Terrible Analogies

I was going to consume then immediately purge this quick news blurb from my memory banks…that is until I read the last sentence:

Oh thank God it wasn’t a celebrity.  

Are we so obsessed with the allure of celebrity culture that the death of an “average Joe” can so flippantly be dismissed as lesser news?  Why no mention of how this dead person managed to go unnoticed for three days?  If this person was a celebrity than this story would be all over the evening news, investigations would be launched and the police questioned why nobody noticed a dead man slumped behind the steering wheel of a car parked in a public location.

But whatever.  He wasn’t a celebrity.  Stay classy, CNN…

Signs of mercury poisoning includes psychological disturbances (angry fits, short term memory loss, inability to sleep), inflammation of the mouth, loss of bone around teeth (they fall out…yay!), ulcerated gums, digestive tract problems (cramps, diarrhea), blood pressure changes, chest pains, respiratory problems (emphysema, persistent coughing) and neurological problems (headaches, vertigo, tinnitus, uncontrollable trembling and shaking).

Famous people who died of mercury poisoning include George Washington, Ivan the Terrible, Louisa May Alcott (author of Little Women), King Charles II, Daniel Fahrenheit (discovered the use of mercury for thermometers), Tycho Brahe, William Makepeace Thackery, Rubens and Renoir.

Given the obvious inherrent danger of mercury in both liquid and gaseous form, I’m shocked and astonished that anyone would not only willingly get close to large pool of this hazardous substance, but also lean over and casually toss a heavy object into it causing a large splash:

Interesting?  Yes.

Sciency?  Yes.

Crazy as a temperamental mule on Monday?  Absolutely.

Wow…as if I couldn’t get any more excited about the upcoming relaunch of Conan’s show, this bad boy pops up on the webertubes, jabbing a highball of comedy straight into my quivering prefrontal cortex, fully dilating my bloodshot eyes with an unexpected jolt of expectation, and kicking that dreaded jimmy leg into overdrive:

After watching this I have to say, “Jay who?”

With The Walking Dead premiering at the end of October and Conan quickly following suit in November, television is kicking into high gear as December draws near.  All I need now is a viewing of The Year Without A Santa Claus and  It’s The Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown and my year will be complete.

Imagine my shock and horror when, late one night, I happened upon an infomercial that featured one of the most unlikely of pitchmen.  But there we was, big as day and in full regalia, mohawk primped and perfect, gold chains around his neck, and sporting a “fresh out of the package” polo shirt.  Aghast, I sat with wide, unbelieving eyes at my television, unable to comprehend the full meaning of it all.  Mr. T, that beloved, illiterate icon of the 70′s and 80′s, had sold his soul to the infomercial gods, and was now hawking the latest in a long line of “as seen on TV” products that, according to the late Billy Mays, “no house and home can live without”.  

I don’t know what upset me more; the fact that Mr. T was wearing an uncharacteristic button-down Polo shirt, or that he’s apparently half Klingon.  

Mr. T, bought and paid for.  This is something that goes against the very nature that is B.A. Baracus.  Why, Mr. T…why?

Pitching the FlavorWave, which apparently can cook an entire turkey in 5 minutes, teach manners to your unruly children, and balance the national debt with the simple push of a button.

This miraculous product is brought to you by the good folks from the Cooking Club Of America, which is a scam of the highest order.  From what I’ve read, these grifters charge members outrageous fees for “life-time memberships”, taking hundreds of dollars from you without your consent.  Their aggressive, predatory practices are well recorded.  If I were you, I’d stay as far away from anything having to do with the Cooking Club Of America.  Unless, of course, you enjoy getting ripped off.

The traditional gold chains have been replaced with corporate marketing. Oh, Mr. T…look how far you’ve fallen.

And so, an icon falls.  Next time, I’d do a bit of research just to see who you’re getting into bed with.  Those shylocks from the Cooking Club Of America are nobody to mess with.  Mr. T., IANAL, but I highly suggest that you review your contact with these people to ensure that they’re not going to burn you in some way or fashion.  And get some better handlers…you know, somebody who has an ounce of sense and will steer you away from frauds like these.

Born in Kiev in 1902, immigrated to the United States in the 30′s, Nudie Cohn was intent on becoming a boxer, but through fate and circumstance he instead fell into tailoring.  In the 40′s, Nudie and his wife Bobbie began making clothes out of their garage.  So popular were their designs that soon movie stars and rock gods began to clamor for Nudie’s services.  

Credited with being the first man to sew rhinestones on to clothes, his relentless self-promoting brought him to the attention of such acts as Elvis Presley, Hank Williams, Gram Parsons, ZZ Top, Wilco, and Roy Rogers.  Ever the eccentric, Nudie would places stickers of his face on to dollar bills and give them away to those in need, stating, “when you get sick of looking at me, just rip it off and spend it!”

Nudie was also into cars, and with the help of GM he began to customize them in western motifs.  Karin and I were fortunate enough to see a “Nudie Mobile” recently, and let me tell ya, this thing was intense; covered in silver dollars, decked out with rifles, handguns, and shotguns, and sporting a set of horns that would make any self-respecting steer blush, this is one car that’s impossible to ignore.