Tuesday, December 31, 2013

Sabre Tooths and Artifacts

After saying that I used to have a crush on 1970s American television actor Randolph Mantooth, I am now feeling dinosaur-old. Indeed, I am feeling like T'pau--the chick who called Spock "Spook" on the first Star Trek series (which I saw in re-runs, mind you) and then Spock opened a can of whoop-ass on Kirk (after semi-groping Nurse Chapel and generally losing his Vulcan cool).
I've posted a clip of this episode. I have always loved the music that accompanied Spock and Kirk's battle. You can hum it any time life gets crazy-intense...online in the 12-items-or-less aisle when people have 28 items, moshing into the crowds and Christmas shopping for a Nintendo wii, you name it.

I don't think I'm a LOT like T'pau--nobody carries me around in a sedan chair (damn it), I lack the ceremonial warthog atop my head, and my eyebrows are less stylized. Yet, I'm feeling real ancient and T'paulike today. So, let me show you some of my ancient artifacts!

This is a photo of what my first car looked like--it was a 1967 Dodge Coronet and it was almost officially an antique when I got it in the mid-1980s. I have to go into the big scary chest of photos to find a picture of my ACTUAL first car; I can't do that because I always bang my head on the ceiling of the crawlspace and end up with a concussion. So, trust me (at least until I go into the crawlspace); it was exactly like this except in worse shape. I loved the triangular shaped windows and overall mammothness of the vehicle. Due to its behemoth proportions, I never parallel-parked (that was the part of the driver's test I was most worried about failing). I would just drive around and around until I found a parking space I could glide straight into. The chambermaids that I used to work with all heartily approved of the car because it was so big and better to drive in the snow. "You drive somethin' like my Toyota," one noted, "and you'll end up ham and eggs in a ditch. I wish I still had my Chrysler Newport. My boyfriend made me sell it 'cause he didn't want to be seen in it."
When I was growing up, we had a hi-fi from my mother's swinging days living as a young married woman on a Naval Air Base with a houseboy from the Phillipines and a cook named Ruby (I never witnessed these days, they live on only in legend and in my sister's dim memories of the time when she had a playhouse with little windowboxes, non-stop root beer whenever she asked for it, and no hairy monkeybaby--me--to share it all with). It was from Germany and it was called a Telefunken. It had a turntable, a radio, and a shortwave radio that would make a noise like "Verrrrrbuzzzzzzkuhschmurrrrrrr" whenever I tried to tune something exotic in. I have the hunch that it would be worth a lot these days if I still had it, so I'm not even gonna look it up. Here it is (note--an actual photo of me with the real Telefunken is available, but you would laugh at my hair and pious expression so I cannot post it):
This is the hairdryer we used to have when I was growing up. To my mind, it fried some parts of your hair while leaving other parts quite damp. It is a good thing that the state of the art has advanced past this:
Last but not least, here we have Randolph Mantooth. I think I was attracted to him because he is one-half Seminole (or at least I believed that to be the case at the time) and I was proud of being part Native American (although this is iffy at the moment and not at all substantiated enough for me to claim a share of casino profits--my Cousin Dude now is claiming that we are "descended from Spanish Royalty" and I'd get to the bottom of his theory except each time he starts to talk about genealogy my eyes glaze and I start auto-nodding).

After looking up photos online, I have come to the happy conclusion that Randolph Mantooth (or at least his Webmaster) likely has a sense of humor. I was going to copy in some text from his Web site that says he took a course in "how to laugh on stage" but when I tried to right-click on said text to copy it a little dialogue box popped up that said, "Sorry! No can do! No copy for you! You wouldn't want Randy to be mad at you for stealing his stuff, would you?" To which I say: Nooooooo! I just want Randy to resuscitate me. Still, after all these years, bedad! (Although his Web site's music threw me off, I must admit. Speakers up for a delightfully cheesy experience!)

Friday, August 16, 2013

I Knew Jed Clampett. Jed Clampett Was A Friend of Mine. You, Governor, Are No Jed Clampett.

So, I'm catchin' up on my readin' as part of work avoidance, and I stumble (stubbed my dang toe) on this: "'The report that I only hunted twice is incorrect,' Romney said. 'I've hunted small game numerous times, as a young man and as an adult. I'm by no means a big game hunter. I'm more Jed Clampett than Teddy Roosevelt.' He does not own a firearm, despite claiming to earlier this year."

You know, Mitt, it takes a lot to get my dander up, but you had to go and do it. Why, Mitt, why? I just wanted to relax here on the porch, sipping lemonade, my democratic cankles elegantly crossed as I watch the hummingbirds at the feeder. But, no. You have likened yourself to Jed Clampett and now, sir, you must pay the price. Who cares? Well, I care! And, you know what? It has prompted me to ask you a few, hard-hitting questions.
1) Lately, you only have your "hot campaign wife" with you. Where are your other wives? The "dishwashing wife," the "laundry wife," and the "raising children wife"? Why do they never get to go outside? Are you ashamed of them? If Jed Clampett had as many wives as you do, he'd make sure that they all got out to ride around in the truck and get some fresh air. He had a sense of fairness.
2) Will Donny Osmond get a cabinet post? If so, will he bring Marie with him to share the post? Will Marie make decisions that are viewed as "a little bit country," even as Donny makes decisions that are clearly a "little bit rock 'n roll"? How will you bring them to an accord? Let's face it: Jed Clampett could do it better than you. He could talk Jethro down.
3) Have you seen the same show about the Mormons on PBS that I just saw? How about that zany Joseph Smith guy finding God's grocery list engraved on golden plates in his backyard? WOW! And this was even before metal detectors. No, no, no. Everybody's gotta believe in something. Don't get all defensive on me. I, myself, worship a small statue of Joey Bishop. Joey: The glue that held the Rat Pack together. I think Jed Clampett worshipped Lester Flatt and Earl Scruggs.
4) You think you have the best, sleekly groomed hair of any candidate, don't you? Well, maybe so. But, do you know who has better hair than you, Mr. Mittens? Jed frickin' Clampett. Exhibit A:
5) Look, Bwana, if you're going to be a Great White Hunter, glory in it--stride around wearing deer antlers on your head with a manly corset of dead marmosets clasped about your waist. Don't slink about being a poacher and then go all coy about it and name-drop Jed Clampett. You leave Jed Clampett alone. He was a man of great dignity, fabulous hair, and significant dancing ability who owned up to his poaching. And Granny cooked the varmints in a fine, upright away, unlike your "cooking wife" who must crouch in the basement, braising varmints under cover of darkness.
6) Do you own a gun or do you not own a gun? You can't be Charles Bronson and Nicey Non-Shooty Boy at the same time. Choose one. Stick with it. Thank you. BTW: Jed Clampett had a real nice gun that he carried around unless Granny stole it.
7) You have a lot of money. Will you please buy me a pony? Jed Clampett would have.