R Blog

Panty Test

My last post was about a sort of panty test. Carrying a golf bag up and down hills in 100 plus temperatures will make you pant. I commented to my golf partner Special Ed that if we had brought my beloved to the course we would have had to call an ambulance to haul her off after about seven holes. The girl can’t handle the heat. It addles her brain. Once we spent a weekend in San Francisco during a record heat wave. It was 100 degrees. She kept mumbling, “Call me a cab.” “Call me a cab,” has become a sort of code phrase for “it’s too damn hot.” This week is definitely brain addling, call-me-a-cab kind of weather. The windows and doors are shut to try and capture that overnight low of 75 degrees. The fans are turning. We are sitting around in our undies trying to keep our core temperatures from rising, me kind of enjoying the nakedness of it all; Linda appearing borderline suicidal. Thankfully, as her misery was beginning to build, she received an email from a company called Barely There, a purveyor of women’s undergarments. Barely There has invented a new panty and was looking for 300 gals to test them out. The incentives were quite attractive. Two pairs of panties which are to be worn for three weeks. You have to commit to washing them twice a week. If you then submit an on line review Barely There will send you a $10 gift certificate to Starbucks. And, you get to keep those panties. During this beta testing period Barely There will be in contact with Linda, monitoring her progress with the panties. She had to fill out a questionnaire which asked certain pertinent questions such as: How big is your butt, anyway?
Linda is a long time user of Barely There and had previously written to them requesting information. They apparently kept her name on file. Normally, she wears the model  2803 , a microfiber solid brief.  The conservatism of this particular undergarment will surprise some who might expect her to be more bikiniish. Nope. It’s pretty much granny pants when the flashy outside stuff comes off. The fact is that neither of us can understand the thong undie syndrome or that speedo look in men’s underwear. I recently quit horsing around with my own undergarments, tossed out Jockeys, Haines and other brands and went back to my beloved JC Penny Stafford full cut 100% cotton briefs which definitely have a grandpa ambiance. But enough about me. The Barely There panty test has electrified the atmosphere here. Heat notwithstanding, the excitement is palpable. Only 300 selected. You had to “qualify.” They  used the word “qualify” four times in their email. She qualified. She was accepted for the panty test. Huzah! Hoorah! It’s hot, hot, hot. But those free panties are on their way.

Hot Golf

105 degrees in Medford yesterday and at its peak, at 3:30pm I staggered off the golf course after walking and carrying for eighteen hot holes. On a couple of occasions I’ve attempted Bikram yoga where they crank the temperature up to 120. I always end up gasping for oxygen like a little fish tossed up on a beach. It could have been that way yesterday except for a slight breeze and the approximately two gallons of water I drank during the four and a half hours we toured the course zigzagging from shade to shade. Unfortunately, there are hills on this particular golf layout. They seemed twice as steep as usual. The quality of the golf wasn’t too important. This was more of a survival test. Could I make it without heat stroke, heat exhaustion, cramping or debilitating fatigue?  Water is the key. I must have chugged enough.
Quit counting after eight litres. There is, of course, the problem of drinking too much water. This is called “water intoxication” or “hyponatremia” resulting from loss of sodium from the system. Years back, in basic training in Texas we were told to eat several salt tablets each day. There were little salt tablet dispensers on the barracks walls. Hyponatremia results in apathy, confusion, nausea, and fatigue. Didn’t have any of those symptoms but in the evening, after returning home and standing under our nice cold outdoor shower for ten minutes and drinking significant additional amounts of H2O I was peeing every fifteen minutes for the rest of the evening. Over hydrated I guess. Supposed to be 105 again here today. If Al Gore’s movie were in town, I believe I’d go see it. Before global warming we could count on Ashland being comfortable until August. Looks like it will be hot golf from now on.

A President Run Amok

Does the US government have the right to knock your door down and slap your wife around then grab your kids and ship them to Ubekistan for interrogation? A constitutional lawyer named  Glenn Greenwald thinks so and has written a book called How Would a Patriot Act? Defending American Values from a President Run Amok. Quick access to his ideas can be heard  here in this clip from the Al Franken Show on Air America. Essentially, the administrations interprets the Constitution as saying that the President can do what he thinks is necessary using “signing statements” as his authority to violate existing law.

The Beatles: The Biography by Bob Spitz

Here’s my Beatles story. I knew about them before you did. In September of 1963 two brothers returned to our college from a year in England. They came back with strange haircuts, thick mops of hair that covered their ears and foreheads. A scandalous look. All they could talk about was a group called The Beatles. We all thought the brothers looked weird and didn’t give a hoot about The Beatles who everyone thought were “the beetles.” By February of 1964 when The Beatles appeared on Ed Sullivan most of us had heard of them and the entire population of our small dormitory crowded into the housemother’s (a quaint phenomenon of the past) quarters to watch the show. I was underwhelmed, continued to listen to my roommate’s jazz albums, graduated, joined the Air Force, was discharged, started a family and a job and thus, unfortunately, missed the entire 60’s. I didn’t pay much attention to The Beatles’ story. I heard the music. Linda played it constantly and wished she was a hippie or, at least, a “bird”. I knew they were John, Paul, George and Ringo. I saw Hard Day’s Night. Was amused at their adventures with the Maharishi. Was aware of the evil Yoko. Felt bad when John was murdered; but kind of lost track of them after that. Didn’t follow Wings. Ignored George until he died of cancer. Yet The Beattles have always been there, music for my personal sound track, since 1963. We’ve played Beatles music constantly over the years and now, with the invention of the iPod, I probably have ten Beattles albums close at hand. Since I’ve finished Bob Spitz’s intense biography of The Beatles I’m totally caught up. Will get an A on the Beatles pop quiz. Can name the ex-Beatles, the near Beatles, the fifth Beatles, the wives, the muses, the managers, the lovers, the entourage, the dope, the booze, the tours, the producers and emprassarios, the charlatans, the songs and situations. Mr. Spitz is comprehensive and details the evolution of The Beatles from childhood to the painful breakup of their most successful musical partnership. Afterall, The Beatles story is a story of partnership and I can relate to that aspect of it having been in a business partnership that had a breakup. I find that my partnership story is very similar to The Beatles—that is if you take out the music, the girls, the dope, the booze, the world travel and the money. Their’s is a great story. Stranger than fiction. A fascinating tale of ambition, talent, karma and tragedy. The Beatles: the Biography by Bob Spitz is a compelling read, well-researched and well-written. A page turner that helps explain the music of this unique group.  Read a more detailed review here.

US Health Care System Indicted

“A study by Harvard Medical School researchers in the July 2006 issue of the American Journal of Public Health finds that U.S. residents are less healthy than Canadians.” (Another study shows Americans are less healthy than the English!)

Quotes from the study leaders:
 Lead author Dr. Karen Lasser, primary care doctor at Cambridge Health Alliance and instructor of medicine at Harvard, commented, “Most of what we hear about the Canadian health care system is negative, in particular, the long waiting times for medical procedures. But we found that waiting times affect few patients, only 3.5 percent of Canadians vs. 0.7 percent of people in the U.S. No one ever talks about the fact that low-income and minority patients fare better in Canada. Based on our findings, if I had to choose between the two systems for my patients, I would choose the Canadian system hands down.”

“These findings raise serious questions about what we’re getting for the $2.1 trillion we’re spending on health care this year,” said Dr. David Himmelstein, associate professor of medicine at Harvard and study co-author. “We pay almost twice what Canada does for care, more than $6,000 for every American, yet Canadians are healthier, and live two to three years longer.”

Dr. Steffie Woolhandler, also an associate professor of medicine at Harvard and study co-author, commented: “Our study, together with a recent study showing that people in England are far healthier than Americans, is a terrible indictment of the U.S. health care system. Universal coverage under a national health insurance system is key to improving health. A single-payer national health insurance system would avoid thousands of needless deaths and hundreds of thousands of medical bankruptcies each year. In 1971, Congress almost passed national health insurance. Since then, at least 630,000 Americans have died because they failed to act. How much longer must we wait?”

Know Thyself

President Bush today, speaking about Venzuelan President Hugo Chavez with whom he is at odds: “Sometimes leaders show up who do a great disservice to the traditions and people of a country."

More Bad Consumer News

More bad news from Organic Bytes, the Email Newsletter of the Organic Consumers Association  (subcribe here)
...EPA ADMINISTRATORS PRESSURE STAFF TO OVERLOOK TOXIC PESTICIDES “Government scientists are blowing the whistle on the Environmental Protection Agency's attempts to allow the continued use of 20 hazardous organophosphate pesticides.”
...GENETICALLY ENGINEERED COTTON KILLING SHEEP AND GOATS “In India's Warangal district of Andhra Pradesh, government officials have ordered an investigation into the deaths of hundreds of sheep and goats who appear to have been poisoned by eating genetically engineered (GE) cotton.”
...GERMAN COMPANY TAKING OVER U.S. DRINKING WATER SUPPLY -”A German company, RWE, now owns the water in over 1,100 U.S. cities.”
GENETICALLY ENGINEERED CORN PRODUCING HERBICIDES IN YOUR GUT?  “A widely cultivated variety of genetically engineered corn may be slowly poisoning American consumers.”
...STUDY: CANADIAN HEALTH CARE SYSTEM BETTER THAN U.S.
“Harvard Medical School has released a study revealing that Canada's health care program is doing a better job of taking care of its citizens than the U.S. health care system... and at half the price.”

The Making of Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid

The Ultimate Collector’s Edition DVD of Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid which will be released on June 6 has a very interesting documentary on the making of the film. The writer, William Goldman, had Jack Lemon and Paul Newman in mind to play the leads. After 20th Century Fox paid an astounding $400,000 for the screenplay, Steve McQueen was slated to partner with Paul Newman. But McQueen and Newman couldn’t agree on billing. Richard Zannick, the studio head (whose skillful facelift makes him appear wickedly youthful) suggested a compromise: they would split the globe down the middle. Newman would get top billing in half the world, McQueen in the other half. They couldn’t agree. (I once saw McQueen walk down the street with James Coburn. Steve McQueen was Steve McShort. A tiny, tiny fellow). Joanne Woodward gets credit for picking Robert Redford (who those of us in the know like to call “Bob.”) Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid launched Redford into the film stratosphere where Newman resided and neither has returned from that orbit. Such is the power of a blockbuster movie. The documentary reminds us that critics didn’t like the film. However, audiences ruled the day and it was a smash hit, the last of the big westerns and father and mother to a slew of buddy movies that included another Newman/Redford collaboration—The Sting, and the female version of Butch and Sundance—Thelma and Louise. Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid works because of the chemistry between the two actors. They were amusing and they clicked. After the first screening director Hill consciously took out some laughs because the audience didn’t appreciate the tragic ending. Interestingly, the Academy Award winning song Raindrops Keep Falling on my Head was George Roy Hill’s idea. A musical wasn’t in the script. William Goldman says that bicycles were the video games of the day. He had a scene where Butch and Etta ride a bike through a ghost town. But Hill decided to “musicalize” the number and stick it in the middle of the movie. Redford, when he saw the scene, thought it “killed” the film. Katherine Ross says it was a musical interlude stuck in the middle of the movie. Hill’s biographer claims it shows off Butch Cassidy’s pleasant looniness; shows Butch the trickster and the clown. Richard Zannick after reviewing the box office receipts proclaimed the Raindrops scene “perfect.” Burt Bacharach says he kept hearing words. Raindrops...raindrops...raindrops. (Am I the only one who thinks Burt Bacharach is kind of creepy? Can we get him to quit wandering out onto stages, like where they are having an American Idol competition, with Dionne Warwick?)
One measure of an impactful motion picture is whether or not it spawns a catch phrase. Those of you who were sentient in 1969 will recall, “Who are those guys?” a line uttered by Newman in the 27 minute chase scene that dominates the middle of Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. “Who are those guys?” will never be asked about Paul Newman and Robert Redford.

Raindrops Keep Falling on my Head

Blogging has its own rewards, I guess. Up until today I didn’t know what they were. But now I hold in my hand a freshly minted  DVD of the Ultimate Collector’s Edition of Paul Newman and Robert Redford in Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, an all-new two disc set to be released on June 6. Curiously, I received this (free) DVD as the result of a mostly critical blog post I did on Newman’s Own Foods and their strange inconsistency in touting their philanthropy.
A marketing guy for the distributor did a Google search, I guess, and my blog came up. He emailed and asked if I’d be interested in posting a review. I said I would if he sent me a copy and a couple days later he did. This is one of my favorite films and I will watch it and review it at a later date. I’m certain I will like it. Always have. The special features look very interesting. Lots of interviews, of course, a making-of documentary and commentary by the director George Roy Hill, lyricist Hal David, cinematographer Conrad Hall and screenwriter William Goldman. Watch all the new stuff and you will be an expert on this Academy Award winning classic.
However, there is a part of Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid that I really hated. It’s that song—Raindrops Keep Falling on my Head.  This song also won the Academy Award which began an Academy tradition of picking songs for Oscars that can drive one crazy. Raindrops is so bad it could have its own ride at Disneyland (like the excruciating It’s A Small World). It could be called Nailguns Keep Shooting Through My Brain. It’s one of those songs that stick in your memory like dog poo on your shoe. You can’t get it out with a sharp stick. If you question the impact of listening to this song for years, just take a look at Burt Bacharach. Raindrops is Scene 9 on the DVD and occurs, if you recall, the morning after Katherine Ross spends a romantic night with bad boy Robert Redford. They are in bed when Paul Newman rides by on a bicycle. Katherine jumps out of bed without waking Redford and goes off on a beautifully filmed if incongruous bike ride. I should point out here that it’s not raining. Yet we are “treated” to a pop style Raindrops Keep Falling on my Head in a scene which may have been the first music video. Props to Newman for cool bike tricks. Nice shots of Katherine’s inner thighs. A handsome bull to scare them away from the barnyard. But what was the point, anyway? I’ll be viewing the commentaries closely to try and find out why in the world this scene and this song found their way into an otherwise terrific film.

The Summer of My Pulaski

Loggers make a mess. If you’ve never seen a logging operation, even a small one, it’s quite shocking. Battered logs, chunks of bark, branches, stumps, smashed ferns, the pungent odor of torn fir, whiffs of diesel fuel and the clank of the metal tracks of the excavator cleaning up the site all shock the senses. This morning we went up to my brother and sister-n-law’s building site to check it out. There’s a half acre clearing in the woods now where alder and an occasional maple and Doug Fir were standing two days ago. It was starting to rain; a good day for a slash burn. Slash, the refuse from the cut, was piled as high and wide as a cabin and was burning brightly, gray-white smoke merging with the low hanging clouds. The excavator operator danced his human-looking  machine around and grabbed mouthful after mouthful of tree junk to add to the fire.
I flashed back to my summer with a pulaski the most useful forrest tool ever invented. Edward C. Pulaski, the American forrest ranger who designed it left a brilliant legacy for himself—this tool with an ax blade on one side and an adze on the other. Our Forrest Service fire fighting crew used the pulaski to dig fire line (and trails to trout streams for our crew boss). We went into the woods each day sitting in the back of a windowless van me making breakfast by soaking hard ginger snaps in a metal cup of hot tea. Sometimes we were delivered to a recently logged area. (A real logging unit makes brother Richard’s half acre clearing look like a weeding operation). Where loggers had been cutting big trees  in 1962 resembled the end of the world. The stuff they left for junk would be marketable timber today. Our job was to burn the slash and make sure it didn’t get out of control. The good job was using the drip can to start the fire. It was also dangerous as the rejected logs were tossed like pickup sticks. One had to move quickly along the bottom of the unit tight roping along logs hoping not to slip and get stuck as the wind licked the flames and the fire began to move up the hill.
The bad job was wandering through the smoke up wind of the burn with a shovel and a rubber bag of water strapped to your back looking for spot fires to stamp out.
But the damp woods and loamy earth, the nurse logs and ferns always remind me of my pulaski, the way the adze end tore through the woody soil and the insouciant way we all learned to flip it on the backswing to bring the ax head into play to take out a stubborn root. Then we’d flip it back again to dig with the adze without missing a beat. At night, weak with fatigue, I’d close my eyes and see roots and dirt and fallen logs, rotting cedar.
In 1962 I didn’t think twice about the clearcuts we cleaned up with fire. Now it’s a bit painful to see crap alders piled like bodies in a tiny forrest clearing. But here, at least, the scar is small and temporary and will be restored with native plants and new trees. Perhaps there’ll be some trails to build. Perhaps there’s a pulaski summer to anticipate.