Friday, 3/27

If you had to pay residuals for the music stuck in your head, Jimmy Webb would own me right now.

As you may know, I have a problem (and right now, you indulge your snarky side and say, either out loud or quietly to yourself, “just ONE problem”?). That problem is this—I get a song stuck in my head, and it just won't leave. I can listen to other songs to try and cleanse my musical palate, but it doesn't work. That original song stays stuck there. I can even listen to it forty or fifty times in an attempt to get sick of it, but that doesn't seem to work, either.  I'm just stuck with a song on auto-repeat running through my brain until, for some mysterious reason, it stops.

I guess I'm just special that way.

The song that's been running through my head for about a week now? Well, it's written by the aforementioned Mr Webb and it's one of those over the top disco tunes that most people would be embarrassed to admit they like but that I, for some reason, tolerate. It was also used in a gold medal winning skating performance at the Winter Olympics last month, so it's been back in the public consciousness, so I'm sure that hasn't helped.  That over-the-top disco tune, written by Jimmy Webb, that's been lodged in my brain for over a week now?

Donna Summer's version of “MacArthur Park”.

That's right; a song that's widely regarded as one of the strangest (if not worst) ever written has taken over with little remains of my intellect. I don't know how and I don't know why; all I know is that it won't leave. I've actually awoken in the middle of the night with those stupid synth drums going “doooo” in my brain, and I wish I knew a way to stop it.

Unfortunately, I don't, and I just have to wait this out.

Seeing as how misery loves company, wanna stick it in your head, too? No, that's okay; you can thank me later.

8-)

(jim@wmqt.com), hoping to, perhaps even this weekend, be “MacArthur Park” free)

Thursday, 3/26

Five days later, I'm still processing what I saw.

A couple of months ago I wrote about how much I was looking forward to the release of “Project Hail Mary”, a movie based on one of my favorite books ever. While the trailers and clips released beforehand led me to believe that it would be a good movie, you can never trust trailers and clips. You have to see the whole work for yourself. And after finally seeing the whole work, what do I think?

I think that it's an awesome movie, and it did something that's insanely rare while adapting a book into a movie. Many of the scenes up on the screen looked very much like the scenes in my mind as I was reading (or re-reading the book).

I went and saw the movie Saturday, fully prepared to be a little disappointed, and when I wasn't I entered a place that I've rarely been sent to while watching a movie. When I left the theater and got into the car I actually had to sit for a few seconds and process what I just saw. Even now, five days later, my mind will flash back to a scene or a sound or a thought and I'll have the same reaction. I just have to sit for a second and go through what's running through my mind.

The last movie to do that to me? “The Martian”, also, like “Hail Mary”, based on a book by Andy Weir.

Having read “Hail Mary” five times (and counting), I had absolutely no problems knowing what was going on up on the screen. Part of me, though, wondered if people who hadn't read the book five times (and counting) would get what was going on in scenes where one line of dialogue might have replaced five pages of description. However, after speaking with a few people who watched the movie but hadn't read the book, it seems it wasn't an issue. They enjoyed the heck out of the flick, and didn't seem they missed anything.

Which is a good thing.

I know a lot of people don't go to theaters to watch movies any more (heck, even I don't go out to theaters to watch movies much any more), but if I may make a recommendation, if you wanna watch “Project Hail Mary” do so on as big a screen as possible. There's just so much visual information to take in during some scenes that you wanna catch as much of it as you can.

I guess that, in the end, it doesn't matter how you watch it, just make sure that some time you DO watch “Project Hail Mary”. You may not be like me, and still processing what you saw five days after the fact, but I'm pretty sure you will be entertained.

And with movies these days, that's saying something.

(jim@wmqt.com)

Wednesday, 3/25

Every so often, I'm reminded that the internet is actually good for something.

I have no idea how the conversation started, but a couple of days ago Loraine and I were talking about beer. For some reason, at that moment we both flashed upon a moment from our childhoods, both vaguely recalling that while we were growing up there was a shampoo made out of beer.. Neither of us could recall its name; in fact, we were both only about 80% sure that the product actually existed.. Since we were curious, I pulled out my phone, went to Google, typed in “70s beer shampoo”, and was rewarded with the rich (albeit brief) history of “Body on Tap”.

Yup; the 70s, which gave us such strange items as pet rocks, polyester clothing, and Gerald Ford, also gave us, for a year or two, a shampoo made out of beer. In fact, it was a product made by Budweiser, which, I'm guessing, made a little too much beer one day and needed to find a way to get rid of it.

Although I might not actually be correct about that.

Neither Loraine nor I believe we ever used the shampoo, although once again we may be incorrect about that. After all, I can barely remember what I had for breakfast 10 minutes ago. Asking us to remember what kind of shampoo we used 45 years ago?

Yeah, good luck with that.

So anyway, it's nice to know that every so often, the internet can be a force for good, as opposed to what most people use it for. In fact, not only can it confirm that there WAS indeed a shampoo made of out of beer decades ago, it can even provide a TV commercial touting it--

We live in amazing times, don't we?

8-)

(jim@wmqt.com)

Tuesday, 3/24

Am I weird in that I actually like flying?

As Loraine and I are getting ready to (hopefully) head to Germany in just over a month, I find myself actually getting excited that I get to fly somewhere soon. I know; it's strange. Most people look upon flying somewhere with the same enthusiasm they would have looking forward to a root canal. But not me. For some reason, even when faced with a TSA slowdown and the fact that it takes 20-some hours to get where we're going, I actually get excited that I'm gonna be up in the air soon.

Go figure.

I don't know why I always so look forward to flying. I just do. And before you think I'm totally insane, know that I am fully aware of the hassle of flying. I know what it's like having to stand in long security lines. I know what it's like losing luggage. And although I've never had to deal with a situation like someone I know had to last week, when her Sunday night flight from Detroit to Marquette didn't actually make it to Marquette until Wednesday night), I know first hand what it's like having to make a short connection or re-book a canceled flight.

Yet, I still look forward to doing it.

I suppose, if I had to think about it, that maybe it's because I like the romance of flying. Not romance as falling head over heels in love, and not romance as in joining the Mile High Club, but just the “romance” of doing something out of the ordinary and going somewhere special. Maybe I like it because flying is a gateway to an adventure. And that's true. But it still wouldn't account for the fact that I even enjoy the flights home after the “adventure” is finished. I still enjoy boarding the plane, spending hours gazing out the window and watching the world slip by below me, and I still enjoy the rhythm of life that's unique to an airport.

I can't explain why. I just do.

Ask me again in mid-May after we've experienced whatever's gonna happen during our flights to Europe and back. But you know what? Even if something bad were to happen, even if I spent a lot of time afterward grumbling about it, I'd probably still harbor a weird, secret wish--

That I'd be able to fly again, and fly again soon.

(jim@wmqt.com)

Monday, 3/23

Black jellybeans. Never, ever black jellybeans.

Loraine and I took our annual Easter shopping trip out to Harvey this past weekend; Lofaro's for everything I'll need to make Easter dinner, and Snyder Drug just to check out their collection of Easter goodies. While perusing all of the choices from which we could choose, we came across the one Easter candy that's so bad, so horrid, that it threatens to turn a person off of sugar and yummy treats forever. Which Easter goody is so bad, so horrid, that it threatens to do that for me?

Black jellybeans.

Unlike, say, the tale I've mentioned several times about how bananas (literally) make me throw up, I've never ever liked black jellybeans. And I'll be the first to admit it's the taste of them. While I like anise in cookies and LOVE the taste of anise in that weird German Fennel-Anise-Caraway Seed tea I drink, the taste of it in black jellybeans (and its weird cousin, black licorice) just turns my stomach. Unlike bananas, I don't know why it turns my stomach. It just does. And it's not even because I force-fed myself so many black jellybeans that I made myself sick, like I did with bananas when I was two or three. I don't think I could ever eat that many black jellybeans, because I just don't like the taste.

If that makes me a freak, so be it, because I know there are a LOT of people who love black jellybeans. I know of people who'll buy a bag of nothing BUT black jellybeans and eat them one after the other. But not me. Any other color of jellybean is fine; heck, I even like those bubble-gum flavored Jelly Bellys that make some people wretch.

But black jellybeans? Nope. I'll leave those for you.

So if you happen to see me being offered jellybeans sometime in the next few weeks (not that you would, but never say never), you can rest assured that I'll happy munch down on the red ones, the green ones, the yellow ones, the blue ones, and even the bubble gum ones. But the black ones?

I think I'll pass.

(jim@wmqt.com)

Friday, 3/20

Here are two pictures to wrap up one of the weirdest weeks in recent history.

As you know, we had a LOT of snow the past ten days. The Weather Service in Negaunee recorded the snowiest week in the 64 years since they moved up there, and while we had 20 inches of white stuff dumped upon us here in the city, our friends out at KI Sawyer are still digging out from the 54 inches (four and a half feet!) of snow they've endured since last weekend.

So I guess I wasn't too surprised when I got home last night and Loraine told me that I needed to head a few blocks over from where we live to see a tunnel that someone had tried to snow blow through a drift.

I present to you the sidewalk on the east side of Pine Street, by Williams Park--

I have NO idea why someone took a snowblower through the drift, although I'm guessing it was just to say they did it. And if you wondering just how high those walls of snow are, here's a picture of a dork standing inside of it--

Now, I'm 5-10 and a half (the average high of an American male, if you're curious) and the walls of snow are at least a foot and a half above my head. THAT'S how much snow was in that drift, and that's how much snow someone had to blow through just to make that narrow path. How they managed to get a snowblower through the drift remains a mystery, but I do have to admit that I stand in awe of their accomplishment.

Especially after the week we've had.

Hopefully, this upcoming weekend is a lot lot more peaceful than the past week. After what we've been through, I'm pretty sure that we deserve it.

Have a great one yourself!

(jim@wmqt.com)

Thursday, 3/19

Once or twice a year, the jacket comes in handy.

This is the jacket of which I'm speaking--

It's been sitting on the back of my office door for, geez, 15 or so years now.  A couple of times a year, when it's cold in our studio and I (like a dummy) haven't dressed like I should, I'll slip it on, be warm, and be thankful that I have it.

Everyone needs a jacket like that, right?

Now, if you look at the picture closely, you may be thinking to yourself “Jim...why do you have a personalized Checker Cab jacket hanging on your office door?”  And that would actually be a good thought to have.  You see, I have a personalized Checker Cab jacket on my office door because of a contest we did with the company in the early teens, our “Trivia Taxi” contest, where a Checker Cab would pick up a listener and drive them around Marquette while I asked them trivia questions.

And yes, it WAS a blatant rip-off of the TV show “Cash Cab”.  I don't think we ever denied that.

8-)

Anyway, the contest went on for several months, and during that time the then owner of Checker, Jesse Schram, who also doubled as the taxi driver of whom participants could ask advice, gave me the jacket in appreciation for the contest.  Since then, I've used it as my “office” jacket on those occasions when it's needed.  And trust me—this winter, especially the past week or so, it's been needed.

So if you ever come into the station on a chilly day and notice a Checker Cab jacket on me, that's why.  I haven't traded jobs or anything.  I'm just using a gift from a long-ago contest, a gift that after 15 or so years is still much appreciated.

(jim@wmqt.com)