Friday, 2/26

 Just what the heck is going on down in Georgia?

We started this week with a story about a phone call from that state, and we'll end it with one, as well. The one I received yesterday from a caller in Georgia wasn't another about a guy wanted to buy some magic pills, which makes me think (if you recall reading on Monday) that he just dialed the wrong number. Nope; the call I got yesterday was from a gentleman who had just received a threatening phone call from the IRS, promising to throw him in jail if he didn't pay up unpaid taxes. And the call came from our main station phone number.

Yup. We've been spoofed.

I don't know if you know about “spoofing”; it's when a scammer (like someone posing as the IRS and threatening an individual) disguises the phone number from which they're calling and instead feeds a false number to someone's caller ID. In this case, they just happened to use our main station phone number. The funny thing, if there is a funny thing about it, is that 1). the gentleman knew it was a scam, and immediately hung up after hear what the caller was threatening, and b). a long time ago he was stationed at KI Sawyer, and knew where the 906 area code was.

So he wanted to let us know what was going on.

The more we rely on technology the more opportunities there seem to be for unscrupulous people. That's why I'm glad the gentleman who called was savvy enough to figure out that we weren't trying to separate him from his money. But it's still...discomforting to know that something like a phone number can be used in that way. I just have to wonder how many other people have received calls from what appeared to be our number, when in reality it was probably some Russian scammer or Albanian mob member.

Kids these days.

Anyway, hope you have a great weekend, one free of spoof calls. Hopefully, I'll be able to make through the next few days without receiving any more phone calls from the state of Georgia. The two in the past week have been interesting enough!

(jim@wmqt.com)

Thursday, 2/25

 Do you even know what day it is any more?

I've been noticing this quite a bit recently. Is it Monday? Is it Wednesday? Is it February? Does it even matter? There are, and I'm not kidding here, days when I wake up, work out, eat breakfast, and go to work, not even knowing the day or date until I get into work and actually have to know that information.

Thankfully, I haven't yet done that on a weekend, but it would not surprise me in the least if it happened.

I can't say I'm surprised by that fact. As we're getting ready to wrap up the 14^th month of 2020 the concept of time seems to be a fleeting thing at best. Days and months roll into each other with a steady rhythm, and any concept of time passing in the real world seems to have gone the way of being in a crowd or having a dry cough and not having to worry about it.

I guess, if nothing else, the past 11 months have been an interesting temporal experiment. People are always claiming that time goes by too quickly, and with the lives that we led, pre-pandemic, that was true. But now that we've spent almost an entire year in this warped sense of reality, living a humdrum life and not doing anything exciting that would set one day apart from any other, you get a sense of what life may have been like for people who roamed the savannas 30,00 years ago. They didn't have to get up and go to a job every day. Their job was to get enough food and not get eaten by a tiger. They didn't have a work week and a weekend. Finding food and not getting eaten by a tiger. That was their life day in and day out.

With the exception of not getting eaten by a tiger, a whole lot of people have lived that kind of life the past eleven months.

I can imagine that there are a whole bunch of people who are eager to get back to a life where time just whizzes by, where you wake up Monday morning and, before you know it, it's a Friday night. And I have to admit that there are many times that I wouldn't mind it myself. But I also think it's interesting that we've gotten a glimpse of another kind of life, one where it doesn't matter what day of the week it is.

I don't know if I'd want to live my whole life that way—after all, I really don't need to wake up & go to work, only to discover that it's a Saturday—but it's been an interesting aspect to an interesting year.

(jim@wmqt.com)

Wednesday, 2/24

 The timing couldn't have been better.

I can't divulge any details yet, but you know how I write all those history articles for the Mining Journal? The ones I usually forget about until they're published, and then I'm shocked by their appearance? Well, I wrote another one this past weekend, which will come out next week. That in itself isn't a big deal.

But what happened yesterday MAY have been a big deal.

I was given access to a plethora of historical material as part of a project I may be doing in the very near future. Buried within that material was a bunch of first-hand documentation about the story I'd just written for the Mining Journal. Everything about the story came from newspaper articles and second- or third-hand accounts, and while I was going through all the material and noticed, in one of the biggest coincidences in the history of coincidences, first-hand, contemporary documentation of everything about which I had just written, I was flabbergasted.

Just flabbergasted.

I didn't have pictures of the event about which I wrote; now I do. I didn't have “official” accounts of the event about which I wrote; now I do. I really don't have to change anything about the story, although I could make it a little longer, both with quotes from what I found and for a little more context. The funny thing is the story was a little long to begin with; I really don't need to make it longer.

Even if I now have all this new stuff about it!

Hopefully, this will all make a little more sense when the article comes out next week and I can share a little of my new found treasure trove. I'll be going through the material for quite a while, and who knows—maybe I can even expand upon the article in the future, maybe even in another form of media. Doesn't really matter. Like I said, it may have been one of the biggest coincidences in the history of coincidences, and I know it means one thing--

This is one newspaper article I won't forget about right after writing it.

(jim@wmqt.com)

Tuesday, 2/23

 It's been 48 hours. Why am I still so sore?

Now, if I was a different kind of person, I'd end the blog right there. I'd write that opening line, and I'd just walk away, leaving everyone to wonder just what the heck I've been doing in my spare time. You could let your imaginations run wild, and start to construct all kinds of bizarre scenarios as to why I'm still sore 48 hours after I did whatever I did. But thankfully, at least for you, I'm not that kind of person. So I'll explain why I'm still sore after 48 hours.

I'm still sore after 48 hours because I went cross-country skiing for the first time this year Sunday.

I know; kinda mundane, isn't it? Here, I'm sure that you had developed all kinds of bizarre or violent or kinky reasons as to why I was still sore 48 hours after doing something, and I had to go ruin it by explaining what actually happened. Sorry about that. Just think of it as another case of reality coming nowhere near the expectations that we set for ourselves. But it's true—because there was a brief window Sunday before the light snow on the ground started to melt and because here it is, the end of February and conditions (at least in Marquette) have not yet allowed me to ski at all this year, I figured I would grab my skis, walk over to the Fit Strip, and get a few laps in.

Which is what I did. And which is why I'm still sore.

Now, it's not like I'm not in shape. Anyone who reads this knows that I'm really active. I run a lot, I work out a lot, and I walk everywhere. Although it sounds very narcissistic for me to say it, I'm in really good shape (especially, you may add if you wish, for someone my age). I should be able to ski four and a half miles without any pain or any problems. When I finished my laps of the south loop of the Fit Strip (the only part with enough snow to groom), I felt great. I felt like I could do a couple of more. And I almost did. But then I remembered a sad fact, gleaned from almost three decades of skiing--

No matter how far or how little I go, I'm always sore the day after skiing for the first time.

You wouldn't think that gliding over snow would be that strenuous, but you'd be wrong. Even though I run three or four days a week, skiing uses different leg muscles. Even though I lift weights three days a week, using your ski poles uses an entirely different set of arm muscles. And because those muscles haven't been used in that particular way since I last skied--last March, before 2020 unleashed all of its insanity—I totally understand why they've been sore for the past 48 hours.

And I didn't even do anything weird/bizarre/kinky to cause it. Sorry to disappoint you. Sorry to be so mundane. If you'd like, if I'm sore the next time I go skiing, I'll make something up. I'll make up a reason as to why I'm still sore 48 hours later, and that fake reason will may very well exceed whatever scenario that you could cook up in your mind.

I promise.

(jim@wmqt.com)

Monday, 2/22

 That was an interesting phone call.

While I was toiling away at work Friday, trying to get all the stuff done that I needed to get done, I received a phone call on our main station business line. Since I'm the only one working here, I felt compelled to answer it. The call went something like this--

Jim--“Hi, WMQT”

Guy--“Howdy. Are you having a good day?”

Jim--“Sure”

Guy--“Glad to hear it. Now, I’m calling about that offer you had on TV this morning. You know, about those pills that will make your, you know, your “thing” bigger”.

Jim--“Excuse me?”

Guy on the phone--“You know...those pills you just ran a commercial for. The pills that make you grow bigger. I need ‘em”.

Jim (not sure if this is a joke or something serious)--“Sir, this in a radio station. In Michigan”.

Guy on the phone--“Well, I’m in Georgia, and I thought you were selling those pills. I just saw your commercial on TV”.

Jim--“Well, one, we’re a radio station, and two, well, we’re a radio station. In Michigan”.

Now, by this point, you would’ve thought the caller would’ve just given up. But, no, he was convinced that we were selling those magic pills. And what’s more, he launched into this whole spiel about why he needed them, a conversation about which I will spare you the details because, in all honesty, my brain’s still reeling from an extreme case of “Too Much Information” overload. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that it’s all a scam; I really doubt any kind of pills, even if they exist, would help him.

I'm not quite sure why we were the lucky recipients of the call. My best guess would be a typo on the phone number on the TV spot, but that's just a guess. I have no concrete idea and no concrete proof.  If I keep getting the calls, then my guess might be proven correct. But if this was a one-off call, something never to be repeated again, then maybe the guy just dialed the wrong number. Maybe AT&T (or whichever service he uses) wanted to play a practical joke on him (or me). Or maybe, just maybe, we can just chalk it up to this being the 14^th month of 2020.

Nothing would surprise me any more

(jim@wmqt.com), who may (or may not) answer the phone at work today.

Friday, 2/19

Look! Absolutely nothing about “Hong Kong Phooey”. Unless, of course, you consider THAT a mention about “Hong Kong Phooey”, in which case I broke my promise of yesterday, but other than that, absolutely nothing about “Hong Kong Phooey”.

Or, uhm, something like that.

Anyway, a century or so ago I promised a story about writing; specifically, how sometimes things just pop into your head and there's nothing you can do except channel it into whatever medium you use. Case in point--

I woke up around 8 Tuesday morning, and had an idea that just seemed to have come out of nowhere. While I was working out I wrote it in my head. While I was eating breakfast I found pictures for it. When I got to work I recorded the audio for it, then edited it. And just a little over two hours after I woke up with an idea that seemed to have come out of nowhere I had this video posted--

This is not the first time an idea has popped into my head fully formed, and I'm hopeful it won't be the last. As always, I'm somewhat baffled by the creative process, and why it seems to choose the dorkiest people out of which to flow. I'm just thankful that, for whatever reason, I'm one of its spigots.

8-)

Have yourself a great weekend!

(jim@wmqt.com)

Thursday, 2/18

 I know I’ve spent almost this entire week mentioning, in one way or another, the cartoon “Hong Kong Phooey”. I wasn’t going to talk about it at all today; in fact, I had promised a story about writing. But listener & daily blog reader Kristin in Marquette, who sent me the note Tuesday that kind of started the whole thing, wrote back again wondering if there is indeed such a thing as the “Hong Kong Phooey” doll I mentioned owning.

Kristen--NEVER doubt the power of “The Number One Super Guy” (at least, Number One Super Guy if you believe the cartoon’s theme song)--

As I was taking the picture of my doll, I realized a little something. Hong Kong Phooey bears an eerie resemblance to another animated superhero, Underdog. Don’t believe me?

Hmmmm. What’s weird is that the two cartoons were produced 10 years apart by entirely different production companies, yet they share some amazing physical characteristics. Maybe there’s something in this we’re not supposed to know about. Maybe ALL cartoon canine superheroes share some DNA, or come from a secret superhero puppy farm where they’re trained to fetch, roll over, and vanquish bad guys.

Hmmmm. That may be something I’ll have to ponder over the next few days.

Okay. I THINK that does it as far as our discussion of “Hong Kong Phooey” goes. I know I've had enough of it. Tomorrow, that story about writing. Even if Hong Kong Phooey (or his doppelganger) raise their head again.

8-)

(jim@wmqt.com)

Wednesday, 2/17

 Okay, you may not believe this, but “Hong Kong Phooey” has struck again.

No, I’m not talking about my childhood love for the cartoon, nor the blog written about it yesterday. Instead, I’m talking about how just the name “Hong Kong Phooey” made me remember something I’d totally forgotten about for over a decade. Here’s the story--

I write a LOT. Not just these blogs, not just notes & letters, not just promos and and newscasts and other station stuff, not just all the stuff I do for the History Center, but I’m always dabbling with things that pop into my brain...stories, parodies, fake commercials, and whatnot. Sometimes, they end up on the air or on the web. Oftentimes, they don’t. And that's why I hadn’t thought of something for over a decade, until “Hong Kong Phooey” reminded me of it.

Because this particular concept never got past the writing stage.

Sometime in the 90s, and I don't even remember when, something popped into my head while running (between that and taking a shower, the two activities that seem to provide me with the greatest of creative sparks). It was an idea for a audio “cartoon”; basically, little 5 or 7 minute segments about 2 characters, one smart and one not, who found themselves facing wacky & improbable adventures. I actually wrote the script for one of them, with a plot involving caricatures of Arnold Swartzenegger and Axl Rose, as well as a murderous Teddy Ruxpin doll and the heretofore unknown terrorist arm of Up With People.

You don’t think THAT was a lawsuit waiting to happen?

Why did it take “Hong Kong Phooey” to remind me about this whole thing? Well, one of the stupid running gags I had running through the script was the attachment the “dumb” character had to a “HKP” lunch box, a lunch box that eventually held the resolution to the story.

I know. Go figure.

Anyway, the concept was waaaaaaaaay too involved, both writing and production-wise (and paid a little too much of a homage to my real favorite cartoon of all time “Rocky & Bullwinkle”), so I never did anything with it after writing the script. Sadly, I don’t even know where that is anymore; after moving four or five times since writing it, I’m sure it’s in a box somewhere. I just have no idea in which box.

Or where that box may be.

Speaking of writing, that reminds me. I have a story to share. That's tomorrow unless, of course, “Hong Kong Phooey” rears his head again. And the way this week is going, you never know.

8-)

(jim@wmqt.com)

Tuesday, 2/16

 “’Hong Kong Phooey’??????????”

So read the note (in its entirety) I received last night from a listener, who was listening late yesterday when I started to talk about something and then saw everything moves sideways until I tried to extricate myself out of it by mentioning the cartoon and how much I liked it as a kid.

Some days, I really don't think I'm cut out for this radio thing.

But yes, I actually did reference an obscure cartoon from the 1970s. You see, before I discovered (as an adult) the verbal joy of listening to (and watching) “Rocky & Bullwinkle”, “Hong Kong Phooey” was indeed one of my favorite cartoons as a kid.

Now, I’ll admit “HKP” is probably not the first cartoon from our youth that most of us would recall, but for a small and certifiably, uhm, intelligent group of us, the “number one super guy” was the best reason to get up on a Saturday morning. HKP was actually Penrod Pooch, mild-mannered police janitor, who would slip into a file cabinet, change into a kung fu robe, and go out to fight crime whenever the need arose. Of course, he actually sucked at it, and kind of stumbled into solving the mysteries, but that was one of the charms of the show, and maybe why those of us who liked it really liked it.

Unfortunately “Hong Kong Phooey” was never marketed the way some classic cartoons have been. I think I may have the only toy ever made of a character from the show, a stuffed “Hong Kong Phooey” doll that sits on a shelf in our apartment. I was so excited when I found it in a store a bunch of years ago that I thought I was gonna cry. Loraine just looked at me and shook her head in bemusement.

This may be hard to believe, but she does that a lot. Or maybe it's not THAT hard to believe...

Like so many things from youth, I watched an episode of the show a few years ago and was, well, underwhelmed. The animation was very bad, and the story itself kinda creaky, but I still did find a great deal of joy in hearing the late, great Scatman Crothers voice the title character. And while I don’t know that I’d watch the 17 episodes of the show over and over and over (like I did as a kid, and like I still do with “Rocky & Bullwinkle”) I did indeed purchase the DVD of the show, just to have it.

One of these days, in fact, I might even watch it!

So, Kristin of Marquette, that’s the story of “Hong Kong Phooey”, and why I used it in a vain attempt to make people think that I'm not as stupid as I seem to be. We all have our dirty little secrets; I guess “Hong Kong Phooey” is one of mine.

8-)

(jim@wmqt.com)

Monday, 2/15

 Guess I can cross that one off the bucket list.

First of all, I had a very nice three day weekend, thanks for asking. I didn't get to ski or snowshoe (too cold, and still not enough snow here in the city) but I did get to do one thing I kind of thought I'd never actually get to do.

I got to walk inside DSS&A dock #6, the legendary downtown Marquette ore dock.

The bitterly freezing temperatures, lack of major snow, and strange wind patterns have done something that rarely happens—freeze the ice in Lower Harbor and not have it break up due to wave action. As a result the harbor has a foot of ice on it, and people have been going out in droves to skate and bike on what is normally open water, and to just walk around places you could never in decades reach by foot.

For Loraine and me, that was walking through the ore dock yesterday afternoon.

Oh, we were joined by lots of others...

 

But the sights in there were ones I never thought I'd see.

 

We also walked out to the remains of the old Cleveland/Spear dock, the oldest existing pilings in the harbor, where a history geek needed to get his picture taken

 

Since Ripley's Rock was right there, why not?

And like I said, we weren't alone...

 

Everybody seems to be taking advantage of a situation that may not occur again in the lifetimes of some, and it turned a day with temperatures around zero and wind chills 20 degrees below that into a day that most of us will never forget.

(jim@wmqt.com)

Thursday, 2/11

 Maybe it'll actually work out.

I'm taking the day off tomorrow in a vain attempt to use up all the vacation time I've accumulated in the last two years. As you know, I'm not the kind of person to take time off during the winter, but I did take a day last month to see if I could get some skiing or snowshoeing in. Of course, it was forty and rainy that day, which means I could do neither, but we'll give it a try again tomorrow.

Keep your fingers crossed.

Earlier this week I was highly doubtful I would get to do either activity. There is a lack of major snow on the ground around here and the temperature's been averaging 30,000 below zero all week. However, Friday the high is supposed to be 13, and there's a 50% chance of a couple of inches of fresh snow by then, which means that if I was really desperate I could bundle up and see if I could glide my cross-country skis across it without breaking any bones.

And perhaps I really AM that desperate.

We'll see how it goes. If the wind chill's too bad I can just stay inside and play with my new video editing program. If there is no new snow I could just bundle up & run, or just choose to take the day off and rest my weary muscles. I'm cool either way. In fact, the only way I'm NOT cool is that I just realized I just wrote a paragraph that basically says I'm looking forward to snow.

This past year really HAS affected us in strange ways, hasn't it?

8-)

So wish me luck. I have no idea what I'll be doing tomorrow, but the important thing is that I won't be doing it at work. I'll be giving myself a three day weekend. Sadly, that means no blog tomorrow and just a bunch of “best of” stuff on the air. But let me reiterate something--

I have a three day weekend. And that's all that matters.

Have a good two or three or how ever many days your weekend is, as well!

(jim@wmqt.com)

Wednesday, 2/10

 Mayer Hawthorne is literally invading my dreams.

Why has a neo-soul singer hardly anyone's ever heard of popping up in my subconscious each and every night for the last week and a half? Well, it has to do with my work situation. As you know, I'm coming up on eleven months of working alone. Because of that, I often listen to music in my office while toiling away. Because no one else is around to complain, I can often listen to the same music over and over, which is a bizarre habit of mine. In fact, I've been doing that with Hawthorne's new “Rare Changes” album for the past couple of weeks. I'll listen to it, then listen to it again, then listen to it for a third time in a row just for added emphasis.

Is there any wonder why songs from it keep popping up in my dreams?

Really, they do. I'll be gliding through whatever absurd situation my brain comes up with while I'm sleeping when, right in the middle of me climbing into a rocket or becoming Katy Perry's stage manager (both of which I've dreamt the past few days), a song from the new Mayer Hawthorne album pops into my head. It's always a different song; after all, apparently, my dreams don't want me to get bored. But invariably, no matter what I'm dreaming, a Mayer Hawthorne song will pop into it.

I guess I'm just lucky that way.

(And, as an aside, what kind of guy has a dream about Katy Perry and dreams that he's becoming her stage manager???)

Yes, I know it would probably stop if I didn't listen to the album so much. But you know what? I like it. It's a good piece of work. And I need something to keep me company while I toil away in obscurity. Besides, I'm now kind of curious to see how long this keeps going. If I were to listen to the album three times a day for the next month would my dreams still be interrupted on a nightly basis? If I stop. Will they go away?

Or, I guess, I could start listening to Katy Perry non-stop and see where THAT leads.

8-)

So you know what I'm babbling about, here's a sample of what pops into my dreams each and every night these days--

(jim@wmqt.com)

Tuesday, 2/9

 Really, Tom Brady? Really?

As you may recall, I wrote yesterday's blog before finding out the score of Sunday's Super Bowl. As soon as I posted the blog I checked the score and had to fight temptation all day long to update it with all sorts of language that I'm sure wouldn't be acceptable in a forum such as this.

You're welcome.

8-)

All I can say is that I'm glad we followed Loraine's plan and didn't watch the game live. I don't know that I would have made it out alive. And I'm quite sure that I missed absolutely nothing by scanning through the game on my DVR and just watching the commercials and The Weeknd. That way I saved myself three and a half hours of screaming, sighing, and the development of an ulcer. So I'm cool with that.

(And for those of you who don't know about my...antipathy for Tom Brady, just realize I'm a Colts fan, and most of the 00's and the teens were a nightmare. That's all I'm going to say about that).

I watched the good parts last night. As far as The Weeknd's show, I was quite impressed. I've discovered that's not a popular opinion with anyone who's over, say, 40 and doesn't know his music, but I am (familiar with his music, that it). I think he did a great job, and the production values for the entire bit just blew me away. I would have to put it in the top ten of Super Bowl halftimes shows of all time. Admittedly, the bar has been set kind of low for a goo pd halftime show, but I quite enjoyed it.

As for the commercials? Will Ferrell was funny. The dude who sang in the Oatly commercial must live in a state where weed is legal. And Jeep?

Really, Jeep? Forget something in your map?

Now if only they'd forgotten to put Tom Brady in the Super Bowl. If only...

(jim@wmqt.com), now with nothing football-related to complain about until next year!

Monday, 2/8

 As I write this, I have no idea who won.

I know; weird, isn't it? The Super Bowl finished 10 or so hours ago, and I have no idea who won. I've been studiously avoiding social media before writing this, just so I could write something about how, once again because my football bete noire was playing in it, I didn't watch the game and couldn't tell you (at this moment) if Tom Brady once again ripped my heart out or (less likely) how Kansas City broke both of his legs while America stood up to cheer.

I'm guessing it'll be the former, but a boy can dream, right?

Instead of watching the game Loraine and I followed the fool-proof plan she came up with a few years ago, maybe even the last time Brady was in the Super Bowl and I spent too much time complaining about it. We made ourselves a pizza and ate while watching a couple of “Star Wars” movies. There was no heartache involved, no gnashing of teeth nor rendering of garments.

There was even a little laughter, which NEVER occurs when Tom Brady is in the Super Bowl.

I did DVR the game, though, and I'll check it out tonight. That way, if Tom Brady ripped my heart out I can scan through that part and watch the commercials and The Weeknd. And if Kansas City broke both of his legs while America stood up & cheered?

Well, my DVR has a slow-motion function on it. I can watch it happen over and over and over again. And I can watch the commercials and The Weeknd. That would be a GREAT way to spend a Monday night.

8-)

(jim@wmqt.com)

Friday, 2/5

 Seeing as how it didn't work out last time, maybe it will this time.

Last month, as you may recall, I took a day off to do a couple of things, among them hoping to cross-country ski for the first time all winter. And, as you may recall, I ended up running in shorts—in the rain—instead.

Have I mentioned it's been a weird winter up here this year?

Well, I'm going to take next Friday off and try to do it all over again. The original plan was for us to get a lot of snow today, and provide me a base with which to play with my cross-country skis and/or snowshoes.  However, here in the city we received only two or three inches instead of the 12 in the forecast.  There wasn't even enough to cancel school here in Marquette.  Or at least there wasn't enough to close schools in Marquette until TV-6 accidentally announced classes were cancelled and they had to shut down because of that (Oops).  Now we're left with downright cold temperatures the next week, and there goes my first stated reason for taking next Friday off.

Some day this winter I might be able to ski or snowshoe in the city of Marquette.  Someday.  

I'm sure I'll find something to do next Friday.  After all, I did last month when I didn't get to ski and/or snowshoe.  I'm not even gonna let the extra work I have to do to take the day off bother me.  After all, I did enjoy my three-day weekend last month. I'm sure I'll enjoy it this month. And who knows—maybe one of these months I might even be able to bump it up to a four day weekend or, dare I say, even a five day weekend.

THAT would be a miracle.  Almost as much as me being able to cross-country ski at least once this winter!

On that note, have yourself a great weekend. Enjoy (hopefully) watching Tom Brady getting pole-axed into the ground over and over Sunday night. To my favorite youngest niece in the whole world...Syd, have a great birthday today. And to my favorite father in the whole world...Chicky-Poo, YOU have a great birthday Sunday. Stay out of trouble, too!

8-)

(jim@wmqt.com)

Thursday, 2/4

 It's a good thing I'm not superstitious. Or, in this case, maybe it's a bad thing I'm not superstitious.

Yesterday it was my turn to put Loraine's gas in the car. Even though I don't own it, I still drive it, so I pay for half the upkeep (yes, even the dead batteries). I put gas in it because the tank was getting down near half, and it's been, uhm, since before Thanksgiving since we last bought it, so I figured I should fill it up.

Everyone should do that at least once every two and a half months, right? And yes, I'll shut up now.

8-)

Anyway, I filled it up and went to see how much I put in. I don't remember what the cost was, but I do remember just how much gas went in the tank--

5.555 gallons. Freaky, huh?

That's a, what? One in 10,000 chance that that number pops up? I know I've never remembered how much gas I've purchased all the other times I've filled up a tank, but I'm guessing I may remember thie one for a while.

5.555 gallons.

Because I'm not a superstitious person I realize that it was just random chance that that number popped up. If you fill your tank 10,000 times, odds are that one of those times will see you pumping exactly 5.555 gallons. It's just math. It's just probability. It's just science.

However, if I WERE a superstitious person I'd take this as a sign. I'd start to wonder if there was something cosmically aligning about the number five, and I'd rush out and buy as many lottery tickets I could that had combinations of the number. I'd sit in anticipation, waiting to see if lightning struck twice.

But, alas, I'm not superstitious. I know that the odds of both my pumping 5.555 gallons of gas and those being the winning lottery numbers are, like, infinitesimal. So maybe it's a good thing I'm not superstitious. It'll save me a buck, or however much a lottery ticket costs these days.

That being said, if you ARE superstitious, so ahead and give it a try. Maybe you can change my mind...and make yourself a little money in the process.

(jim@wmqt.com)

Wednesday, 2/3

 I must be a sucker for punishment. That's the only explanation.

As you may recall, over the past year I've used my laptop to produce 40-some short history video pieces, an hour long documentary on Third Street, and a 100-minute slide show with my pal Jack. Thanks to a purchase I just made, I think I've kind of committed myself to doing it all over again.

Oops.

I mean, it's not like anyone's sticking a gun to my head, or anything, and I've actually had a blast producing all the content I've been producing. And that may be why I went out and purchased an upgrade to my video editing software...a very big upgrade.

How big, you ask? Well, I answer, I went from version 12 of the program to version 19. And that's, like, a lot of upgrades, right?

The new version of the program is quite cool. If I had any talent in the area I could do animation, the editing aspect of it is much smoother, and if I chose to do so I could actually produce content in 4K Ultra HD.

Not that I want to, but I could.

So, what am I going to do with all this new capability? Well, to play around with it and see what it can do I'm planning on doing another series of those “Pieces of the Past” shorts. Not 40-some of them like last year, but a few, just so I get the hang of the software. Then, I keep telling everyone that one of my cancelled tours from 2020, “The Greasier the Spoon”, would make a great documentary, and I actually have done a little prep work on it. And for another “then”, then I could also throw together video versions of some of the older shows I've done for the History Center, both because I have everything I need and because, I suppose, they should be recorded for posterity. Or at least for someone to view in the future and laugh at just how much of a dork I was.

We'll see. I don't want to commit myself to anything concrete, and I certainly don't want to destroy what little is left of my brain by trying to out-do Ken Burns

But who knows. If I'm not a sucker for punishment it could be fun. Now if you'll excuse me, I suppose I should see if there's a book called “4K Animation for Dummies”.

(jim@wmqt.com), dummy. Or sucker. Take your pick.

Tuesday, 2/2

 I guess that may count as strike two.

I wrote in here a week or two ago about how I felt I was starting to tire of eating chocolate. Or, at least, starting to tire of eating chocolate with crushed-up candy canes in it. Well, I had another piece of chocolate yesterday and, for the second time this year, it made me question reality. It made me question if I actually want to keep eating chocolate.

Maybe the world really IS coming to an end.

This time around it's actually another piece of chocolate we were gifted over the holidays. If you recall, almost EVERY gift we received had chocolate as at least one component to it, and we've been trying to sample as much as we can without blowing up, figuratively and literally. One of the gifts was milk-chocolate covered gummies in the shape of the UP. It's kind of a cool idea, and I was looking forward to trying them out.

However, the gummies come in a variety of flavors, one of which was watermelon. I don't know who thought a milk chocolate covered watermelon gummy in the shape of the UP was a good idea, but just let me say, as someone who's eaten his fair share of chocolate and who tries to keep an open mind about anything that has to do with it--

No. Just no.

I'm not quite sure why someone would've thought that a chocolate covered watermelon gummy would be a good idea; after all, you don't drizzle chocolate sauce on freshly sliced watermelon, do you? And since most gummies amp up the sour factor (one reason, in all honesty, why I don't really eat many), having a really sour candy covered by a really sweet chocolate (such as milk chocolate) really, really doesn't work.

It's like brushing your teeth with mint toothpaste, then drinking a glass of milk, and then eating an orange, all in a 10-second span.

Admittedly, the cherry-flavored and orange flavored UP gummies were quite good covered with the chocolate. However, since they all look the same covered in chocolate, and since you never knew which one you'd be getting—watermelon, orange, or cherry—it was kind of like playing Russian Roulette with your taste buds.

Not an experience I'd recommend.

So now twice since the turn of the year I've questioned my relationship with one of my favorites foods. Of all the things I hoped would be ushered in with 2021, this was NOT one of them. With the way the world is these days I can't say I'm 100% surprised, but this was definitely not one of them.

(jim@wmqt.com)

Monday, 2/1

 Okay. Even I don't think I could say that. In fact, I KNOW I couldn't say that.

Researchers at MIT apparently ran out of important things to study, because they've just made a discovery that will probably not win anyone there a Nobel prize. However, because it doesn't deal with string theory or quantum mathematics or the theory of the multi-verse, it's a discovery that many of us can appreciate.

That discovery? The world's hardest tongue twister.

No, seriously. They used all their math skills and all the algorithms they could come up with to decide what the hardest tongue twister would be for the average human to say. I think we've all had to deal with trying to say tongue twisters before. Heck, I know I've embarrassed myself on the air many times while trying them, my personal favorite being the simple “Colts Coach Caldwell” that I could never ever get right. However, no tongue twister I've ever tried tied my tongue in such knots as the one that the MIT researchers came up with.

Don't believe me? Try saying “Pad kid poured curd pulled cod” even once. I dare you.

(Go ahead and try. I'll be right here when you're done)

Give yourself as headache yet? Sprain your tongue? Let out a few choice words when you got done trying it? Well, don't worry. I'm guessing you're in good company, as I myself couldn't even get through it the first time without sounding like I was gargling with marbles. I have no idea how anyone could say it multiple times, and at any rate of speed. I mean, by breaking it down syllable by syllable I could get through it, but as soon as I tried to say it like a normal person (or at least as normal as I could get) I blew the proverbial gasket. It just doesn't work.

No way, no how.

So hats off to the researchers at MIT. Aside from discovering the secrets of the universe both big and small, they've also been able to figure out the worst tongue twister in human history. Now I'm hoping they'll take a hint from a classic episode of “Monty Python” and figure out a joke so funny it makes people die. Maybe they'd pick up the Nobel for THAT, you know?

8-)

(jim@wmqt.com)