The Bright Side of Halloween

What's this? A curmudgeon talking about "the bright side" of something? Maybe it's the overall spookiness of this holiday season that has brought me to such a crossroad. Or maybe it's because I've gotten some, how you say, "feedback" to the effect of "shut up, get over it, it's Halloween." Valid point. Can't say I like it, but valid nonetheless.

So I searched around for something nice to say about Halloween and lo, the answer was staring me in the face. Literally. TV! Horror movies! Of course! Every station imaginable runs a good ole horror movie or two this time of year. Love the genre. I do believe I missed a great opportunity - project a great horror movie like Nosferatu or a good gorefest like Final Destination on the outside of the front door!

That should scare the little buggers away. A win-win, as we curmudgeons like to call it.

Halloween 2013

I spent a lot of time last year with you reviewing my thinking on and approach to Halloween. Needless to say, things haven't changed any this year - I still hate the holiday, have absolutely no motivation to involve myself and are probably doing the little urchins a favor by not exposing them to me.

But (and isn't there always a but?) my Sainted wife feels a "responsibility" to the new neighborhood mini-cretins that have moved in. Needless to say, me? - not so much. Actually, more like "not by a long shot."

Time for the Curmudgeon Societé Generale to give us a clubhouse. We need our safe haven from the huddled, costumed masses.

Pumpkinalia

What the hell is going on with all these pumpkin-themed things this year? It is really getting out of hand - pumpkin lattes, pumpkin muffins, pumpkin M&Ms, Pumpkin Eggos, Pumpkin Pringles - heck, Trader Joe's had an entire 20-page flyer filled with pumpkin-flavored crap.

I like pumpkin as much as the next guy, but that is pretty much due to its specialness in that it generally appears on my table as a delicious pie a couple times a year, NOT as a bewildering variety of crapola for a month.

But hey, that's just me. And that's about all that matters to a curmudgeon.

When Good Restaurants Go bad

I recently dined with friends at a well-known seafood restaurant that we had dined in quite a few times before. To my eternal dismay, this night they had decided to BLARE their music. Worse, periodically they would turn it up even louder AND DANCE between the tables.

Now, I'm prepared for such stuff when I go to say, a Johnny Rockets - a burger, a milk shake and a 60s-themed floor show. Fine. But at a seafood place that charges $25 a bucket?

The music was so loud that conversation was virtually impossible. So after the meal (which was actually quite good), we retreated to the parking lot outside for peace, quiet and conversation. To our astonished dismay, they were blaring it out there for the "benefit" of people waiting for tables.

I'm still trying to figure out what the diner on his phone in the restaurant was trying to accomplish over the din.

Oktoberfest

My good friends and I found the Oktoberfest holiday to be a delightful way to get together in the fall. The fact that I was unalterably a pilgrim, and two of us were of Italian descent didn't deter us from gleefully celebrating a German holiday.

Then the German restaurants started to disappear. German beer gardens (with zillions of TVs playing a noisome quantity of sporting events) are of course doing fine, but not so much the traditional food bit. We pined for sauerbraten, spaetzle, potato pancakes and wiener schnitzel.

Well, heck - why couldn't WE make German food! Then we discovered what it involved. Daylong marinades. And remember, these are German recipes: 23 hours doesn't cut it - daylong means 24 hours, not a minute less. And after that, you still have to COOK the damn stuff, so this option was definitely out.

For once in my life, my gastronomical genius came to the rescue: tubular meat products, of course. Readily available, easy to cook, and quite delicious. Most importantly, very German.

A good time was had by all.

Awards

We are an award-obsessed nation. Good grief, it seems any breathing person ends up with some sort of an award. If you're a kid and actually show up for a kid-related sporting event, you get some kind of award. If you're a new music person or group, there are like so many awards floating around looking for a new home that one is bound to stick. And given the level of crap that is modern "music" that manages to win one of these obscure awards merely serves as proof of this.

If you're an actor, you have dozens of award programs that can find a way for their award to land on you. Heck, if you're in an Olympic-type sport, a few 100ths of a second can make the difference between gold and silver. This simply proves that there is absolutely NO difference between these competitors, yet the idiots involved insist on proclaiming a winner.

And don't get me started on college and professional sports, seeing as how our society seems to have elevated sports to a plateau that is more respected than any other profession. As abominable as this is, no one seems to remember the parallels with the fall of the Roman empire.

The Curmudgeon Societé finds this whole turn of events simply nauseating. If there were an Einstein among us, he would probably be lost among basketball heroes. Well done, America.

Pity Casting

Since curmudgeons tend to live in the past, TV shows like Matlock, Murder, She Wrote and Diagnosis Murder appeal to us. They not only star "experienced" actors, i.e., actors that are well beyond the shows or movies that made them famous, but the guest stars are often equally beyond-their-prime sorts (just like curmudgeons - hence the appeal).

Let me prove my case: while catching up on a Diagnosis Murder one recent morning, the guest stars were Martin Milner (and his old "Adam 12" partner Kent McCord), James Darren (who will always be fondly remembered as Moondoggie in the Gidget movies), Fred Dryer (formerly "Hunter"), and Angie Dickinson! Five in one show! That has to be some kind of record.

And I enjoyed every minute of it. I spit on your modern day "actors."

Raking Leaves

When I bought my house, back when life was simple - and I was young - I thought I would rake my own leaves. I did this once...and promptly hired a "guy" to do it thenceforth.

We have like dozens of oak trees looming over the back lawn, and in the fall, I found I was knee deep in huge piles of raked leaves. Then I had to put them someplace.

You can see how this got old really quick.

Solution? Hire a "guy." End of discussion. Heck, he even cleans gutters. This curmudgeon calls that a win-win.

I'm Bad

As a curmudgeon, being "bad" is pretty much the normal course of affairs. My Sainted wife is out on one of her many endless shopping trips and I am doing what comes naturally to repressed husbands everywhere: popping plates off walls all through the house (see the 8/27 and 1/28 Repors) by playing Michael Jackson's "I'm Bad" at the volumes I presume he intended. (Very decent bass line, BTW).

Today, I'm thinking I will blame it on Tiger, the Wonder cat, rather than the Who (my usual scapegoats). Tiger gets away with anything because when you go to reprimand him, he turns upside down and purrs. In 9 years, neither of us have had the fortitude to follow through and reprimand him, so he's an easy scapegoat. 

Anyway, this is all in lieu of doing the various little fix-it projects I had promised to tackle. Funny how loud music really doesn't permit concentrating on anything else. No doubt why I like it so much. I'm bad.

 

What's For Lunch?

As a retired person, one of every day's more important issues is what is on the menu for the next meal. So, as I finish up my breakfast, topmost on my mind is: what's for lunch? 

One would expect that two people our age could lay out a week's meals in our sleep. Sadly, that is pretty much what we do, and then forget it when we wake up. Despite years of practice, the answer to "What's for lunch?" or "What's for dinner?" isn't readily at hand.

Hence the popularity of diners.

Waterworld

Water softeners are big business. They are sold to first-time home buyers because soft water is kind to pipes and other plumbing-related things. The sales guys are careful to omit mention that the monthly salt sacks weigh 50 pounds, seeing what a great selling point it becomes later for their salt delivery service.

We curmudgeons will have none of this. The harder the water, the better. You emerge from a shower squeaky clean. The clear glass shower walls may not be all that clear anymore, but we'll just call it "patina."

Now, hard water systems aren't perfect. All manner of minerals build up in the pipes, so if your house is oh, say, 70 years old (like mine), certain precautions must be taken:

1) Don't flush a toilet while someone is taking a shower.

2) Don't start the dishwasher while a shower is underway.

3) Nor the laundry.

And most importantly: 4) Don't set the lawn watering system to go on during peak shower times. That sucker pulls ALL the water out of the water main.

Four simple rules.  And, frankly, on boring days, only guidelines. Loud cursing and pounding on shower walls has its entertainment value.

Diction

One key attribute necessary for a career in acting is the ability to clearly say your lines. Gargling them or goofing them up isn't a path to being called back for future roles. So, you can readily see the obstacles that the likes of Arnold Schwarzenegger and Sylvester Stallone overcame to enjoy such success despite their well-known verbal challenges.

It is therefore with some astonishment that I recently saw an ad for a new movie that stars the two together. As an english-speaking American, it takes a goodly portion of any movie starring ONE of them to get into their verbal "groove," so the thought of a movie requiring me to translate the two of them simultaneously simply gives me a headache.

And this is without actually having to watch it - can you imagine the mental damage THAT would do?

Pre-Emergent

This is a product that is sold to gardeners (I am compelled to point out they are generally nice people, seeing as how my Sainted wife is one), who seem to have a yen for trying out all manner of gardening products in a largely trial-by-error fashion.

Anyway, pre-emergent is a product applied in the late fall or early spring intended to prevent the growth of scummy weeds where you don't want them. Gardeners fall for this. So hapless curmudgeons, furiously power washing brick patios, are convinced by these "experts" to mix a pre-emergent in the sand between bricks. 

The next spring? Weeds. Big surprise. 

Space, the Final Frontier

I have many alert readers - smart, too. One is in the aerospace world, and recently sent me news that the Voyager spacecraft just left the solar system after travelling nearly 12 billion miles in 36 years.

This is astounding for the uninformed (like me). And curmudgeons don't get impressed all that often (a condition of the job). It is even more astounding that Voyager still faithfully sends pictures back using the most modern memory system of the day: an 8-track tape machine with 1/240,000th the memory of my iPhone and a 23-watt transmitter (think 3 nitelights).

Voyager was designed for a 4-year trip to Saturn with anything after that "gravy." That's certainly a lot of gravy.

Spy Birds

When someone here in the good ole U. S. of A. talks about spy birds, we all know what they're talking about: spy planes like the U2 and the Blackhawk or satellites.  However, overseas they apparently turn out to be actual birds.

An alert reader sent me the details of this nefarious plot. Ever watchful for evil spies, Egypt recently detained a Stork under the suspicion it was spying for an enemy. The Stork had a suspicious electronic device on it.

Of course, it turns out the "spy device" was an electronic tracker that naturalists had attached to monitor Stork migration details. 

Better safe than sorry, eh Egypt? Given their current political situation, that spying Stork could really have posed a threat!

The Mod Squad

Regrettably, I am old enough to remember this putrid show. Not unlike the idiots at GM in those days trying to become hip by hatching the poorest excuses known to mankind for smaller cars to attract a younger audience, ABC was trying to do the same by hatching incredibly poor excuses for TV shows. In this instance, they somehow found not one, but three people who had no concept of "acting" and put them in "hip" 70s clothes and lame plots attempting to appeal to youths.

How could it miss? Well, it didn't, primarily by appealing to the lowest common denominator - the viewing public. A can't miss tactic (still used today for reality TV shows). Anyway, 5 years and 173 tedious episodes later, we were finally spared any more of this Hollywood "hipness."

Yet, 45 years later, I am still cursed with the memory of it. Worse, these incapable-of-acting "actors" sometimes appear in more modern shows. And what a surprise - they still can't act.

There is no justice.

Gyros

Who the heck ever heard of these things? Since New Jersey is diner central and our diners are run by Greeks, Gyros are on the menu. Everywhere. 

I don't even know how to pronounce the damn word - hard 'G' or more like 'Heros?'  "Gy" like in gyrate or gee as in jeero? Is the damned 's' silent or not? Why is it plural if you only want one?

There isn't a curmudgeon alive who needs this sort of crap. 

Just give me a cheeseburger, please. Keep your gyros to yourself. 

Going Out? I'll Go With

My Sainted wife is a mid-west gal. The mid-west has its own take on the American language. A roof, for example, is a ruf. They say "wit" rather than "with." Broad a's are a vocal staple.

I am happy to say my wife lost her quaint regional accent rather quickly, but regional idioms seem to endure. One still threatens proper english: the type that ends with a preposition. "Want to come with me?" becomes "Want to come with?" "I'll go with you" becomes "I'll go with." 

I thought it was just the mid-west, but I've heard it from Hollywood on TV, too. Is it spreading or do all people west of the Mississippi not know proper english?

I am not encouraged.

Diner Heaven

Well, we're back in New Jersey, so we promptly went to a diner for food (as I've mentioned previously, Denny's is just too far away). NJ being the diner capital of the world, you pretty much have your pick of half a dozen or so within just a few miles of home. 

There are diners...and there are diners. They each have a personality - strengths and weaknesses that you use to your advantage, depending on your dining pleasure at the moment - good breakfasts? Best coffee? Great burgers? Diners are NOT all about the disco fries.

Our little diner here in town appeals to the affluent clientele around here. These are last night's dinner specials:

• Five cheese Tortellini with pink vodka sauce

• Octoberfest platter with knockwurst, weiswurst, 

   bratwurst and spaetzle

• Coho salmon stuffed with crabmeat

This is in addition to the ridiculously large number of other dinner offerings available every night. I don't know how they manage it, but I'm not complaining - and THAT from a curmudgeon!

Paradise Plus

I'm starting to think I've complained a little to much about this slice of "paradise." Why just today, I rented a lounge and umbrella on the beach. 

Suddenly I'm out of the hot, merciless sun in the shade with a freshening breeze off the gulf - not too shabby. Birds keen, Pelicans dive for fish and Dolphins surface nearby. Actually, it is quite pleasant. 

This, as you can imagine, is very difficult for a curmudgeon to admit - I'm actually enjoying myself. Could it also have to do with the peace and quiet of my Sainted wife being off shopping?

I guess I shouldn't have waited until my last day here to try this.

Paradise has its Benefits

One thing about a vacation in Florida is Publix supermarkets. They have everything - and then some - the workers are knowledgeable, friendly, and they even pack your bags!

In New Jersey's grocery stores, these are each begrudged and you'd better expect to pack your own damned bags, thank you very much.

Of course, we New Jersey types don't exactly help the situation - as a curmudgeon, I am constantly having to strive to be crankier and haughtier than your typical Jerseyite.

Let's face it, New Jersey is a tough town. However, here in Florida, politeness sort of whacks you in the face - being a curmudgeon here, you actually regret asking a waitress for that extra butter, she's been so nice. 

For the Birds

When you vacation in a nature preserve in Florida, you can expect all manner of beasties - swarming, annoying no-seeums, alligators, snakes and the like. Wretched, but expected. 

The birds? Turns out they're just as annoying. They've learned that you are a great meal ticket. Crows and seagulls lurk noisily nearby, waiting to attack if foodstuffs are sensed. 

This place is like the Hitchcock movie, except they attack you with well-aimed bodily wastes instead of beaks. At this very moment, I recline on the beach with seagulls by the dozens warily regarding me from 10-15 feet away while crows leer from the trees behind me. 

This place is host to more of a battle of wills than the billed "relaxing nature preserve." Well, these effluvium-producing creatures didn't count on running into a cranky curmudgeon. War is about to break out, and I don't think they know what they're up against.

Nature Preserves

It's not that I have anything against nature preserves, but I do draw the line when they come between me and my vacation. We are vacationing on a Florida island that also sees itself as a natural preserve (despite the stores, condos, etc.).

So we are told to respect our natural surroundings. A bunch of beached fish gaily rotting and stinking up the beach? Mother Nature's way - can't clean them up. Lights on the resort's paths at night? Oh, no - might confuse the hatching turtles.

Bah. Give me a beach raked daily and lively beach bars at night. This nature crapola has its place, but it certainly isn't around a curmudgeon.

This is Vacation?

Normally, I like warm weather. I'm old, I'm crotchety, I hate the cold. But this 90 degree weather here off the southern gulf coast of Florida is for the birds. 

Literally - let 'em have it to themselves. How I got suckered into a week of this oven-like life is a testimony to the persuasive powers of my Sainted wife.

"Yes, but there's a pool, and the gulf is warm, too!" she cries. So I'm either sweating bullets in the sun or soaking in water - frankly, I'm taking a long lunch - indoors with air conditioning. I'm sure I can find a comforting Murder, She Wrote.