A night of bowling left me sore the next day, and that makes no sense. Bowling is essentially walking, right up to the point where it’s throwing, and neither of these are unusual activities. I think it has to do with the ridiculous forms you assume at the moment of release, or the gyrations you do afterwards. I bowled enough in high school – at least I must have – everything comes back the moment I step on the maple. Where to stand, how to stand (heel tucked into instep, right?), how to move forward as you draw the ball back, how to use your thumb like a gunsight, and how I always tuck my pinky finger under the ball, which is wrong and screws everything up, but it’s a Night in Guttertown if I don’t. The worst part: I have that shoot-the-right-leg-behind-the-left form, which is classic bowler posture, and makes it look like I know what I’m doing. I don’t.
And who cares?
It was an end-of-the-week team building outing for the NewsBreak team, and a lot of fun. We went here:
It used to be Stardust Lanes.
More can be found here at an ancient site, if you like this sort of thing. Anyway, as mentioned, I bowled wisely but not too well; for all my form I couldn’t put two strikes together if you’d handed me a bazooka. Doesn’t matter – what counts is the jumping, hooting, applauding, drinking, eating, and general fun we call going out. I don’t go out enough, and this was grand. The next night was the MOB party at Keegan’s, where all the local bloggers get together and yell conversation at the top of our lungs. The evening began with a plate of Fish and Chips – not served in a newspaper, but in a printed-out copy of some Craigslist ads – and ended up on the other side of the room, shouting about something or other. Great fun.
On the way out I saw this in the parking lot, and I would like to nominate it as the Tony Montana Memorial Snow Pile:
It snowed more on Sunday, which was just delightful, in the sense of someone pouring a bucket of rock salt down the back of your shirt after you’ve been flogged. Well, we endure. We go on. Ran errands with the Giant Swede that afternoon, and noticed for the first time that Home Depot has a Store Dog. The small hardware store in my neighborhood has a Store Dog. All hardware stores should have a Store Dog, just as bookstores should have a Store Cat. It made me wonder whether Home Depot had made a top-level corporate decision, purchased 7,000 identical Goldens, shipped them out to each store and commanded the staff to act like they’ve always been there. What, Biscuit? He’s usually over in, uh, cement, but he wanders over to paint now and then. This dog was old and slow, and walked around with his leash in his mouth.
I bought some CFLs for the ceiling lights in the garage tunnel; I’m sick of changing them, and don’t want to waste my precious incandescents on them. Got grief from the Swede for giving aid and comfort to the enemy. Yes, yes, I know. I promise to throw them away in the trash, if it’ll make you feel better. Bought a new faucet for the kitchen, because this morning the old sprayer part snapped off and decided to impersonate a firefighter’s hose – which is good, because I wanted to clean the ceiling anyway, some day.
After I dropped off the Swede I continued the weekend shopping, and was deeply gratified to see this, having just posted an old commercial on the matter Friday night. It’s the old Lucky Charms box, part of a “retro” marketing campaign that includes a few other classic brands. There are more in the series, and it’s hard not to see the old ones as superior pieces of art – so much cleaner, genial, casually whimsical.
The new boxes just try so damned hard. Take a look at this detail from the current Lucky Charms box. You can’t make reasonable claims for drugs, but you can say a compacted marshmallow will let you alter the space-time continuum.
I wonder if the people who promote the cereal know how little kids really care about new Charm-forms. The company would spend untold hours and millions on an ad campaign – A Charm is Missing! Help Lucky Find It! – with an online component, a thin story sketched out on the back of the box, animated commercials complete with a panicked Lucky looking everywhere for the Orange Star or Yellow Moon or Puce Ankh or whatever it is, and kids would watch it with the same bored expression they use for most cereal commercials.
This doesn’t mean the information isn’t being absorbed. There’s a new campaign for Snickers, and it uses the Snickers typeface and colors. I pointed one out to Natalie the other day, and asked her if she knew what it was advertising.
Well, Snickers, duh, Dad.
We don’t have any Snickers in the house, except maybe around Halloween. This stuff just seeps in the brain.
Dad just called - he’s been making a few runs up to Canada in one of the transports, running avgas up to a firm north of Canada. Eighty-two, and he’s driving a semi to another country. Not to tantalize & not deliver, but the screed I have cooking turned into something much bigger – Friday night it struck me that my father’s simple experience in business has given him more know-how on economics than, say, oh, a politician who makes certain decisions that crush the life out of the bottom line for a year or two.
I started writing that prologue around midnight, thinking “just a few paragraphs, then I’ll watch the movie.” Forty-five minutes later, I’m trying to explain why EPA regulations cut salaries and operating income because Dad has to comply with a satellite-based system that inspects off-loading areas from space to ensure no diesel is spilled in the snow in a trainyard. And it isn’t, either. It never was.
I finally gave up and watched “The French Connection,” on Blu-Ray. Hah! Apparently the director supervised the transfer, and dialed down the saturation to make it as miserable and bleak as he originally intended, and boosted the grain so it looks like you’re watching the movie through a sandstorm. The next night I watched “Pride and Glory” for a modern take on the NYC-cop-corrupted-by-drugs story; it was okay, but as soon as I see JON VOIGHT in the credits I know he’ll play a distant, monotonal, ethically compromised authority figure, aka The Obligatory James Cromwell Role.
That was the weekend. Back to work – will be yapping at the NewsBreak desk again this week, and it should go smoother. No, I haven’t seen the parody, but I can imagine. It’s frustrating: there are a lot of good people working hard on this, and don’t deserve to be boiled down to my own dickery. But. Ah well. Later today: the Monday Matchbook, and of course the Evening Commercial Break. See you in the comments – it’s 5K day!
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53 Responses to Monday, March 09
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Looking forward to Monday’s NewsBreak!
Aaah, blessed retro packaging. Take away the “free t-shirt” banners and they’d be perfect, especially the Kix and Wheaties boxes.
Speaking of Snickers, they also did something similar not too long ago-
http://www.boxvox.net/2008/07/snickers.html
Alas, the report indicates that the public regarded it more as “soviet” than “retro”….
For pure comic relief, no one’s bowling form can top Fred “Twinkletoes” Flintstone.
The Snickers campaign has run before, at least in Dallas. You have amazing brand ID when almost every consumer recognizes your product purely by font and colors.
Go for the Big Lebowski vibe and have a White Russian instead of a Molson’s.
I was pretty impressed with him before, but your Dad is quite a stud to haul stuff north of Canada this time of year. Didn’t know there was any demand for aviation fuel that far north. /dickery
Were you paid a lot for the State Farm commercial? The one in which you give the car keys to your 8-year old daughter and she suddenly becomes 16. And your little boy picks up his jacket and says he’s headed for work.
The only parody I saw was pretty lame. They couldn’t parody Lileks or any of the actual people on the vidcast, so they did a short lame bit about a moron filling in for them – the big joke is, he’s reading from the paper (haha). Perfectly off target and pointless.
I think the NewsBreak format has some problems. Specifically, the team is in danger of aping the most hackneyed aspects of the local “I’m-witless news” format – and to what purpose? Get away from the anchor-at-the-desk format as much as you can. if being on the Internet doesn’t lead to a fresh approach, why bother? But it is brand new – give it time to grow.
“running avgas up to a firm north of Canada”
What exactly IS north of Canada? I mean that you can get to in a semi. He is a truly amazing guy.
Those retro cereal boxes are great. We bought one of Trix, and I had to point out to my kids that the picture on the box isn’t quite accurate: the blue, green and purple spheres were interlopers. My eldest daughter says she misses the “old Trix” that had the cool shapes. I of course explained that those were the “new Trix”, but that was lost on her.
I meant the “amazing” part sincerely!
Following in Cromwell’s footsteps, Jon Voight just showed up last week in 24. Ironically he is playing a more Cromwell-like role than Cromwell. Voight is the bureaucratic puppet master who shows up as the mid-season baddie. Cromwell played Jacks father whom Jack has to gun down.
RE: State Farm Commercial:
There is a definite resemblance there – especially above the eyes – but the guy in the commercial is both taller and fatter than our host (who is enviably trim). Maybe it’s Jimmy Leeks.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j_dkyByzD-Y
“Friday night it struck me that my father’s simple experience in business has given him more know-how on economics than, say, oh, a politician who makes certain decisions that crush the life out of the bottom line for a year or two.”
Hence the genius of Joe the Plumber.
That’s great to hear that other Home Depot stores are dog friendly, to the point of actually having store dogs. While the couple of Home Depots that we frequent here in Ohio don’t seem to have their own store dogs, they do welcome dogs with their owners. We’ve met a couple of dogs getting socialization work while visiting the store and the wife has started taking our 5 month old puppy to HD for the experience.
KUDOS to Mr Lileks (Father) ,
Not only do you drive Semis at your age, but doing the runs “Up There” in your winters, I must congratulate you! Keep On Truckin”
martini@ from Massachusetts!
I just have to say that I hate the first Monday after we set the clocks ahead an hour. Grumble grumble grumble.
http://andrewsullivan.theatlantic.com/the_daily_dish/2009/03/taxes-and-entre.html
I am not sure that returning marginal tax rates on income (net not gross) over $250,000 to pre-Bush tax cut levels is going to crush the life out of anything.
Glad you could SEE “Pride and Glory.”
Did they run out of budget for, you know, actual LIGHTING or something? Even the daytime scenes were silhouettes and moody shadow. Bleah! I got tired of trying to figure out who the heck was supposed to be on the screen at any given time.
Though I always loved going to Home Depot when I was doing some things around here (they were open at the same time I finished breakfast at Waffle House), the one I went to got sloppy around 11am, then sloppier still…until we just don’t go there much at all. They make a big deal of a military discount on Memorial Day weekend, but Lowe’s has a military discount every day. Customer service is more ‘service’ than customer.
I miss my old Home Depot, but I miss the old hardware store at the corner more. They had a Store Cat.
bet your dad watches those ice road truckers and asks ‘what do those girly men need the ice for?’ then punches out a bull for his leather coat.
Egad, “aid and comfort to the enemy?” If that’s how conservatives think about conservation — that we’re at war or something (akin to the “War on Christmas) there’s not much hope of us cleaning up the planet. Those bulbs need to be disposed of properly.
You know you’re old when you see retro packaging and remember how much better the pre-retro design was.
I’ve still got a hardware store on the corner: Jones Hardware, in the same family since the 1920s. The building it occupies was built in 1815. They’ve got a big white barn adjacent to it, and chickens in the backyard. The store is very small, and the merchandise hangs from every available surface, including the ceiling. Robbie Jones (grandson of the founder) is there just about every day, shooting the breeze with the customers. What’s great is that Robbie will sell you 3 screws, or 16″ of wire, for 15 cents. I love going there.
And the store dog is a Basset Hound named Fred. What could be better?
James, I’m with you on the incandescent bulbs. There’s no substitute.
Swede may have meant “aid and comfort to the enemy?” as referring to the fact that CFLs are usually made in China or, supporting those who think that light bulbs should be regulated by law (this is what I get ticked off about). I don’t really know and I shouldn’t try to guess his meaning.
(Note: I used CFL before the big push and am pretty used to them and they are in 90% of my sockets. Than you People’s Mercury Infusion Factory No. 9.)
I noticed the State Farm commercial too and pointed it out to my wife. You missed the biggest difference about the actor, no dimple in the chin.
Another James Lileks lookalike: http://tinyurl.com/d3fzcl
Yep, it’s ex-con televangelist/real estate huckster Jim Bakker (who is back in business, just south of Branson, MO).
the Snake Farm commercial didn’t fool me, that ain’t no Jimmy.
in North Dakota, ambulances hit the ditch, roll, and people die. BJ Lileks has to take a tanker of diesel up north to the hosers, eh, to get away from the wusses on the road. there’s a lesson there in how generations deal with life.
overall, “do something,” is a useful message.
now, don’t you folks start getting down on my mercury. got it in my turntable, got it in my light bulbs, and got it in my fish dinner. nothing wrong with mercury. absolutely.aosifa9pirqw4opitaqworqwifaogfawiopfiawofjaskljasiopti3qwroa
woufiasfh
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sorry, had another fit of the shakies….
chuckle points for “Puce Ankhs”
Lucky Charms. Blech. We never had sugar cereal growing up and I can’t imagine why you would want sugar in your milk. Again, blech.
“giving aid and comfort to the enemy.” Count me as a traitor then, and march me to the gallows.
At least I saved 15-20% each month by making the switch…
Is that the standard for whether something’s a dandy idea? It won’t crush the life out of something?
My grandmother daily ate a bowl of All-Bran with skim milk, which looked almost exactly like dessicated earthworms swimming in RV graywater. To her credit she never made me eat it, for which choirs of angels sang her to her rest when her time came.
On the other hand, to me Cap’n Crunch has been, and always will be, da shizzle.
Stardust led me to the site “Deadburb” – wow…so sad! I grew up in a 1960s home and I remember a few fun things (my parents still live there):
-my dad once dug up an old Charlie Brown figurine (Linus, I think) in the backyard…it’s always fun to think about the children who played in the same garden
-when renovating the basement, they found a love letter from 1967 stuffed into the ceiling
Like you say, it’s tragic to think of all the memories knocked away in the rubble
Sigh. Incidentally, I love reading the sites you have put up and your blog entries!
gosh, I was only suggesting something wouldn’t crush the life out of something, as was suggested something would.
Now I also have to say why it’s a dandy idea? The bar has been raised? Maybe I do think Clinton era tax rates are a dandy idea, but I was merely reacting to the assertion that they would crush the life out of the bottom line, which seems like much hyperventilating.
I saw the Trix and Lucky Charms boxes at Target on Saturday and immediately thought of Lileks. Right down his alley.
And Glenn, you sound remarkably like my Dad. He hates sugared cereals. He also hates salad dressing.
What were your bowling shoes like? The last time I went bowling the shoes from the alley weren’t the old slick soled shoes anymore. They had rubber soles and you couldn’t slide.
It totally ruined my game, not that my game was all that hot to begin with but I’m used to the way I was taught in high school. Step off three or four steps and let your body slide as you swing your arm forward and let the ball go.
I tried that with the shoes they passed out and almost fell on my face…
The shoes looked good, but you’re right: couldn’t slide, and this resulted in one particularly inelegant pratfall, complete with oily hands and angry over-the-line buzzer. Very amusing, I’m sure.
Presently contemplated (or admitted-to) tax increases won’t crush the life out of anything. Borrowing a trillion dollars to have a big maypole dance with just might.
Re: State Farm ad – I never watch TV with commercials any more (lost the knack – or the patience). I had to find it on YouTube. In a 425-pixel screen, the similarity is strong, but not detailed.
Lileks, I think that the Cake Wrecks blogger has been reading the Bleat: http://cakewrecks.blogspot.com/2009/03/magically-delicious.html
mmm, magically delicious!
I’m actually ok with salad dressing as long as it’s a light oil & vinegar or “Italian”. I am sooo not a foodie… hehe
RE “running avgas up to a firm north of Canada”
What exactly IS north of Canada? I mean that you can get to in a semi. He is a truly amazing guy.
The answer is Alaska — It’s north of Canada — my son is stationed in Fairbanks, which is north of the north pole. Canada ain’t the end of the world, it just seems that way.
One touted advantage for CFL bulds is their longevity. But you don’t have to consort with the enemy if you use 130 volt incandescent light bulbs. Slightly dimmer than their 120 volt counterpart but they last a long, long time.
I have 130v bulbs in the hard to reach places (stair well, etc.) that have been in use for 20 years and still work as good as new; and yes they are turned on and off regularly.
Generally you must ask your hardware store to order the bulbs for you since they are not stocked in most stores. But it is definitely worth the effort.
I know that 130 volt bulbs are available at A&A Tradin’ Post, in Denver, CO. One of the greatest hardware stores I have ever seen. They specialize in a complete selection of nuts and bolts. For instance, if you need, e.g., a 4-40×1-1/4″ left-hand thread cheese-head machine screw, not only will they have it but the owner will know exactly which little bin has these screws and will ask how many you need. O-rings, faucet washers, electrical repair parts, everything. Every time I go there I spend at least two hours looking around at all of the neat stuff they have and think about what I could use that for.
Sorry; typed too fast. Meant Firm in Canada north of Winnepeg.”
Twitch,
Clearly you weren’t lubed up on enough Maker’s Mark before that bowling bout. Ignore the parodies of your latest multi-media venture. Just remember to sit on the tails of your sports jacket. And NOT SWEAT.
Surly
That’s it! I’m starting a band and naming it “The Puce Ankhs”.
“aid and comfort to the enemy”
He sounds like a swell guy. Mega-dittos to Jabba and all that…
I recognize that sign from Let’s Bowl!. You run into Chopper or Wally while yoou were there?
Surfing: Here we go. “Let’s Bowl!” footage located, with sign in background at 0:18.
LIGHT BULB FLAP: Gimme the standard 4-pack of traditional GE 40-6-100 watters. Last trip to local WalMart saw their shelf space decimated by half. Nasty curly-fry shape bulbs in their place. Another sidebar: traditional bulbs I did buy have been “downsized” to save energy. Think the 40 watts now say “32″ or something like that.
SALAD DRESSING: Grew up on a farm in the 1950s & 1960s. We milked a half dozen cows and I was in charge of separating. Always had a nice can of cream in the fridge. Mom would make homemade salad dressing for garden lettuce: real cream, sugar, vinegar and a little milk to thin. Mmmmmmm!
BOWLING: Back in the ’50′s the little local bowling alley hired slave children to set pins. You sat high up on a shelf above the configured pins, with feet tucked under you. Some of those balls came at you with supersonic speed! First pass’ pins that fell, you jumped down, jammed them into the overhead crate. Second ball pins, ditto. At that point, you stood in the “hole” and pulled the crate down & released. Presto! New, fresh army of pins for the next bowler!
As I recall, you got paid 10 cents a line. Some of my friends tried it once and never again. I was a pumped-up, tough skinny little farm girl who would’ve done it on a regular basis. But the town boys needing jobs said no!