I ran across a couple of interesting articles today and I thought I’d pass this along. One article is about kids who pick boogers out of their nose and eat them. Another is about how to lift one eyebrow only.
I bet a lot of people try to learn how to lift one eyebrow. I also bet that nobody would ever admit they pick their nose and dine on the boogers. Well, I never picked my nose but when I was in the 1st or 2nd grade, one of my classmates used to do this. The teacher would get really mad because no matter how many times she told him to stop, he would just do it anyway.
He tried to be sneaky about it, but pretty soon the whole class could catch him at it. We could barely get through class because we were so busy spying on him-and gagging when we caught him.
I tried to see if I could lift just my right eyebrow. I wondered if I could do it without much practice because I had surgery to repair a retinal tear on my right eye a few years ago. Does it look like my brow on the right is a little more wrinkled? See what you think. And can you tell if it’s more prominent if I stick an extraterrestrial up my left nostril? Examine the photos carefully. Take your time and get back to me. I did not eat the ET, I swear.
right eyebrow higher than left?Never picked an ET nor did I eat it. People would look at me funny, though.
We finally finished up the batch of Nature Valley Chocolate Peppermint Wafer bars. The label says says they are “naturally flavored with other natural flavor.” The comical TV commercials in the last couple of years show cute woodland creatures like squirrels bitterly complaining about the dirty nuts they have to put up with compared to the Nature Valley bars with “chocolatey stuff.”
We think the commercials are funny, but the animals are apparently unaware of the dark underbelly of Nature Valley snacks. The product label clearly lets you know about the “bioengineered” material in the snack bar, which only piques your wonder about what that’s supposed to mean. You can read more about it on the FDA and USDA websites.
And then there’s the flak about the lawsuit back in 2018 which led to General Mills dropping the claim that Nature Valley products were “100% Natural” and settling a lawsuit filed by consumer groups that the products contained trace amounts of the chemical “glyphosate” which is in a common weedkiller called Roundup. The amounts were well below the allowable safe benchmarks.
You know that reminds me of that flap a year ago when a consumer group filed a lawsuit against The Girl Scouts about selling their cookies which were alleged to contain the same pesticide. I scanned the web and it looks like the lawsuit was voluntarily dropped by the main plaintiff although it may still be alive and kicking because there are others who are still part of the litigation. There’s zero evidence supporting their claim.
And then there was the Listeria recall back in 2016 related to specific Nature Valley bars. Do squirrels need to worry about Listeria? Probably not, because they can’t read even though they can talk and play clever tricks on humans.
Our only complaint about the Nature Valley wafer chocolate peppermint bars is that they lack any detectable taste. I used to eat Nature Valley granola bars every day as part of my nutritious lunch and aside from the growth of bilateral 18-inch-long antennae on my forehead, I didn’t notice any problems.
Well, by now everybody has heard the official news about what Punxsutawney Phil saw this morning since it’s Groundhog Day. On the other hand, the unofficial news is this: for some reason he saw extraterrestrials instead of his shadow. I know about it only because a drunken official calling me from the Pentagon spilled the beans to me and abruptly hung up just before he passed out.
Apparently, they were looking for a decent rib joint, which they’re always on the lookout for after traveling halfway across the galaxy.
You have to question the ETs preference for using so much fuel and creating missing time and hallucinations for thousands of people gathered for this time-honored and totally bogus event which the editors of The Old Farmer’s Almanac repeatedly try to debunk in a futile attempt to educate us about the seasons.
What almost nobody knows is that recently declassified government documents obtained by Brer Rabbit has led to the discovery of yet another conspiracy to hoodwink the American people about the ETs preoccupation with finding the best BBQ rib joint in the galaxy, which is genetically linked to their inability to distinguish humans from woodland creatures whose only real purpose in life is to dig holes in the ground so they can secretly write books circulated only amongst groundhogs about how silly it is for humans to call them ridiculous names like “whistle pigs.”
The truth is groundhogs know perfectly well how the seasons change and it has nothing to do with them—it’s all about the tooth fairy. But…ETs can’t handle the truth, as Col. Jessup has repeatedly pointed out in countless memes and gifs over the years.
We can only hope this deplorable state of affairs will be rectified when scientists eventually back engineer and reverse the polarities of the device (which is, trust me, stored in a cardboard box in a garage in Area 51) ETs use to hypnotize the criminals amongst their own kind into endlessly flying around in their souped up Tic-Tac UFOs in the absolutely pointless search for the perfect rib joint—all because the ET leaders can’t come up with a better solution to close the gaps in their worthless criminal justice system.
I hope I have made all this clear. Happy Groundhog Day!
Svengoolie Intro: “Calling all stations! Clear the air lanes! Clear all air lanes for the big broadcast!”
I watched the movie “War of the Colossal Beast” last night. Sena saw only the first few scenes of it in the beginning because she took a bite out of a magical cake she got at Hy-Vee, grew into a giant (had to get a new roof), wandered downtown to the Ped Mall until she found a mushroom, nibbled on it till she shrunk down to normal size and didn’t get back home until the movie was over, so like always, I had to explain the show to her. Based on my Svengoolie movie “reviews” you can imagine how well that went!
Anyway, this movie was released by American International Productions in 1958 and it was a sort of but not really a sequel to their film “The Amazing Colossal Man,” released a year earlier. In that movie, a military man, Col. Glenn Manning got exposed to radiation in Las Vegas and grew to a height of 60 feet which meant he could hit the free throw shot from several miles away. He ran amok and the army lobbed bombs and shot bullets at him until he fell 700 feet off Boulder Dam and everybody assumed he died. Although there are restrictions on seeing this movie in certain venues because of a copyright restriction, you can find it on the web, including the Internet Archive.
In “War of the Colossal Beast,” the story picks up sort of where the not-really-a-prequel left off except, in the beginning of the movie, a lot of food trucks are disappearing from the roads. One of them belongs to John Swanson (George Becwar), a food truck owner whose truck got lost and says repeatedly to the police “Get the picture?” when he tells his account of what he knows about the theft. It doesn’t take long to “get the picture” that this is comic relief.
It turns out that Glenn Manning is filching food from trucks and he’s not sharing any of it with the 50-foot woman who has wandered over from a different movie set and is pretty hungry (partly because she drinks too much) after an extraterrestrial has zapped her with radiation leading to a sudden growth spurt.
A scientist, Dr. Carmichael (Russ Bender) and Maj. Mark Baird (Roger Pace) have “cooked up” a plan to catch Manning using Italian bread spiked with chloral hydrate and evidently, Manning’s sister Joyce (Sally Fraser) approves of this plan. Baird and Carmichael both taste the bread, and neither drops dead even though if there’s enough chloral hydrate in all that bread to knock out a 60-foot-tall man, there should be enough to kill a normal size man after just a small bite. Whatever.
After abandoning a plan to hire Manning to round up all the Bigfoot monsters in the country because he’s too brain injured to remember the details which is not to squash them beyond recognition and allow photographers to take photos of the operation, which may or may not have happened when the Van Meter Visitor (a huge pterodactyl) in Iowa hit town in the early 1900s and flew all over the place munching on the cattle until cowboys and farmers shot it down and then took pictures of it which people claimed they all saw in the local newspaper yet those issues are “not available” for some reason so I guess there’s some kind of Mandela Effect going on or some people are prone to telling “tall tales.”
In the meantime, Manning is being held down by ropes and chains and it’s obvious that he was brain injured in that 700-foot fall in the first encounter. His right eye is missing and some of his teeth are pushed to one side, possibly because of a roundhouse kick by Chuck Norris (himself) who caught him trying to steal his chloral-hydrate enriched Italian bread.
Somehow, Manning is able to pick the locks of his chains using the same hypodermic needle he harpooned somebody with in the first movie and which he hid in his giant adult diapers (yes, those would be Shorty’s Adult Diapers that Big Mo aka John Heim the KCCK radio wizard of the Big Mo Blues Show describes, “they’re ready when you aren’t!).
The action and the dialogue start to get more complicated towards the end, which I’m going to defer on revealing in order to avoid spoilers (OK, the butler did it).
This is an OK movie although the dialogue gets a little stilted toward the end. I give it a 3/5 Shrilling Chicken Rating.
After watching a number of TV shows about extraterrestrials (ETs), I had this vivid dream about ETs invading Iowa.
Apparently, I had somehow driven out on some highway that was not clearly marked, maybe Highway 20 which the National Weather Service always mentions as a sort of boundary line between a howling, disastrous tornadimohurricannibalistic storm and utter tranquility a few miles north of us.
I got out of the car and noticed up in the sky a gigantimonguous craft shaped like a triquetra. It was eerily silent as it passed just inches above my head and it glowed multiple colors like the NBC peacock.
Suddenly, 3 beings who resembled the 3 stooges (except their heads were tiny) floated out of the craft and took me hostage. They kept arguing amongst themselves about how they were going to exsanguinate me and then fuse me with a soybean plant they had previously mutilated. Apparently, they had tipped a few cows in the process and slipped in the pasture, falling into an area full of cow pies.
I told them they smelled bad and suggested they try Mando, the deodorant that is nothing like the scented stuff which, if you apply it, is exactly like turning up your car radio when the engine rattles—hey, it just masks the problem.
I guess that hurt their feelings and they told me they were going to stick some kind of implant in my nose so they could track me because they could hear my nose whistle and find me anywhere. I told them I’m allergic to ET implants and I would just sneeze it out. I had them there.
Then they tried to communicate with me telepathically but I knew how to counter that trick. I just thought really hard about good barbecued ribs, which made them hungry. They asked me where they could find a decent rib joint and I told them how to get to Jimmy Jack’s Rib Shack in Iowa City.
So we head on over there and I help them order. They weren’t sure what to drink, so I suggested water because I saw this trick in the movie, Signs. It didn’t work as I expected and they just acted like they were drunk.
Then, of all things, they wanted to go to Area 51, and we just zipped over there. On the way, they picked up Bob Lazar who drew pictures of them. He asked me why they had barbecue sauce all over their faces and I just told him they had bad manners.
Finally, I woke up and I swear I’m going to limit how much kale I eat next time.
Well, Sena served the cranberry kale salad today, along with a hearty vegetable soup. If I had not known that the kale was in the salad, I would not have noticed anything unusual about it.
kale salad with Dijon dressingvegetable soup
In fact, the salad was pretty good, although truth be known, the kale was mixed together with so many other veggies and Dijon salad dressing, I wouldn’t have known it was in there.
So, I’m obligated to share the article about kale I read yesterday when I was complaining about kale salad. It’s chock full of vitamins but has hardly any calories.
Sena got a couple of items at the grocery store that made me raise my eyebrows right off my head. She bought a jar of Miracle Whip, which is good. But she also bought a bag of kale which came with a packet of Dijon dressing (as if that would help!).
She did this on purpose. She bought both of these items with a clear mind—a clearly diabolical mind. I’m fine with the Miracle Whip of course, although she tends to use a lot of other mayo-type products first so it tends to sit in the pantry for a while.
But the kale is a new abomination. And who came up with cranberry kale? It’s a cruel joke. And she’s going to mix it with Dijon dressing? I think that’s against federal law. I know kale has health benefits, but I think that’s offset by a number of negative factors, such as it tends to turn you into an extraterrestrial.
Articles exist that make you think that you can prepare an edible dish using kale, but that is just a government plot. There’s a section on the web with the heading “Is it better to eat kale raw or cooked or burn the stuff?” Look it up.
According to an article from the Mayo Clinic, kale used to be just decorative garnish, which I think was OK. But then people started thinking it was real food and chased after it like zombies hunting for brains.
If you can put Dijon dressing on kale, you ought to be able to put Miracle Whip on it. On the other hand, that would ruin perfectly good Miracle Whip.
I watched the 1962 movie “King Kong vs Godzilla” on the Svengoolie show last night and woke up this morning thinking it had to be a parody. So, I looked it up on the web and sure enough, there’s a Wikipedia article about the film stating director Ishiro Honda said it was a satire of the television industry in Japan.
This movie was pretty ridiculous and there was so much over the top slapstick comedy in it that I couldn’t believe anyone would see it as anything but satire. But the internet has many articles that don’t call it satirical.
I remember Sena watched some of it and asked me last night how I was going to rate it. I said “Zero!” at the time, before I found out it was satire. That was after I’d seen the two characters, Kinsaburo Furue (Yu Fujiki) and Keji Sahaka (Kazuo Fujita) encounter with the island natives who accepted gifts of cigarettes and a transistor radio as a bribe to gain their cooperation.
So, it seems superfluous for me to poke fun of it like I usually do with most of the films on the Svengoolie show. Even he joked about the poor dubbing in this movie.
I’m seeing this as satire and I’d give it a 2.5/5 Shrilling Chicken rating.
I see the 1962 kaiju movie “King Kong vs Godzilla” is coming to Svengoolie this Saturday. I’m still trying to figure out if I’ve seen this one already. Maybe that’s because it looks similar to other kaiju films I’ve seen on the Svengoolie show, like “Godzilla vs Bozo the Clown,” another classic which I’m sure you’ve seen.
This may be the one where King Kong challenges Godzilla to a food fight at Wendy’s because Godzilla gulped down all the chocolate Frosty malts. It’s a pretty simple battle since all they do is throw the whole restaurant back and forth at each other which causes all the people trying to order burgers and fries to fall out of the building leading to both monsters skidding and slipping on the ketchup and cracking the streets open, which of course causes the storm and sanitary sewers to burst causing a messier flood of crap which doesn’t do anything to improve the taste of French fries. This just makes King Kong even madder because he can’t make his step over toe hold work because he slips in the slop. I think this is when Chuck Norris shows up because all the ruckus makes too much noise, distracting him from his sitar practice. Neither King Kong nor Godzilla dare look at Chuck the wrong way because the dinosaurs did that and you know what happened to them. Then, wouldn’t you know it, the Tall Man shows up, the same 10-foot-tall monster that allegedly haunted a small town and did some window peeking which scared all the townsfolk, an event which is described in the TV documentary, Paranormal Emergency. All three start doing their roundhouse kicks at each other, which Chuck Norris immediately stops by doing the same roundhouse kick in the time when in the beginning there was nothing and he kicked nothing and told it to get a job and…well, that’s probably not how this movie goes per se but you get my drift.
Today being Martin Luther King Day, I’m reminiscing a little about my short time as a student at Huston-Tillotson College (one of this country’s HBCUs, Huston-Tillotson University since 2005) in Austin, Texas. It’s always a good idea to thank your teachers. I never took a degree there, choosing to transfer credit to Iowa State University toward my Bachelor’s, later earning my medical degree at The University of Iowa.
However, I was a reporter for the college newspaper, The Ramshorn Journal. That’s where the featured image comes from.
Although I didn’t come of age at HT, I can see that a few of my most enduring habits of thought and my goals spring from those two years at this small, mostly African-American enrollment college. I learned about tenacity to principle and practice from a visiting professor, Dr Melvin P. Sikes, in Sociology (from the University of Texas) who paced back and forth across the Agard-Lovinggood auditorium stage in a lemon-yellow leisure suit as he ranted about the importance of bringing about change.
He was a scholar yet decried the pursuit of the mere trappings of scholarship, exhorting us to work directly for change where it was needed most. He didn’t assign term papers, but sent me and another freshman to the Austin Police Department. The goal evidently was to make them nervous by our requests for the uniform police report, which our professor suspected might reveal a tendency to arrest blacks more frequently than whites.
He wasn’t satisfied with merely studying society’s institutions; he worked to change them for the better. Although I was probably just as nervous as the cops were, the lesson about the importance of applying principles of change directly to society eventually stuck. I remembered it every time I encountered push-back from change-resistant hospital administrations.
As a clinician-educator I have a passion for both science and humanistic approaches in the practice of psychiatry. Dr. James Means struggled to teach us mathematics, the language of science. He was a dyspeptic man, who once observed that he treated us better than we treated ourselves. Looking back on it, I can see he was right.
Dr. Lamar Kirven (or Major Kirven because he was in the military) also modeled passion. He taught black history and he was always excited about it. When he scrawled something on the blackboard, you couldn’t read it but you knew what he meant.
And there was Dr. Hector Grant, chaplain and professor of religious studies, and devoted to his native Jamaica. He once said to me, “Not everyone can be a Baptist preacher.” He tried to explain that my loss of a debate to someone who won simply by not allowing me a word in edgewise was sometimes an unavoidable result of competing with an opponent who is simply bombastic.
Dr. Porter taught English Literature and writing. She also tried to teach me about Rosicrucian philosophy for which she held a singular passion. Not everyone can be a Rosicrucian philosopher. But it prepared the way for me to accept the importance of spirituality in medicine.
I didn’t know it back in the seventies, but my teachers at HT would be my heroes. We need heroes like that in our medical schools, guiding the next generation of doctors. We need them in a variety of leadership roles in our society. Most of my former HT heroes are not living in the world now. But I can still hear their voices.
Go Retire Psychiatrist 