I.G.Y.

The other day, I was in the Brazen Chariot rumbling across the rolling amber hills of the Mississippi Valley when I actually heard a song I'd not heard in a long, long while-not in any quantity since about 1982. That song was I.G.Y., from Donald Fagen's album The Nightfly (Fagen is, of course, one-half of pop/rock/jazz duo and classic-rock staple Steely Dan).
You can hear the song here (and check out the old cabinet stereo system! My folks have one exactly like this-turntable, AM/FM, cassette, 8-Track, speakers, and wood cabinet-all in one convenient 800-pound package! You remember those.)

I.G.Y. stood for International Geophysical Year:

-and was an event that all the nations of the world were to participate in to advance the understanding of our planet and its systems. The song itself was written, probably from the optimistic viewpoint of a child or young teenager growing up in late 1950s America, about all the wonderful gadgets we'd have in the World of Tomorrow-jetpacks, personal helicopters, and condoes overlooking Mare Imbrium or Mons Olympus or the Marianas Trench.

Didn't quite make it-I suppose we should be pleased enough with the Internet and microwave ovens, though I'd've liked to own a GM-Lockheed Super Ventura Family Rocket with lotsa chrome, big fins, and nose-mounted ray gun!

Anyway, I thought I'd post my vision of the song. Because I like that tune-it has some pleasant memories attached. And it is, after all, my blog. So there.

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Standing tough under stars and stripes,we can tell

This dream's in sight
You've got to admit it

At this point in time that it's clear
The future looks bright

On that train all graphite and glitter,

Undersea by rail

Ninety minutes from New York to Paris

Well, by seventy-six we'll be A.O.K.

What a beautiful world this will be
What a glorious time to be free

Get your ticket to that wheel in space
While there's time
The fix is in
You'll be a witness to that game of chance in the sky
You know we've got to win

Here at home we'll play in the city
Powered by the sun

Perfect weather for a streamlined world

There'll be spandex jackets one for everyone

What a beautiful world this will be
What a glorious time to be free

On that train all graphite and glitter
Undersea by rail
Ninety minutes from New York to Paris
(More leisure for artists everywhere)

A just machine to make big decisions

Programmed by fellows with compassion and vision
We'll be clean when their work is done

We'll be eternally free yes and eternally young

What a beautiful world this will be
What a glorious time to be free

yankeedog out.

I got nothing this week...

It's one of those times where I've got a lot of things going on that aren't all that interesting to anybody, including me.

I know, I know-so why should this stretch be any different than any other time you write anything? Six+ billion people in the world and I find comedians and comediennes.

Anyhow, you ANZers that visit regularly might be interested in knowing that the Major League Baseball Playoffs have been sponsored in part by Foster's-Australian for 'beer'. The Foster's we get here is brewed in Milwaukee-American for 'Chicago's Hat'.

Of course, having been set right by some of you, I know that no self-respecting Australian will touch a Foster's with a three-meter pole. It'd be like advertising 'Old Milwaukee-American for 'beer'' and trying to sell the stuff down there.

Still, I thought you might like to see the commercials running up here. Hold on to your national stereotypes, kids! You're about to get them tossed in your face.

How To Speak Australian:

Social Networking-Actually these guys look like people I know.

Metrosexual- I think his house needs some renovations.

GPS-I give directions pretty much the same way.

Bailout-Since you got no money, you get the tourist beer.

Man Purse-You could beat anything to death with that giant spanner.

Long Distance Relationship-Maybe he'd be getting to first base if he were drinking Veeb or 4X or even Drano...


There you are. Nice, huh? Fortunately, it could be worse. Could've been Jacko in these commercials! Whatever happened to him? Hopefully he made enough money in football and adverts and is an annoying network commentator or some such.

yankeedog out.

A face in the crowd...

Recently I got a couple of emails, one from my coworker and one from McKinney of 'Burger fame. The email from my coworker had some photos of some people who, shall we say, weren't real photogenic.

It's hard to laugh at that-people can't help how they look with what they're given from nature.

McKinney's email, though-that was chock full of 40 mph curveballs ready to be knocked out of the park. Let's take a look, shall we?

Now, back in the day, when I first saw 'The Young Ones' on MTV, I thought Adrian Edmondson's character, Vyvyan, was outlandish-

with those general's stars on his forehead. I see now that's minor league sissy stuff.

Shall we? Once more unto the breach, dear friends...

This is Captain Jean-Luc Picard of the starship Enterprise. To whom am I speaking?

I suspect there may be some out there who might think this isn't a bad idea...

And if you order the complete set of Eternasharp Knives, we'll send Trent here along as a decorative knife storage block!

In other news, the Sith apprentice Darth Bobo was captured today. He is suspect in a plot to overthrow the Galactic Republic, and for the theft of a three credit bottle of jet juice from Freeble's Coruscant Liquor Store...

I waas crowned/With some spikes right through my hee-ead..!!

On a clear day he can get Radio Moscow.

A zombie for Barnesy! Double tap. Nut up or shut up.

I think I saw this guy beating up fans at a Liverpool match.

This guy's got it right. He needs a tonsillectomy or tracheotomy, all you have to do is untie him!

I got-nine lives/Cat's eyes/Usin' every one of them and running wild!/'Cause I'm back/Yes, I'm back...

The bad guy for Mad Max 4?

Quetzalcoatl. Aztec feathered serpent deity. High school picture. Class of 1985.

And to think that sci-fi movie makers actually use actors in makeup and costume to create aliens! Wouldn't it be easier just to hunt up some of these people?

yankeedog out.

I'll have the chili. They'll have the fried crow.

Last year at this time, my Cubs were busy getting swept by the Dodgers, 3-0, in the National League Division Series, and, oh, how the St. Louis Cardinals fans laughed! Oh, they chortled over the fumbling, bumbling Cubs tripping over themselves vs. the nines from LA. Yet another totally expected flop by the Northsiders, they said.

But that was last year.

This year it was the aforementioned Cardinals that won the National League Central, and drew-guess who? Yes, the Dodgers, repeating their crown in the NL West. Surely the vaunted Cardinals, under the leadership and batting of Albert Pujols, who, according to Cardinal Nation wisdom, recently fed a group of 5,000 fans with only 2 Ritz crackers and a can of kippers; healed numerous sick and lame, and turned a 24 pack of Evian water into a case of Budweiser, will do better. Won't they?

The Dodgers swept the Cardinals 3 games to nothing.

Wha' happened?

Dodgers manager Joe Torre, quoting Wellington, remarked:

"They came in the same old way, and we beat them in the same old way."

Actually, Torre didn't say that. Torre couldn't tell you anything about Wellington, thinking it's just another way to serve beef. I just wanted to show off my knowledge of quotes from 19th century British Field Marshals.

And I couldn't be happier. You inbred, stuttering monkeys in Cardinal Nation can just crawl on back to your trailers and watch your Rams get their asses handed to them for the next 12 weeks of the football season! Next time, do better than the team you're ragging on before you start chirping!

Life is good.

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This weekend, my church service had its annual chili cookoff (which I suppose brings new meaning to 'thunder from heaven' and 'tongues of fire'). The object of the exercise-have a bit of each pot of chili and vote for your favorite. First, second, and third win a prize.

The Better Half cranked out a big pot of her best recipe, saying that she had a hunch that she should bring a batch to the contest. When the votes were tallied and the smoke cleared (I think it was smoke, but it did hang close to the ground-I digress), she snagged 2nd Place-good enough for her to win a $25 gift card to (where else) Chili's restaurants! How 'bout that, eh?

Now I think we've discussed chili on this blog before, (for you Aussies-I don't know if it's a big dish down there, but I'm sure someone there has a recipe for 'roo chili. I guess you could mentally insert 'curry' for 'chili' from here on out) and everybody has their own recipe that they swear is the best. I don't get too excited about the beans/no beans controversy. Personally I prefer beans but all meat is good as well. And the dish doesn't have to be so hot it clears sinuses a kilometer downwind. The spices should be noticed but not overpowering.

I don't, however, think chili should be watery. That's soup. Chili should be thick enough that the spoon will fall slowly to the edge of the bowl. Soup and chili ain't quite the same animal, at least in my opinion.

Someone out there will say 'YD, you're full of crap. I have the best chili recipe and when I make it and take it somewhere I have to put a Hazmat placard on the car'. That's OK for you, then.

A word of advice from crazy old Uncle Yankee: Just like you shouldn't mix alcohol beverages in a single session, you'll want to mind having too many different kinds of chili in one sitting. They may or may not sit well, depending on your stomach and constitution. Personally I was ready for a dose of omeprazole after trying six or seven different batches.

Life is still good.

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It snowed here a bit on Saturday-not enough to stick, but enough to remind us that winter is on the way. The local orchards are having their apple crops out for sale now. A guy I work with brought me a sack of apples from his parents' tree. Those got turned into apple crisp, which turned out well if I do say so myself.

When I was young, we had a pear tree and a walnut tree in the yard. The pear tree was about half rotted out, but every year that old tree would crank out enough fruit for us to can about 20 quarts of pears. We cooked the pears with cinnamon red hots, so we had bright red pears. But they were good with poultry.

The walnuts, on the other hand, were a pain. Do you know how many walnuts the average tree will produce? I do.

14,352,716.

I know because my chore was to pick up the things and put them in a box. So I counted them all. After they were collected, we'd let them dry a bit so we could shell them. Not having a shelling machine, processing 14,352,716 walnuts by cracking them open with a hammer and anvil was a bit of a job. The black crap from the nut husks gets all over your hands; the shell fragments fly everywhere; and invariably some of the fragments find their way into the pile of nutmeats, providing a tooth-jarring surprise in the next batch of cookies.

Now, do you know how many walnut pieces 14,352,716 walnuts will provide?

About a quart and a half.

I reckon knowing how to harvest walnuts is a useful 'pioneer' skill to have, but I'll leave the nut harvesting to the food companies. They're the experts with the big machines.

Life is good-once I discovered that I should leave the fallen nuts to the squirrels.

yankeedog out.

Does anybody really know what time it is?

And I was walking down the street one day

Being pushed and shoved by people trying to beat the clock,
oh, so I just don't know, I don't know
And I said, yes I said-
Does anybody really know what time it is?
Does anybody really care?

Chicago, from Chicago Transit Authority, 1969

Recently I was in the checkout line at the grocery store, wondering why the customer two people in front of me couldn't fill out their check a bit faster so the line would get moving. I had several other things to do and didn't have the time to wait for this.

It was at about this time that I got to thinking 'What the hell's the hurry?'

I know that I've emailed to several of you, and I also know that if I don't hear from you in a couple of days, I get to wondering if the person I wrote to died or picked that day to decide to crank up a grudge. I suspect that, other than blaming this on my legion of mental issues, I've become a full-fledged American.

The culture I've worked in (designer/engineer) is based heavily on meeting deadlines, making sure our vendors meet their deadlines, and keeping to committments and promises our company makes-unless they're clearly absurd. I guess after 22 years that's rubbed off on me.

It's said that Americans aren't a patient people, and I suppose that's partly right. We came up with air-to-air refueling so our Air Force doesn't have to waste time landing its planes. We come up with tons of labor-saving devices, which only partly work, because we come up with 5 times more work to do. Our football teams excel in two-minute drills (getting downfield to score points with 2 minutes or less on the clock). The NBA forces pro hoops teams to get a shot off within 24 seconds-because we don't have the patience to watch a defensive struggle. We have debit cards so as to conduct transactions quickly-who has time to write a check, or God forbid, count out real money? At one time we wrote letters, then we faxed, then we emailed, now we IM and Twitter one another-and still it isn't fast enough. What's used more often at your house-the stove or the microwave? I know what the answer is here.

Recently Starbucks has introduced an instant coffee-evidently even waiting a couple of minutes for the morning cuppa has become a chore. Anyone here go to your favorite fast-food place and pace back and forth because it took 5 whole minutes to get your meal? I'll raise my hand there. We invented the 'drive-thru' culture -restaurants, theaters, banks, even churches and funeral homes! We don't even stop long enough to pay proper respect to the dead.

Christmas? Who has time to shop? Do it online, have it shipped next day, and you're free to run off to the multitude of other things that fill the season. The person that comes up with a matter transporter (a la Star Trek) will make a fortune unparalled in human history.

Time was that five days by train to cross the country was outstanding. Then three days by streamliner or car. Pretty good, but wait! You can do it in six hours by jet now. If you had access to an SR-71 it'd take something like 90 minutes. But why screw around with wasting time on traveling-have a netmeeting. Right now 186,300 miles per second still rules. If they figure out how to use tachyons for anything then I suppose even poking along at lightspeed will be passe.

I grew up in a small town in the 1970's and 1980's, and I expect that my generation is the last one that knows (barring a collapse of civilization) about waiting for a couple of days to get the part for a car repair, or ordering something by mail and having to wait 6-8 weeks to get it, or writing letters-on paper-to your penpals in Australia and waiting for the boat to take it there, then waiting for them to write back and do the same on their end.

I know that I've likely harassed a couple of you Aussies, and heard something to the effect of 'Don't mind me-I'm a bit slack'.

Well, dammit, I don't have time to wait while you folks catch up!! I don't see what being slack does for you, other than lower your stress, worry, and blood pressure levels, and increase your sense of well-being! I suspect that living in a semitropical climate does that a bit. I've even noticed it in the southern states. Generally you get around the coast and life gets a bit more laid back. Too hot and humid to get worked up over much most of the time.

So, is part of it climate, or culture, or urban vs. rural? Or is the mad rush even catching up with some of you? Or is it simply that someone needs to step up, draw the short straw, and say 'Why, no, YD. Your elevator simply doesn't go all the way to the flight deck.'

Now that I'd buy.

yankeedog out.

Whew! Thank you, Mr. Rogge!

On behalf of the tax-paying citizens of Illinois, I'd like to thank the International Olympic Committee for awarding the 2016 Summer Olympics to Rio de Janeiro.

You like us. You really like us! Do you know how many millions you saved us by our not having to build a lot of stuff we'll use-once!-and not having to deal with the graft and corruption so prevalent in city and state politics?

I will, much like Winston Churchill upon hearing that the United States entered World War II, sleep the sleep of the saved and the thankful.

Really, Chicago's a great place and I encourage everyone to visit the city sometime. But Rio does have Copacabana Beach:

...and Chitown's Oak Street Beach along Lake Michigan, while nice, isn't quite the same:

As for scenery, which would you rather see? Rio...

...or Chicago?

Rio wins, but just by a bit? Thought so.

Good luck, citizens of Brazil! Enjoy the party and the giant financial reckoning. Save your cruzeiros!

yankeedog out.

And a couple more deep thoughts...

...Well, not really. I shot that bolt already.

These are pics from http://www.peopleofwalmart.com/.

Now, I'll admit to going into the local Wally World in my Dr. Pepper lounge pants and a t-shirt from the last 5K run, or in the official Summer Uniform (cargo shorts, T-Shirt, safety-toe work boots). But I'd like to think I presented a better look than some of these folks. You could humor me and agree-or not, depending on your mood.

Ready, then? Good! If you need some mood music, I'd recommend the Cantina Theme from Star Wars.

Uhh...hey, baby!

Ho' bettuh have mah Raisin Bran money!

I'm lookin' for the peanut butter and banana aisle! Uh-huhhuh...

Awwwk! Polly wanna ride on the power chair! Awwwk!

You could really be a Beau Brummel baby if you just gave it half a chance...

And here we see a rare specimen...Homo boganus! And they're very deadly! They can whip their mullets at lightning speed and kill a man!

Walmart Nazis! They're the worst. Standing in line with der Untermensch.

Ain't no gummint agency gonna tell me I can't put a plastic bag over my kid's head!!

Well, you do/have/To dress like a Refugee...

Uhh, ooo-kay!

I think those are the boots that are made for walkin'...

He had a pantscrappingly good time at the store!

Is that a backup singer for George Clinton and Parliament?

Yes, s/he has cleavage.

'Girls will be boys/And boys will be girls/It's a mixed-up, muddled-up, shook-up world/Including this guy/Th-th-th-th-this guy...'

Feel a bit better about yourself now? I hope so. Reckon I do too.

yankeedog out.