Terrible tourists - not happy in Narita

Now for some airport complaints:

1. Sino-tourists in the duty free.  The nouveau riche, in great Beverly Hillbillies fashion, are moving out in pestilent hordes, defacing Egyptian monuments, changing babies shiatty diapers on newspapers in airport thoroughfares, and spitting to the point where the Ministry of Tourism has made jingles to educate them...  In my experience earlier this month, one guy was pointing at something to his family and talking SO LOUD.  These commies are the true gaijin.  So his pointer finger was right next to my face and I shoved it down away from my head.

2. Chinese people standing in BOTH lanes on the moving walkway.  I was in a hurry and jumped over their boxes and crap in between the people like Knight Rider using Turbo Boost.

3. Fat Americans.  Loud screaming gaijin brats in the sushi-go-round at Narita.

4. Dirty smoking areas.  I watched a Japanese lady cleaning the smoke pit at Narita with a little brush, here I see spilled soda and garbage all over.  Meanwhile, in the U.S., if you're lucky enough to find one, it's soiled, sticky, sundered and sullen.  My nose bled all over that small room, Customs, and I walked around with a tissue stuffed up my nose covered in crimson blood, which had previously ejected from my nose dragging several inches worth of entrails quite spectacularly in the mens' room. 

I enjoyed basking in the cleanliess and good order.  And I love killing time in airports, but travel is not really glamourous these days.  Bring plenty of nasal spray to survive the air on the plane, earplugs for the screaming kids, and intolerance for rude tourists. 

Project update

The Roman-Moro super shiatter has now been installed and is so cool that even my dog is hanging out in there.  Gold and brown motif, new shower curtain. Every man has to have his sanctuary.  Next up: candelabra (Liberace?) and ... snacks?!  Maybe I should charge admission.

DIY: How to reinstall the pad for the Swiffer Sweeper Wet Jet mop

These things are great for bachelor-Americans: plastic and shiny out of the box, disposable and of limited use after gathering dust and forgetting the directions.  It's good they have some visible warnings - like "don't insert finger" in the robotic solution bottle impaler.  Reminds me of a blood-letting device from the Middle Ages, but still very tempting.

It looked easy enough to bring back out of retirement.  Purchased new bottle of cleaning juice, and found some pads in the garage from Mom's last visit (or possibly the ex's - but on second thought, what would she be doing around any cleaning supplies?) and Googled the instructional .pdf for precision lock and load.  Unfortunately, the fruitless search for any existing manual or planned obsolescence hampered my efforts and the sanitary napkin round would not lock into place, so I combined manly know-how with '80s sensibility and produced an easy 3-step guide, yours for free unlimited consumer distribution.

LT Poopers says:

Poem: "I Will Arise and Go Now"

"I Will Arise and Go Now", by Ogden Nash, 1948. 
Click to embiggen.
From an old, old book from my Grandma's house.

Photo purge V

Photo purge III

Photo purge II

Photo purge I

I'm back with a new summer project!

Crop circles were SO 2011.  This year I give you my Tron-inspired lawn, which is an '80s checkerboard wannabe.  Researching the appropriate design factors for the actual checkerboard.  Need some kind of bizarro steamroller/zamboni attachment I'm not sure I want to attach to Chessie (my lawnmower).  I do however plan to get my first chainsaw.  That should make for some truly superior hedge trimming!

Crop circles in my yard: LT Poopers is on the case

Postcards from Cageyville

Dear Friend,

Here procrastinating again, but have a full head of steam.  In fact, I had a huge discussion on it last night as we talked about the ramping up to get from the simple 'knowledge' layer of thought up to the 'evaluative' layer of thought - the part generally required to go from infotainment consumption up to essay writing. Prepare for a cannon blast of motivation, and as always, I wish you were here.
Yours,

Cagey

Pass in review

I used to have two of these robots - today, by chance, I learned they're called "Tomy Rascal" from the '70s.  Sweetness!  And the video is so apropos for a menacing looking robot army.

Poopers' Choice

Meaning

  No real choice at all - the only options being to either accept or refuse the offer that is given to you.

Origin

  There is a story that Poopers' choice' comes from a naval officer, Lieutenant Poopers, a.k.a. Cuddlebear, a.k.a. Cuddlekins, who hired out snuggles and bedwarming in exchange for treats, yet however gave her customer the impression that she would not snuggle if the stateroom door was to be closed. Thus, there was hesitation in the acceptance of the treat in lieu of following proper protocol (that the stateroom door would thus be sealed) yet it was most assuredly stated to Lieutenant Poopers at the threshold of the stateroom.  Lieutenant Poopers would take the treat, time and time again, however she would protest most vehemently and jump on her confidant's stomach until the door was reopened, snuggle or no. This has all the credentials of a 'folk etymology' myth but, in this case, the derivation is correct.

  The mistaken uses of the phrase, in place of the correct 'Poopers choice', originate from a confusion between the celebrated philosopher Cuddlebear and the obscure Echo, to whom the phrase refers.

  Lieutenant Poopers (2001-present) ran a thriving master-at-arms business in Cambridge, England, around the turn of the 21st Century. Poopers rented out an estate roving security watch, mainly to Cambridge University students, but refused to hire it out other than in the order she chose. The choice her customers were given was 'treat or none'; quite literally, Poopers' choice.

With apologies to "Hobson's Choice," http://www.phrases.org.uk/meanings/hobsons-choice.html

Lieutenant Poopers - the officer from which 'Poopers' Choice' was coined

 

Other notable cultural usage

 

   At suppertime, Poopers will insist standing on ceremony, requesting a musical procession hearkening back  the parading of the beef, or various chanteys celebrating cuisine, both practices of which are outdated with the exception of the formal dinner. In other words, there is really no 'choice' in the matter.  This evening meal routine may become banal, yet, Lieutenant Poopers will galavant from the parlor into the galley upon the sounding of the chorus, keeping the tradition robust and vibrant.

 

   This is the latest suppertime chantey in progress (Sung to 'I'm So Lonesome')

 

Some-one/ dropped her ice cream/ on you 

Your ear/ so sticky/ feels like glue

The Gra-vy/ Train/ is passing through

And bathtime/ leaves you blue



"The Giving Tree" by Shel Silverstein

Mudville

The outlook wasn't brilliant for the Mudville nine that day;
The score stood four to two with but one inning more to play.
And then when Cooney died at first, and Barrows did the same,
A sickly silence fell upon the patrons of the game.

A straggling few got up to go in deep despair. The rest
Clung to that hope which springs eternal in the human breast;
They thought if only Casey could but get a whack at that–
We'd put up even money now with Casey at the bat.
But Flynn preceded Casey, as did also Jimmy Blake,
And the former was a lulu and the latter was a cake;
So upon that stricken multitude grim melancholy sat,
For there seemed but little chance of Casey's getting to the bat.
But Flynn let drive a single, to the wonderment of all,
And Blake, the much despis-ed, tore the cover off the ball;
And when the dust had lifted, and the men saw what had occurred,
There was Johnnie safe at second and Flynn a-hugging third.
Then from 5,000 throats and more there rose a lusty yell;
It rumbled through the valley, it rattled in the dell;
It knocked upon the mountain and recoiled upon the flat,
For Casey, mighty Casey, was advancing to the bat.
There was ease in Casey's manner as he stepped into his place;
There was pride in Casey's bearing and a smile on Casey's face.
And when, responding to the cheers, he lightly doffed his hat,
No stranger in the crowd could doubt 'twas Casey at the bat.
Ten thousand eyes were on him as he rubbed his hands with dirt;
Five thousand tongues applauded when he wiped them on his shirt.
Then while the writhing pitcher ground the ball into his hip,
Defiance flashed in Casey's eye, a sneer curled Casey's lip.
And now the leather-covered sphere came hurtling through the air,
And Casey stood a-watching it in haughty grandeur there.
Close by the sturdy batsman the ball unheeded sped–
"That ain't my style," said Casey. "Strike one," the umpire said.
From the benches, black with people, there went up a muffled roar,
Like the beating of the storm-waves on a stern and distant shore.
"Kill him! Kill the umpire!" shouted some one on the stand;
And it's likely they'd have killed him had not Casey raised his hand.


With a smile of Christian charity great Casey's visage shone;
He stilled the rising tumult; he bade the game go on;
He signaled to the pitcher, and once more the sphereoid flew;
But Casey still ignored it, and the umpire said, "Strike two."


"Fraud!" cried the maddened thousands, and echo answered fraud;
But one scornful look from Casey and the audience was awed.
They saw his face grow stern and cold, they saw his muscles strain,
And they knew that Casey wouldn't let that ball go by again.


The sneer is gone from Casey's lip, his teeth are clenched in hate;
He pounds with cruel violence his bat upon the plate.
And now the pitcher holds the ball, and now he lets it go,
And now the air is shattered by the force of Casey's blow.

Oh, somewhere in this favored land the sun is shining bright;
The band is playing somewhere, and somewhere hearts are light,
And somewhere men are laughing, and somewhere children shout;
But there is no joy in Mudville –mighty Casey has struck out.

-Ernest Lawrence Thayer (1863-1940)

"Casey at the Bat"
------------------------------
Good old Mudville.  I live in her sister city, K-ville.  A cozy little town (if you like settling).  Hometown feel, not quite all-American.  No Rotary Club signs where you might expect, and nobody knows your name.  The people are nice, sedate. Dive bars and Food Lions - one bar named "Hometown Heroes" went out of business.  An "Irish pub" situated in the middle of a vast asphalt oasis, near some big box stores.  Outback is the only saving grace, and that's not saying much.  The open land that hasn't been developed is - serene and beautiful.  Regardless of any predispositions I might have, I always think of Mudville when I hear Kempsville.  Mudville.

Saving the princess

I called the folks at the kennel to let them know I'd be picking up Echo a day early.  Another proven field study that people don' know 'bout my randomness, but somehow they know when I come calling.

"Daisy Hill Puppy Farm."

"Can I pick up my sweet, sweet princess a day early?"

The reaction was a lot more fun than if I'd been businesslike. 

~~~~

I picked up another friend from the pier a few weeks back.  Up close, the arrival is quite a spectacle: signs, hugs, palpable anticipation, that sort of thing.  I earlier thought, "Who will be there to greet me home from my next deployment?" It's a freaking lonely feeling.   

"The best G.I. Joe movie ever"

(Linked URL)

We used to do this stuff when we were kids, but not with directing, framing (close-ups, etc.) and great sound effects.  Firecrackers, bottle rockets, all that goodness.  At 3:00 in length, it's the perfect amount of time to keep our interest in the YouTube age.  Kids - we like to blow up G.I. Joes for some reason.

Potpourri

CAGEY'S READING:

Navy pilot's last act: saving 3 crew mates This story, one of tragic bravery, makes me feel so much admiration for how great a real man can be.  I heard about this story in local news and then in the following day or two the leader of a large church in town surprised many by revealing the rumor that LT Zilberman had selflessly kept the plane steady so that his mates could bail out.  Please pray for LT Zilberman's family and for all our fighting men.

Obama Can Remove Jihad From the National Security Strategy Document, But Can He Remove It From Islam?  A horse is a horse, a spade is a spade, and a violent Islamic extremist terrorist is a...  "bad guy"?

Obama seeks to 'reconnect...young people, African-Americans, Latinos, and women' for 2010 What happened to "uniting the country"?

CAGEY'S PLANNING:

A trip to the bayou.  It's official. After long deliberation on what would be the next best trip, somehow the convergence of sense experience and the cultural terrain I rumble along have led me to favor this mystic environs!  Grimm's Ghost Stories, Live and Let Die (1978, Roger Moore), fan boats whooshing through swamp grass on Miami Vice, and Frankenfish (the movie) all come to mind.  So maybe I can go do some of my being introverted down there, on one of those cool pontoon houses, drinking some Blackened Voodoo beer and fishing.

QUOTE OF THE DAY:

"We protect the borders of other nations better than our own."         - Congressman Ted Poe, R-Texas.


FOLLOW-UP:

On the Mojave cross (Original story here: http://makalakapisei.blogspot.com/2009/10/follow-up-supreme-court-on-mojave.html).  The SCROTUS barely decided to allow the cross to remain, ruling that the district court's opinion did not constitute that cross as a "religious symbol"

Washington Post:  "The Supreme Court on Wednesday said a lower federal court was wrong to order the removal of a lone cross on government land in the middle of the Mojave Desert, and said separation of church and state 'does not require eradication of all religious symbols in the public realm.' "

"How did I know that the wise Latina n00b would add her God/America hating ideology to the dissent? Good choice, Obama."  - Found on the web. 

Thank you!

THE TOP ULTIMATE POWER COOLEST INVENTION OF ALL TIME:

The escalator!  I just had this epiphany today.

PERSONAL:

An old friend, Don, rang me up late last Saturday night.  I have a small family.  Mom, me, and the dog.  Mostly I'm in the mood to answer the phone when a friend calls. You know the feeling; sometimes you're up to switching gears and engaging with an old bud, the information age seems to make it a lot more common.  Other times it can be hard,  I'm not a great conversationalist, and how do you carry on with someone from back then like normal?  Really, it's important not to neglect these relationships because of their mutual benefit.  I'm learning about myself in talking with you.  Sense of community is important.  Sense of camaraderie is important.  Being neighborly,  being human.  Being childlike, in a way.  Being a good citizen.

This guy - same college I went to, married, child. He is raising a family in an idyllic little German community. Enchanting (by most any definition) just entering the place. You take an old metal bridge and cross to the other side of a big river.  He was completely soused which is a surrounding circumstance, but so what?  It did not limit the depth of communication we had from my p.o.v.  He was very complimentary ("I love you man" kinda stuff).  That felt really good, you don't get that often.  In vino, veritas.  What a nice guy, but I'm surprised when some of the things he's wrangling with in his subconcious bubble to the surface.  "I live in a small town.  This is boring.  My job.  Etc."  He has so much and he doesn't even realize it.  (In Swingers lingo: "You're so 4%^* money and you don't even know it.")  Often times you can't bring out these truths without exploring them with someone else.

The awkward moment:  Nobody really knows what to say to people that offer gratitude for your past or present because in truth, everyone goes through unique and even devastating hardships.  I'm talking about personal and military ones.  I am one of the lucky, (relatively) unscathed ones.  I have different scars than others.  O.k., if all of this just sounds like a lot of pomposity, it's not meant to be. I'm just trying to relate that words are valuable; deeds are valuable; as the saying goes, "At the end of the day, I hope most of us are the same."  Anyway, thank you for acknowledging me, but I am more moved by your ability to open yourself. 

Lao Tzu: "Thus also is the man of calling:  He knows himself, but does not want to shine.  He loves himself but does not seek honor for himself.  He removes the other and takes this.
I continue to realize that most of us never know how much a simple kind word or deed will inspire.  Another pal, a big joker with a heart of gold, (now in Afghanistan) recently reminded me how he'd saved my bacon in a scrap in college, something I'd long forgotten.  Fast-forward a few days.  Half-humorously, mostly serious,  I thanked him for it and said, "Rich, you're a good man."  He replied, "Cagey, you're a great man." This, a moment of utter humility for me,  a guy stumbling a bit trying to build a new life's plan.  So I tried to share Rich's same sentiment with Don.  After hanging up, I found my favorite realization is a reaffirmation that: My friends are my family. 

"Taking the Long Way Home" by The Fixx

Played abroad many nights on my ship, after stumbling back from tucked away haunts.

http://www.sightnsound.org/sounds/Fixx/The%20Fixx%20-%20Long%20Way%20Home%20(Live).mp3

It's not where you are
It's what you think
Satellite beams
Trusting your instincts

Miles down the road
Trees grow in place
Our rooms now down know
Not face to face
Not face to face

A prison of Rhodes
They mess with your head
Enjoy your time
Look for the magic instead
The books in your life
Have now run their course
Find that the peace comes without force
Without force

I feel like taking the long way home tonight
Maybe I'll turn left - I better get right
Keeping my eyes on that distant harbor light
The seas may be wrong
But the stars shine bright

Are you dead as you live?
Please come alive
Show me the pearl buried deep inside

Step off the cart
Come for the ride
It's more fun to seek than it is to hide
...Than it is to hide

I feel like taking the long way home tonight
Maybe I'll turn left
We better get right
Keeping my eyes on that distant harbor light

Ohhhh
The seas may be wrong
But the stars shine bright

There's the warming sight of the harbor lights
Straight through the hard door wrong or right
There're be no more doubt
There'll be no more lies
Keeping my eye
On the harbor lights
Taking the long way

Home
I feel like taking
The long way home tonight

There'll be no more doubt
There'll be no more lies - tonight

Stop where you are
It's what you think
Satellite beams
Trusting your instincts
I feel like taking the long way home - tonight

Taking the long
Taking the long way home...

Transcribed by Cagey