Madness this way comes

I was listening to NPR this afternoon while I was driving home from running some errands.  A producer of television commercials was being interviewed about his craft.  He said an average commercial during the Super Bowl can cost one million dollars to produce.  But, he said, that's not bad because the television audience for the big game is around 100 million people, in the U.S. alone.  I think the commercials are the best part of the telecast and I've heard of people who tape them during the game so they can watch them over and over.  For example, thanks to YouTube, here are somebody's 10 best commercials from Super Bowl 42 in 2008.



This year the Pittsburgh Steelers will play the Green Bay Packers in the Super Bowl on Sunday.  I'll probably watch . . for the commercials . . but I'll have a hard time forgetting a friend of mine who sent me his picture today as he prepared for the big game.  Apparently he's a fan of Green Bay, whose loyalists are known as . . . . . cheeseheads.

May the best team win.

Trouble in the Middle East

It began in Tunisia, where the government fell to protesters.

Then, on to Egypt, where Cairo is dissolving into chaos.  President Mubarak says he won't run again.  He's 82 years old.  But he says he'll stay in power until the next election, in September.  Many of his citizens say that's not good enough, he must leave immediately.  Today, pro-Mubarak supporters challenged the anti-Mubarak protesters and violence was the order of the day.  It continues tonight.

Around the region, the king of Jordan has sacked his government and appointed a new prime minister.

The president of Yemen says neither he nor his son will run again.

Israel is, as the old expression goes, "on tenterhooks".

Iran is quiet but obviously watching carefully.

As I said to SWMBO today, it will be years before this is all sorted out.

Memories

Y'know this gettin' older thing is a real pain.  Like this morning.  Suddenly I couldn't find a 4 by 6 inch index card on which are inscribed all of my User ID's and Passwords to access my various sites on the World Wide Web.  It's always in the same place, resting on top of my printer.  But not this morning.  So I spent about two hours tearing my den apart.  I emptied a waste basket, then another one, then another one.  Three separate rooms.  I went out to the garage and looked in the recycle bin.  I went through about half of the Sunday New York Times, thinking the card had slipped between the pages.  I went through several files in a couple of file drawers.  I accused SWMBO of stealing the card.  She helped me look for awhile and offered several worthless suggestions about where it could be.  I said "I give up", then I searched some more.  I got down on my hands and knees under my desk. (Wow, is it dusty down there!)  Then I looked everywhere I had looked before.  Nada.  Zip.  Then I asked Blackwell if he had taken it.  Blackwell is a cat, for cryin' out loud, and he was staring at me like I had completely lost my mind.  Which I nearly had.  That card had to be here somewhere.

Then I found it.  It was lying on the coffee table in the living room, underneath a Netflix envelope.  When I finished the movie I watched last night, I took the envelope and the disc to the other room for SWMBO to view later.  But I also picked up my index card at the same time, unknowingly, unwittingly.

I mean: I have the information written on the index card so I don't have to remember all of it.  But it doesn't help if I misplace the card and can't remember where it went, now does it?

Pam Peterson knows how I feel.

Bob Schneider sings!

I had never heard of this guy until I saw him on Austin City Limits this week.  Now, I'm a fan.  He's one of those amazing musicians that continue to be turned out in Texas.  He doesn't look like he does in this video.  The hair is shorter but shaggier and he has a full beard.  In a brief interview after his performance he said he can't figure out why people pay money to come and listen to him sing songs he wrote in his bedroom.  He reportedly has a repertoire of 400 songs.  This one . . . performed on an earlier ACL show . . . reportedly is his trademark.  Get up on your feet and prepare to "shake your booty!"



This next one is even better.

Well would you look at this!

I've been poking a bit of fun at residents of other parts of the United States this winter.  Parts that seem to be covered in snow and cold weather.  But look what happened in my part of Arizona this morning.

Oh, I know.  It's not much.  Only a dusting.  But it certainly gave Blackwell an idea about how to spend the day.



Lana

Allow me to introduce a good, no, a very good friend of mine.  Her name is Lana.

Lana Elmore Cochrun is the full name.  And she is an artist.

I have known her for more decades than either of us would want to admit.  She spent the bulk of her life as an art teacher in Indiana, trying to inspire the youth of her area to indulge in their gifts and their talents.

Now, she lives in California, on the Central Coast, where she has had the opportunity to indulge herself, her talent, her gifts.  She has had great success and I believe she has a great future.

You can see her most recent show at the Windward Gallery here.  If you are in her area (Cambria) I would suggest you buy her work now.  It can only get better and more dear.

Congratulations, dear friend.

Cooking follow and The Ocean View Restaurant

My attempt at making Lemon Souffle Pancakes (from James McNair's Favorites) was a fair success this morning.  Pretty simple recipe, though you wouldn't have known it by the amount of dishes I had to clean up afterwards.  I topped them with the rest of the blueberry sauce from yesterday's Dutch babies and SWMBO fried up some hickory smoked bacon to accompany.  Cooking is fun but eating is better.

And now a story of life that a good friend has just e-mailed to me.  Men may appreciate it more than women but I think you'll all enjoy it.

A group of 15-year old guys discussed where they should meet for dinner. It was agreed they should meet at the Dairy Queen next to the Ocean View Restaurant because they only had $6.00 between them, and Jannie Johnson, that cute girl in Social Studies, lives on that street, and they might see her, and they can ride their bikes there.


Ten years later, the group of 25-year-old guys discussed where they should meet for dinner. It was agreed they should meet at the Ocean View Restaurant because the beer was cheap, they had free snacks, the band was good, there was no cover, and there were lots of cute girls.


Ten years later, at 35 years of age, the group once again discussed where they should meet for dinner. It was agreed they should meet at the Ocean View Restaurant because the booze was good, it was right near the gym, and if they went late enough, there wouldn't be too many whiny little kids.


Ten years later, at 45 years of age, the group once again discussed where they should meet for dinner. It was agreed they should meet at the Ocean View Restaurant because the martinis were big, and the waitresses wore tight tops and tighter pants.


Ten years later, at 55 years of age, the group once again discussed where they should meet for dinner. It was agreed they should meet at the Ocean View Restaurant because the prices were reasonable, the wine list was good, and fish is good for your cholesterol.


Ten years later, at 65 years of age, the group once again discussed where they should meet for dinner. It was agreed they should meet at the Ocean View Restaurant because the lighting was good, and they have an early bird special.


Ten years later, at 75 years of age, the group once again discussed where they should meet for dinner. It was agreed they should meet at the Ocean View Restaurant because the food was not too spicy, and the restaurant was handicapped accessible.


Ten years later, at 85 years of age, the group once again discussed where they should meet for dinner. It was agreed they should meet at the Ocean View Restaurant because they had never been there before.

(Thanks, Lori!)