Monday Meanderings 2.28.2010

Happy hour at the Seaside Motel and Condominium (Pets OK) begins every evening at 5pm, when the occupants of  #207  bring out a board about 3 feet long and hook it to the wooden railing that goes around the perimeter. Folks start showing up bringing, chips, dips, pastries and whatever beverage they prefer and stand around and visit. I don't know if these people are traveling together, if they are Winter Texans, or just know a good social occasion when they see one. The serving board, seemingly made to fit that rail, suggests they have been at this a while. Interesting.

Alas, the best Gumbo anywhere is no more, and that's not the greatest tragedy. We were stunned to see on the news that the couple that owned the Mama Roux New Orleans Cafe both died in an apparent murder-suicide! Sort of makes it seems petty to whine about no more good gumbo under those circumstances.

Taxi seen on the streets of Port A had the usual lighted sign on top - but interestingly, it read "Intaxicated." I don't know if that means you should call this taxi when you are in that state, or if that is the state of the cab driver.

Item on the news about brides choosing funeral homes as the location for their weddings. We thought that strange, but one funeral director cleared things up when he stated, "There's not much difference between weddings and funerals." He said it - I didn't.

And Jon Acuff of "Stuff Christians Like" said a friend of his was keeping the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit issue right by his side, "...so he would know who to pray for, and have their... faces right at hand to help him remember.

And what do you think the odds are of rolling into Nixon, Texas (pop. 2,138) on a Sunday afternoon and finding someone to repair a rapidly deflating tire? Turns out, pretty good. The guys at Villasenor Tire Service #3 had us back on the road in minutes.

And here's why marrying a good speller is important:

Perfect pitch?

Watching a basketball game the other night, I heard the inevitable "Air Ball, Air Ball" mass chant when the visiting player whiffed a scoring attempt. You've heard the taunt many times, and in fact it has crept into other sports, such as "Air Puck, Air Puck" at hockey games.

But did you know that crowds world-wide always chant in the key of F, descending to D? Try it. Belt out a couple of "Air Balls" and then go check the piano. Or your pitch-pipe iPhone App. F to D. Every time.

Dr. Cherrill P. Heaton, an English professor first pointed this out way back in '95 in his learned paper "Air Ball: Spontaneous Large Group Precision Chanting," published in the journal Popular Music and Society. Heaton stated: "As any director of a church choir or secular chorus knows, getting a mere 20 or 30 trained singers to sing or chant together and in tune is not always easy. Yet without direction, instruction, a conductor or a pitch pipe, thousands of strangers, massed in indoor stadiums and arenas, are able, if stimulated by an air ball, to chant, 'Air ball,' in total and rhythmic unison."

His research also found that basketball fans always start chanting at the same time--prompted by the basketball's hitting nothing but air--and consistently remain on key.

Dave Barry picked this up and put his patented spin on the story. His version is funnier than my blog, so promise if you go there, you'll come back.

Turns out, this is not the only example of "Large Group Precision Chanting." Remember when Darryl Strawberry played for the Mets and the fans shouted "Dar-ryl, Dar-ryl?" How about John Elway's last name repeatedly during the 1986 American Football Conference Championship in Clevend? Well, play like you remember! Work with me here, people!

Same deal - F to D,  F to D.

And then there's "Na Na Na, Hey Hey Goodbye." D-minor. Always.

And here I make history with my very own suggestion  that "Nanny Nanny Boo Boo" is always sung in the same key - according to my reckoning -  F.

Remember, you heard it first here.

The $100 Question

I got an email the other day titled "The Stimulus Objectively Examined." It was intended as a political statement, and based on who sent it I suspect I know how this is supposed to be interpreted.

But that is neither here or now. Politics aside, it poses an interesting puzzle (like the old three guys renting a motel room)  and I present it to you here as such. Here's the email:

It is a slow day in the small Colorado town of Pumphandle and streets are deserted. Times are tough, everybody is in debt, and everybody is living on credit.

A tourist visiting the area drives through town, stops at the motel, and lays a $100 bill on the desk saying he wants to inspect the rooms upstairs to pick one for the night.

As soon as he walks upstairs, the motel owner grabs the bill and runs next door to pay his debt to the butcher.

The butcher takes the $100 and runs down the street to retire his debt to the pig farmer.

The pig farmer takes the $100 and heads off to pay his bill to his supplier, the Co-op.

The guy at the Co-op takes the $100 and runs to pay his debt to the local lady of ill repute, who has also been facing hard times and has had to offer her "services" on credit.

The hooker rushes to the hotel and pays off her room bill with the hotel owner.The hotel proprietor then places the $100 back on the counter so the traveler will not suspect anything.

At that moment the traveler comes down the stairs, states that the rooms are not satisfactory, picks up the $100 bill and leaves.

No Jobs were created.
No one produced anything.
No one earned anything...

However, the whole town is now out of debt and now looks to the future with a lot more optimism.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how a "stimulus package" works.

Now, here's the $100 question. In this scenario, who did not come out ahead? Anyone? Anyone? Let me know who, if anyone, came out a loser in this little story? Did everyone really win?

Inquiring minds want to know.

Monday Meanderings - 2.21.2011

Stopped at a Torchy's Tacos the other day (which I recommend you try, BTW). The logo and signage all say "Damn Fine Tacos." But inside, I noticed a wall was covered with tray liners featuring the little devil art work and the slogan - and they all had been decorated  by elementary school students. Uh Oh! What about the "D" word? Not to worry; the slogan on all these works of art said, "Darn Fine Tacos."

I was working with a new director at the RFB&D studios, and at the break he told me that "listening to you is like enjoying a smooth Guinness." Thanks. I think.

I bought a new desktop computer the other day, to replace my 11- year old dinosaur that is slowly grinding to a halt. The new machine has a processor that is 77% faster, has 1,100% more memory and has a hard drive that is 1,200 % larger. And it cost less than 1/3 of the machine it is replacing. Wouldn't it be great if that were true of all the things we buy? Funny thing, though. Even though the main Dell plant is almost in my backyard, this computercame from El Paso.

Barb left at 8am the other morning for an appointment. I did not see her off. About 9am she texted me to ask if I wanted to meet her for breakfast. I was up at 9 (barely) but did not hear the text alert. So she texted again and said, never mind, she would get something and go on to class. About 9:30 the phone rang.
"I need you to come. I've locked my keys in the car."
"Okay, where are you?"
"Uh...well...Krispy Kreme."
Busted. But after she bought me some donuts, it was all okay.

Love the fajitas at Pappasitos, but it is SO noisy in there. The other day we decided that if we were going to have a conversation at the dinner table it could only happen if we texted each other.

I played football for Emory Bellard

Emory Bellard passed away last week. He was a legend in collegiate football circles, credited as the inventor of the wish-bone offense. Sometimes the newspaper articles will mention in passing that he was a successful high-school football coach, at Breckenridge High School, and at then at San Angelo. It was during his tenure at BHS that I played football for Coach Bellard.

I have written before about the football program at Breckenridge; about how in the period from 1951 to 1959, the Breckenridge Buckaroos football team won four State Championships outright and tied for a fifth. How 8 of the 27 team members were named to All State. Well, I was not one of those 8, and that's not the football team I was on. My team was the gang of boys taking a Physical Education class under none other than Coach Bellard himself. You see, athletic coaches in those days also had to carry a class load. The assistant coaches taught things like history and civics, and the head coach had a heavy schedule of supervising one or more PE classes.

Every morning we would go out to the athletic building and suit up in shorts and tee shirts, do calisthenics for 15 or 20 minutes, then scrimmage each other in a pretty crude version of touch football. Then it was hit the showers and rejoin our classmates for more mundane activities, such as study hall.

During the football season, the drill changed somewhat. On Fridays when there was a home game scheduled, we would head straight to Buckaroo Stadium and line up across one end zone, then we would duck-walk to the other end zone, pulling up any grass burrs we encountered. Goat heads, we called them. This was West Texas, and goat heads were pernicious and lethal; I patched many a bicycle tire flattened by these thorns, and they sprang up like... well, weeds. But there weren't any in the grass at Buckaroo Stadium. The PE class saw to that.

None of the glowing articles I've read mention that coach Bellard was blind in one eye. I don't remember which one, but all the guys in PE knew that if you got on the correct side, he couldn't see you. That was important, because while doing calisthenics, it gave you the opportunity to slack off. One morning I was taking advantage of Coach's limited eyesight during leg lifts and would only lift one leg at a time. It was not as good a plan as I hoped, though, because I got caught. The punishment for lazy leg lifts was to put 'em both up and hold 'em up as long as you could. If you couldn't hold them up long enough, you got to run laps. I surprised even myself at how long I could hold both legs up, but as I recall it wasn't worth it.

Coach Bellard came back and spoke to the 45th reunion of the class of '58. He was gracious and warm and spoke of his years at BHS as being among the best of his stellar career. He even mentioned the fight song that I wrote the dumb words for. He didn't mention my goofing off in PE. A true gentleman.