A Clash of the Titans Is Brewing Like Oolong Tea

Damn, there are some ugly people in this world.

Too harsh? Well, let me start again...

...sing with me...

"Radio killed the video star..."

Too obscure? Well, for those of you without one of those minds that stores up all trivia regardless of how, well, trivial...here's an explanation:

If you are old like me...and I'm, um...not only old enough to remember the days MTV played music, but the day they debuted. And the first song - sorry, correction...the first music video MTV ever played?

"Video Killed the Radio Star" by "The Buggles": http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hiJ9AnNz47Y

Yeah...but what's that got to do with the price of tea in China or ugly people, Mariann??

Well, let me tell you.

I was on Facebook today. Yeah, I know...I hate the place...but I was just curious as to what inane stupid comments were "Thumbed Up" today by people who I "friended" but haven't a clue who they are. I tell ya...I can single-handedly kill a thread just by posting on it. "Oh, look, Mariann posted...say no more...say no more."

While that is kinda an awesome superhuman power to behold, it certainly doesn't bode well when I'm trying to get people to comment after something I say. Consequently, people never post after I post something up as my "status". Apparently I must not mention "my cat", "Vampires", or "I'm running out for a Big Gulp and a bag of chips -- brb" much, if ever; so I don't get those comments I so desperately crave.

But, perhaps NOW I'll get them?

One of the "friends" I have, posted some stuff I would have easily otherwise overlooked...but this one caught my eye as it had the words, "brb, I have to go back on the air..." and then a phone number and then a link. It was the phone number which initially caught my eye, as I was thinking, "Who the heck is stupid enough to actually post their phone number for all the collective nimrods at Facebook to see?" But then I read the other stuff, and, untrue to my nature, I clicked a Facebook link.

Now, I ordinarily would never click a link I found on Facebook. First off I am very wary of links in general. Secondly, it's Facebook. I don't know 98% of the people I "friended"...I only "friended" them hoping they'd read my blog and comment afterwards.

Okay, the cat's outta the bag. Hmmmm...now there's a "Facebook status" line I'll have to use in the future as it does mention "cat"...hmmmm...maybe I'll get a comment!

But, while I'm digressing and I'm rather sick of using the word "digress" (or all forms of it) as an obvious segue to the next thought I just can't tie together with the first, it'll have to do.

I clicked that link and I saw.

I saw what I can only describe as the new vast wasteland laid bare before me. Picture if you will -- the wide screen version of "Lawrence of Arabia" - how the desert is encompassing the entire screen. Why there's literally sand from here to there and Peter O'Toole is just a tiny speck among them.

Yes, Peter O'Toole in his youth and at his incredibly insanely gorgeousness period. Even Noel Coward supposedly said on seeing the film's premiere, "If he'd [O'Toole] been any prettier, they'd have had to call it 'Florence of Arabia'."

But, just as the sands of time dwarfed O'Toole's cinematic majestic beauty...perhaps this new venue will dwarf another?

This "vast wasteland" I'm speaking of is http://www.blogtalkradio.com . Yes, you too, in the privacy of your own home, equipped with only a telephone and a desire to talk to and listen to a bunch of people who have even less of a life than previously thought (Hey, they managed to find YOU, didn't they?)--can be the host of your very own talk show, live, streaming across the Internet airwaves for anyone to hear and participate in. Did I mention this was in real live time? Real social interaction right there...laid bare for all to hear.

No more going over to YouTube to catch the latest imported glut of Japanese and Chinese "cute kitties", American-exploited "laughing babies bouncing around tearing up things", "restaged videos by people with less talent than a stale apple danish", and you will...NEVER...have to watch another celebrity eat a cheeseburger off the floor...ever! You may, if you're lucky, be able to totally miss the train wreck, no not in Lawrence of Arabia one -- the one which is called "Charlie Sheen's Winning Career Moves".

Plus, you don't have to be beautiful. No need to rely on a tush to rival Kim Kardashian's. No need to hold back the hourglass's sands of time. You can host it when you are super old. You can even host it in your underwear. Even yesterday's underwear. No one will notice like they would if you were on YouTube.

You don't need to have your hair coiffed and your nose hairs trimmed. No need to invest in a camera and the learn the latest film editing techniques. No need to be pretty good at anything viral at all...in fact you don't need to be pretty at all. Therein lies the beauty.

You can be butt ugly and as old as Joan Rivers' first face. No one will ever see you...you will be on the radio. You don't even have to have a nice voice.

I listened.

Trust me.

All you need are people who are willing to dial your number to call you up and talk. Where they come from is beyond me and anyone's guess...but they are probably bored and find you...or you can always seek them out on Facebook like my one "friend" was doing.

And forget all that stuff your parents told you about "being seen not heard". It's time to be heard and not seen! It's time for YouTube to be trumped by the new MeTube...it's time for everything old...to be new again.

So, break out your Little Orphan Annie decoder rings, people...and go places only "The Shadow" knows. It's time to harken back to those "Lake Wobegon" days.

See...isn't it getting nicer already?

It's high time for the MTV generation (and their spawn) to get their comeuppance...then grab yourself a comfy hair and sit right on back and watch...I mean "listen"...for radio to kill the video star.

But be prepared...it'll probably take a little while...and it's definitely going to get quite ugly.

Of Haggis and Owl...and Other Things Foul

I've recently been called out by a fellow blogger to participate in writing a poem. For those who don't exactly keep up here (at the Montgomery Advertiser blog section), mgb12345, who is very fond of writing poems, suggested I write one. Now, truth be told...I am not at all poem-y.

And I don't really like the ones which don't rhyme.

To me, if there's no rhyme...there's no reason. A poem without rhyme seems like a very short story with random line breaks. And I seriously don't get it.

But I wrote a silly poem the other day and I wrote to mgb12345 and told her about it. She wanted me to share...and I haven't, until now.

But, first I must confess that this is not my first foray into the poem realm. Long, long time ago, one of my online friends recruited the efforts of her group of online friends to attempt to win a radio contest in Scottsdale, Arizona. The gist of this contest was this: write a "funny" poem about haggis and win. Oh, wait, there's more...this was for the Arizona Renaissance Festival and the prize would be 10 free tickets (a small fortune, let me tell you - even in those days) and the "honour" of being crowned King (or Queen) of the Festival and all sorts of miscellaneous things being bestowed upon them.

So, I...a sucker for nearly any contest and downright pathetic whenever anything remotely challenging or competitive is put into the mix...set about writing a poem. Then I sent it to my friend. She culled all the ones sent to her (yeah, try to get the money back from her now, Renaissance Faire people) and submitted the one she considered her best bet.

As luck would have it, it was mine. And as further luck would have it...we (and when I say "we" I mean "I") won. Without further ado...I present my winning poem...from about 10-15 years ago:


The Minstrel's Ode to Haggis

Now gather ye maidens for a tale from our land...
Of the Scottish fare we eat that has gotten out of hand.
It's bits of the sheep innards that no one would eat...
Then boiled it its own stomach and WE call it a "treat".

So drink up and be merry for soon we will dine...
On a boiled tummy bag...ugh wench, fast, more wine.
If you think living now seems sometimes too dismal...
Just think of the Renaissance with no Pepto-Bismol.

Even Shakespeare wrote of haggis in a play called MacBeth...
With three witches a-cooking, a fate worse than death.
Listen close, heed my words, 'tis true in Scotland we tell...
That the something "rotten in Denmark" was the haggis smell.


So, as previously stated, she won all sorts of things...one of which was a real live (er...dead) haggis which she, in undoubtedly a grog-like induced state, decided a keen idea would be to ship this thing to me in the middle of summer, in a box surrounded by dry ice.

Dry ice, it seems, isn't necessarily "dry" when the bag it is encased in ruptures. And it isn't so much "icy" then, either. So, when I got this soggy box in the blistering heat of an Alabama summer...the first thing I did was say, "Ooooh a box." The second thing I said was, "Okay, the FBI will surely be coming to my door as whatever is inside this head-sized box...smells like...a severed head."

Okay, I've never actually smelled a severed head sent UPS, but chances are it's not too far off the mark from what I received. I, being the inquisitive sort...and not knowing what was inside the box...but really, really curious at this point, opened it.

All I can say is that the smell a sealed box of rotting, spoiled, decaying haggis emits pales in comparison with an opened box of rotting, spoiled, decaying haggis. Words like "vile" and (puntastically apropos) "gut-wrenching" come to mind. Also every single mob movie I've ever seen came to mind...and the "ear scene" from David Lynch's "Blue Velvet" as well...but mainly because I had recently watched it just prior to opening the box.

Yes, smell and memory are closely related because of the brain's limbic system. "Limbic" looks and sounds remarkably similar to the word "iambic", which, ironically is poem-related. In a strange way it's all very poetic really, right?

And that brings us to present day.

The other day I stumbled somehow upon a site which makes and sells "Hello Kitty" wine.

My online friend loves all things "Hello Kitty" so I forwarded the URL on to her. After she asked me which wine I would recommend, I perused their write-ups and came across this "tasty tidbit" for their Pinot Nero: "Best served with red meat, rabbit, lamb, roast beef, 'Zampone and Cotechino', wild owl and hard cheese."

Now, I don't know about you...but it's been virtually years since I've had any "wild owl" and frankly, if I can't get my hands on some prime grade "Spotted Owl"...I'm just going to say a resounding "No" to the whole owl species.

In the wee hours of the morning (all things are much funnier in the wee hours of the morning...hence my timely posting of this blog) my friend then asked her friends (on her forum) if people routinely eat "wild owl" in Britain. I figured it was probably just a typo and they indeed meant "wild fowl"...but, you have to admit..."wild owl" just reeks of the things a parody poem is made of.

So, I made one.

For further clarification of this poem's impetus - I must relay that someone from England replied at the forum saying they knew "gypsies who would cook up roadkill hedgehogs". Again...the things "memorable" poems are made of.

Please keep in mind my poem is in many different meters (at least I'm consistent in my inconsistency)...and I vehemently try to offend everyone equally across the board. :) Also, in my dealings and dabbling into the "world of poems" I've found out that I'm apparently very fond of the word "Ode"...and have used it in the title in all those I've penned. (Yes, all two of them.)


An Ode to All Things Eaten

Wild owls and guinea fowls and hedgehogs found as roadkill

These are the things that Brits do eat...as tasty as a duckbill.

When Americans eat...we like fresh meat...

We hunt it then it's skinless.

But in the UK they're drunk all day...On cheap rosé and Guinness.

Here in the South they like their deer, turkeys and some gator...

They boil them up in a big ole pot with carrots and po-tater.

I'm from New Jersey...we don't kill there, we just go to the market...

We point at things behind the case -- then pay from out the pocket.

Now I won't grab a gun to kill some meal...or a shovel for on-road scraping...

I don't have a pig, or a chicken or a cow...and no sheep here for raping.

So while I sit down with a store-bought snack and log on my computer...

...at some given point I will be drunk...but not with a guy named "Cooter".

You all have mgb12345 to thank for this...please feel free to direct all complaints directly to her. ;)

Cell phone etiquette...or actually the lack thereof...

You've seen it, in fact you've heard it - people who act oblivious to all those around them as they somehow imagine themselves to either, a) walk around in their own little bubbles - like a sci-fi movie - a force-field they put up which makes them impervious to any and all exterior penetration combined with some silly notion they have this Maxwell Smart "Cone of Silence"...mentality which, in turn, makes them think no one can hear them; or, b) are just more important than anyone else.

My money's on "a"...but that's neither here nor there. How someone can tune out all manner of things and in the same process, lose all manners...continues to amaze and astonish me.

Oh, I'm not saying I'm the most versed in refinement - but I don't go through check-out lines gabbing away on my phone, never acknowledging the "have a nice day"s. I also don't walk around with "Bluetooth/Hands Free" technology in the store -- looking like I'm either aimlessly talking to myself. I can't tell you the amount of times I said "excuse me?" to passing people thinking they were engaging me in conversation...only to be ignored, nary a word directed my way...totally oblivious that I exist and actually said something to them. The "tunnel-vision" glare they give - that "Stepford Wives" blank stare...is the only clue I have that I misspoke.

But the end of all breaches of cell phone etiquette - worse than the annoying guy in the theatre who "forgets" (numerous times) to turn his phone off...with EACH subsequent call and audience admonishment, was the guy who was sitting (with the obligatory empty chair between us) next to me today at the base clinic.

He gleefully sat there - in full voice - calling company after company checking on the status of various payments. HOW do I know this?? Well, it wasn't bad enough he was on hold listening to such classic ditties as Barry Manilow's "Copacabana"...apparently I had to be on hold with him. And there he sat, undoubtedly unconcerned that, instead of holding the phone to his own head, for his ear only - he felt somehow compelled to share his private insurance claim business with anyone within earshot - by taking advantage of his phone's "speaker" feature.

With phone prominently displayed in a two-hand hold before him, he sat there, legs akimbo, and slightly hunched over at the waist...his eyes intently watching "it" - like you see people portrayed watching radio programs before television was invented. It was if...he was mesmerized by it. I, on the other hand, was less impressed.

Oh, I'm sure I'm going to one day find something someone does with their cell phone more annoying, more insensitive, or more bold...this one will hold that place of "prominence", at least to me, until that time.