Book ‘Em, Danno!

It’s midnight.  Do you know where your cows are?  Check your local rave, they could be high-stepping to the Cow Cow Boogie.  Bovines just wanna have fun.  Research in the journal Nature Food reveals that dairy cows which chowed down on industrial hemp produced milk that contained the psychoactive compound THC as well as CBD and other cannabinoids, which led to significant behavior changes.  The animals yawned, salivated, appeared unsteady on their feet, had red eyes and began to listen to old Firesign Theater albums.

As everybody knows, hemp and marijuana are of the same species, Cannabis sativa.  Hemp, however, has a significantly lower level of THC, the compound typically associated with getting high as RFK Jr. on Gorilla-glue sniffing day.  Both plants contain CBD, a nonpsychoactive compound that has become all the rage as a health supplement.  Legally, the U.S. government defines hemp as containing 0.3% or less THC and no longer classifies it as a controlled substance, which means it can be grown, harvested, tested, processed, transported and sold.

The big question is, of course, how does anybody know which cows are potheads?  After all, their milk will sooner or later be funneled into those cute little cardboard containers that grade-school kiddies get at recess.  Nobody wants to see seven-year-olds reading the Kama Sutra or doing the Time Warp again.  Obviously, suspect cows will have to be tested, which could easily lead to bovine abuse, arouse the attention of the ACLU (American Cows Liberty Union) and send goat stocks soaring.  It’s an ill wind that bloweth no goatherd good.

Crime May Not Pay, But It Tastes Good.

Bears---grizzlies, black and brown ones---thrive in the western national parks of the United States.  They were there before we were, of course, but they’re willing to share as long as we do, so don’t take offense if Papa Bear occasionally pokes a hole in the back window of your Kia Sorento and snatches a ham sandwich or a bottle of schnapps.

Like humans, some elitist bears prefer the ski mecca towns of Colorado like Aspen, where the menu is loaded with calorie-rich treats like maple syrup, honey and ice-cream and the garbage bin locks are unsophisticated.  After all, you were through with it, right---you tossed the remnants in the trash---so what’s the big deal?  Bears stay out of the living room and almost never pee in the pool so it seems reasonable to allow a little tailgating now and then, but Aspenites are outraged by a few scattered taco wrappers and a little poop in their driveways.  The bears, as you might expect, are miffed at the criticism.  “If humans want Winnie and Paddington,” says one, “they’re going to have to put up with the occasional bad, bad Leroy Brown Bear.”

Aspen’s challenges pale in comparison to those of West Bengal, the Indian state where herds of hungry elephants, isolated in small pockets of forest, wander into villages in search of food, cotton fiber and even haaria, the local home brew.  Elephants, alas, love to drink alcohol but lack the enzyme required to break it down, so they might accidentally trample a couple of crops now and then before settling down to croon a few bars of The Whiffenpoof Song.  But the Indians are forgiving people who are loath to jail or injure elephants because of their sacred status there.  “Why would you shoot a god,” asks one local woman whose shop was raided by a tipsy pachyderm.  A refreshing contrast to the treatment of errant bears in Aspen and elsewhere.  Elephant sympathizer and author Mary Roach writes, “India may be a better place to be an animal than it is to be a human.”  Ask any cobra.

Animal Land’s Most Wanted

1—Dale Bearhart Jr.  Durango, Colorado lawmen are still looking for this nervy black bear who shifted resident Ron Cornelius’ SUV into gear, sending it rolling down the driveway and smashing into an ill-placed mailbox.  Terrified, Dale screamed “Oh, shit!” before leaving a nice pile of it in the front seat.  Who ya gonna call for cleanup, the Merry Maids aren’t coming?  Bearhart Jr. also left a note which said the whole thing never would have happened it the car owner left his beer in the open and he didn’t have to dig around in the dark looking for it.

2---Otto the Octopus.  Long known to be a troublemaker in his German home-town aquarium for banging rocks on his glass enclosure and playing catch with hapless hermit crabs, Otto was nonetheless not an original suspect when the aquarium lights went out three nights in a row.  The reason for the power outages stumped employees until they decided to stake the place out one night.  A little after dark, the criminal cephalopod swung onto the edge of his tank and shot a jet of water directly at the spotlight above his tank, causing it to short-circuit.  “Guy’s gotta get a little sleep, for crying out loud!” complained Otto.

3.---Chipo the Crocodile.  The law doesn’t take kindly to breaking and entering in Zimbabwe, but that didn’t deter Chipo from looking for a cozy place to spend the night.  Cricketeer Guy Whittall rose from his sleep one fine morning at the Humani Lodge and began to prepare breakfast when his housecleaner let out a scream that could be heard in Botswana.  It was Chipo, of course, yawning good morning as he crept out from under Guy’s bed, ready to start his day.  “The really disconcerting thing about the whole episode,” Whittall said, “was the fact I was sitting on the edge of the bed that morning a few inches from his teeth.”  Chipo was summarily charged with B&E and released on his own recognizance.

4---The James Gang.  In 1451, before even Bill was born, a gaggle of leeches were yukking it up at the Salamander Saloon on a pond near Lausanne, Switzerland.  A local fussbudget, if there ever was one, the clergyman there thought there were far too many leeches in the place and took them to court.  Now when it comes to ecclesiastical court cases against animals in Switzerland, it is not usually necessary for the offending critters to be present in court, but this time the Bishop was instructed to bring in the whole slimy crew so they could hear the notice they were being served.  And no, we’re not making this stuff up.

The leeches were gathered in a pile before the magistrate and were told they had three days to leave the area.  Unemotional over the news, the leeches simply slithered in place, either in fierce defiance of the court’s edict or maybe because they had no ears.

Set Your Armadillos Free!

We out here in the wilds of Pieland are perhaps more forgiving of nature’s creatures, even the ornery ones like raccoons, who will steal you blind in a minute if you look the wrong way.  Being married to a veterinarian helps, as does Gilbert Shelton’s admonition to me at age 21 to “Set Your Chickens Free!”  Also, when you arrive at the unruly depot of 84, you are not particularly interested in offing anything, including spiders, ants and even Jehovah’s Witnesses (if you’re a cockroach, don’t push your luck).

Now, out in the country we have moles and voles and gophers and armadillos, all of which like to dig nasty holes in the ground in search of food treats.  Criticize if you like, but just remember they have no ice-cream man dinging through their little neighborhoods like some people do.  Besides, these perps are not so easy to find and haul off to jail or be put in a box and exiled to a faraway neighborhood.  And they might have dependent children, according to my bride, who knows about these things.

We advise our canine companions on these matters but they do not always get the message.  One night, our female Rottweiler, China (since passed to that great boneyard in the sky) was out sampling the evening air, when she ran across an errant armadillo just digging away in the flower garden, an obvious crime of the first magnitude.  She put the cuffs on and delivered him to the county lockup forthwith.  Since it was dark when she knocked, I didn’t see little Armand the Armadillo stuck in her jaws and I let her in.  Naturally, she dropped the criminal on the floor, the better to have his mug shot and prints taken.

Once unleashed, Armand did the Armadillo Dance, hugging the walls of the living room as he raced faster than you’d think round and round, an outraged China on his tail.  I don’t mind admitting this was a situation I had no expertise in handling.  First, I had to corral my deputy and put her in a holding cell, then somehow grab the slippery varmint.  Displaying all the skills of Papillon, one of only two inmates who ever escaped from Devil’s Island, Armand circled the room like Little Black Sambo outrunning the tigers.  I finally devised a sort of tunnel to the porch he’d have to travel through and suckered him into it.  He was gone, to the everlasting chagrin of China, who held his escape against me for weeks.  How are we going to erase crime in Metropolis she asked Siobhan, if Bill keeps setting the criminals free?  Woof woof!

That’s all, folks….

bill.killeen094@gmail.com       

   

Summer Fun (and summer not)

The wildly popular Running of the Bulls takes place each year between July 7-14 in teeming Pamplona, Spain.  Over 2000 frantic people on weekdays and about 3500 on weekends run from the Corrales de Santo Domingo to Pamplona’s Plaza de Toros bullfight arena, trying to avoid being gored or trampled by 6 Spanish fighting bulls and 6 commonplace steers.  Most of them make it.  Since record-keeping began in 1910, only 15 people have been killed in the melee, though injuries are far more common.  Last year, 17,126 people participated in the Running of the Bulls, which translates to a ton of tourist money.  The San Fermin festival, which includes the Running of the Bulls generates an estimated $78 million in revenue over its nine-day duration.  That’s a lot of pintxo with eggs.

The wise city fathers of Anchorage, Alaska took note of this financial phenomenon and decided to liven things up at their annual Fur Rendezvous Festival with The Running of the Reindeer.  In the first race, nine reindeer and 1000 humans set off down Anchorage’s 4th Avenue and ran three-and-one-half blocks, first with the animals chasing but then overtaking the palefaces.  The goal of the event is for someone to outrun the reindeer.  Nobody has done it yet, but it’s fun to watch them try, especially the humans dressed in superhero costumes, longjohns, fur bikinis and jockstraps.  Devotees of the old TV series Northern Exposure may remember when tiny Cicely, Alaska had its own Running of the Bulls, the latter being most of the adult male population running naked.  In any case, the Running of the Reindeer draws thousands to Anchorage and is by any measure a local tourist bonanza.

It occurs to us here at Flying Pie headquarters that tiny Fairfield, Florida is in dire need of additional tourists and we could profit handsomely from Alaska’s example.  There are thousands of athletic alligators in nearby Orange Lake which might be coaxed out of their murky surroundings to participate in The Running of the Alligators (Sorta) if offered a tempting snack or two.  Or maybe we should call it The Running of the Rednecks since they’ll lead off at a slow gallop and the gators will come gallumphing after.  A rack of ribs fresh off the smoker lathered in Bubba’s BBQ sauce to the winner….the gators get to keep anything they can catch.  We can hear the deep-throated race announcer now as the chute opens and the giant reptiles bust loose.  He sounds a lot like that guy at the stadium:

“He-e-e-e-e-re come the gators!!”  Run, Caleb, run!

Road Trip Adventures

1---Man Beats Horse.  You’ll be delighted to know that every June the Man Against Horse Marathon takes place in the stingy-on-vowels Welsh town of Llanwrtyd Wells, otherwise famous for Bog Snorkeling activities.  The race pits human runners against mounted steeds traveling 22 arduous miles through a mixture of pavement, boggy marshes, hiking trails and mountainous terrain.  As you might suspect, the horse almost always wins but not so in 2022 when the aptly-named Ricky Lightfoot outran Lane House Boy, ridden by the embarrassed Kim Aiman by two full minutes.  Ricky’s time was 2 hours, 22 minutes, 23 seconds and he conquered 1200 other runners and 60 horses.  “I’ve never run quite so many hills over a short distance,” said Lightfoot.  “My legs are totally ruined, but I’ve been left with a huge smile on my face.  Maybe next year I’ll find a horse to ride.”  Asked by race reporters if she had any excuses, Aiman said nay, as did the horse.

2---World’s Longest Yard Sale.  No, we’re not making this stuff up.  The Route 127 Yard Sale spans six states (Michigan, Ohio, Kentucky, Tennessee, Georgia and Alabama) and 690 miles with over 300 attractions along the way.  The event takes place this year from August 7-10 and has become so popular that motel rooms along the route are often booked a year in advance.  Highlights of the trip include Meckley’s Flavor Fruit Farm and Cidery, which has exceptional homemade pies of all descriptions; the Binder Park Zoo (yes, they have dingoes); the Cincinnati Reds Hall of Fame & Museum for the kids and stoic Pete Rose fans; Spangler’s Candy World (manufacturers of Dum Dum Drops); The Great American Dollhouse Museum, populated with tiny people at work and play; Dead Zero Shooting Park for all you restless gunslingers; Ruby Falls Zip Stream Aerial Adventure to keep grandma busy, and the one-and-only Moon Pie General Store in Chattanooga with more moon pie gifts than you can shake a stick at.  While you’re there, you can even See Rock City, the fabled marvel of nature atop Lookout Mountain.  C’mon along and catch the Chattanooga Choo Choo…Track 29, and it’s a-comin’ on time.

3---World Famous Clown Motel in Tonopah, Nevada is a test in courage for the clown-fearing legions.  Not only is the place full of big clowns, small clowns, evil clowns, happy clowns, thousands of clown dolls and clown paintings on the walls, but the motel is parked right next to Tonopah’s dusty, unlit cemetery, abandoned for over 100 years, packed with the graves of pioneers of this desert boom-and-bust town who died unpleasantly from murder, mine disasters and a mysterious plague that turned its victims’ livers black.  Just the place for your clown-intolerant Aunt Betty or Grandma Bubby, who always wears her button proclaiming “The only good clown is a dead clown.”

The motel has gradually developed a following among travelers who find clowns interesting, not because they are delightful but because they are terrifying.  It’s alleged that at least four of the inn’s 31 rooms are haunted and every part of the place is swooping grounds for ghosts floating over from the graveyard.  “Some people won’t even come in, they sit in the car,” claims co-owner Hame Anand, who has recently set aside a few clown-free rooms out of pity.  “Most of our visitors, though, have a lot of fun.”  For a slight fee, guests can rent an EMF ghost-hunting meter at the front desk to detect posthumous paranormal activity.  A stroll in the cemetery is de rigueur for most visitors.  Tonopah is so isolated that its nearest civic neighbor, Las Vegas, is 200 miles in the distance yet travelers go far out of their way to visit the scary Clown Motel.  Hama Anand understands because he feels the “bewitchery” himself.  “My soul lives here,” he admits.  “It’s like this piece of ground, this motel wanted me.  Hundred percent, this was meant to be.”

Y’all come and see us now and then.

Try Door Number 3.

You, like Hank Snow, may think you’ve been everywhere, man, but you haven’t.  Did you ever think of tossing a dart at a map or picking a random page in your atlas and going there?  Okay, if the dart lands on Tulsa, you get a mulligan.  We knew a guy who tried the airport version of this in the 1980s and wound up in Rangoon.  He got there in the middle of an assassination attempt against Chun Doo-hwan, the fifth president of South Korea.  “Everybody was running around hollering Doo-wah! Doo-wah! and I got very excited.  I thought Little Anthony and the Imperials were coming to town.”   He wound up in a root cellar with a few dozen hiding students and had nothing to eat for three days.  “All things considered,” he admitted at the time, “I’d rather be in Philadelphia.”

Even better… if you’re currently single and have no terminal diseases, how about setting out to find The One Who Got Away?  This usually involves a lot of frustration negotiating blind alleys, but that’s what the Sharon Bauer Detective Agency is for.  Companies like ASG Investigations or LA Intelligence will scour online reunion registries, interview family, friends and associates of the sought party.  You can personally search social media platforms and explore online databases like Ancestry.com or MyHeritage.com, which may contain information about long-lost loves.

We know a man named James Hennessy who took this course.  “I never forgot about cute Ruthie Kelly, who I had a crush on in high school.  She was out of my league but always very nice to me.  She had a spat with her boyfriend at a school dance one weekend and we danced and talked for hours.  Two weeks later, she was off to college and I never saw her again.  I got married after college and spent 45 terrific years with my wife before she passed.  A few years later, I was looking through an old yearbook and there was Ruthie.  I thought what the hell, if she isn’t dead I’ll try to find her.”

It was no picnic.  A year went by with nary a clue.  Then, at a high-school reunion, one woman who had stayed in touch with Ruthie over the years came to the rescue.  “She lives in Colorado Springs.  She lost her husband several years ago.  I think she’s well.  Her phone number is listed under her married name.”

James was happy and also scared to death.  “It’s one thing to fantasize about these things but something else when you realize the person might be available,” he said.  “And what will they be like now?  I mean, I realized she wouldn’t look like Olivia de Havilland any more but how might her personality have changed?  Would she even want to see a visitor?  Then I remembered an old quote from a Dryden poem: ‘none but the brave deserve the fair’.”

Hennessy teetered on the brink for two weeks, then called.  Ruthie seemed delighted to hear from her old high-school friend.  He flew to Colorado and never left, not even to retrieve his things, which a friend trucked west a month later.  “It’s a dream come true,” James smiles.  “I know it’s corny to say this, but it seemed like no time had passed since that night in high school.  She’s a great partner.  And I was totally wrong about one thing.  She still looks just like Olivia de Havilland.”

Game, set and match.  You should be so lucky.  If you’re still looking, The Grand Finale reunion is coming on May 2, 2026.  Who knows what romance lurks in the hearts of attendees?

That’s all, folks….

bill.killeen094@gmail.com 

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