Daily Ambivalence - how many of us would recognize our severed foot?

I was asking myself that question this morning.

My friend Delia Giseppe went and saw a documentary at Sundance about a guy named Shannon who found a severed foot in a used grill he bought. The dude gets some publicity and starts capitalizing on the story and then another guy comes along and says "Hey, that's my foot!"

I haven't seen the documentary, but from the summary I guess there is a court battle, lots of fighting over ownership of the severed foot, lots of small-town politics, and even the violent murder of a Saimese cat. (I might have made up the part about the cat)

Of course, there are numerous discussion points one can take from this story.

The first, and most obvious, is - isn't Shannon a girl's name?

The second, and right behind, would have to be - once Shannon found the foot in the grill, did he ever actually use the grill?

And I suppose you could also throw in there that if your foot got cut off, would you recognize it a couple weeks later when a guy tried to sell it on QVC?

How many of us would recognize our severed foot? . . .eh.

Daily Ambivalence - I wonder if there's much child labor involved in the mass production of peanut brittle

I go through peanut brittle phases where I just can't get enough of the stuff.

Crunchy yet airy hard candy. How can you not love that?

This question would be academic if I didn't actually know people who don't like peanut brittle.

What a puzzle. I'm convinced it can't be the taste. And that makes me fearful that child labor is the reason some people don't like peanut brittle. Maybe the people who don't like peanut brittle say that because they are conscientious objectors, even though they probably like peanut brittle as much as I do.

Which is silly. Those people could come to my house and eat some peanut brittle that I made instead of buying peanut brittle made in China.

I stopped using child labor a long time ago.

Depending on your definition of child labor, of course.

I wonder if there's much child labor involved in the mass production of peanut brittle . . . eh.

Daily Ambivalence - iPhones are interesting

I was waiting at the train stop the other day watching a spectacular sunset.

Sure, I watched it for a few minutes, but then I noticed this guy sitting next to me and he was looking at his iPhone. I leaned over to see what was so amazing but he wouldn't let me see the screen. He kept turning and edging away.

Now all I can think about is what must have been on that screen. For days now.

I started following the guy.

He lives in a small rambler in a cul-de-sac about ten miles from my house and he has either three or four children. If it's four, two of the girls look a lot alike.

It's driving me crazy. That really must have been something amazing that was on his phone for him to have not noticed the sunset. What could it have been?

The dude's never far from his iPhone though. Even at night, he never puts it on the night stand next to his bed. He curls up with it like it's an extra pillow. I wait there in the darkness for my chance but he never lets go of it.

I sure wish I could see what was on that iPhone.

iPhones are interesting . . . eh.

Daily Ambivalence - I started a low carb high protein diet today

I was making fun of my kids and my wife last week because they were on a low carb high protein diet and I was eating chips and dip. With a side of lard.

This weekend, somehow, they talked me into going on the diet with them. It was in the middle of Sunday dinner at grandma's, when I was at my weakest. Something about family togetherness. Unity. All that crap.

Now I'm writing this post breakfast, as in I ate breakfast ten minutes ago, and I'm already hungry.

How long does it take a full-grown man to die from hunger?

Is it lost on most people that most of the word "diet" is made up of "die?"

If you've enjoyed these posted attempts at humor the last year or so then I'm sorry. This could be the last one.

I'm going to go write my obituary.

I started a low carb high protein diet today . . . eh.

Daily Ambivalence - mutating the flu virus

I'm not all that afraid of the scientist out there who is working on the mutation of the flu virus that will one day escape and start the zombie apocalypse. He's just trying to make a living.

I don't know why, but as I've thought of this guy, I get the feeling that his name is probably Kevin.

Regardless, I don't have a problem with people doing the day-to-day grind, even if it does end up causing the end of the world. I would, however, like to make one suggestion to Kevin if he happens to read this blog.

Stop using the flu virus immediately and try your luck with the mumps.

It would make it easier for some of us survivors. With mutated mumps you're probably talking extremely swollen glands. Head shots would be a dream.

Mutating the flu virus . . . eh.

That Olympic dream

There was that dream where the Olympics was coming to town, though the Olympics turned out to be more like a traveling circus and the competitors were farm animals and my bookie called me about a sure thing and I have a terrible gambling habit so I bet my life savings on France to win but the animal from France turned out to be a lamprey eel, which isn't even a farm animal, but that didn't seem to disqualify it, and I know the Olympics is about more than just winning gold medals but where am I suppose to live now?

Daily Ambivalence - there are a wide variety of cancers

Wow, this post is starting out kind of dark.

But you can't deny it. There are a tremendous number of cancers, just like there is an impressive diversity in the apple population.

Don't take my word for it. Go online, look it up. There are dozens and dozens of varieties of apples.

But you're already online, aren't you?

Hey, here's an idea. Since you're online looking at apples, go ahead and choose a variety you haven't tried before and order a case. It will show up at your door in a few days. Won't that be a nice? If you want, you can even drive by my house and give me a couple apples. We'll eat them on my porch.

Boy, this post turned out much happier than I thought it would.

Though there's still that cancer thing.

There are a wide variety of cancers . . . eh.

Daily Ambivalence - folding chairs

Some people think the golden age of cartoons had to be in the late 70s or early 80s when you had such classics as Scooby Doo and Lonestar.

You remember Lonestar. He was that Native American sheriff on a western world somewhere in space that . . . actually that doesn't make a whole lot of sense, does it? If Lonestar was from another planet, he'd be a Native Something Else sheriff. And while I'm being nitpicky, that talking horse of his, I swear I can remember him shooting a space gun even though all he had was hooves. How do you shoot a space gun without fingers or opposable thumbs?

At least Scooby Doo made sense. Two boys and two girls who lived together in a van but weren't sexually attracted to each other and who traveled across the country with their talking dog solving basically the same crime over and over again and somehow the bad guy always said the same thing as the police took him away.

I have a friend who thinks cartoons from the late 70s and early 80s suck. But she grew up poor, which probably means her parents couldn't afford proper furniture, just folding chairs. Now it just stands to reason you can't watch cartoons sitting on a folding chair. It's impossible to lounge in a folding chair and cartoons can only be appreciated when you are lounging.

This supposed "friend" of mine maintains that most cartoons are a waste of time. She says, and I quote, "cartoons eat your brain." For her, the only proper thing to watch on television is a documentary or independent film.

What an idiot.

Folding chairs . . . eh.

Daily Ambivalence - the doorman outside my building didn't great me with enthusiasm today

The doorman outside my building didn't great me with enthusiasm today.

I can't figure it out. You'd think a guy with such a snazzy uniform would be happy all the time. I guess that just goes to show that good tailoring can solve only so many of the world's problems.

It does make me wonder what got what's-his-name down today. Not that anything would be a valid excuse for his behavior. The guy's job is to be a ray of sunshine when people like me enter or exit the building. Someone told me once that he's been doing it for thirty years.

I hate to do it, but I'm going to see about getting whatever his name is fired. I'm kind of a stickler when it comes to things like courtesy and kindness.

The doorman outside my building didn't great me with enthusiasm today . . . eh.

There was that dream about hiking in the mountains east of Milford, Utah

There was that dream where I was hiking in the mountains east of Milford, Utah and there were lots of lizards but I couldn't catch any of them because their tails would come off and that seems like a poor defense mechanism, especially if it's a teenage lizard and prom is the following weekend and the little guy has already asked a girl lizard and he picked out the boutonniere just that day so he can't back out, but now he doesn't have a tail and I don't know much about lizard society but I suspect being tailless is embarrassing, but what do I care about a lizard and whether or not he get his first kiss, only I'm a hopeless romantic and I do care about the upcoming lizard prom and if that tailless lizard asked to borrow my car for the dance I would say yes but he probably won't because he ran under that rock over there.

Daily Ambivalence - video tape rewinders

Kids nowadays don't even know what a video tape rewinder is.

Me, I can hear the sound of a rewinder as I write this, how it always started low and in control and then in the end was so frantic. It was like waiting for a bomb you wanted to go off.

It occurs to me that movies aren't as good these days, and I think one of the reasons is we don't have to use video tape rewinders anymore. Back in the day, rewinders performed the useful service of being a discriminator when it came to what people watched. You pull a video tape out of its cover and find it isn't rewound? Only the best moves didn't get put back in the cover.

For instance, last night I watched Mrs. Doubtfire.

I think that pretty much says it all.

Video tape rewinders . . . eh.

Daily Ambivalence - gentleman with a whipcow

I can only give up one seat.

That's the thought that crosses my mind as I stand on the train today after having given my seat to a lady.

But there's another lady next to me and right over there is that guy with a whipcow and he isn't getting up.

If I had a moderately cool super power like making people get out of their seat with the force of wind power or maybe a magic lock of hair from Gwyneth Paltrow I would totally make whipcow guy get up right now.

Be dangerous though. I've heard that absolute power corrupts absolutely. I could become as bad as that guy with a whipcow.

I have but one seat to give.

And maybe half-a-stick of gum. I'll have to check my pocket.

Gentleman with a whipcow . . . eh.

Daily Ambivalence - friendly fire

I like to sleep with a pillow between my legs.

If I don't have a pillow between my legs I don't sleep well at all.

In the winter time sometimes I think it would be great if the pillow was warm, but I've learned that you shouldn't be fooled by any kind of fire that looks friendly.

Like a campfire, for instance.

What could seem more friendly than a campfire in the woods, its warm glow casting back the darkness and there you are with your family or a bunch of Scouts?

Fire is stupid. Play kissy-face with it all you want. It'll still cause severe burns if you ignite a pillow and stick it between your legs. Not all that friendly. No sir, not at all.

Friendly fire . . . eh.

Daily Ambivalence - there's that dishwasher soap lid

There's that dishwasher soap lid with the broken spring that doesn't allow it to flip open during the second cycle of the wash. It's just a useless lid now, hanging there like a scab stuck on a sliver of skin. The smart thing to do would be call a repairman. Probably.

Yeah, probably that's the smart thing, but it occurs to me that inventing a blanket with a built-in refrigerator that's also super intelligent and can earn extra cash working for a local start-up company as a network administrator would be even smarter.

My wife wants me to call the repairman but I like this blanket idea. My wife will thank me later.

There's that dishwasher soap lid . . . eh.