Radosta Rants and Rambles

I’m sure that you all had a great summer vacation. Right? I spent most of my time contemplating the meaning of life, asking questions that could affect the world as we know it.

For instance, why doesn’t Gary Coleman face the fact that his career is over once and for all? He’s still on talk shows and game shows all the time, yet I haven’t seen him in a movie or a series (nor do I want to) for years. 

Next, who would name their kid Millard Fillmore (13th President of the United States) or Garrick Utley (NBC News anchor)? Why is Tom Peterson so dang cool? I want one of those “Tom’s Trolley” caps. How ’bout you? 

Does Mr. Yoder remind you of Orville Redenbacher? Did you know that if you take the “P,” the second “e” and the first “r” out of Peter Cetera’s name, you have “et cetera”? What do the words “pepto bismol” mean? Is it in Greek? 

Is it true that you’ll spontaneously combust if you have ring around the collar, the frizzies, and tartar all at the same time? Did Tammy Faye Baker indeed teach Taylor Dayne how to apply makeup?

I also missed having Biology this summer. I wanted to do a research paper on what purpose Toucan Sam, Bartles & Jaymes, Spuds MacKenzie, My Sister Sam, the Keebler Elves, the Denny’s Grand Slam Breakfast, Ed McMahon and Saltine crackers serve in our ecosystem.

Well, I really should get back to studying for the PSAT. I can't seem to figure out one of the analogies: “chocolate is to acne as prune juice is to…”

Oh well, no matter. Back to the questions about life. Whatever happened to Herb from Burger King? Did he and Wendy and Ronald McDonald and Bob duel to a bloody death? To what species does Goofy belong? And what about Pac-Man, the Pillsbury Doughboy and that little Hamburger Helper glove? 

What does “PTL” stand for? Some people say it means “Praise the Lord,” some say it means “Pay the Lady” or “Pass the Loot”; I say it means “Part-Time Lover.” 

Have you noticed that Oreo cookies are no fun anymore? You used to have to work hard to get the cookie separated from the creme filling, but now they come apart too easily. When you’re in the library, why is it that people feel the need to rub their feet on the carpet and give you a shock? Finally, aren’t you glad that there aren’t going to be any more “back to school” ads for another year?

Originally published in The Clarion, October 7, 1988

As you may or may not remember (frankly, I couldn’t care less), I shared my summer vacation thoughts with you in the October 7, 1988, issue. Well, winter vacation recently came to a close. After sulking and eating a couple Gummi™ worms, I got to wondering....

Whenever you hear “Don’t Worry, Be Happy,” do you want to shoot your radio? Whenever you see that “You Can Call Me Books” guy on TV, do you want to throw a rock at your set? What is the real purpose of cuticle, argyle socks, the DEW light on your VCR, New Roommate air fresheners, Yugos, Jeopardy!, back acne and corduroy? 

Do you ever really think about why they put the fruit at the bottom of some yogurts? I mean, does it keep the fruit fresher that way or what? I opened a new bottle of Stridex the other day. The thin foil which covers the pads read, “SEALED, FOR YOUR PROTECTION.” Protection from whom? Is there some mob of medicated pad poisoners out there?

Why is it considered “cute” when cats purr but “rude” when humans snore? It’s the same thing, right? What is a “nog”? If there’s such a thing as eggnog, can there also be applenog, orangenog and grapefruitnog? Who would name their kid Woodrow Wilson (28th President of the United States) or DeWitt Clinton (“father of the Erie Canal”)? 

Why do some people feel obliged to tell you, “Ya know, I have a friend who has a shirt just like that…”? Why don’t you ever see the word “hitherto” in a sports article? Why don’t Larry Hagman and Michael Landon just give it up and stop dyeing their hair? Why do I use the word “pshaw” so much? Why do so many movies have the word “fatal” in their titles (Fatal Judgment, Fatal Vision, Fatal Attraction, Fatal Beauty)?

Why do so many Cosby stars (Malcolm-Jamal Warner, Keshia Knight-Pulliam and Phylicia Rashad, the former Phylicia Ayers-Allen) and female runners (Florence Griffith Joyner, Jackie Joyner-Kersee and Mary Decker Slaney) have three-word names? 

What is it with birthday parties? If somebody came up to your dessert and blew all over it, would you eat it immediately afterwards? Think about it. Also, don’t trust anybody who shares their ChapStick with others.

I went to Musicland over the Christmas holidays, too. Gazing around, I glanced at a poster of Kylie “The Loco-Motion” Minogue. Kylie Minogue. That sounds like what you’d call something sliding down the side of your face when you have a cold. Then I walked over to the compact disc section. I noticed that Tiffany’s new album, Hold an Old Friend’s Hand (incidentally, weren’t you all disappointed that her recent tour didn’t include a stop at Nordstrom’s?), is out on CD already. What’s the point? Putting Tiffany on compact disc makes about as much sense as writing a George Bush speech on parchment. 

Speaking of Mr. Bush, I couldn’t help but think of him over the winter break. If someone had told me last Christmas that in 12 months’ time he’d be President, I’d have told them they were insane. Then again, no one ever thought that ALF would be as big a hit as he is today. Whoops. That wasn’t very nice of me — comparing an Alien Life Form to an Alienated Life Form.

Other thoughts continued to pester me over winter vacation. If Emmanuel Lewis plays kids aged 10 or 11 when he’s 17 or 18, then was he playing infants when he was 8 or 9? Which reminds me — what ever became of Tattoo from Fantasy Island? For that matter, what ever happened to Pseudo Echo? I suppose just disappearing is better than what Martha Raye chose to do with her “spare time” — denture advertisements. Whoopee. She’s almost as annoying as Ocean Spray. WHY do they have to put cranberries into every one of their drinks?

What about our national motto? It should be changed to either “Hey! Let’s go bowling!” “We’re into Barbie!” or, my personal favorite, “Would you like that on gift certificate or on account?”

I saw Don Knotts the other day on Matlock. I thought he was dead. Speaking of TV, isn’t it about time that Kermit the Frog and Miss Piggy got together? But who am I to say? I still believe that Lucy Van Pelt and Charlie Brown and that Charles Nelson Reilly and Rex Reed are having torrid love affairs.

I don’t know. Life is so confusing these days. What’s with all of these acronyms that are so widely used now? I opened the newspaper over Christmas break and read about a POW JAP who met an SOB WOB AWOL WASP with AIDS. I even hear there’s a new group out there known as GGADW. Great-Grandmothers Against Drunk Wheelchairing.

Of course, more than anything, I missed school during the holiday season. I’m still wondering how much money the school shells out for the masking tape used to tape those overdue notices to our lockers. And what about math? Did you know that I can find, USING VECTORS, the volume of a parallelepiped? And I can rationalize denominators, too. So there. I also missed having a dress code. I wanted to be back at school, lusting after girls with holes in their jeans.

In conclusion, I’d just like to say: I have opposable thumbs. And I’m proud of it.

Originally published in The Clarion, February 3, 1989

In the first Clarion issue this year, I shared my summer vacation musings with you. In the fourth Clarion issue this year, I shared my winter vacation thoughts with you. Well, spring vacation went by recently. What did I do over spring break, you ask? Well, after sulking and watching some of Mary Hart’s Great Circuses of the World, I got to wondering ….

Just what is in those 56/100% of impurities in Ivory Soap? Who would name their kid Rutherford B. Hayes (19th President of the United States) or Hubert Horatio Humphrey Jr. (Democratic Presidential candidate, 1968)? Why did Bobby McFerrin win so many Grammys? Why do people feel the need to tell me when I have dry skin? Why do my stepmother and my father get into conversations about how McDonald’s Own Ranch Dressing tastes similar to Hidden Valley Ranch? What is the real purpose of Yugos, Parkay Margarine (since when did margarine have vocal cords, anyway?) and the Gloria Estefan & Miami Sound Machine Weekend on VH1?

Also over spring break, I came to the conclusion that nobody likes me. No, seriously, I came to the conclusion that it is humanly impossible to say the words “edited it” 10 times fast. Go ahead. Try it. No, I said fast. That’s still not fast enough. See what I mean?

Who uses the word “spangled” except when describing a flag? Who uses the word “necessarily” except when preceded by the word “not”? Seriously.

Do you ever get the impression that the guys over at the Emergency Broadcast System are really pulling a hoax on all of us? “They think we’re actually going to inform them in the event of an emergency. Ha! Our real job is simply to broadcast the most excruciatingly annoying sound over the airwaves for 60 seconds!”

I heard that in Florida there’s a statewide campaign to inform its citizens of the hazards of eating orange peels. The slogan is: “A rind is a terrible thing to taste.”

Speaking of food, Easter Sunday fell over spring vacation, and that meant lots of hard-boiled Easter eggs. I must’ve eaten over half a dozen. I could feel my arteries clog up faster than Center Street traffic does at rush hour. And I felt great.

Don't ever use mouthwash when you have a cold and a stuffed-up nose. I learned the hard way that … YOU CAN’T BREATHE, STUPID!

Y’know, spring break could have been renamed flake-out-on-Jim week. I had a righteous old time just sitting around the house waiting for my friends to never call me up. So I would just give up and go to bed. But then I couldn’t go to sleep. After looking around unsuccessfully for some YesDoz, I decided I’d just get back in bed and try to make lists or count sheep or something. No such luck. So I thought I’d recite my social life. Worked like a charm.

I think it’s time to start living life on the edge. Waiter! Get me some undercooked pork, pronto!

Originally published in The Clarion, April 13, 1989

I really shouldn’t have worn that hot pink T-shirt. I mean, I just really should not have worn it. You see, a few weeks back, I wore a brand-new, brighter-than-bright hot-pink T-shirt to school, and for some unknown reason, EVERYONE felt the need to “share” their opinion of it! After the first 10 or so “comments,” I started writing them all down:

• Eric Norris: “Ugly.”
• Dan Sackinger: “I like that pink. It’s neat.”
• Natalie Severson: “JIM! WHAT HAPPENED?!”
• Dean Kuenzi: “We’ll have to put Jim in the back with that hot pink T-shirt.”
• Ellen Wachal (pretends to shade her eyes from the brightness): “I could see you from the other end of the hall.”
• Jennifer O’Dell: “At least you’re not wearing neon green.”
• Matt Whitman: “Very bright.”
• Carole Reichstein: “Your pink shirt is fine. Don’t worry about it.”
• Travis Halfman: “What’s this DayGlo?”
• Ellen Wachal (later): “Don’t stress it, Jim. Think of it this way — at least you’ve gotten rid of the WOB [Wearer of Black] image.”
• Amy Seloover: “At least it’s not black!”
• Mike Baskett: “Ooh … Jim’s gettin’ flashy today. Look at his neon shirt. He’s not wearin’ black!”
• Eric Norris (later): “That is so … obnoxious.”
• Matt Whitman (later): “It is ugly. At least it’s better than when you wear black.”
• Katrina Tone: “What a shirt!”
• Heather Rivers: “I like it.”

This is just one of a number of irksome thoughts that came across my mind during Memorial Day weekend. Isn’t it funny that we observe it on a Monday just so we all can have a longer weekend? That’s a really great way to honor those who died in military service.

Can The Clarion sue the stereo manufacturer and the makeup company for stealing our name? Who would name their kid Joyce Oates (famous American author or Roy Orbison (late ’50s rocker)? They are both variations on the tongue twister “toy boat.” Try it. “Toy boat” is the only tongue twister worse than “edited it” or, worse yet, “trig chart.” Don’tcha hate it when people pronounce “cosine” as “cos” or “SAT” as “sat” (as in “I sat down”)?

The English language confuses me. If distinguish, discern and incorrigible are words, then why aren’t tinguish, cern and corrigible words? If insubordinate means to be rude and disobedient, then why doesn’t subordinate mean to be nice? Also, what’s the plural of syllabus? Syllabi? Of hypotenuse? Нуроteni? What’s the past tense of highlight? Highlit? 

Have you noticed how much more the word “prerogative” is used now that Bobby Brown has used it in a song title? If Sol is the name of the Roman sun god, then would two of them be a parasol? (Get it? A pair of Sol!) Also, what’s the purpose of the word “unretouched”? (Redundancy, redundancy?)

What’s the purpose of the word “prehistoric”? (How is such a thing as prehistory possible, anyway?) For that matter, what’s the purpose of abbreviating the word “May” as “My.”? (That really does help save a lot of ink.)

And for that matter, what’s the purpose of any or all of the following: hiccups, Q-tips (considering you’re not supposed to use them on the inside of your ear), Eddie Money and Ronnie Spector, underwear that rides up your rear, empty Clic Eraser cylinders, goat blowing, parliamentarians and Bobby McFerrin? Why are all library books stamped on page 37?

“This bottle contains more Tarn-X than you’ll probably use at home in a year.” Of course, when you consider that you only remove tarnish once a year…. “Raid kills bugs dead." Redundancy, redundancy? Speaking of advertisements, don’tcha just hate cereal commercials? For example, in those Frosted Flakes ads, when the bullies approach the young lad sitting with Tony the Tiger: “Let’s see if you’re any good.” “Frosted Flakes good? They’re great!” THE BULLIES WERE REFERRING TO WHETHER OR NOT THE BOY WAS ANY GOOD, NOT YOUR STUPID CEREAL!! 

Then there are those cereal ads that are simply carbon copies of all the rest. If I had a nickel for every time a cereal commercial had a character who wasn’t “allowed” to eat the cereal (for Trix, it’s the Trix Rabbit, for Cocoa Pebbles, it’s Barney Rubble, etc.), I’d be a rich man.

In fact, if I had a nickel for every time I said, “If I had a nickel for every time …” I’d be a rich man. For example, if I had a nickel for every time Danae King yawned in Mr. Bahler’s class, if I had a nickel for every time Def Leppard’s “Rocket” video was played on MTV, if had a nickel for every glass of Kool-Aid that Ellen Wachal drank, I’d be rich. But then again, if I had a nickel for every time I “loaned” a quarter to somebody (Vanessa Sandvig, Erika Gordon, Karen Reichstein — you know who you are!), I’D STILL BE IN DEBT!

My mother said I look like Skippy from Family Ties. Believe me, if it wasn’t my mother saying that....

I have come up with a list of oxymorons. That is, those phrases which are virtually contradiction in terms: 1) conservative thinker, 2) military intelligence, 3) honest politician, 4) President Bush, 5) peacekeeping missiles, 6) advanced typing and 7) getting turned down at Chemeketa Community College.

Being the conformist that I be, I prefer to use the regular form of the Binomial Theorem rather than the alternative form.

Why is it that when we’re at home, laying on half a foot of foam known as a mattress, we can’t fall asleep, yet when we’re at school, sitting in a hard, awkward desk, we’re out like a light?

Why do compact discs need to be stored vertically, when they are played horizontally? What’s with Aretha Franklin’s fetish for doing songs with the sexually ambiguous? First it was “Sisters Are Doin’ It for Themselves” with Eurythmics, then it was “I Knew You Were Waiting (For Me)” with George Michael) and now it’s “Through the Storm” with Elton John. Curious.

Did you know that “Radosta” is actually just “radio station” without the “i” in “radio” and without the “tion” in “station”? Must certain unnamed Spanish teachers leave their classroom doors so wide open that people can’t get into their lockers behind her door? I’ve come to the realization that cinnamon Teddy Grahams are indeed addictive. (Especially when you get to the bottom of the box and all that’s left are the appendages that have broken off during shipping.)

Flicking spit bubbles off your tongue is addictive, too. Speaking of flicking, friends were flicking me a lot of crud during Memorial Day weekend. Matt, Josh and Eric ransacked my room Sunday afternoon, and then Ellen never called me back that same night. My life is gray and desolate ….

 

I’m thinking of starting a rock band. Our first song will be called “My Woman Is Like a Laxative (She Moves Me).”

Now here’s a message to all the parents (yes, even you, Mr. Simpson) reading this. Why, when parents think their kid’s music is up too loud, do they yell from the living room downstairs to the kid’s bedroom upstairs to turn it down? Now if the kid’s music is up too loud, one would think that he would not be able to HEAR you. Think about it.

I predict that in a couple years, Tiffany, Martika and Madonna will all reveal that they have the last name Mellencamp.

I finally came up with my very own theory. The Radosta Theory: WHY do such terrible acts as Skid Row, Debbie Gibson, Bon Jovi, et. al consistently appear on Q105's Top 5 at 9, MTV’s Dial MTV and the like? BECAUSE mindless headbangers and even more mindless Debbie Gibson fans have nothing better to do with their time than call up and share their pathetic music tastes with everyone. But then again, what about the mindless Clarion editors who have nothing better to do than philosophize on the mindless logic that underlies mindless call-in countdowns?

Finally, contrary to widespread rumor, I don’t get off on cleaning out the lint filters of clothes dryers. Honest.

Originally published in The Clarion, June 1, 1989

Goodness, it’s hard to believe it was last year (school year, that is) when I was raving about that hot pink T-shirt. (My mother ultimately acquired that article and subsequently took back the T-shirt.) Last year, I had to have an excuse to rant and ramble (e.g., what I thought about over summer vacation, etc.). But now that I am Editor in Chief, I can rant and ramble whenever I dang well please. For example….

What is the purpose of the pull strings on Band-Aids? When you cut your finger and blood is spewing forth everywhere, you don’t have time to fool with those useless pull strings! Who does? Speaking of cuts, a piece of broken glass landed on my hand at work and I needed stitches. No big deal. But then last week, I get something in the mail about getting workers’ compensation for “Laceration Left index & ring fingers.” It was a STUPID BOO-BOO! Jeez!

With all of this concern about sealing products for your protection (heck, capsules have practically disappeared from the face of the Earth as a result), WHY are Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups gummed with less glue than it takes to seal … an envelope? And yet compact discs are given an airtight seal in clear plastic that even Schwarzenegger couldn’t rip through with his bare hands. Is this because people have been injecting cyanide into CDs lately?

Why do people (such as myself order all the usual fattening delights at McDonald’s (in my case, a McDLT and large French fries), and then order Diet Coke to drink? Why do people never wish to talk to me … until I’m in the shower? In the comic strip B.C., when they send those stone tablets across the ocean with messages written on them, why doesn’t the stone sink in the ocean?

These next two points were brought up by some fellow rambling friends of mine. One noted what it says on the straws at restaurants: “drinking straws.” As opposed to eating straws? Or what it says on chili: “chili con carne with beans.” With beans. I’d really like to see what chili tastes like without beans. And what about the “Holy” Bible? Is there some “Unholy” Bible out there that I don’t know about?

When I grow up (yeah, right), I want to be the guy who glues together the first few turns of toilet paper rolls so it doesn’t become unraveled. While we’re on this “subject,” I’d like to proclaim that a Nobel Prize should go to the person who invented that wonderful male-bonding contraption known as the urinal.

I wish Bobby McFerrin had just stuck with those Levi’s 501 commercials that he was doing a few years ago. But nooooo … if I saw one more “Don’t Worry, Be Happy” sweatshirt at the fair this summer, I would have gone out of my mind. 

This summer I also went to the beach and to Mount Hood. En route to these locales, going through such riveting, exciting towns such as Odell, Rhododendron, Hebo, Buell, Welches, Wemme and Wildwood, it made me feel that my social life isn’t so bad after all. In Rockaway Beach, the hot nightspot is Karla’s Krabs N’ Quiche. Barview reeked of fish. In Garibaldi, the main road (cleverly named Garibaldi Avenue) took me past the Ghost Hole Tavern, the Fanta-Sea Motel and a billboard that read, “Nail Fungus? Try Melaleuca Oil!” Oh, and those intelligent folks in Cannon Beach and Seaside! They numbered most of their streets (1st, 2nd, 3rd, etc.), but when the numbers got too high, they lettered their streets (Avenue U, etc.), and after they ran through the entire alphabet, they started in on the presidents, obviously naming streets only after the ones they could recall.

My mother was trying to convince me to go out to dinner with her the other night. She was talking to me on the phone, and when she said something that was so funny, I began writing it down. “It’s not like we get togetha [she has a Boston accent] all the time — birthing motha and son. I mean, your fatha didn’t even do anything [during labor] — he was in the otha room. It’s only a relationship a motha and child can have — boy or girl.” Oh, please….

In conclusion, I’d like to say that I’m just a player in the game of life who can’t seem to pass GO or collect $200. Thank you.

Originally published in The Clarion, October 27, 1989

Why is it that no matter how bad you look, when you get dressed while listening to your favorite song, you always think you look terrific? It can be very deceiving. Some days I have come to school and asked myself, “Why in the world did I wear this [i.e., the hot pink T-shirt]?” But then I remember that I was listening to Eurythmics that morning … if I were smart I’d get dressed each day to New Kids on the Block.

This is just one of a load of thoughts that are running through my mind as I write this. In fact, they’re probably running through my mind as you’re reading this.

Ah, yes, Thanksgiving has arrived — I’m wondering what Zsa Zsa and Jim Bakker, today’s most popular convicts, have planned for their respective holiday meals. I recently conjectured that the Bakkers just give Jim a lobotomy each year and feed off of his brain. It’s no wonder he’s been hiding under couches lately.

You know what commercials irk me more than any others? Besides Bobby McFerrin’s Ocean Spray ads, of course, I hate the deodorant commercial that exclaims, “Women sweat, too!” NO KIDDING. And I can’t stand the radio commercial in which some girl starts singing, “Oh! I love my shine-free makeup with the fresh water base! I love my shine-free fresh powder, brushed on my face!” Yuk! Also, regarding those commercials that feature someone coughing in the background for effect, I’ve always wondered if they’re all of the same guy coughing — a professional cougher, perhaps?

Speaking of coughing, I just realized that my mother is the only person on the face of the Earth who manages to make me feel guilty for coughing. Well excuuuuuse me! When I came down with a cold a few weeks ago, I found myself abstaining from coughing, because each time I would, I’d receive the same old lecture about zipping up my jacket more often, getting more sleep, etc.

Speaking of Mom, one thing I can say in her favor is that she doesn’t beat around the bush. Since I neglected to buy her anything for Christmas last year, the other day she asked me, “Jimmy, what are you getting me for Christmas this year? The same thing you got me last year?”

Yes, pressure. Pressure pressure pressure. I am greeted with it daily in my AP Calculus class. One of our homework problems involved determining the amount of time an air traffic controller had before two planes would run into each other (a Delta air traffic controller, could be?). Anyway, I tried picturing this situation in an air traffic control room. They’re trying to determine how long it will be before the planes crash into each other. (It turned out they had only 20 minutes.) I can just imagine some geek in the back of the room announcing, “Use calculus!”

And speaking of math, I must say that I am guilty of calculator abuse in the first degree. I drop my calculator (when it’s not in its case, I might add) every day. Inevitably. I confess.

God love him, but Billy Joel really gripes my guts. In “You’re Only Human (Second Wind),” he pleas with the listener to not commit suicide. If you went to go home to Christie Brinkley every day, you’d say the same thing.

Why, when finished washing my hands, do I make sure to return the soap to its dish such that the word “Dial” is right-side up? It makes about as much sense as why Tom Petty did a duet with Axl Rose on the MTV Video Awards. Oh well.

In conclusion, I wish to proclaim that my social life is as empty as the 140 calories in each Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup … which I eat at my home … alone. See ya.

Originally published in The Clarion, November 27, 1989

I have found my calling. You’ve all heard my aspirations to be the guy who glues together the first few turns of a toilet paper roll. I was even considering becoming a Bi-Mart bouncer, day after day ensuring that ONLY lifetime members walk in. But now I know what I want to be when I grow up: the guy who spreads the peanut butter on those new Ritz Bits with Peanut Butter.

I think that the city should begin constructing pressure-sensitive sidewalk corners, so you don’t have to push that button to get a walk signal anymore. I think that car manufacturers should begin installing moisture-sensitive windshields that detect when the windshield wipers should come on. Intermittent wipers, begone! They should also begin installing turn signals that blink at a uniform rate. Whenever I see a row of cars lined up at a traffic light, their blinkers are never blinking in unison. It makes me feel like spitting.

Speaking of driving, I also must say that I’ve noticed some peculiarities in the signs along highways. One read, “Unlawful to pass when solid line is in your lane.” If people don’t know this already, I sure as heck hope they aren’t on the road. I enjoyed the sign, “Entering Lincoln County Please drive friendly.” Or the “Congestion” sign put up in the middle of nowhere.

Q-tips have a virtual monopoly on the cotton swab market, and it’s becoming quite distressing to me. Why are handicapped parking spaces located closest to entrances, yet handicapped poddy stalls are always in the back?

I recently opened some junk mail addressed to “Resident.” My mother was furious: “You’re not a Resident! You just live here!”

What is to be said for the Jolly Green Giant, a man who has not even admitted to fathering that little Sprout kid out of wedlock? For that matter, what is to be said for housewives (SORRY — homemakers) who have nothing better to do with their time than write letters singing the praises of Tide with Bleach and describing in detail all of the blood stains it got out? Get a job!

And while I’m on the subject of aggravating television advertisements, I have come to the conclusion that the Burgerville guy (George Propstra), the Norelco guy (Victor Kiam) and the Tarn-X guy (?) are all really the same person. Those local TV ads are driving me up the wall, too. “Now that’s Tom Peterson’s — the happy place to buy — it’s worth the trip.” Trip, indeed. “Vancouver Furniture simply sells for less." Jim Radosta simply wants to assassinate those little brats who sing their jingle. “If you don’t come see me today, I can’t save you any money.” Now let’s be frank, folks. When I see Scott Thomason with his “children” on television, I cringe. I bet they’re paid actors.

In conclusion, just remember:

• Nothing could be finer than the taste of Aunt Jemima in the morning.
• Izzy’s is pizza plus a whole lot more.
• People who feign intelligence by quoting Voltaire are a bunch of feeble dunderheads.
• My social life is as slow as business is for Dirk Benedict’s (ex-Battlestar Galactica, ex-A-Team) agent.

Happy holidays.

Originally published in The Clarion, December 15, 1989

Guess what! I don’t have a pathetic social life anymore! Oh, rejoice!

I came to this enlightenment at the end of last year. Ethan and I were driving down the aftermath, the remains, of what used to be … the Gut. (We were NOT “cruising,” mind you, but driving — i.e. having the decency to actually use Lancaster Drive as a thoroughfare to get from point A to point B.) It was Christmas Day around 11pm, and Lancaster was empty. No place was open; nobody was around. As we were preparing to take a left turn and leave this awful sight, some gray lowered mini-truk with kustomized blazing red flames on the sides pulled up next to us. These poor, pathetic fellows — they obviously had not come to grips with the fact that the Gut is dead — or, in the immortal words of Mr. Kirkwood, “Done. Finished. Over.” Do people like this have to go through counseling? Gutaholics Anonymous — I can see it now. 

Shortly after Christmas, of course, the new decade began. It’s 1990 — only 10 years from now it will be THE YEAR 2000. What are people going to put on their letterman’s jacket, “00”? (I can just imagine the jokes — is that your graduation year or your I.Q.?) Why don’t they just abbreviate “00” to “ ”? What about the next year — “01” Or “1”? When will they begin printing checks with “20_” instead of “19_”? What will they refer to the first two decades of the millennium as? We have the ’80s … the ’90s … the single digits? … the teens?!

Why is it that “25¢” is read, “25 cents,” but “$25,” with the dollar sign before the 25, is still read as, “25 dollars”?

What purpose do artists such as Eddie Money serve in our ecosystem? He can’t sing worth beans, and all of his music is poorly written. Oh well. At this point you’re probably wondering what purpose Jim Radosta serves in our ecosystem, but I won’t justify that with a response.

Have you seen that brand name of bathroom suppliers, Towlsaver? The name implies that if you use their paper towels, you avoid having to use towels. Makes sense. But they also make toilet paper — who uses towels for that?

OK, I will justify that with a response. The purpose I serve in our ecosystem is to bring up and ponder mundane and insignificant things. Because I am a mundane and insignificant person. I am concerned about you, the reader (that’s a cliché). Like the time I made you all realize that we eat birthday cakes immediately after someone has just breathed all over it?! I know of many people who were profoundly affected by this point. If they had not read it, the population probably would have dropped drastically because of all the germs they’d have caught which would have caused illness and death. Or the weight of the average Oregonian would have gone sky high because of all the calories they’d have taken in. Heebie-jeebies, maybe Oregon would have weighed so much that our state would have fallen into the Pacific before California does. I feasibly just saved Oregon from a terrible fate.

Originally published in The Clarion, February 2, 1990

Well, the gravel is still on the ground from the sand trucks that traversed the city during the recent snowstorm. In case you’re wondering if there’s any truth to the rumor that seniors are going to have to make up that snow day as well as the underclassmen, NO! We don’t! Ha!

(If you’re trying to make a connection between the above news item of interest and the rest of my ramblings, DON’T BOTHER.)

On the intercom before and after school, why is it always, let’s say, “[NAME], if you’re in the building, would you please come to the main office?” If they are not in the building, how can they be expected to hear the announcement? Does this mean if they are outside of the front door, but they hear the announcement, then they aren’t allowed to come to the main office?

At the McDonald’s drive-thru, why is it always, let’s say, “[PRICE] at the second window”? Then why was the first window put there? Why do the soft drink lids at McDonald’s say “Diet” and “Other” on them? What a waste! Why not just have the “Diet” button on the lids? Does McDonald’s honestly think that their customers are so stupid that they cannot realize that if “Diet” is punched, it’s diet, and if it’s not, it’s something else? Also, why do they print “Diet” and “Other” on the lids in braille? The purpose of those little buttons is so that sighted people can differentiate between Coke and Diet Coke. For the blind, all it can do is tell them which drinks are diet. A lot of good that does them. What about Sprite and orange?

Speaking of differentiating, Calculus is split up into two branches — Differential Calculus and Integral Calculus. If one operation is known as “integration,” then why isn’t the other one “segregation”? Integration is also referred to as taking the “anti-derivative” of a function. Personally, I find the term “pro-integral” more to my liking.

And speaking of math, I still hold fast to the belief that, when the teacher asks the students to list on the board the problems they didn’t understand, little gnomes come into the math hall and put problems up there that nobody was confused about. That must explain why the math teachers, every day, must inquire, “Who asked about this problem?" (Either that or the student is still in the “denial” stage of math confusion.)

Out in East Salem I saw a sign on a farm that read: “FREE SAND.” I didn’t know sand was being oppressed.

I think that Don Henley should change the title of his song “Not Enough Love in the World” to “Not Enough Cashews in the World.” Really. If the norm all this time had been cashew butter instead of peanut butter, do we know — I mean, do we really know — what life would be like today? There may have been world peace!

On Wheel of Fortune, when a puzzle like “Raymond Burr as Perry Mason” comes on and like an “R” is selected, I always wonder how Vanna decides which of the five R’s to turn first. Also, the guys in the control room would never light up the R’s in the order they appear in the puzzle — I bet they purposely light up an R on top first, an R on the bottom second, and so on, so that Vanna has to bend over more often. Also, the Wheel writers must be so dried up, they are creating famous phrases to use as puzzles. Examples: “He told a big whopper” (?) and “What’s all the uproar.” My favorite is “President Bush’s veto.” So what? What is significant about President Bush’s veto?! If they can use that as a puzzle, couldn’t they also use, “Vanna White wears Army boots”? That makes just as much sense.

Why is it that houses are always, inevitably stocked up on light bulbs, but not on toilet paper? The necessity of one most certainly outweighs the necessity of the other….

Originally published in The Clarion, March 16, 1990

Ever looked up an odd word in the dictionary only to end up thinking, “They have a word for that?!”? Well, I have. In fact, just the other day, I came across penology (pronounced pee-knowledge-eee), the study of prison management and prison reform. Neato. “I want to be a penologist when I grow up.”Here are some more:

• meniscus: This is the word for that little dip that liquid makes at the top of a graduated cylinder. They created the word, I presume, so that science teachers could tell students to measure at the “meniscus” rather than at “that little dip.” “Doctor Bahler gave a sinister laugh as he stared at the meniscus in the test tube of newt’s blood.”
• embouchure (pronounced kind of like “I'm sure” except with a “buh” in the middle): This is the word for how a musician’s lips take shape around his or her instrument. Is such a word necessary? “Heather improved her embouchure only after years of practice.”
• ductile (pronounced like the television show Duck Tales except there’s a long “i” rather than a long “a” — and it’s singular): The ability to be drawn into wires. “The way Madonna dances in her ‘Vogue’ video, the ductility of her body seems quite feasible.”
• aglet: The plastic coating at the tips of shoelaces. Yes, there is a word for those little things. “The aristocrat judged the personality of the peon based on how tattered his aglets were.”
• coagulate: A word for blood clotting. “Doctor Bahler gave a sinister laugh as he stared at his victim’s coagulation in process — and then he picked the scabs off.”
• anticonstitutionality, anti-Transcendentalism, antidisestablishmentarianism: Figure it out. It’s not so much what these words mean, it’s just that words that take more than three seconds to utter should be abolished.

I wanted to share this vision of Earth Day I had when I woke up on Sunday: Couldn’t you just picture little kids all snuggled up in their beds on Earth Eve (not cozy warm — the heat is turned off to conserve energy), eagerly awaiting the arrival of Woodsy Owl, being pulled in his big red nest by eight flying spotted owls? In the morning, the kids run downstairs, where their stockings, filled with pine cones, are hanging above a drawing of a fire (not a real fire — that causes air pollution) in the fireplace. They then go outside, where all of their presents are sitting, wrapped in 100% recycled wrapping paper, under the Earth Tree (not a chopped-down Earth Tree — trees are a rare commodity). They exchange trash compactors and cloth diapers and boycott petitions and thank-yous until they are blue in the face. Mom goes inside to stuff the cabbage (not turkey — turkeys add to our ecosystem) in preparation for the big Earth Dinner. But it never gets eaten, because Grandma and Grandpa are forced to walk from Albuquerque rather than take an energy-consuming, gas-guzzling automobile, and they arrive two days late.

Originally published in The Clarion, April 27, 1990

Goodness, this is my final opportunity to get those burning questions out — to say what has to be said.

Is there the slightest chance that Paul Stanley of Kiss and Cher are the same person?

To whoever invented Nutter Butters, I would just like to say unto you: “You’re beautiful.” I could eat Nutter Butters until Mrs. Patterson stops giving hugs, high fives and handshakes. (Speaking of which — we haven’t heard that phrase over the announcements for quite some time — could something be wrong?)

Has anyone noticed that the name “Arrid Extra Dry” is downright redundant?

It really brands my booty every time I try to stack up a pile of sundry notebook papers to put away and none of the holes line up — none, I tell you! I think the government should impose a universal size for top, bottom, left and right margins and for spacing between three holes. No doubt about it.

During elementary school health units, did your teachers ever remind you to brush your tongue as well as your teeth? Have you ever tried this? Well I have, stupidly, and I can’t count the number of times I’ve gagged myself on my toothbrush!

If Joe Blow were to buy a mouse for his computer, and then he bought a computer with another mouse, would he then have computer “mice”?

Who decided that after television stations go off the air, they must broadcast that screeching tone that could shatter wine glasses in a Memorex commercial?

Well, this final installment of my column seems to be coming to a close. A couple of reflections on graduation … I think our class motto should be, “The Class of 1990 is pure chewing satisfaction.” Also, I must say that I am thankful that it’s almost all over, because I was getting an obtuse case of senioritis. During the winter, I found myself not doing my homework in the convoluted hope that the next day would be an emergency school closure. I was putting more faith in Mother Nature than I often put in myself.

Originally published in The Clarion, June 1, 1990