Good News!

Yeah, we know.  Donald Trump and Mortimer Snerd are running the government, what’s there to cheer about?  Well, for one thing, the steamroller seems to be getting stuck in the mud.  Dumbstruck GOP voters are taking a look around and discovering the barrage of new government policies are negatively affecting them.  There’s nothing more effective than getting your own pocket picked to make you aware of bagsnatchers.  People are showing up at town hall meetings to haze Republican milquetoast legislators and let them know the sky is falling.  The verbiage has gotten so mean that most of the pols are prohibiting taping of the meetings or not showing up at all.  Heck, even low-life senators and representatives don’t like being called skunks on the six o’clock news.

Mortimer doesn’t get it.  Totally void of compassion for the armies of government workers he’s disenfranchised, he shows up on stage with a roaring chain saw, promising more devastation.  Bodies are falling all over Washington like iguanas from trees on a cold day in Boca.  The unfairness of it all grips even cold Republican hearts.  “It’s one thing to toss out the Spics but the other day they canned Smokey the Bear!”  If you’re planning to overnight at Yellowstone this summer, be prepared to change your own sheets and bring a gas mask to the public toilets.  And speaking of falling objects, Tesla sales have fallen through the floor in the U.S. and Europe, down 75% in Spain, 63% in France and 60% in Germany, mainly due to the behavior of its CEO.  So there’s some good news.

Here’s more:

Aloha To Anthracite

Hawaii has replaced the state’s last coal plant with a giant battery.  Yes, you can have a functional grid without fossil fuels, you just need a powerful battery system to absorb it from the grid.  The Kapolei Energy System’s 185 megawatts of instantaneous discharge capacity match what the old coal plant could inject into the grid, and the batteries react far more quickly with a 250-millisecond response time.  Instead of generating power, they absorb it from the grid---ideally when it’s flush with renewable generation---and deliver cheap, clean power back in the evening hours when it’s desperately needed.

Meanwhile, back in the jungle, nature’s best defenders, it’s trees, are making a comeback.  Several studies have shown that reforestation substantially mitigates the effects of climate change, acting as a natural air conditioner.  Because 15 hectares of eastern U.S. forests have been restored, they are helping keep the region cool in the face of rising temperatures everywhere.  From forests to wetlands, many ecosystems are doing exceptional work in removing carbon emissions from the atmosphere.  A new study at the University of Washington has discovered “cryptic wetlands”---so named because they are covered by forest canopy---which are difficult to access by aerial photography and may be far more prevalent and beneficial than previously realized.

Off the coast of Solomon’s Island, what was long thought to be a giant shipwreck area has turned out to be the world’s largest coral colony in the Pacific Ocean.  The entirety of the colony measures out to 112 by 105 feet, making it larger than Earth’s biggest animal, the blue whale.  The colony is so large it can be seen from space but has somehow been unrecognized, which has probably led to its excellent condition.  In a recent study of coral restoration in Indonesia, scientists found that restoration efforts in artificially restored reefs can regrow the reefs as fast as naturally recurring reefs just four years after the initial transplantation.  At the project site, “reef stars” are first affixed to the reef floor.  These small, recycled metal scaffolds provide a foundation for the coral larvae to glom onto and begin building their hard bodies.

Oh, and those Murder Hornets you’ve been worried about?  Forget it.  They’ve been eradicated from the country.  Well, except for those two in Washington.  “Quick, Henry—the Flit!”

Doctor!  Doctor!  Give Me the News….

“One of the biggest breakthroughs in neurology this year will relate to the ongoing development of blood testing for the underlying causes of dementia and neurodegeneration, particularly Alzheimer’s Disease.  The pace of progress is such that we are likely to see what we’ve learned soon be implemented.---Professor Paresh Malhotra, Division of Neurology at Imperial College London.

About 20 Alzheimer’s drugs are in late-stage clinical trials, thus the new year will bring results and potentially new treatments to regulators.  Each one is a step closer to a future where treatments will slow the progression of the dreaded disease.  Existing research into blood biomarkers, red flags for the early signs of Alzheimer’s, is hugely promising and is already revolutionizing clinical research.

More than two in five U.S. adults are obese, a number so prevalent that it needs to be acknowledged as more than a willpower problem.  Factors like genetics, food access, poor sleep quality and chronic stress all contribute to the obesity epidemic, calling for new infrastructure to help end it.  In 2024, the mainstream adoption of GLP-1 receptor agonists marked a turning point, with Medicare and other major payers beginning to cover these transformative therapies.  For the first time in decades, U.S. obesity rates showed measurable improvement, bending the curve and sparking optimism for long-term public health.

Personalized cancer vaccines may be the wave of the future.  Thousands of cancer patients in England will soon be able to access trials of a new vaccine treatment designed to prime the immune system to target cancer cells and reduce recurrence risk.  These vaccines are also expected to produce fewer side effects than conventional chemotherapy.  Over 200 patients from the UK, Germany, Belgium, Spain and Switzerland will receive up to 15 doses of the personalized vaccine, with the study expected to be complete by 2027.

Meanwhile, researchers in the U.S. have developed a test they say can identify 18 early-stage cancers without using the usual invasive and costly methods.  Novelna’s test works by analyzing a patient’s blood protein.  In a screening of 440 people already diagnosed with cancer, the test correctly identified 93% of stage 1 cancers in men and 84% in women.

England’s National Health Service is the first in the world to make use of a cancer treatment injection, which takes just seven minutes to administer rather than the current time of up to one hour by intravenous infusion.  The drug Atezolizumab or Tecentriq treats cancers including lung and breast, and most patients in England will likely switch to the jab.

Fun Facts.  Some Old, Some New.

1. Genomicists claim they can now sequence more than three billion base codes of your DNA with a simple mouth swab, but who’s counting?  Known as genomic and epigenetic testing, the process reads you and your 21,000 genes like a book, scanning for early signs of disease (think of them as typos) to help doctors take a proactive approach and tailor treatments specifically for you.

2. If you’re terrified of needles, take hope.  Jab-free vaccines and flu shots promise to take the pain out of checkups.  British researchers have devised a way to deliver a live vaccine (dried in sugar) with a patch applied to the skin just like a sticker.  Whoop-de-do for Doctor Who!

3. Is everyone in England brilliant?  Introducing the iKnife, a smart scalpel developed by researchers at Imperial College London.  It provides instant feedback to help surgeons distinguish between cancerous and healthy tissue surrounding tumors as they excise them from the body.  The scalpel works by analyzing molecules of the smoke caused by heat generated in surgery, then signaling to physicians whether it’s cancer-free.  Thus the iKnife cleverly eliminates the margin of error and makes surgery less invasive.  The critter’s success rate is a nifty 100% in 91 tries.

4. Don’t burn that bra, girls!  It might be one of those new ultrasophisticated tumor-tracking sports bras that can save your life.  No kidding.  First Warning Systems of Reno, Nevada, of all places, has created a piece of underwear containing  software capable of measuring changes in body temperature associated with breast tissue abnormalities.  In early trials, the smarty-bra sensed cancer with 92% accuracy for up to six years before a tumor became visible on a mammogram.  Put that in your bong and smoke it.

5. Head ‘em up and move ‘em out!  A company in our 51st state has created an exciting brain stimulator which could get paralyzed patients moving again.  MyndTee of Mississauga, Ontario has come up with a jewel called MyndMove, a non-invasive device that uses electrical therapy to retrain the brain to restore voluntary movements, like reaching and grasping.  After just eight weeks, patients noticed amazing improvements in their quality of life.  The tool has caught the attention of the Canadian government which just invested a cool million to aid in its commercial development.  O Canada, we stand on principle for thee!

6. We have some help for singer Al Green, who wants to know How Can You Mend a Broken Heart.  An Ontario start-up (is there something in the water in Ontario) is empowering heart failure patients to never miss a beat.  Nicoya Lifesciences has developed an app that tests vitals with a pinprick and a smartphone.  After a drop of blood is squeezed into a special cartridge and inserted into a pocket-sized reader that attaches to a phone, the blood is analyzed and wirelessly shared with the patient’s health care team.  Over six million North Americans have congestive heart failure but founder Ryan Denomme is confident of the tester’s success.  “Our device could cut rehospitalization rates by up to 50% and death by 30%.”  That’s not soggy ginergbread, folks.

7. There’s new hope for umpires everywhere.  The first Bionic Eye is now approved for worldwide use after 20 years of research.  Okay, it won’t help all arbiters but it’s dandy for anyone with retinitus pigmentosa, a degenerative disease which can lead to blindness.  Argus II is a system of electrodes implanted in the retina, paired with glasses linked to a built-in video camera.  The camera turns images into pulses, which the electrodes read as light patterns, allowing the brain to see movement and objects.  Researchers are now working on camera-free alternatives with retinal implants that look like computer chips.  Maybe there will soon be joy in Mudville.

8. No, it’s not Frankenstein—here comes Andrew Johnson, diagnosed with early-onset Parkinson’s Disease.  Cyber AJ, as he’s called, has implanted electrodes in his head to control his tremors, and they work.  The electrodes target wayward neurons and silence AJ’s shakes and tics, all with the simple flick of a button to trigger deep stimulation within his brain.  How does it work?  Special electrodes are connected to a stopwatch-sized unit hooked up to a pacemaker near the heart.  Wish you’d though of it, right?

Not Dead Yet

You probably won’t believe this but when I bring up the subject of next May’s Grand Finale, some people cough and turn their heads, occasionally avert their eyes, fumble with their car keys or run out of words to say.  I think they might be trying to tell me something.  Something like “You’re 85 years old this November, Bill---think you might want to move the party up?”  Well, I’m fairly insulted…not highly insulted, mind you, since most humans are strewn to the four winds before their odometers hit 80, but marginally miffed.

Many of you are willing to believe that Jesus was crucified by politically incorrect Romans, then rose from the dead to save the world.  He was, in a sense, immortal.  So why is it so difficult to acknowledge that Bill was crucified by a horrendous redneck driver in a headon collision, rose from the dead and is throwing a wingding for all his friends?  It makes perfect sense to Will Thacker.

For doubters, my annual February assessment at CVI Heart Control, featuring Echocardiagrams, EKGs and advanced Ouija Board techniques assures us that all is well.  “You’re perfect!” avers cardiologist Daniel Van Roy, which means I am exactly where I was last year in my staredown with the Grim Reaper.  A CT scan at the time of the accident found no lurking dangers, though my kidneys “could be better.”  So could yours.  I have wisely avoided the perils of having The 70-Year-Old Hitch by having my compromised prostate removed.  If it helps, I have two sisters, one 82, the other 74 and both are still walking the beat.  What else ya got?  Alcohol issues?  No, thanks.  Drug problems?  My wife is a Puritan except where coffee is concerned.  Failing memory?  Say what?

Only 14 months to glory.  I plan to be there with bells on and so should you.  It’s the last train to Clarksville, you don’t want to miss it.  One more love-in, one more chance to kiss Mary Kay on the schnoz and goose Michael Davis.  Succeeding generations will speak of it in reverent tones, struck dumb by its magnificence.  It’s The Grand Finale.  It’s coming and nothing can stop it, neither old age nor common decency nor even Elon.  Be there or forever hold your peace.  Or is it peas?

That’s all, folks…

bill.killeen094@gmail.com     

 

Are You Going To Scarborough Fair?

The arrival of March brings with it some urgency when it comes to vacation planning.  Sure, you can still get a flight from here to there and maybe even a hotel with door locks but the travel oases themselves are filling up faster than Trumpy’s firing bureaucrats.  Speaking of which, this might not be the best of years to visit the major national parks like Yosemite, Glacier, Yellowstone and Rocky Mountain, where chaos is guaranteed.  Until 2025, The Year of Living Dangerously, these parks were so busy that vehicle passes were required after 9 a.m. during the summer months---now they’re not.  Thanks to the Great Musk Purge, far fewer park rangers will be available to handle the ensuing hordes.  Roads will be clogged, park shuttles---if there are any---will be inundated and bathrooms will look and smell like the Augean Stables.  Where there is snow in Summer, as in Glacier, trails will not be cleared.  Assuming you can battle your way through the multitudes and actually get in, you’re on your own, so don’t get lost, hungry or bitten by a hippogator.  Even Smokey the Bear has been laid off.

This would be an apt annum to visit the less-visited national parks or even some state parks, many of which are located near their national brethren.  For instance, Dead Horse Point State Park, a beauty, is adjacent to Canyonlands in Utah.  Panther Creek State Park in Tennessee is a mere 90 minutes from Smoky Mountain N.P.  The Garden of the Gods public park in Colorado Springs, a show-stopper, is 2 1/2 hours from Rocky Mountain and it’s free.  There are countless others.  Check Fodor's or Frommer’s travel guide books for the states you’re interested in.

If you are looking for Scarborough Fair, it’s being held from April 5 to May 26 in tiny Waxahatchie, Texas.  Now going under the moniker Scarborough Renaissance Festival, the fair features over 20 stages with live entertainment, an artisan marketplace, daily beer and wine tastings and cheap bobblehead dolls of Simon & Garfunkel.  Okay, we made that last one up.  You’ll be delighted to know there are no parking restrictions and the tickets are cheap.  We won’t be visiting this year, but good luck.  It’s Texas, so bring your MAGA hat and some bananas for the monkeys.

In A Cavern, In A Canyon….*

Or you could go to Utah, especially Zion National Park and Bryce Canyon, a mere 84 miles apart.  The charming town of Springdale abuts Zion and a room or two is usually available at Flanigan’s Inn, where we stay.  There are no vehicle restrictions as yet in either park and the transport from Springdale to Zion is frequent; once inside the park, the shuttle buses are large and timely.  Zion N.P. is extraordinarily beautiful with trails aplenty.  The most famous, to Angel’s Landing, is challenging and scary but not too many people fall to their deaths.  Siobhan, of course, will not go near it.

At stunning Bryce Canyon, home of the famous hoodoos, virtually all the housing is in two giant Best Western Hotels, one of them being the long-established Ruby’s, which even has its own post office.  Across from Ruby’s is the nightly rodeo and Ebeneezer’s Bar & Grill, a large music dinner theater featuring quality country music nightly.  As with Zion, the buses are large and arrive often.  There are several scenic trails through the hoodoos offering endless photo ops. 

Not far from Zion is Kanab, a lively little town an hour’s drive from the White Pocket area of Utah.  Almost everyone is familiar with The Wave, a fantastic multi-colored chute cut into a sandstone mountain, which is available only by exceptional good luck in the government lottery, but many people don’t know about the dazzling Vermilion Hills National Monument, a remote and unspoiled 280,000-acre geological treasure with some of the most spectacular trails you’re likely to see.  Better take the trip with Dreamland Safari Tours, you’ll break an axle trying to get in there.

The north rim of the Grand Canyon is a mere 80 miles from Kanab.  It’s also 80 miles east to Antelope Canyon, a five-star attraction near Page.  Take a sedative before riding with the Navajo hot-rod truckers from the enrollment tent to the canyon.  And listen to your faithful Indian guide, they really do know all the killer spots to take photos.  Other attractions near Kanab include Coral Pink Sand Dunes State Park, the Sand Caves and the massive Best Friends Animal Sanctuary.  If you like nifty pet cemeteries, and who doesn’t, this one leaves all others in the dust.

California, Here We Come….

If none of this sounds appealing, there’s always the Golden State, albeit a mite tarnished by forest fires, mudslides and Ippel Mizuhara.  Make sure you get a hefty bank loan before departing, the gas prices are steep and the hotels are steeper.  Not to mention, they charge almost as much for your car to spend the night as they do for you.  You can start in sunny San Diego, where the livin’ is easy and the freeways are crowded with kamikaze pilots.  A little bit to the north is the glorious Del Mar race track on Jimmy Durante Boulevard.  The thoroughbreds start running on July 20 and don’t stop until September 9th, and the competition is almost Saratoga-class.

Take the coastal route up to the relaxing vibes of Laguna Beach, with its stunning shoreline, coastal cliffs and vibrant arts scene.  Transport is free and on-schedule in lovely Laguna, and nearby Crystal Cove State Park offers hiking on cliffs above the beach which provide expansive and dramatic vistas.  If you go, give our old pal Jack Gordon a call and he’ll meet you with pina coladas at the city limits.  Make sure you wear your Red Sox hat.

Further north, you can check in to Long Beach and spend the night on The Queen Mary (about $150).  If you’d just like to take a look around, it’s $42 for general admission.  Next, you can enjoy a fabulous doubleheader day frolicking on the world-famous Santa Monica Pier and skirting dusty vagrants on the once-grand Venice Boardwalk.  Don’t look for Arnold at the remains of the old Muscle Beach bodybuilders’ salon, it’s a shadow of its former self.  If, however, you find yourself in need of a new marijuana prescription, there are over 3000 beachside docs in scrubs who can write you a scrip, likely a Guinness World Record.

First-time visitors to L.A. usually want to see the Hollywood Walk of Fame, which consists of 2800-and-counting five-pointed terrazo-and-brass stars embedded in the sidewalks along 15 blocks of Hollywood Boulevard and three blocks of Vine Street.  It’s a zoo over there, but it’s fun and you can have your picture taken with Princess Leia or a wookie.   While you’re there, be a sport and buy a pencil from Lindsay Lohan.

First-timers also have the giant Hollywood sign on their bucket lists.  If you’re willing to hike a reasonable trail in Griffith Park, you can get close and the views are to die for.  Remember, however,  the sign is on private property and the neighbors aren’t keen on seeing you.  The front lawn of the Griffith Observatory is a good spot to check out the sign if you don’t like hiking.  You can also check in with Bill’s sister, Alice (the Republican), in lovely Camarillo.  Buy her dinner and she’ll regale you with embarrassing secrets from Bill’s childhood, assuming she can still remember them.

Hearst Castle

First, you should know Patty won’t meet you at the door.  She’s 70 now and doesn’t want to hear any more shit about her tour of duty with the Symbionese Liberation Army.  The castle, itself, is a dazzler, nestled atop a hill with ass-kicking views of Big Sur.  There are several different tours available, preferably scheduled in advance, with a duration time between two and three hours.  Many visitors take more than one tour.  A good percentage of guests overnight in San Simeon but we like Moonstone Beach in delightful Cambria.  The exotic downtown buzzes with creativity.  Historic architecture, art galleries, great shops and excellent restaurants lend a vibrant energy to the tiny town.  AND you can fill up on pastry at Linn’s Easy as Pie Shop.  Who could ask for anything more?

When you’re through hobnobbing with the Cambrians and the castlefolk, it’s time to mosey up Highway 1 to the Piedras Blancas Rookery, the only elephant seal rookery in the world that is easily accessible, free and open to the public every day of the year.  The best time to visit is between December and April, but there’s an abundance of the critters there in Summer.  Don’t expect a fancy show, these big’uns are famous for languishing on the beach and occasionally taking a swipe at one another.  They are massive…the males can grow to 14 feet and 5000 pounds, so don’t fall through the fence and get skwushed.  The viewing area is hard to miss, just off the highway north of San Simeon with plenty of gawkers meandering around the parking area.

If you’ve never been, everything you’ve heard about the raw beauty of Big Sur is true.  Everything you’ve heard about the cost of staying in the area is also true, which is why most sensible people shuffle on to Monterey to spend the night.  Not being overly sensible, we spent a couple of July nights at the Little River Inn, smack dab in the middle of Big Sur for a reasonable $450 a night.  It was cozy, the restaurant was good and the park along the river behind the motel was sterling, if a little crowded.  The great location of the LRI made it possible to get to Pfeiffer State Beach (and later, Pfeiffer State Park) at an early hour before both were flooded with customers.  If you do nothing else, see the beach, it’s a peach.  Get there at 7:30 a.m. and it’s dreamy.  If it’s any time but Summer, you’d be remiss to pass by the historic Nepenthe restaurant high on the oceanside cliffs of Big Sur, and a local institution since 1949.  It was a favorite of Henry Miller, Salvador Dali, Orson Welles and Steve McQueen back in the day so it’s plenty good enough for you.  Except in the Summer when it’s impossibly crowded with bucket-list riff-raff.

You might remember the old Esalen Institute from hippie days.  You’d never know it by their prices, but Esalen swears it’s a not-for-profit holistic education center “offering wild comfort for emergent transformation and internal exploration since 1962.”  That emergent transformation will cost you big bucks (Esalen grosses $13.2 million a year), but they exist in a high-rent neighborhood with most of the income flowing to maintenance, capital improvements and food.

The famous Esalen baths, where everyone is properly naked, are brilliantly perched over the Pacific, presenting incomparable ocean views. Esalen Hot Springs is open to the public, but only in the middle of the night.  Reservations are required and it’s not cheap.  That said, if you’re friends with noted lawbreaker Leonard Jourard, he’ll tell you about a secret road leading to the baths, when is the best time to go there and how much bail money to take with you.

Monterey, Carmel & Points North

Heading north out of the undulating hills of Big Sur, you’ll soon reach ritzy Carmel.  If you’ve never paid $10 for a glass of fresh-squeezed orange juice, here’s your big chance.  If you’re willing to pawn your gold watch and chain, love, you may even find an affordable hotel room.  That said, the restaurants are very good, the shops are unique and the public rest rooms are as spotless as those at the Sydney Opera House.  Take it all in, wave goodbye to the nice poodle-carrying doyennes of Carmel-by-the-Sea and move on to Monterey to spend the night.

It’s not cheap, but the best hotel in Monterey is the Spindrift Inn, on the ocean and right in the middle of the town’s action.  Very pretty and exceptionally homey.  The people at the front desk treat you like your grandmother does, clucking at you to remember your sunscreen and don’t be late back for charades.  You will be advised to visit the exceptional Monterey Bay Aquarium ($60 ouchy bucks for adults), the only one anywhere with a living kelp forest, the first to exhibit large jellyfish and young great white sharks and the only aquarium outside Japan to exhibit ocean sunfish, yellowfin and bluefin tuna.  If that’s not good enough, the Aquarium is also responsible for restoring Monterey’s historic Cannery Row, the setting for John Steinbeck’s 1945 novel of the same name.  It’s fun to read a bit of it while you’re there.

If you’re heading to San Francisco, be sure to wear a pocket-knife in your hair.  The streets are alive with the sounds of grumpy and demanding transients, many of them homeless by choice.  But go anyway, it’s a requirement to revisit the Haight, still lively after all these years, and glorious Golden Gate Park, headquarters for the unforgettable 1966 Summer of Love.  The Haight is the only place in the universe where you can still find a decent selection of delicious R. Crumb merchandise and take a selfie of yourself wearing it on the steps of the old Grateful Dead house.

Siobhan and I always park on one side or another and walk the magnificent Golden Gate Bridge both ways (45 minutes one way against a headwind).  The views are spectacular and you can’t really appreciate them from your car, let alone take pictures.  Turn your ball cap around backwards and take off your glasses if you want to keep them, the gusts are a lusty opponent.  There’s good parking on both sides.

If you’d rather not step over bodies and avoid clutching hands on your way to dinner, you might consider staying in Sausalito, four miles from the northern side of the bridge.  The city’s name is Spanish for “small willow grove” and is home to about 7500 souls, almost no bums and our old pal Patricia McKennee, an old Sub Circus girl.  Tell her you’re on the way and she’ll pick you up at the ferry dock and buy you a drink.  Stay at the funky old Hotel Sausalito, downtown and right at the docks.  It’s an easy drive to San Francisco in the morning and nobody will steal your car.

We could go on for hours but we’re already at 2400 words and we’ve spent your whole bankroll.  Don’t worry, though, we’ll be back next week to discuss inexpensive vacations in Laos ($18 a day), Indonesia ($72) and the Kamchatka Peninsula (they pay you $56 to visit).  And don’t forget the new 51st state of Canada, where the summers are cool and you don’t need a passport.  If you’re looking for something to do there, Sergeant Preston is still holding forth at the Yellow Knife Retirement Home.  Bring a nice bone for Yukon King.

  

That’s all, kiddoes….

bill.killeen094@gmail.com

*The paragraph on Zion and Bryce Canyon was written before the park firings, but these two (especially Bryce) might be less affected because the visitor load is smaller.  Best to contact each park for up-to-date information before making any plans.

   

   

         

Look Twice Before Crossing

Our friend Judi Cain, grand mistress of farmer’s market photography, jogged off to Morgantown last year when her apartment became unavailable, finances tightened and her West Virginia daughters beckoned.  “The hounds were yipping at my heels,” she reported.  “Take me home, country roads, to the place I belong.”

Trouble is, “almost heaven” West Virginia really isn’t.  Life may be old there, older than the trees, but the people who live there are dropping like Tesla stocks.  The Mountaineer State has scary-high rates of chronic diseases including cancer, heart disease, diabetes and kidney disease (highest in the nation).  West Virginia is also Number One for arthritis.  You won’t be surprised to hear the state has the highest rate of depression in the country, perhaps because it has one of the lowest levels of education, limited access to nutritious foods and one of the worst drug problems in the nation.  21% of adults smoke, 41% are obese and the state has the second shortest life expectancy nationwide.  Lovely Huntington owns the tiara for Unhealthiest City in America with an obesity rate of 49%.  Who ya gonna call?  Even Fatbusters won’t touch the place.

As for Judi….get on the bus, Gus.  Make a new plan, Stan.  Slip out the back, Jack.  Drop off the key, Lee.  And get yourself free.

T For Texas….T For Take Another Look.

As everybody knows, people are moving to Texas in droves, many educated workers drawn by the ever-expanding tech universe between Austin and San Antone.  Surprises await, especially for those from points west and used to primo medical care..  Texas ranks near the bottom where livability is concerned.  The Lone Star State is down in the cellar in health care with a weak 182 primary care providers per 100,000 residents according to the United Health Foundation.  Texas leads the nation by a mile in residents without health insurance and a staggering 19% of all people with a credit score have medical debts that have gone to collection.

Chances are you won’t like the politics much, either.  Texas has no public accommodation law barring discrimination against non-disabled people, a barrage of laws targeting the LGBTQ+ community and an abortion ban which is the strictest in the country.  If you lose your job, state employment benefits cover less than 10% of the average cost of living.  The governor is a heartless imbecile, Senator Ted Cruz is worse and there’s no place to park in Austin ever.  Keep moving.

We don’t even need to mention the Gooberland states of Oklahoma, Kansas, Louisiana, Alabama,  Mississippi and Tennessee.  Oklahoma is boring, very very boring, and you can only get an abortion there at gunpoint.  Watching the wind come sweepin’ down the plain is vastly overrated.   Kansas (The Bookburner State) is teeming with anti-education right-wing Republicans with no sense of humor.  When Dorothy famously told Toto “We’re not in Kansas, anymore,” Toto said ‘Thank God!’”

In the deep South states mentioned above, they still have separate water coolers for Democrats and hippies.  Louisiana is the only state in the union unhealthier than West Virginia, reveling in obesity and the fourth-highest rate of premature deaths.  Alabama will not let you vote if you are black unless you have a note from Nick Saban.  If you are white and get off the bus without a MAGA hat in Mississippi, toothless people will follow you around asking questions and flicking lighted matches in your direction.  Florida is slightly better because we have exotic beaches, orange trees, the Flying Pig Parade and my wife lives there.

In the face of all this, Judi Cain wants to know what’s a poor girl to do?

“Please Come To Boston For The Springtime.”---(Dave Loggins)

In 2023 and 2024, WalletHub named Massachusetts the best state to live in, based on affordability, economy, education, health, quality of life, safety, Woodman’s clam shop and because Greg Barriere lives there.  In 2024, CNBC named Vermont as one of the best states for quality of life and New Hampshire was cited by World Population Review (great air quality, renewable energy, good climate change policies, Hampton Beach and Kathy Killeen Scanlon).

U.S. News & World Report cited Utah, with New Hampshire, Nebraska, Minnesota, Idaho and Vermont right behind.  But who’s going to trust anybody who mentions Nebraska?  We wouldn’t argue with Utah, though, it’s got everything---crazed Mormons with a sixpack of wives, grand canyons, great salt flats, Moab and a city called Levan, which is “navel” spelled backwards.

So there’s hope, after all, for Judi Cain and the rest of us looking for greener pastures.  You don’t need to be coy, Roy.  Just warm up the truck, Buck.  Get out on the road, Toad.  And set yourself free!

Oprys Save Lives

It was early on the evening of August 3, 2024 and the crews at UF’s University Auditorium were putting the finishing touches on the stage, the sound & lighting equipment and the seating area in preparation for the Hogtown Opry’s big Rhonda Vincent concert 90 minutes later.  The auditorium doors had not been locked yet, so anyone who came very early had access to the hall.  Few chose that option, but one very frazzled middle-aged woman (we’ll call her Mallory) buzzed up to me and asked if I was the man in charge.  She was shaking too much to shoot straight if she had a weapon, so I admitted I was.  Immediately, I was inundated by the terrible story of her current life, which involved the sudden death of a son and several other sad surprises.  If the lady wasn’t in the midst of a full-blown nervous breakdown, one was waiting for her just around the corner, and that’s not an adventure most of us are used to dealing with.

Nonetheless, all was not lost because Rhonda Vincent was in town, and Rhonda was a woman of faith.  Mallory had met her at an earlier time and was a true believer forevermore.  Now, she had won a ticket to the show from a local radio station which was promoting the concert and she hoped the tide of her life might be turning.  I remembered an ad rep for the station telling me that one woman who had won a ticket broke down crying when she got the news, not your everyday reaction.

Mallory profusely thanked me for the complimentary ducats (she had a lady friend in tow), which were in the 20th row.  “I’d love to be closer,” she said, but I’m just so happy to see Rhonda again.”  I always keep a few tickets in my pocket in case Dolly Parton or Steve Spurrier show up, so I pulled them out, looked them over and gave Mallory two in the fifth row.  You’d think she’d won the crown on Jack Bailey’s Queen for a Day.  I felt a little guilty for unleashing the woman on her seatmates up front but knew if they were concert regulars they’d undoubtedly experienced a lot worse.  Nobody complained, but I believe I noted occasional outbursts of rampant enthusiasm from her general area during the show.  It was a great night for everyone there, but that was the last time I saw  Mallory, though I idly wondered about her from time to time.  Needless to say, if you’re in the impresario business, weird things are an occupational hazard.  Sometimes, Randall Roffe shows up.

The Rest Of The Story

A few days ago, I got a message from the ubiquitous Cathy DeWitt, one of Gainesville’s twinkling musical lights.  DeWitt’s group had opened the show for Rhonda Vincent and made enough of an impression on Mallory that she called Cathy nine months later, telling her of the kind gentleman who had given her the great seat and about the wonderful time she had that evening.  Mallory said she had been in a very dark place that concert night, even considered the ultimate weapon, but the show brought her great joy and saved her life.  Saved her life!  Whether that’s true or not, it’s every producer’s dream rave review and we’re putting it on our business cards forthwith.  But that’s not all.

Then came the plot-twist blockbuster.  The tide of Mallory’s life had indeed turned, things began falling in place and on March 15th she is being married.  Cathy DeWitt and her band are rehearsing like mad to be ready to play at the wedding.  That crazy woman you heard screaming her approval from the fifth row got one of life’s rare mulligans, testimony to the power of the fiddle and the mandolin.  And some of us who were there at the fork in the road reached into our little box of stars and plunked a gold one on our foreheads.

“Music is the medicine of the breaking heart.”  Leigh Hunt said that.

That’s all, folks….

bill.killeen094@gmail.com 

Marvels Of Technology

Technology.  It’s all the rage these days.  Even the lowest con on the rockpile has a smartphone, every kid in the orphanage has an iPad and the Alcoholics Guild has sanctified self-driving cars.  Need a green, extra-large wheelbarrow by this afternoon?  Amazon’s delivery drone is headed your way.

How quickly we forget the wonders wrought by clever inventors of the past who got no help from computers or artificial intelligence or government subsidies, often working in candlelit basements and utility sheds to move humanity forward.  But Kathleen Knight, head of our Chicken Life division at FP Enterprises, has not forgotten.  Forthwith, some of the brilliant creations she has unearthed.

1. The Wooden Bathing Suit. These days swimwear manufacturers try to sell the least amount of suit material for the largest amount of money, their own version of the minimalist ‘Less Is More’ philosophy espoused by Ludwig Mies van der Rohe.  Back in lively 1929, however, wooden bathing suits were to die for.  The booming lumber industry in Grays Harbor County, Washington could make you anything from soup to nuts, and one day some brilliant employee had the notion to make bathing suits from thin spruce veneer, and they did.  The industry trotted out an advertising campaign featuring the lovely “Spruce Girls,” in which one charming young lady explained how she used leftover veneer from her father’s newly-built house to make her own suit.  An article in Popular Science magazine touted the swimwear as “trendy and durable, the latest novelty for use on the bathing beaches.  Fashioned of thin spruce, they are said to be practical as costumes and also are sufficiently buoyant to encourage a timid swimmer to take a plunge.  So far none of them has warped or cracked.”

Good thing.  Practically nobody will tolerate a cheesy warped or cracked bathing suit.

2. The Emergency Folding Bridge. A snappy surprise for the man who has everything, the emergency folding bridge was concocted in 1926 in the Netherlands by a fellow named L. Deth.  Granted, the need for an emergency bridge might be considered fairly remote, but who can say when a sudden tornado, tidal wave or sinkhole might come rolling in, bringing with it devastation and giant gaps in the landscape.  The prepared citizen  can promptly transport his emergency folding bridge to the scene in a simple handcart, snap it together and voila!…problem solved.  Take smug satisfaction in being the first in your militia or ladies auxiliary to own one.

                                 

3. The Portable Bathtub. In 1960, a group of group of clever British students joined forces to create combination scooter and washbasin, allowing them to carry extra groceries, transport a girlfriend or take a bath while overlooking the Jurassic Coast.                                           

In the late 1800s, ‘folding bathtubs’ were introduced by the Mosely Folding Bath Tub company in Chicago.  Their Closet Folding Bathtub, encased in wood, could turn any room into a bathroom.  When bathing was over, simply fold and return to the closet.  The tub included a built-in mirror on one side for added primping value or extra-bath hijinks.  The invention was a welcome one for families in the late 19th century, many of whom were migrating from the country into overcrowded cities with no running water.  The tub allowed people to bathe in small quarters like tenements and not compromise their amount of living space.

4. The Pedestrian Catcher. Back in the Roaring Twenties when few automobiles roamed the avenues, a citizen might be forgiven for failing to look both ways before crossing.  Even then, however, accidents were rare and serious injuries even moreso due to the relatively slow speed of the cars.  Then WHAMMO!---somebody was crunched and actually died and the auto manufacturers realized drastic measures must be taken.  In 1930, they came up with a novel solution called the Pedestrian Catcher (also known as the Safety Scoop), an ingenious device “that will literally sweep a fallen pedestrian before it and thus save him from being crushed to almost certain death beneath the heavy wheels,” according to the optimistic hype squad at Modern Mechanix magazine.

The device featured a grooved roller attached to an extension beam on the car.  Inactivated, it served as a bumper but once a vulnerable old granny was spotted in the walkway the driver needed only to pull a lever and the grooved roller deployed to the ground.  “A flick of the switch and the scoop has another mouthful,” as the jaunty narrator on British Pathe News put it in a video showing the Pedestrian Catcher at work.  “When the scoop is open, a jaywalker simply can’t get run over, and sometimes that’s more than he deserves.”  Sympathy, thy name is not British Pathe News.

Alas, the superscooper was not all it was set out to be.  If a car was going too fast or the driver failed to plunk his magic twanger in time, the pedestrian was scooped-up toast.  Eventually, the devices went the way of other epic fails like the Edsel, the McDonald’s Hula Burger and short pants on major league baseball players.  Useless as they were, however, Abba still wrote a song about them.

5. The Bed Piano. Now, your first inclination might be to scoff at the laziness of musicians, but back in the woeful 1930s many people were bedridden with all sorts of maladies.  Tuberculosis and pneumonia were rampant, influenza was kicking ass and taking names and automobile accidents were on the rise despite the many charms of the Pedestrian Catcher.  Worst of all, noone had yet thought to invent the smartphone or computer so bed time was boring with a capital ‘B’.  Then, like Mighty Mouse arriving to save the day, some goober in the UK showed up in 1935 with his brilliant Bed Piano.  The contraption sits at the foot of the bed, extending toward the hands.  The keyboard was similar to a modern-day version, only a bit clunkier.  The keyboard was pulled out like a drawer and bent over on hinges until at the right angle for the player’s hands.

A news report from the 1935 British Industry Fair spoke thusly: “The inventor of this instrument declares that it is not his intention to encourage the alleged laziness of youth but to attempt to make the lives of the sick and bedridden happier.”

Glad we cleared that up.

The Gas-Resistant Baby Stroller. Giggle if you must, but things weren’t so jolly in old England in 1938.  The Luftwaffe made daily visits, bombing the bejeezus out of London and points north, south, east and west despite meeting stiff resistance from the Royal Air Force.  England’s fortitude frustrated Adolf Hitler, who was known to be supervising a claque of mad scientists working on rockets and germ warfare weapons.  Enter the Gas-Resistant Baby Stroller, the pram what am, fitted out with an air-tight gas-proof lid and an air window with a filter which ensured gas-free air.  Most of the strollers even had a built-in radio which could play monotonous sounds to keep the baby asleep or tip mom off to an upcoming invasion.  One sarcastic Times reporter commented, “It’s perfect, because if it doesn’t work well enough to keep the gas away, you can just leave the dead baby in there and bury the whole thing.”

The Hangover Mask.  While most of us have our unique overimbibing strategies, few of them hold a candle to the Max Factor Hangover Mask of the early 1940s.  In the photo, ice cubes attached to the mask cool the face of a woman without even smudging her makeup.  Max Factor was a makeup company founded in 1909 by a Polish beautician named Maksymilian Faktorowicz, who emigrated to the U.S. in 1904.  The mask was targeted towards actors and actresses in Hollywood to help them alleviate the effects of too much drinking the night before and aided in combatting redness, swelling and bloating of the face.

The Spray-Tan Vending Machine.  In 1949, the Star Manufacturing Company of Chicago introduced its “Vending Machine For Tanning,” which looked somewhat like a gasoline pump with a hose attached to a wand on the side.  For a mere ten cents, the user could take the wand in hand for thirty seconds to spray selected body parts, no fuss, no muss.  The machines quickly popped up around swimming pools, tennis courts, beaches and Donald Trump’s house, and played an important role in women’s beauty practices in the 1950s.  The quick success of the devices led to an explosion of the vending machine craze and before long anything and everything could be sold from them.

Disa & Data

Or maybe you’d like some nice Sea Shoes for those occasions when a quick walk across the lake would help you avoid all those honking cars on your way to work.  And for convenience, there’s nothing like the Peel P50 Mini Car of 1962, the Guinness Book of World Records “Smallest Car Ever Produced.”  It was so tiny, you could even pick it up and carry it around with you until you found a suitable resting place.  No more preposterous parking fees for you!

How about a remote-controlled lawn mower, so popular in 1950s suburban life but somehow lost to the ages?  Personally, we were thrilled when Goodyear came out with Illuminated Tires in 1961, a refreshing change from the boring black tires of today.  If you’ve tried and failed to learn to play a musical instrument, don’t give up—there always the Theramin.  You only need to touch the control panel in order to play it.  True, the Theramin’s music is very unique, some say terrifying, but good enough to be used in some of the best of the old horror movies.  A Radio Hat created in 1930 by a Berlin engineer allowed its wearer to “listen to the Sunday sermon while motoring or playing golf.  You can even get stock market returns at the ball game or listen to the ball game at the stock market!  What a product!” 

Technology, then and now, always exciting.  But more fun then.

That’s all, folks….

bill.killeen094@gmail.com  

 

 

    

The Return Of Florida Man

He’s Ba-a-a-ck!

Look up in the sky---it’s a bird!  It’s a plane…nope, it’s Floridaman, floating to the ground in a pink tutu, looking for trouble and more often than not, finding it.

In Martin County, long-time Florida man Joseph Leedy, naked from the waist down and otherwise “acting erratically,” drove his car from the jail parking lot straight up a walkway and through the glass lobby doors into the county lockup.  After making his spectacular entrance, Leedy proceeded to toss rubber snakes all over the place, then doused his vehicle with motor oil before correctional officers intervened.

“He didn’t like President Trump very much,” said Chief Deputy John Budensiek.  “Said Trump was on his shit list.  He also said the devil told him to kill as many people as possible and he was starting with us.” 

Leedy faces an astonishing number of charges, including four counts of assault on an officer.  At least they didn’t have to haul him off to jail.

Meanwhile, back at the beach, a Florida man was arrested for trying to sail to London in a giant homemade hamster wheel.  “It’s nobody’s business where I want to go in my hamster wheel,” Reza Baluchi, 44, told the Coast Guard after they finally talked him out of there three days after he was discovered.  Mr. Baluchi has tried three similar voyages in the past, all of which ended in Coast Guard intervention.

The makeshift contraption is a large wheel with paddles that are designed to propel his craft forward as the wheel revolves.  “It’s nuts,” said an unnamed CG officer.  “Based on the sorry condition of the vessel, which was afloat as a result of crazy wiring and buoys, Baluchi was conducting a manifestly unsafe voyage.”  No kidding.  “And he was embarking just as a major hurricane was on the horizon.”  Neither sideways rain nor typhoon winds nor lightning bolts on steroids shall stay these brazen hamster wheel sailors from the swift completion of their appointed rounds.  And you wonder why we have a Coast Guard.  We do still have a Coast Guard, right?

Stop!  In The Name Of Love.

Florida man Dusty Mobley tried to cut and run on his riding lawnmower when Okaloosa County police closed in, attempting to serve the 40-year-old culprit with several arrest warrants.  The cops shouted at Dusty to stop, but he wasn’t buying, swerving his vehicle and heading for Perdition.  Mobley is on a first name basis with deputies after a previous encounter when he jumped into a swamp to evade capture.

As fast as a John Deere ride-on might be, the lawmen caught up and smacked Dusty with a taser blast.  When he was apprehended, the criminal was found to be in possession of a revolver, a handcuff key and a pipe with methamphetamine residue.  Hey, you never know when you’ll need one of them handcuff keys.

Mobley was charged with the theft of a $40,000 boat, grand theft of a vehicle, felony criminal mischief, two counts of resisting an officer, possession of a concealed weapon by a felon, carrying a concealed handcuff key, possession of drug paraphernalia and a partridge in a persimmon tree.  One local wag said, “What I would give to see the video of him getting tased on the lawnmower played to the Benny Hill theme.  If he would have outrun them on that mower, it would have been a classic commercial for John Deere.” 

The Untimely Demise Of Big Roo

A Florida man has been accused of murdering his neighbor’s rooster…and now a chickenshit feud between the perp and the pet owner has ended in a a 30-day jail sentence.

Big Roo was Jason Defelice’s beloved rooster until James Nix hit him with a stick.  “I was defending myself,” says Nix.  “I was fearing for my safety.  He was coming at me with a mean look in his eye.  What would you do?  That’s one scary chicken.  Or, was.”  James alleged it was not the first time the fowl creature attacked a neighbor, but Defelice said he’d heard no complaints from anyone else.  “It’s just a chicken—what’s he going to do, slap you around?” 

Nix said he was only trying to get away.  “I just tried to get him off me but the chicken is jumping all over me.  I tried to fend it off but I accidentally knocked it in the head.  You know…call it a lucky shot.  Next thing you know, he calls the chicken police on me.  I mean, come on—chickens are dying every day at Popeye’s and KFC.  Really.”

Animal control voted in favor of the chicken.  Nix was arrested and sent to jail for the vile crime of animal cruelty.  Somewhere in that big chicken coop in the sky, Big Roo is smiling.

Eight Miles High

Florida man Timothy Gunter, 34, was not altogether alarmed when subdued by Lake County police for robbing a home near Paisley.  After being booked into jail on charges of burglary and methamphetamine possession, Gunter complained of having received some “bad narcotics” and requested a deputy test his stash.  He handed over a plastic baggie containing a clear, crystal-like substance, which turned out to be low-grade meth.  “You can’t trust anybody any more,” grumped the offender.

In Winter Park, police reported residents inside a home on 6th Street were awakened by Florida man Austin Smith, 23.  When they went to investigate they found Smith in the living room, wearing only a shirt with no pants or shoes, holding their vacuum cleaner in his hands.  Smith told the cops he didn’t recall what he was doing because he was high on meth.  He was charged with burglary of an occupied building but had the good grace not to ask police to evaluate his drugs.

What started as a road rage incident in cozy Dunnellon eventually spiraled into a chaotic arrest scene involving a Florida man, his loyal pit bull, a naked child, over $15,000 in discarded bills and enough fentanyl to kill over 4000 people.  Josue Hernandez, 38, is facing several charges, including two counts of battery of an officer, resisting arrest with violence, child neglect, trafficking in fentanyl and possession of drug paraphernalia.  The Marion County Sheriff’s Office was originally alerted to a fight in the roadway stemming from a road rage incident.  When a deputy arrived on the scene, he saw Hernandez “throwing garbage from the open windows of his vehicle (the ‘garbage’ was later discovered to include the $15,000).”

“After my 7th request that he come out and speak with me, he rolled down the back driver’s side window and an aggressive pit bull climbed halfway out,” reported the deputy.  “He asked me ‘Are you a pussy?  Are you scared of dogs?’”

Hernandez then got out of his car and assumed a fighting stance, at which time the deputy tried to grab his wrists.  The perp resisted and nearly pushed the lawman onto Highway 484, a busy, high-traffic area.  The deputy used his taser on Hernandez twice, but the offender ripped it out and ran away, calling for his dog to attack the cop.  Other arriving deputies used oleoresin capsicum spray to discourage the pit bull.  Eventually, Hernandez was tackled and detained.  It was never established whether the original deputy was or was not a pussy.   

Enter Florida Woman

Ordinarily, Elizabeth Hill-Brodigan might have been sent to the principal’s office for hosting a booze-filled house party for over 100 kids at her Cocoa Beach home.  Trouble is Lizzy is the principal at Theodore Roosevelt Elementary School.  Students there claimed Hill-Brodigan threw these affairs at least once or twice a month.  Police responded to numerous calls from irate neighbors who complained about underage drinking, marijuana use and addled children walking through their yards cussing at them.  The cops witnessed at least one juvenile vomiting in a neighbor’s front yard who required medical attention.  Police also stopped a vehicle that ran a stop sign and barely missed hitting their car.  “Two underaged and drunk females were inside, a driver and her passenger.  The driver provided a breath sample which was double the legal limit for alcohol.  The passenger was cited for pot,”  said the report.  “They laughed at us and told us girls just want to have fun.” 

A Florida woman was arrested by Pinellas County deputies after she allegedly used an electric screwdriver to drive a screw into her 12-year-old daughter’s buttocks.  Jaclyn Goszczynski, 40, was hauled in and charged with child abuse after the incident.  According to the arrest report, Goszczynski and three children were hanging picture frames when she approached one daughter and asked her, “Have you ever been screwed in the ass?”  Without waiting for an answer, Mrs. G. pulled out her tool, pressed it to the kid’s left butt cheek and pressed down on the trigger, driving the screw in.  “The screw was stuck in the victim’s buttock until the perpetrator took it out, leaving a visible mark on her backside,” the affidavit reported.  Goszczynski was arrested and eventually released on a $25,000 bond.  The perp hinted that the Devil made her do it.  The Devil vehemently denied all responsibility.

Raise a glass to Florida Man (and now, Woman).  Long live his name and long live her glory and long may their stories be told.

That’s all, folks….

bill.killeen094@gmail.com 

On February & Selected Short Subjects

February gets a bad rap.  January might be just as blustery, but it stands up tall with its 31 days, New Year’s Eve confetti and the Rose Parade.  February unaccountably has a meager 28 days, a pseudo-holiday involving a groundhog who predicts a long winter and the remains of two holidays skwushed into one and renamed President’s Day.  January has Martin Luther King Day, February has Indian Coast Guard Day.  Talk about no respect.  Everybody goes silly at the arrival of the first robin in March, baseball’s opening day in April, beach blanket bingo in May…the Second Month gets bupkus.

How quickly you forget the pleasures of February.  At twilight on 2-6-25, we sat with friends at the homey University of Florida softball field and watched The Girls of Springtime open their season on a 70-degree, clear-as-a-bell evening that could not have been more perfect.  It was like watching a play in a spa, an outdoor ballet at a roofless Lincoln Center, a sneak preview of Vernal bliss.

February doesn’t laze about, imagining what could have been if Julius Caesar had shown a little compassion.  It’s too busy tending to its knitting as Humpback Whale Awareness Month, which includes Aromatic Spectrum Awareness Week, World Hippopotamus Day (the 15th) and Random Acts of Kindness Day (17th).  In February, long-tailed tits…we beg your pardon…start to gather nesting material, a project which will take up to three weeks, to construct an intricately crafted nest of moss, lichen and their own down feathers, all bound together with spider silk.

The Chinese New Year might begin on January 29th but The Year of the Wood Snake moves into high gear in February, culminating with the exotic full Snow Moon on the 12th.  It’s Ice Cream For Breakfast Day on the first Saturday, National Hemp Day at Chuck LeMasters’ house on the 4th and Shower With A Friend Day (bring your own towel and don’t drop the Ivory) on February 5th.  There’s no end to the wonders of The Second Month and you can celebrate them on National Margarita Day on the 22nd…or if you’re a pup, National Dog Biscuit Day on the 23rd.  Arf Arf!  Let’s raise a glass then, to fabulous February.  With a couple more days, she coulda been a contender.

Be Mine

No month can be discounted if it has Valentine’s Day in it.  There may be no business like show business but try getting a table at any bistro on 2-14, when February shows its muscle.  “Reservations?  Of course, sir---would you like to dine at 4 p.m. or 9?  For spillovers we have the lovely Panic Room, a converted air-raid cavern brilliantly lit by patchouli candles with floor tables and futons and music by the Velvet Underground.”

Siobhan and Bill were engaged on Valentine’s Day, 2015 after sipping champagne and watching the sun set in lovely Cedar Key.  How romantic can you get, right?  Bill popped the question over dinner at the exotic Island Hotel restaurant, a proposal which might have charmed and flabbergasted the average bride-to-be.  Siobhan just answered “Sure,” perhaps miffed by her lengthy 29-year tryout period.  The happy groom immediately purchased his partner a flashy $600 sequined wedding dress, but she eschewed it for a $99 gown which arrived from China folded into a postage stamp-sized package.  It turned out to be a spectacular garment and they were wed in June of 2016.  Somehow, despite all odds, the marriage took and they lived happily ever after.  Smug after yet another success story, February licks her thumb and puts up one more star on the board.

Spare Change?

Not if you’re Trumpelstiltskin, who is madly trying to weave Bitcoin into gold despite the colossal crypto crash of 2022 when the price of the stuff and other digital currencies plummeted, leaving several companies bankrupt and a few top execs in prison.  Analysts called it Crypto’s Great Recession.  You probably didn’t notice.  Now Trumpy is back with a Great Plan to create a federal stash of Bitcoin, enabling companies to offer more coins to the public.  So next time the industry crashes, the impact could be more severe, rippling across the economy and hurting a wider array of investors.

The riskiest type of crypto might be the memecoin, a digital currency based on an online joke or a celebrity mascot.  It has no practical use and vendors won’t accept it as payment, but the Prez got big eyes and created his own memecoin, naming it $Trump and heavily advertising it on his social media accounts.  Crypto investors snapped up the coins like they were orange spray tan, the prices rocketed and the Trumpy family collected millions of dollars in fees.  The surge didn’t last very long.  The coin’s price dropped faster than Matt Gaetz’ pants at a Girl Scout camporee, and hundreds of thousands of people got buried.  Analysis by a crypto forensics firm found that most of the coin’s buyers were first time investors in digital currency.  As the popsicle man used to say, So Long, Suckers.

If Trumpy has his way, pretty soon you won’t be able to offer anyone a penny for his thoughts.  The Great Leader recently ordered the Federal Mint to stop minting the things, pointing out they cost twice as much to print as they’re worth, but then again, so does he.

Trumpelstiltskin might have a point here.  Who wouldn’t like to see the demise of merch signs reading $9.99?  Let’s round everything off with zeroes, it’s much more practical.  Which begs the point, do we really need nickels?  How about dimes?  You can’t even find a dime bag any more.  Even the bum on the corner who asks, “Brother, can you spare a dime?” looks at you with contempt if you actually give him one.  Think how much we’d save by abolishing coins completely.  Now that we have almost no pay phones, what are coins good for except serving as emergency screwdrivers?

Maybe we don’t even need one-dollar bills.  In olden times, these crisp little fellas were the heart and soul of The Dollar Store—you could use one to buy a sock or a wok or a jock.  Try to find something for a buck at The Dollar Store today.  They should be sued for false advertising.  When we were kids, nickels, dimes and quarters were coin of the realm for tips…a whole dollar was a special reward.  Try giving a waitress a buck tip today and she’ll spit in your coffee.  Still, The Two Dollar Store doesn’t sound right.

Forget about coins and dollar bills.  Like the Christmas Island pipistrella and the Pyrenean ibex, cash itself is in danger of extinction.  Tried to get into any kind of athletic event lately without a credit card?  No can do.  Rent a bounce house?  Don’t make us laugh.  Bills are out of favor, gauche, too much trouble, reserved only for a spot in a stripper’s garter.  Unlike coins, however, the public will never accept a complete ban.  Who doesn’t dream of the day he can open a suitcase with one million dollars in cash inside?  Who doesn’t fantasize about Scrooge McDuck’s money bin?  And what’s the wife going to say when the Master Card bill comes in with a monster charge from the Chick Ranch brothel in Pahrump?

We seldom disagree with Sophie Tucker, who had this to say: “”From birth to age 18, a girl needs good parents.  From 18 to 35, she needs good looks.  From 35 to 55, she needs a good personality.  From 55 on, she needs cash.”

The Kryptonite Bowl

So much for the Kansas City Chiefs being a one-point favorite.  Remember that next college football season when old Winsocki buckles down against the Ramblin’ Wreck from Carnegie Tech.  “Listen Ralph, Vegas has the Fighting Nerds a 14-point underdog—I want a little of that action.”  Just say au contraire, mon ami and see who Feinbaum likes.

Of course, everybody really watches the Super Bowl for the ads or the half-time entertainment, which this year was headlined by somebody named Kendrick Lamar, the king of hip-hop.  Now, I have no doubt that Kendrick was a straight-A student in high school, a doting husband who mows his lawn every Saturday, a voice for those crying in the desert, an amalgam of 2Pac, Lil Wayne, Nas and Snoop Dog and a soul-searching intellectual, but nobody we know could hear the man.  Those who could waited patiently for Kendrick to bring the house down with his leviathan hit “Not Like Us,” but he ignored it to give the middle finger to his long time frenemy-turned-nemesis Drake, calling him a “certified pedophile.”  Just what you want for your halftime entertainment, more bitch-slapping.  But hey, the dancers were great, right?  Next year, let’s forget the pseudo-music and have a hip-hop cage match, no-holds-barred, a championship belt with a giant silver buckle to the winner.

By the way, where the hell is Dolly Parton when you really need her?

That’s all, folks….

bill.killeen094@gmail.com