That's Not Peanuts!

Thought for the day:  Don't take life too seriously and always remember: it is just a passing fad. [Mick Jagger]

[Mick Jagger 2013- wikipedia]

Whatever Jagger's opinions may be about life, it's probably a safe bet that he's gotten more than a little satisfaction over the fact that the Rolling Stones proved to be a whole lot more than a passing fad.

Nope, not gonna be writing about the Stones today, although I did amuse myself for a few minutes by jotting down a bunch of their song titles, and wondering how many of them I could slip into this post without anyone noticing. I dunno why. Just for kicks? A challenge? Because I'm listening to one of their CDs right now? Take your pick. But as fun as that idea might be, I'm going to let it loose for  now, so I'm free, instead, to shine a light on kicks, challenges and wagers, and some of the crazy things ordinary salt of the earth people are willing to do on the basis of a drawn card, a pair of tumbling dice, or a simple handshake.

[morguefile]

In some areas of our country, bizarre stunts are often predicated by a guy telling his buddies, Here, hold my beer. But sometimes, people... usually of the male persuasion... are simply daredevils looking for a blast of adrenaline. Okay, I get that. A whole team of wild horses couldn't convince me to pull any of those boneheaded antics, but still, I get it. Sorta.

Ormer Locklear- 1920 [wikipedia]

Then again, I wasn't around in the 1920s. Back then, thrill-seeking was practically a national pastime. No wonder the decade was dubbed the Roaring Twenties.

Last month, I did a post about a guy who, as the result of a drunken bet, stole an airplane and landed it on a New York street right in front of the bar where he left his buddies. (If you missed it, you can find it here.) But in the '20s, people got their kicks out of walking on the wings of airplanes... and hanging from them... and doing all kinds of other nutso stunts. And not usually because of a bet, either... because they wanted to do it! It was a fad, as was swallowing live goldfish, walking on tightropes, and sitting atop flagpoles for prolonged periods of time. I can understand sittin' on a fence, within a nice safe hopping-off distance from the ground, but a way-up-there flagpole? For days and days and days on end? Um, no thanks. Ditto the live fish-eating and the tightrope walking. Heck, I have no self-expectations about walking safely across a perfectly flat piece of land without tripping over an errant blade of grass, so no way I'd have any interest in trying to walk over a canyon on a lousy piece of wire...

[Herbert Hoover -wikipedia]

Anyhow, today's story is about another bet, although this one doesn't involve anything illegal, or particularly dangerous. A little on the wacky side, perhaps, but it was the '20s...

In 1928, a Texan named Bill Williams made a wager with his father-in-law over the upcoming presidential election. (There's no indication whether or not adult beverages were involved in said transaction, but come on... I think it's a fairly safe bet they were.)

Anyway, Bill bet that Al Smith would be elected, and his father-in-law picked Hoover. The stakes? If Smith won, the father-in-law would have to stand on his head in the middle of the Rio Hondo bridge for an HOUR. If Hoover won, Bill had to push a peanut over that same bridge with his NOSE... and keep on a-pushin' until he reached the next town... eleven miles away. It took the poor schnook nine days to complete his crazy peanut-pushing trip, at which time, I'm sure he had one mighty sore schnoz and was plenty torn and frayed at the end, but he did it. (His father-in-law must have had a heart of stone to make him follow through... I mean, couldn't he have ended the ordeal after, I dunno, five or six days... or better yet, after a few hours?)

[morguefile]

Never mind. Bill probably wouldn't have backed down from the challenge, even if his father-in-law offered, because evi-damned-dently, he wanted to do it. Know how I know? Because after meeting that challenge, he made a new peanut-pushing bet with his buddies. According to the Mysteries of the Museum website, the stakes were five hundred dollars, and some other accounts claim it was fifty bucks. Either amount of money wasn't exactly peanuts  in 1929. But all accounts agree on what Williams had to do to win the bet...

[Pikes Peak- wikipedia]

Most people are enthralled with Pikes Peak because of the glorious views. In fact, in 1893, the view inspired Katharine Lee Bates to write American the Beautiful.

Apparently, Bill Williams had other thoughts when he looked at the picturesque mountain. He thought it'd be a grand place to push a peanut with his nose, and he bet he could make the 22-mile trip all the way up Pikes Peak Highway to the top of the mountain in 22 days. This time, however, he made sure he was better prepared than he was for his initial peanut-pushing adventure. He brought extra peanuts, wore leather pads on his knees, and brought multiple pairs of shoes and canvas gloves. Oh yeah, he did a better job protecting his poor schnoz this time, too. He wore a face mask with a two-foot metal extension attached to his nose. Bottom line? He did it, and it took him 21 days, so he won the bet. He was the first Pikes Peak peanut pusher, but he wasn't the last. In 1963, a rock 'n' roll musician named Ulysses Baxter accomplished the same feat in 8 days, and in 1976, a college student pared the time down to an astonishing 4 days, 23 hours, and 47 minutes.

Quite a feat, eh? As for me, if I'm ever there, I'd rather use my God-given feet to hike up that road, (Oh, who am I trying to kid? I'd be in a CAR.) and if someone ever gave me a fistful of peanuts, my first inclination wouldn't be to push them anywhere, especially with my nose. Nope, give me peanuts, and they're going into that orifice under my nose. I'm jolly well  gonna eat 'em.

Well, it looks like I'm running out of time to be on the computer for now, so I'd better run. (Okay, walk slowly...) As for this post? It's all over now.

                      Until next time, take care of yourselves. And each other.

P.S. In case you were counting, I used thirteen song titles in this post. (What??? So I fibbed a little. You can't always get what you want.) Oops... make that fourteen.

The most dangerous risk of all: the risk of spending your life not doing what you want to do on the bet you can buy yourself the freedom to do it later. [author unknown]

The Ups and Downs of Technology

Thought for the day: The production of too many useful things results in too many useless people. [Karl Marx]

[icanhascheezburger.com]

I may be a bit of a fuddy-duddy, but I'm not the kind of fuddy-duddy who rips at my clothing and smears ashes on my face over the horrors of new technology. Quite the contrary. While I do admittedly hang onto some of my old ways out of a determination not to cede any of my hard-earned abilities to some new-fangled gadget,  (like a calculator... HA!) I'm also excited by amazing technological advances.

I like my new telephone, my computer works just fine, my calculator is perfect, but Lord, I miss my mind!  [author unknown]

Tell ya what, let's kick some technology around, just for fun. Along with some of the newer stuff, I'm gonna include a handful of excerpts from past posts, as well. First, we'll start with something that first appeared in a July, 2011, post. I believe I referred to the technology back then as... electric boobs.

For Dolly Parton's iKini, perhaps?

***   New York designer Andrew Schneider created quite a buzz when he came up with a way for women to charge their gadgets with... their boobs. Sorta. Called the iKini, his design, currently available from Solar Coterie for about two hundred dollars, is a bikini covered in photovoltaic strips, (i.e. solar panels) terminated in a USB connector capable of providing 5 volts. And yes, it IS possible to swim in it, ladies, provided you remember to unplug your gadgets first. And oh yeah, better not try to reconnect until you're completely dry. Men, never fear. Another  version is in the works just for you. The solar shorts, to be dubbed iDrink, will feature a higher voltage output capable of  powering a peltier junction, which will connect to a custom coozy, so you can keep your beer cold while charging your iPod. (Too bad Mr. Schneider didn't figure out how to harness methane in his design, too. Some men could power a small TV ...)

And then, in February of 2012, I mentioned another innovation:

***  These guys from the Netherlands may be brilliant computer gurus, but their sense of fashion leaves something to be desired. Erik de Nijs and Tim Smit recently unveiled their new creation, which they've dubbed  Beauty and the Geek. It's a pair of jeans ... with a built-in full-size Bluetooth enabled keyboard. (Talk about a laptop!) Integrated speakers and a wireless mouse are included with the pants, and the invention works with a USB device and wireless connection. The idea is to allow users to walk around, but still be in control of their computer. Okay. Um, what I'd like to know is ... how do you wash these things?

But NOW??? Holy moley, wearable technology has grown by leaps and bounds.

[wikimedia commons]

[wikipedia]

***  NOW... we have eyeglasses for hooking up to the Internet, and  smart watches that can do just about everything but cook dinner. Then again, I'll betcha those smarty-pants watches can make reservations at your favorite restaurant, or make a list of things to buy at the grocery store... and even tell ya where the stuff you need is on sale for the best price. (Not sure if they can actually tell you what time it is.... but heck! your smart phone can to that, right?) NOW there's all kinds of smart clothing that can monitor body functions and movements. The science of wearable technology may be in its infancy, but it's growing bigger every day. The smaller and more powerful processors become, the easier it is to incorporate their capabilities into something that's not only portable... but wearable. Last month, Georgia Tech held a two-day symposium to highlight some of the wearable tech work that's being done by students and faculty there. Things like the haptic gloves, designed by PhD student James Hallam, which enable stroke victims to more quickly recover the use of a weakened hand, essentially teaching it by by utilizing feedback from their strong hand. Things like the Smart Ballet Shoes and Ballet Hero, both designed by Emily Keen as a valuable tool to teach the fine art of ballet dancing. In addition to the many projects and prototypes demonstrated at the symposium, industry representatives were in attendance, too, to see how they might capitalize on some of these innovative ideas. [If you're curious about how some of this kinda stuff has already been implemented, check this page, created by Canadian Tom Emirch. Thanks to his efforts, Canada is one of the leaders in wearable technology.]

Gee, do you think technological advances might improve the workplace? Not so much, according to this piece from a post I did in February of 2012...

[morguefile]

***  I've heard of efforts to eliminate waste in the workplace before, but this is downright ridiculous. Picture this: flashing lights, a blaring alarm, and the loud admonition, "Time's up, you slacker! Get yer can off that can!" Okay, so that isn't exactly what's happening, but employees at a call center in Norway are being monitored by a high-tech surveillance system that triggers an alarm if they spend more than eight minutes of the workday in the bathroom. That's right. Evidently, flashing lights alert supervisors to the time-wasting  loo loiterers, but needless to say, the employees' union is protesting the crappy policy, and have high hopes this new intrusion into poo-break privacy will go the way of other failed means to control their potty habits. Last year, one Norwegian firm actually made female employees wear a red bracelet during their "time of the month" to justify more frequent trips to the bathroom. (Think they considered brown bracelets for employees with the runs, or green ones for tummy upsets and pregnancies?) Another company made employees sign a lavatory visitor's book, and still another issued electronic bathroom key cards. And here, I always considered Norway to be a bastion of freedom and individual rights. Turns out some of their companies have forgotten about man's inalienable right to sit on the throne. Hmmmph! I'm betting their bathrooms don't even have magazine racks.

[wikimedia commons]

*** I guess you've all heard about the 65-year-old German woman who recently gave birth to quadruplets. In case you aren't familiar with the story, the soon-to-be-retired teacher already has thirteen children, ranging in age from 9 to 44, but it seems her nine-year-old daughter wanted a younger sibling. So, uh... why not? I guess she figured, since technology could make it possible for someone her age to get pregnant, she might as well go for it. And go for it she did... all the way to the Ukraine, where donated eggs were fertilized and implanted into her post-menopausal body. Multiple times. (If at first you don't succeed... ?)  The tiny premature quads were recently delivered by C-section, and last I heard, are in critical condition. So what do you think? German doctors had advised her against it, saying it was much too dangerous for both her and any potential baby. Was it selfish for her to proceed? Was it an ethical choice? Or was it a matter of her body, her decision, so it's none of our business? (What I really want to know is how much money does Germany pay its teachers??? Holy moley...)

NASA photo by John Hop [wikipedia]

***  The spacecraft Messenger was the first to orbit another planet... Mercury... and this photo was taken in 2011 on its first fly-by of that planet. Over the past four years, it has circled Mercury more than 4000 times, and took more than 277,000 photos of it. (Geez, that's even more than we took of our first son...) Last month, as planned, it ended its mission with a crash landing.

As planned. Isn't it amazing that scientists can direct, monitor, communicate... and even land, whether soft or crash... space probes from such incredible distances, and with such phenomenal accuracy? Boggles the mind. (Too bad our newspaper delivery person can't do as well.)

[wikipedia commons]

***  Isn't that a cool-looking model of DNA? The advances made since its discovery are also nothing short of mind-boggling. Like the stuff of science fiction... and not just for the purposes of answering those annoying talk show hosts' question: Who's your baby's daddy? Yeah, DNA testing can determine paternity, but it can also ascertain the presence or likelihood of developing a particular disease, and all kinds of other amazing state-of-the-art things.

Then again, it can also be used for more, uh, mundane things, as described in this old clip from a July, 2011, post...

[morguefile]

***  It's terribly annoying when a neighbor repeatedly allows his pooch to use your yard as as its own personal potty, isn't it? It's annoying to a New Hampshire apartment complex owner, too. The plentiful piles of poo were ruining the aesthetics of her lovely complex, doggone it, so she decided to do something about it. Residents have until today to submit pet (ahem) samples, so she can use them to set up a doggie DNA file. That's right. From now on, when an unpleasant mound of manure is found, she's gonna test the dog doo DNA to reveal the inconsiderate culprit. She doesn't yet know what she's gonna do once the doo is identified. Perhaps a fine, she says. (How about lighting a paper bag of "evidence" outside the offender's door?)

A recent article in the newspaper reminded me of that earlier post, because DNA-testing dog poop seems to be a more popular pastime than ever. According to the article, twenty-six apartment and condo complexes in the Seattle area alone have recently obtained DNA test kits from a company in Tennessee called BioPet Vet Lab. And guess what? A quick Google search revealed there are plenty more companies offering this same service. Who'd a thunk it? While some people fume over the stinking heaps of poo dumped in their yards, others are raking in heaps of money because of it. What a country.

photo from US Navy [wikipedia]

*** A couple years ago, I did a post about Military Working Dogs. It's amazing what they can do. They're even trained to jump out of airplanes! (YES... more than once...) Now let's talk about dolphins and sea lions. Did you know they're trained by the Navy to do stuff like detect land mines? Yes, we already have advanced sonar and listening technology, but dolphins and sea lions, with their keen eyesight and biological sonar, have proven to be experts at detecting mines, swimmers, and mini-submarines, so they can be invaluable in thwarting possible terrorist attacks. Currently, the Navy has 90 dolphins and 50 sea lions, which are being trained in San Diego. Many of these critters have already made multiple deployments to trouble spots in the world. Today, they work alongside Unmanned Underwater Vehicles, and some day, the UUVs may be advanced enough to do the job on their own, but for now? Their innate abilities, coupled with extensive training, make dolphins and sea lions an integral part of national defense. Sometimes, technology can be trumped by good old-fashioned biology.

[morguefile]

*** Okay, technically, this last piece doesn't have anything to do with technology at all; I just thought it was... funny.

Ready? Chinese officials are launching a campaign to crack down on strip shows... at, um...  funerals...

Yeah, at funerals. Seems like an odd combination to me, too.

But not to the Chinese, especially to those who live in rural areas. See, to their way of thinking, having a good crowd at a funeral is a way of honoring the deceased, and what better way to bring in a crowd than to provide entertainment? At one time, operas were performed at funerals, and later on, movies were shown. Offering erotic strip teases and lewd shows is the more popular method to attract a crowd these days, though. Some fad. Somehow, I don't think I'd feel all that honored if a bunch of strange men were drooling over some hot chick at my funeral... but that could just be me. After all, I am a bit of a fuddy-duddy.

                                          Until next time, take care of yourselves. And each other.

In the Bowling Alley of Tomorrow, there will even be machines that wear rental shoes and throw the ball for you. Your sole function will be to drink beer.  [Dave Barry]

How to Bridge the Gap

Thought for the day:  Generation gap: A chasm, amorphously situated in time and space, that separates those who have grown up absurd from those that will, with luck, grow up absurd.  [Bernard Rosenberg]

I never saw anything about it in the Bible, but I wouldn't be at all surprised if someone told me the Old Testament Patriarchs had a major problem with how their teenage sons and daughters wore their hair... or talked... or walked. Heck, I wouldn't even be surprised if cavemen and women harassed their teens over the length of their loincloths.

 Because I suspect there has always been such a thing as ...

                                         The           Generation               Gap.

The problem is, young people insist on growing up, (the little ingrates) and they instinctively rebel against the restraints of childhood. Unfortunately, their chosen forms of self-expression and independence are rarely appreciated by the older generations. (Whose own means of self-expression weren't appreciated by their elders, either.) Don't believe me? Let's take a peek at some teenage fads over the years, shall we?

The older generation thought nothing of getting up at five every morning — and the younger generation doesn't think much of it, either.  [John J. Welsh]

Okay, so the fella in this picture doesn't look all that young, but young people are the ones who started the whole flagpole-sitting frenzy in the 1920s. I'm talking loooong periods of time sitting on a teensy platform mounted on a pole. Making and breaking longevity records. Why? Beats me. I wasn't around back then, but I'm pretty sure I would've been one of the bystanders popping salted peanuts and gawking up at the idiot perched atop a pole rather than being one of the idiots sitting up there myself. (Heck, I never even liked sitting on a banana seat...)

Of course, the twenties was the roaring era of flappers, jazz, raccoon coats, bright red lipstick, and the Charleston dance craze, too. Can you imagine how parents reacted to some of those trends? (gasp!) The girls even let their knees show!

It's hard for me to get used to these changing times. I can remember when the air was clean and sex was dirty.  [George Burns]

The thirties saw the onset of stoop ball and stick ball... which those lame-brained rebellious kids had the audacity to play right in the middle of the street. Okay, 'fess up. Any of you play those games? I did, only we called it curb ball, and I'd hazard a guess that parents were no happier about ball games played in the street in the '30s than they were in the '50s.

Swallowing live goldfish was one of the most popular fads of the '40s. Believe it or not, some kids claimed the goldfish were still alive when they came back out. I dunno about that, but I think we can all agree to a certain ick factor in the notion of anyone turning a pet goldfish into a twitching mid-afternoon snack.

There is nothing wrong with today's teenager that twenty years won't cure. [unknown]

The fifties boasted much more (ahem) sensible teenage fads such as poodle skirts, saddle shoes, and bobby socks. (Anybody remember sock hops?) Lots of guys wore shiny black Cuban-heeled shoes... or had taps on their shoes, so they made a distinctively cool sound when they walked through the school halls. And don't forget turned-up collars, black chino pants, and form-fitting white tee shirts with a pack of Camels tucked into a rolled-up sleeve.

Panty raids got their start in the fifties, too. The first one took place on March 21, 1952, at the University of Michigan, when about six hundred male students stormed a girls' dormitory, and exited with a bountiful booty of swiped underwear. This invasive fad continued across the country for the rest of the decade, and then fizzled out in the '60s. Makes sense. I reckon when the era of  free love blossomed, stealing undies seemed kinda lame... and tame...  by comparison.

Any of you guys recognize this haircut? Typically called the D.A., (short for duck's ass) the boys who wore it were often called greasers, because it took a healthy dab of grease to keep the hair in place. Thanks to stars like James Dean and Elvis Presley, long sideburns were popular, too. It's a pretty safe bet that there were a lot of inter-generational arguments over these hairdos. Especially since they came on the heels of crew cuts and flat tops.

Another fad of the fifties was telephone booth stuffing, where just like it sounds... the object was to squeeze ever-increasing numbers of kids into telephone booths. Or into little cars. Whatever. Not the most pleasant experience for the kids at the bottom of the heap, I'm sure. And not too terribly popular with their parents, either.

The sixties spawned tie-dye shirts, mini-skirts, go-go boots, granny glasses, hair ironing, bouffant hairdos, (Beehive, anyone?) Afros, mood rings, love beads, platform shoes, and bell-bottoms britches.



There was no respect for youth when I was young, and now that I am old, there is no respect for age — I missed it coming and going.  [J.B. Priestly]

Platform shoes hobbled onto the scene in the seventies. (I must confess: I still have a bright red patent leather pair.) I dunno if this was exactly a younger generation fad, since I was well past my teens then, but other fads included streaking, Earth shoes, string art, pet rocks, and ... ready? Eating glass. Yeah, glass. (Gives a whole new meaning to belly crunches, doesn't it?) That nutso fad started with a professional football player, who, I suppose, wanted to prove how tough (but not bright) he was by munching on beer mugs and light bulbs. Unfortunately, young people... especially college students... started to follow suit. Thank goodness, they wised up. I guess they saw the light.

Thanks largely to Madonna, fingerless lace gloves were all the rage in the '80s. Kinda cute, right? And harmless. I'm not sure if they started out as part of the Goth movement or not, but they certainly complemented the Goth look: all black clothes, dyed jet black hair, and even black nail polish and lipstick. Not my cuppa tea, but I guess that fad was harmless enough, too. They just looked like the leading edge of  the walking dead. Come to think of it, I guess they more resembled vampires. Without the fangs.

Body piercing and prolific tattoos became ultra-popular in the nineties, and are both still common today.

Most of the fads since then have been pretty tame. Low-rise jeans. (No worse than the hot pants we used to wear... just longer.) Thongs. (AKA tush floss.)

But there is one fad that absolutely positively drives me up the wall. Finally, and to the point of this post, I present to you one fad, and I can't help but wonder if it's a worldwide phenomenon, or if American youth are the only ones infected with this bizarre manner of so-called self expression...

                                                             

                                                           
                                                                I present to you

                                                       
                                                          the incomprehensible fad,


                                                          the fad driving adults nuts

                                                             
                                                          from one end of this country


                                                                   to the other.


                                                                I present the fad
                                                                 

                                                                     known as...


                                                                      sagging:

                                               

I mean, really? Do you think that's... comfortable? Suppose those kids had to run? Lotsa luck with that, huh? Every time I see kids with their pants drooping below their drawers, my fingers start to twitch, and I'm seized with an almost uncontrollable urge to yank up their britches so hard, it gives 'em all atomic wedgies. And it seems I'm not alone. Check this out:

How about you? Do you get this fad? Contrary to some of the emails you may have seen about it originating in prison as a way for an inmate to let other inmates know he's available for certain activities, that's just a bum steer. Droopy britches may very well have originated in prisons because of ill-fitting pants and no belts to hold them up, but according to multiple sources, it didn't have anything to do with sexual availability. Still... why would young people want to emulate something that may have originated in prison anyway, whatever the meaning?

(Then again, maybe we should just be grateful these kids aren't wearing thongs...?)

This whole post was predicated by a cartoon created by an award-winning Australian cartoonist named Tim Whyatt. Not only is he funny, but he nailed the solution to this angst-inspiring fad of low-hanging pants and exposed skivvies in one of his cartoons. What's more, he agreed to let me share his cartoons with you from time to time, as long as I link back to his webpage and facebook page. Done... and done. Now, want to see his brilliant solution? I guarantee you it'd work if we of the older generations merely attempt to bridge that gap by joining into a united front... (heh, heh... and back...)


                                                                        Ta DA!

Tell me about your favorite... or least favorite... teenage fad. What did you do to drive your parents nuts? What did your kids... or grandkids... do to drive you nuts? Ready to bare your undies in a concerted effort to end the sagging trend once and for all?

                                     Until next time, take care of yourselves. And each other.

P.S. As a bonus, a fella from Atlanta sang this song on American Idol last year...

[Many thanks to wikipedia and morguefile for the images used in this post.]