The invitation to be guest blogger caught me totally by surprise. To introduce myself, I spent some time thinking about ground rules. Here they are:
1. Any references to pop culture are limited to people and events prior to 1969, which is when I stopped paying close attention. (I do know who Madonna and Paris Hilton are, but then, sex sells)
2. No references to dirty old men in America are permitted. We’re Viagra-enhanced geriatric adult natives (VEGANs) References to dirty old men of other nationalities are permitted.
3. Any defamatory or derogatory comments making reference to George W. Bush, John Ashcroft, Donald Rumsfeld or the Patriot Act are welcome.
4. Any defamatory or derogatory comments making reference to Michael Moore, Al Franken, John Kerry or Terry McAuliffe are welcome.
5. References to justice, fairness, adherence to basic American principles of fair play and decency are welcome, but in the interests of accuracy, should not be used in conjunction with either (3) or (4) above.
6. Political comments must be avoided except for the ones made be me. . . . . . . . .OK, you too, but don’t overdo it!
7. How about them (fill in the name of your favorite sports team).
8. How about that (fill in the name of your favorite celebrity who has recently exposed his or her private parts in public).
All of that said, let me tell you about myself. When Greg announced, he was about to be an uncle (see, archives, “Say Uncle”), my careful evaluation of the etymological derivations of “uncle” indicated that it necessarily followed I must soon be a “grandfather.” Knowledge that a man is about to become a “grandfather” is part and parcel of the realization that he is becoming a VEGAN. (see above)
For example, pretty waitresses now refer to me as “Pops” or “Gramps” and offer me their help out of my seat instead of offering me their phone number. (Not-so-pretty waitresses also refer to me as Gramps, but I wouldn’t want their phone number. Waiters don’t seem to do this get-familiar-with-aging-people thing)
The teenage box boys and girls offer to take my groceries out to my car. It would be one thing if that was limited to a two-shopping-cart major errand, but when I buy a quart of milk and a loaf of bread? At the movies and chain restaurants, I get the senior discount without asking. I haven’t been carded when I order booze since Kennedy was president! Getting old means one is going to die. (Getting old first is not, as we lawyers say, a “ necessary condition precedent.” Lots of young people go too.) But, as Saroyan said, “ Everybody has got to die, but I always believed an exception would be made in my case.” I know I will not be an exception because I am receiving announcements for “tasteful pre-need planning.” I don’t need to plan, thank you very much, because I won’t be here to worry about it. It’s my family that needs to plan!
Finally, I plan to be very topical, focusing on the common wisdom, which usually isn’t. I am a realist, which means I don’t believe anything or anybody unless it meets the test of verifiability. So, I may spend some time talking about the nonsense I see around me. A good place to see some of what I am talking about is to look at Walter Olsen’s blog. To start with, does anybody think that taking vitamins and minerals will change the size or shape of any bodily structure?
You do? Uh-oh . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . this is going to be a long week!
Re: #3, what about Condie?
I have no problem letting someone carry my milk and bread, and I’m 27. So I say, go with it.
And p.s., Parents Week so far is a raging success.
i’m all for the ground rules, Dad, with the exception of reading Walter Olsen’s blog. you said that to be inflammatory, right? because there isn’t a bigger bunch of one-sided bullshit on the internet than is there. don’t get me started..........
can i still make penis jokes? cause really. i ‘m all about those.
Welcome, Mr. Howard. Nice job! Hey, I am from Ukiah and I have been in your house! Good luck with your week of blog.
It’s an auspicious beginning. Greetings, I too am from Ukiah and although I haven’t been in your home...I think you paid for me to enter Great America for Greg’s Birthday once! If so, thanks.
Oh...please talk casinos and reservation shopping...that never gets old.
I get asked if I want help with my groceries too, when I’m buying a box of cereal and a two-pack of ding-dongs and a chocolate milk. I think those poor kids are just trying to get the hell out of those grocery stores for a few minutes. Plus I once read some porn about some woman who dragged the grocery-helper guy into the back of her wagoneer. So you never know what the real agenda is, here. Those waitresses who you thought were withholding phone numbers are now bagging groceries and ready for action!
i have no problem with the grocery thing. but maybe that’s because i like the gallantness of the gesture. it lines up with having my doors opened for me and coats thrown over puddles on the street.
but i guess that doesn’t go over as well for the male species.
I was brought up to open doors, give up my seat on the bus to ladies, etc. etc. As an adult I ran into women who considered gallantry to be insulting, an outmoded expression of male superiority. So I stopped doing it. It’s nice that there’s still some woman who appreciates it. (And accepts male superiority)
1) I am not from Ukiah, but I have visited there briefly, if that helps.
2) I have never been in your house, but wouldn’t be against sneaking around outside and sticking plastic forks in your lawn
3) I have never bagged groceries, nor yanked a grocery-bagger into my wagoneer, but i suppose there’s a first time for everything.
What I mean to say is, welcome Mr. Greg’sDad. I shall try not to become unruly.
Welcome Dad!
I don’t know if I’ve been to Ukiah. I’ve been to Eureka. Does that count? Looking forward to your pearls of wisdom.
i’m not big into gallantry, unless i get to be gallante (you know, the feminine form). but that has bizarre and not-so-savory connotations in french, so ... euh, never mind.
on the other hand, a much more practical hand than the first one, i live on the 5th floor of an old (16th-century) building, with a spiral stone staircase with uneven stairs from 450 years of pedestrian use. so if some ambitious (or bored) box-person offered to help me get my groceries home, i would accept in a flash. life is short and we all need help. plus, hey, maybe the box-boy will be cute! which brings us back to gallantry ...
Speaking of gallantry, I’d like to share the following anecdote: as I was leaving through the heavy double doors of a public building into which were entering a family of lovely Irish people saddled with many many suitcases, I decided to hold the door open for them. This earned me a lovely smile and sincere thank you from the mother, but the youngest and last child (who couldn’t have been older than six) sort of stood and dawdled in the entryway while I firmly held the dor open, wanting not to deny him the privilege I had given to all the other members of his family. His mother, now somewhat embarrassed, tried to cajole him to come in. It was a fun five or seven minutes! And to top it all off, today is Good Friday.
Just thought I’d share that with you here for no reason I could think of aside from all this talk of gallantry and gallante--which reminds of Gallifrey, which is Doctor Who’s home planet, but let’s not go there.
Oh, and a big hello to Greg’s Dad from the East Coast! I have never met you but am envious of those who have had the privilege. (Today’s word, by the by, is in fact “privilege”! Use it often, just spell it right!)
PS Don’t misspell “door” while lecturing people on howto spell “privilege.” It makes you look stoopid.
“how to” ... oh, the hell with it.
“...nice that there’s still some woman who appreciates it. (And accepts male superiority)....
Trying to stir up the feathers, Father Goose? Naughty boy!
Welcome Father Goose!! But look out, I may join Jules in forking your lawn if we manage to be in the area at the same time! We only fork because we love.
I’m in my mid-twenties and I get offered help to my car for a carton of milk as well. I’ll try not to start worrying until they start calling me Pops though.
Oooh, oooh, oooh--concerning rule #1 and pre-’69 pop culture references, I actually have yet another anecdote: this morning at the hardware store, as I was looking for a particular item, the older gentleman waiting to take my money began to whistle a familiar tune which I then joined in on with the actual lyrics: “And tell me what street/Compares with Mott Street in July . . . “ The guy looked downright impressed that a “kid” knew the words to that particular song, and we had a long discussion about how there really is no one around these days to compare to Ella Fitzgerald (though I did say that even when Ella was around there was no one who could really compare, but I knew what he meant). And all before my first hot beverage of the day!
Okay, I think four comments on one entry is more than enough, don’t you? I think I’ll close with yet another rousing rendition of GO GREG’S DAD!! (Though I’m no Ella Fitzgerald.)
Welcome, Pops.
Er, Greg’sDad.
(And accepts male superiority)
uh-oh dad, them’s fightin’ words!
*puts up dukes*
I went through the ‘I can get my own door’ thing but now I enjoy it because it’s such a nice surprise when it does happen.
I like to have doors held for me by males and by females… as long as people are willing to walk through doors I hold for them! It drives me crazy when I’m holding the door for a man and he takes it from me, like “Hey, little lady. Don’t you go holding that big heavy door by your lonesome...”
I totally agree with Srah. I hold the door for whomever is behind me or on the other side of the door if I get there first. I hate when guys take the door from me, though I know they mean well. Conversly, I hate when woman go through and let the door slam on me. Courtesy is gender (and age) neutral.
And welcome, Mr. Howard. Can’t wait ‘til tomorrow’s post.
People just look at me funny when I’m trying to get my son’s stroller through a door all by myself. I imagine that they’re thinking,"Look at that lady struggling to get herself and that gigantic stroller through the door.”
Please tell me as of next week you’ll be writing at popsculture.blogspot.com on a regular basis!
VEGANS.... This is the best thing I’ve read all week!