brainsplotch

Hello, friends in cyberspace.  I'm here to let you know that I'm slaving away on a few posts that I hope will eventually see the light of day and be reasonably entertaining. Right now, I am up far too late on Saturday night and really need to go to bed, so I'm going to say goodbye now.  Perhaps I will add more tomorrow.

This is an experiment to see if I can post from my phone. It may be successful. ...and it was, though I made several typos that I have since corrected.

Okay folks, I don't know what the hell was up with yesterday's post, and I have no idea if it even made any sense.  That's what happens when one starts writing at 11:00(ish) PM after being up since 5:30 AM: one comes up with some bizarre, incoherent fever dream.  But it is what is (which is probably crap) and I'm going to leave it up anyway. Here are some random observations from the world around me: Our 17 year-old cat Shadow and one year-old toy poodle Bodhi are an endless source of amusement.  They have a fascinating relationship, if it can even be referred to with that term.  Bodhi always wants to play, and tries to engage Shadow in playtime by feinting with him as if he, Bodhi, was a toreador.  Shadow usually sits still, swatting and hissing at Bodhi.  Shadow is completely fearless and usually gets in some good licks.  The cat has faster fists than Muhammad Ali had in his prime.  Bodhi thinks this hissing and swatting is wonderful, and th...

It's funny to me that just a few days after I posted my "Grandparents' cars" post,  Josh Wilker, author of the blog Cardboard Gods (and the book of the same name) has a new post about the first rock concert he ever attended (AC/DC in 1979, if you're keeping score at home) in which he writes "... I think my generation, perhaps the most backward-looking generation yet to walk the earth, is the first blessed with ample concrete evidence and artifacts of what, in earlier times, would have been the utterly transient particulars of fleeting youthful experiences."  (Wilker, who is almost exactly my age, is one of the most perceptive and fluid writers around, and I have to admit I am supremely jealous of his talent).  The point he's making is that with the internet and all the far-flung and obscure information it contains, we Gen-Xers (who do seem inordinately obsessed with our youthful experiences) are able to double check and verify all of our ghostly mem...

1965 Pontiac Bonneville 1968 Dodge Polara This may be interesting only to me but, hey, it's my blog--so nah, nah.   In my previous post, I mentioned my grandparents' cars: the first two that I can remember, in any case.  Above is the 1965 Pontiac Bonneville (to the best of my recollection--and upon research, I've narrowed it to the '66 model), and the one featured in this vintage advertisement looks exactly as I remember my Grandma C.'s car.  Oh, how I loved that automobile.  I can distinctly remember the large steering wheel, which was sort of an opaque gold, almost like amber. One could almost see straight through the steering wheel.  And the chrome.  Both this Bonneville and my Grandpa N.'s '68 Polara (pictured below) had a fair share of chrome.  Though they were put of shame by the automobiles of the chrome-crazy '50s, these cars of the '60s had just enough to accentuate their streamlined bodies and interiors. So why were ...