's guide sure ain't Peace.

Could you be a bit more specific about the timing? Like maybe tell me “November 23, 2068” or “Hey, you missed it, it happened 468 years ago on July 4^th?”

Come on, I really want to believe, but my faith is moving into the eighth house.

Seems Like It

Yeah, it just makes sense -- people who drive the truck/vans for EMS likely score well on Frogger. 

Some Photos Don't Need A Caption

 

I'm Pretty Sure...

Shem begat Arphaxad 

and Arphaxad begat Salah

and Salah begat Eber

and Eber begat Peleg

and Peleg begat Reu

and Reu begat Serug

and the discovery of this in our bathroom

 

 

 

begat

 

Indecision

I am undecided about the title for this photo of an activity which takes place every 12 days in my house. It could be called "Sure Sign of Aging" or maybe "Stayin' Alive" (with apologies to the Bee Gees).

Sin and Consequences

I do not have Alzheimer’s Disease. I know that because I took a test this morning (Wordle) and passed with what I will call a B.

Why bring that up? Because people with AD can’t remember things from 5 minutes ago, but can recall things from 50 years ago. 

 

Something from 50 years ago (or so) grabbed my attention a little while ago – thus, I had to demonstrate that I don’t have AD.

 

Before the ballpoint pen, there was a common writing instrument called a fountain pen. The fountain pen is nearly extinct now, but you have probably heard of it. To fill it, you dipped the tip into a bottle of ink (also nearly extinct now) and the pen was designed to suck up the liquid ink into its reservoir.

 

For about 20 years starting in the mid-1930s, an all-Black group of musicians called The Ink Spots performed and recorded for American audiences. “If I Didn’t Care” is the #8 best-selling single of all time. Although nobody ever accused The Ink Spots of being rockers, the group was inducted into the Rock-and Roll Hall of Fame in 1989.

 

Now that you know something about The Ink Spots, and you know what a fountain pen is, I will tell you what off-color ditty from decades ago popped into my head this morning. It’s a song. I’ll write the words; I am not able to write the tune that’s in my head.

 

St. Louie woman

Was born to sin

She went to bed

With a fountain pen

The pen cap broke

The ink flowed free

Now she is the mother

Of the Ink Spots three*.

 

*The Inks Spots were 4 guys. Go figure.

Tape Loops

The background music just got my attention. When the song ended, I rewound the tape (back when tape was a thing) and played it again. And again and again.

That scene has been replayed in my life a few times.

Streisand’s Memory. Springsteen’s American Skin*. Paula Cole’s Carmen. Johnny Cash’s The Mercy Seat. Billy Joel’s A Minor Variation and Light as the Breeze. Jeff Buckley’s Hallelujah. Eagles’ The Last Resort. Arcade Fire’s Neighborhood #4. Jimmy Buffett’s Beautiful Swimmers. The Doors’ The End.

 

And probably others, but those pop into my memory today. 

 

Seems to me, a halfway decent psychiatrist should be able to diagnose mental disorders from that list.

 

What would your list be, and what would it say about you?

*Check out the video at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aQMqWAiWPMs

Damsel in Distress

I answered my cell phone because the Caller ID said it was a close relative of mine. She will remain nameless. I won't even reveal her gender - she'd be embarrassed.

Seems she was locked out of her car. The battery in the fob was apparently dead, so she couldn't unlock the doors. Car is in the Des Peres Lodge parking lot. "I'll be there in 10 minutes," I said.

About 9 minutes later, I see her standing by her white Acura SUV. I asked her for the fob. It had, as I suspected, an embedded hidden mechanical key. I got the mechanical key out and gave it to Damsel. She tried to use it to unlock her car, but it wouldn't work. So I tried. It didn't work. I tried it twice more, and as I was doing that, a female voice nearby said, "Excuse me, I'd like to get in my car."

Yep. We were trying to get in the wrong white Acura SUV. Damsel was initially unconvinced of that, but she eventually came around, and was able to laugh about it.

Not as hard as I laughed, but some.

Damsel's white Acura SUV was then located 50 feet away, and her fob's battery worked just fine.

Opening Day in StL

Opening Day for the St. Louis Cardinals is a big deal in St. Louis. 

Last Thursday there were lots of ceremonial things going on prior to the actual baseball game featuring the constantly-contending Cardinals whipping the perennially-pitiful Pittsburgh Pirates. One ceremony had each member of the Cardinals entering through a gate in right field, making a CCW tour, in the bed of a Ford pickup truck, around the stadium, to disembark near home plate, accompanied by the stadium organist playing a Budweiser-themed ditty, tape-loop style.

 

First the Manager, then the coaches, then the players. It took a long time. The organist’s fingers were bleeding at the end. It took two carpal tunnel surgeries and four bottles of bourbon to get him ready to play the next day.

 

But back to the coaches. The stadium’s P.A. announcer introduced each one by name and title. That is when I learned that the team has a guy whose job is “Run Production Coach.” Seriously. But wait! There’s more – how about Major League Pitching Strategist? Oh, yeah. Ten coaches in all.

 

I thought 10 was a lot. Wikipedia confirmed that it’s double the number of coaches for the team’s championship year in 1982. So there is definitely a Coach Expansion Program (CEP) underway.

 

The Cardinals will need to create new titles for the future coaches. They already have a First Base Coach and a Third Base Coach, but not a Second Base Coach. So there’s one possibility. Maybe Wardrobe Coach. Maybe Shoelace Coach, Sunglass Coach, Eyeblack Coach, Batting Glove Coach. 

Those should keep ‘em going for a while.

PS - The Pirates' performance problems might just stem from their stubborn insistence on ending "Pittsburg" with an h. Just sayin'.

Plumbing

Every time I take on another plumbing project – and there have been many, in my years as a homeowner – I question my own sanity. Why would someone voluntarily subject himself (I identify as him) to such a torture? Either you end up with a leak or you worry that you will discover one later. You make countless trips to Home Depot – or worse, shop online for the more unusual, specialized fittings that aren’t available locally.

There are plumbers in this world. People who are trained and experienced.

And they cost money. And they chip away at my illusion that I can do everything myself.

So I dig out my basic tools, clinch my teeth, and remind myself of the 4 basics of plumbing, basic principles that were handed down to me many years ago:

1.     Shit flows downhill.

2.     Payday is on Friday.

3.     The boss is a sonofabitch.

4.     Don’t bite your fingernails.

Life-Changing Decisions

I shaved this morning. Retirement means not doing that every day, so a can of shave gel lasts quite a long time. This morning the can felt quite light and I resolved to get a new can.

Amazon has been my go-to for most shopping, but I have been feeling guilty about putting the mom-and-pop stores out of business. For shave gel, I decided to go and see Mom and Pop Walgreen. When I found the Shaving Needs aisle, I saw Edge brand cans. “Edge,” I thought, sounded right. I think what I’ve been using is Edge.

 

But wait – which Edge?

There’s Extra Moisturizing. Is my face too dry? Do I need that? There’s Soothing Aloe. Maybe I need that. There’s Extra Protection. Sounds good. I think. Protection from ....... from what? There’s Ultra Sensitive. I know I’m sensitive – I choked up at the end of Jerry Maguire, but Ultra? I don’t know. Last in the row is Sensitive Skin. Plain old Sensitive – not extreme, not Ultra. That’s probably for me. Of course I have to give up the moisturizing, and the Aloe, and the Extra Protection (from the Mob?). 

 

There is an 800 number on the back of the can. I called it. After maneuvering through several menus, I get a customer service rep. I ask for help deciding what level of moisture/protection/sensitivity is right for me. Maybe they offer a consulting service for that.

 

Well, they don’t. I’m on my own.

 

I bought an electric shaver.

Going Postal

Just got a new Visa debit card from Together Credit Union.

Sticker said:

“To ACTIVATE your card and

CHOOSE a custom PIN, call

TOLL-FREE 1-800-631-3197”

 

So I called that number and then jumped through some hoops like “What’s the card number?” and “What is your date of birth?” and stuff like that. Mechanical voice told me card is activated. Call disconnected.

 

But my custom PIN had not been defined, so I called the 800 number back. Jumped through many of the same hoops. Finally got a human. Stated my mission. Was told I gotta call a different number to set up or change my PIN.

 

That different number was 877.325.2848, and I called it. More jumps through more hoops. Finally got a human. Stated my mission. Was told I gotta call a different number to set up or change my PIN. And YES, I did just copy-paste that last.

 

That different number was 888.325.0083, and I called it. More jumps through more hoops. Never got a human. Automated voice said that service was not available. Said I should call my credit union. Which is closed for the evening. Or maybe it’s closed to protect the staff from agitated consumers of their defective services.

Brain Deformation

 

CT Scans of same head (mine), taken 2 weeks apart.

Please understand that in the medical industry things are always backwards. That is why the image on the right was taken Feb. 15 (before treatment) and the image on the left was taken March 1 (13 days after treatment). That backwards obsession also explains why the left side of the brain appears on the right side of the images. Got that? There could be a pop quiz. Also, just so you know, the view is from the top of my head, with the back of my head shown on the bottom of the images.

In normal brain images, the left and right sides are mirror images of one another; the brain appears symmetrical. These images are obviously not symmetrical. If you compare the darkened area in the upper right - which is the left side of the brain - you will see more dark area in the "before" image. What makes the image darker is blood, and there is a lot less of it in the "after" brain.

The center of the brain, where you see something that looks like a pair of socks, is supposed to be symmetrical as well. The "after" image gets a lot closer to being a mirror image.

Theoretically, as the amount of blood in my skull dissipates, the left and right hemispheres will return to fairly symmetrical shapes and I will have more normal thought processes (insert your own joke here), balance, endurance, etc. I'll be getting another scan on April 7 to measure progress. Meantime, I will try to somewhat follow the doctor's orders to take it easy but not too easy.

Not COVID

I started having headaches in late December. I thought it was COVID. I was wrong.

There is a water heater exhaust pipe going to the roof, and the bottom of the pipe hangs down a couple inches below the top of my head. I walked right into the pipe around the middle of December, hitting my head pretty hard. That's when the trouble began, but of course I didn't know it.

At my February 4 "Wellness" physical exam I told my primary care physician about the headaches. Also the fuzzy thinking. Also the substandard balance. She ordered a brain MRI, which took place on the 15th. This is what it showed:

The left image is top view of the skull. The right image is front view. Right is left, left is right. The white stuff on the right (actually on the left) is a pool of blood, which had been collecting for 2 months, called subdural hematoma. It ain't good. There is a fair amount of blood accumulated - a max thickness of 2.2 cm (7/8 inch, for you metrically challenged folks). No wonder my brain isn't working right.

Next day, the good people at Barnes-Jewish Hospital sent a catheter loaded with some kind of glue into a blood vessel in my groin. It's a new procedure to treat subdural hematoma. The glue gets deposited in the middle meningeal artery (MMA), called (embolization). Barnes is the only place in St. Louis where this is done.

The theory is that the glue stops the bleed, and then over the next few weeks the body re-absorbs the pooled blood. To verify that this is happening, I am scheduled for a head CT on March 1.

I will be very interested to see what the CT reveals.

Meat Loaf

Meat Loaf has been dead for four days, so it's about time I wrote something about the dude.

It will take a few years for someone to write the screenplay, and someone to raise the money to make the biopic about Marvin Lee Aday. Wonder who will play the leading role? No doubt Tom Hanks will do it. He'll gain 150 pounds and shave 35 years off his face. He'll have a vocal chord transplant. He'll win another Oscar.

If there is anyone left on Planet Earth who hasn't seen Meat Loaf's music video "Paradise By the Dashboard Light," or maybe it's been some time since you watched it, here is a link to YouTube: 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C11MzbEcHlw

Now and then an artist will capture my imagination because they did something unique and did it well. Meat Loaf was one of those.

People get old and die. Mostly that doesn't bother me, but now and then...

Don't Look Up!

 Netflix movie "Don't Look Up" has a bunch of A-list actors in it. The premise, as I read it, is that a comet is on a collision course with Earth and nobody seems to give much of a shit. Sounded stupid, but then DiCaprio, Lawrence, Blanchett, Hill, Streep, et al made me watch it.

Sounded stupid because it is stupid.

It's a disaster movie. And it's funny as hell. Total sarcasm, heaping scorn on world leaders who can't be bothered with saving the world if there is a buck to be made ignoring the science. Heaping scorn on those who blindly follow said leaders.

Stupid movie. I loved it.