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'.