The latest entry to Mike‘s and my ever growing collection of internet-weirdness is brought to us by South African musician Thor Rixon. And no, it’s probably NSFW or for small children or the hyper sensitive, but you’re not one of those so, please, please view this. You will never be the same (or at least come away with a few handy recipes).
I owe all of you a St. Pat’s weekend round-up. Unfortunately, I’m squeezed for time right now.
However, I do have enough time to play out a little TBT fun. The other day I offhandedly mentioned The Wiz to Mike. He was clueless as to what I was referring. So are you? Tell me you have heard of The Wiz (and I don’t mean the electronics salesman from Seinfeld). I loved the Wiz. We even got to sing some of the songs in grade school.
I guess Mike and I won’t be playing this anytime soon…sigh…
There are a 1001 reasons I love Savannah. Here is another. I was walking through Johnson Square, heading north. On the very north end of the walkway, leading to Bryan Street, there was a cute, young couple taking some romantic selfies. As I was walking toward them, there was a gorgeous lady who was walking next to me, like she could have been a model type gorgeous. Tall, long hair, impeccably dressed.
Like me, she sees the cute couple and their selfie-taking, and instantly photo bombs them by hugging a tree, including wrapping one of her legs around it. I busted out laughing. This woman’s got balls. How cool she is!
Then she gets even cooler. She proceeds to walk in the same direction as me, but a little more hurried. She walks right up to the young couple and offers to take their picture. Oh yeah she did. They, of course, take her up on her generous offer not knowing the surprise they have waiting for them when they look at the pics later.
Lady, you are da bomb! Photo-bomb! I want to be your friend.
Going way back, to November 1954, this is my current reading: Galaxy Magazine. The subjects of the stories in this particular issue have a lot of connections to Mike or my hobbies/interests so I had to start reading it. I’m only into the first story – about a legal case disputing whether or not DIY robots are property or independent beings. It’s hilarious and rather thought-compelling so far. There is also a story in there about a musician who tries to become a museum exhibit and another about genealogy and time travel. It’s like this issue was made for me nearly decades before I existed. Nice!
Finally, I was digging through my Memories Box and found a film selfie from April 1994 of these two cuties (taken near the woods that no longer exist off of Wolf Rd in Frankfort, IL):
Clearly this was before we knew about making duckface so we don’t look like we have extra chins. I swear, neither one of us was fat. In fact, we were pretty damned fine looking 17 years olds if I may say so myself.
I think I’m going to wander around with my index finger in the air. If it works in parking lots, it may work here. Please, kind friend or stranger – miracle me! There simply is not enough of me to go around.
Working at law firms for as many years as I have, I get invited to an overwhelming amount of fundraisers. So let me ask you – why do 99% of fundraisers either involve drinking or running (and sometimes both)?
Seriously, I don’t do either. Because of that I am not inclined to go to your fundraising event. Being that I’m not really a charitable person (hey, at least I admit it), I find it’s an easy excuse to get out of the invite if there will be drinking or running involved. So if you’re going to be organizing such an event, consider doing something, anything different. You might actually be able to separate me from my money that way. Just a thought.
If you know anything about me, you know I really dislike talking on the phone. This is most strongly evidenced by the fact that I am one of the few people in all of the western world that does not have a cell or smart phone. I haven’t felt the need to get one or that I am ‘missing out’ on anything because I don’t have one. The single drawback that I’ve experienced is that I don’t have a convenient way to store everyone’s phone numbers. My work around is to maintain a call list and carry it in my wallet. The point of all of this is to let you know that I am updating my list. If you’d like me to have your number, and think I don’t already have it, please email me at legaleeze @ hotmail DOT com or send me a message through Facebook and I will put you on my list. As promised, don’t worry, I won’t call you.
Racist, not racist, bigoted, or just dumb? You decide>>> This morning while perusing Facebook, I happened upon a video posted by a friend. It was of a young, black woman getting her hair braided in a very intricate and beautiful way. Clearly, the video was to showcase the stylist’s abilities and to show how pretty the lady looked when it was done.
As any of you FBers know, once you view a video on FB, an ad or two will appear below it on your timeline, which FB believes would be of interest to you based on the video you just viewed (and I’m sure based on other things – it’s an algorithm). As soon as I was done with the hair braiding video, FB shows me an ad – on how to crochet a hat. Wow, FB. Really? Exactly how is a crocheted hat in anyway related to hair braids? Specifically, black lady hair braids. Is FB’s algorithm really implying that black ladies’ hair looks like crocheted yarn? Why not show me an ad for a Raggety Ann doll? Ouch. Could you be any more degrading, FB?
Am I over-reaching here in feeling insulted? Why not offer to show me more hair braiding videos? Why in the world would FB feel there is any connection to crocheted hats and hair braids? I’m probably looking way too far into this. Yes, I acknowledge it’s an algorithm, but I suggest FB needs to adjust it. If this is not straight up bigotry, it certainly gives an appearance of complete ignorance to black hair, and that is just not acceptable in 2015. Get with the times or we will leave you behind, FB.
Here’s one of those odd coincidence stories for you. First, some background.
I often spend Savannah’s single winter month inside doing genealogical research. This year has been no different. I’ve recently put in some hours on my Ferguson and Quigley lines in an attempt to have some good ‘Irish Family History’ to add to my tree by St. Pat’s.
My research so far indicates my Irish ancestors came from North Ireland, Counties Derry and Antrim. To inspire me to continue on my N. Ireland research, on Tuesday, January 20th, I updated my work computer desktop with a photo of a statue of Manannán Mac Lír, a Celtic sea god, that was placed on a hillside in County Derry in 2013. It looks a little like this:
Well, it did, anyway.
On January 21st, I read that this statue was STOLEN. Yep, that’s right, someone(s) had the gall to steal a six foot, weight unknown but quite heavy, statue. Even worse, the jackasses who stole it thought it would be a good idea to leave a wooden cross in it’s place with a sign stating, “Thou Shalt Not Have False Gods Before Me”. Really, zealots? You feel threatened by this fiberglass statue? Pathetic.
Not a new point, but it’s worth repeating – if zealots feel the need to tear down a statue of a fictional character because it threatens their god, then their god is a weakling and shouldn’t be worshipped anyway. Suck it up cowards and return the statue. Your god wants you to. She told me.
My uncle found an abandoned 1960s Eko 995, and a number of family members were kind enough to make arrangements to send it here from Illinois. This weekend, with Mike as my guide, we were set to begin the tear down and clean up of the Eko. Unfortunately, we didn’t get very far. Turns out, the truss rod was broken off in the nut, so that killed any plans for this bass until we figure out whether we can get this fixed for a reasonable price.
Mike wrote about it more on his music blog, here: 1960s Eko 995 Broken Truss Rod Nut. He is reaching out to people he knows for ideas, and I am feeling slightly hopeful he will come up with a workable solution. In the meantime, I thought I’d share about this too in the off chance one you have an idea for this. I sure don’t want to have to part this thing off. It’s so pretty-pretty. Help!
Scene: Yesterday morning. A-Team* and I are near her cubicle discussing a very large case.
The Idiocy: A-Team mentions that the Casemap and Depositions folder for this case are in order but the rest is a mess. I then reminded her that we had also created a Master Folder of Bates-Stamped Documents. Unfortunately for me, it came out like this, “Yeah, but don’t forget we still have that Master-Bates-Folder.” It was at least a thirty seconds before either of us realized what I had just said. Queue the laughter. Good times.
I went to do some emergency panty hose repair yesterday with a glue stick I keep in my desk for such purposes (and you know, for the occasional need to actually glue papers). I opened it and found this:
Eww! I’ve never heard of glue molding ever. Have you?
Oh Elmers! Bring it back to the USA. Can’t trust those Chinese glue chemists.
October, as usual, proved to be a very busy month, and November is starting out the same. I’m not complaining, but it’s left me with little time to keep up on writing and sharing the minutia of my life.
First, let’s backtrack all the way back to my birthday dinner. This year was one of the best yet, not only for the quality of the food, but because it provided Mike with a whole new level of challenge. I opted for a strip steak (quality ribeyes not being available). The challenge for Mike was that it was to be sous-vide. As expected, he met the challenge, successfully made a sous-vide machine, and we feasted on some of the best, and most accurately cooked, medium rare steaks ever tasted. I should add that after we removed the steaks from their bags, we used our handy blowtorch to fire the sides of the steak, giving it the needed grilled char. Thanks Mike! I have no idea what is in store for next year.
The rest of the month included Mike’s birthday, which he intentionally keeps low key (which continues to befuddle me). Then it was prepping for a camping trip.
Earlier this week, Mike and I returned from said camping trip at the Stephen C. Foster State Park in the Okeefenokee Swamp. It was a short, but wonderful journey. I highly recommend going – if you can find it. It is extremely remote. GPS doesn’t work so well out in the swamplands. Learn to read maps, kids. It may be your only back up.
The wildlife was in abundance, but bugs at a minimum since it was cooler. It struck me at some point on the trip that the last time we camped in a swamp (Big Cypress, Y2K New Years), we returned home and vowed to move south, which we then did. Having been living in the coastal south now for so long, I’m wise enough to know it is the bugs in the summer that would prevent me from running away to live in the swamps. I can say it has inspired me to pick up my mandolin again (it’s been an embarrassingly long time since I’ve bothered with it). The reality is that I can’t bring my bass rig to a campsite. Well, at least not without a ridiculous amount of effort. New strings are on their way.
The highlight of the trip was our self-navigated boat trip into the swamp. Feel free to check out our pics from that boat trip. We journeyed about ten miles in, in one direction. It was pretty intense at times with the waterway being only slighter larger than our low riding john boat and alligators on all sides, who like to plunge into the water at the boat as you near them. I wish we were able to take more photos of the birds, but they were so fast. The large birds were in abundance, though – storks, cranes, herons, hawks. Overall, a fantastic trip, and one I would like to make again, maybe next fall.
Upon my return to civilization, I did what any modern American would do, and checked my email. In the three days I was away, Facebook had emailed me six times to let me know that it had been awhile since I last logged in and there were notifications and messages waiting for me. Twice a day for three days? Really, Facebook? Holy crap, kick it down a notch you needy baby. Of course, I’ve turned this into an experiment and have not logged into FB for over a week. I’m still getting about two messages a day. I assume eventually FB will start threatening to leave me, or suspend me, or whatever is the equivalent of a person-needy social media website break up. I won’t let it get that far. I won’t be able to resist cross-posting this very post to my wall. FB will be pleased it has lured me back. Unfortunately, I now have to go through the bother of figuring out FB’s intentionally confusing preference settings in order to not receive anymore of these notifications. I do refuse to be harassed by a bot.
Next up, Thanksgiving prep. The grandest meal of the year. Planning begins next week.