The Pope Is What?

I must share this hilarious letter to the editor that appeared in the July 26, 2007, Economist.

An article of faith

SIR – Will other members of the intelligentsia be as shocked as you were (“An author and his subject”, June 30th) to learn that a book written by the pope “remains uncompromising in its insistence on the divinity of Jesus Christ”? As you are clearly irritated by his unwavering position, it might help if I let you in on a Vatican secret: the pope is Catholic.

Darr Schoenhofen
Phoenix, New York

Two Questionable Call Signs

So, according to the Honolulu Star Bulletin, it seems that the FCC recently approved the call sign "KUNT" for a small TV station being built in Hawaii. If today were April 1 I would be certain this was a joke. Two things I find nearly unbelievable:

1. The guy who requested the call sign claims he didn't realize the problem and is now very embarrassed. Come on now -- really?
   
2. The FCC missed this? How is that possible when they are so vigilant about profanity, etc., in so many other ways?

According to the article, two years ago another guy was granted the KCUF call sign and continues to happily use it for his little Aspen station.

Apparently the KUNT guy is going to petition to change the call sign. It was one of two call signs he requested. The other one didn't appear to generate any concern in the article, but it is perhaps the most perfect call sign I could imagine, considering the circumstances.

Ready for it? Seriously. It is:

KWTF.

Don't Go in There

I just walked by my office building's 5th floor women's bathroom, and from outside it looked like what can only be described as a hazmat situation. The cleaning people had donned full-body plastic suits and paper hats. I didn't notice any face masks specifically, but it seemed like they should have them.

It made me think of two things:

1. Thank you to the immigrants, both legal and illegal, who take the cleaning jobs few natural-born Americans ever wanted. May you have a happy, healthy, and fruitful time here in the U.S. and may our government never shoot itself in the foot by screwing you, the foundation of our economy, over.
2. Remember that '90s movie "Friday" with Ice Cube and Chris Tucker? There was this great quote from Mr. Jones, Ice Cube's dad. It's funny because it's true.

Don't nobody go in the bathroom for about 35, 45 minutes. Somebody open up a window.

"How Do You Get 'Em Off?"

We had some friends come over last night for a barbecue, and they admired our prolific cucumber patch. I showed them the thorns, and they confirmed that they hadn't known about this phenomenon, either. But then, this exchange took place, as one friend asked about thorn removal.

Friend: How do you get 'em off?
Me: You go like this. [I cup my right hand, turn it sideways, and stroke it up and down in the air over an imaginary cucumber. Then my jaw drops as I realize what I'm doing.]

Now there's an exchange that could be taken out of context.

If I were a Simpson...

Just saw my friend Laura's blog post containing her Simpsons avatars and it inspired me to go immediately to www.simpsonsmovie.com to make my own. Here's me at Moe's Tavern.

Here's Steve at Moe's.

Here's my brother Chris.


He isn't at Moe's -- or anywhere -- because he doesn't drink much these days, and Moe's is the only functioning background, oddly enough. The other backgrounds say "coming soon." Considering that the movie opens tomorrow, I wonder if they're ever coming. I would have liked one of myself getting a Squishy at the Kwik-E-Mart.

Recycling Gone Awry

Recently Fairfax County added cardboard boxes to the list of items its residents must recycle. We dutifully began placing our cardboard items in shopping bags next to our newspapers and didn't think much of it.

But today, we had an incident of theft. The perpetrator was apprehended promptly, but an empty Milkbone box was violated.

We'll have to change our recycling tactics from now on.

My Musical Legacy

When my Grandma died, she left me her 1907 Steinway upright piano. I don't really know how to play it, other than the standard Heart and Soul, Chopsticks, and a couple of shaky Christmas tunes. My Grandma left me the piano because, she said, I was "the most musical" of her grandchildren.

Music was my Grandma's life. She played on the radio in the '30s, went to NYU to study music, and gave lessons throughout her life. When she was raising her family in Larchmont, NY, she often found herself accompanying her trumpet-playing neighbor, Doc Severinson, who eventually became the band leader on Johnny Carson's late night show. (Really.)

As a child, each Thanksgiving I was forced to bring my acoustic guitar to play "Happy Birthday" along with Grandma on her piano for my brother's Nov. 26 birthday. (The relatives always showered Chris with birthday gifts on Thanksgiving, but my January birthday was much less fortuitous.) My older, cooler cousins, Dutch and Marilyn, never said anything about the guitar, but I know, deep down, that they saw this behavior as incredibly nerdy. Grandma, however, saw it as irrefutable evidence of my commitment to music.

If prepubescent mortification could be considered currency, I paid a lot for this piano.

When Grandma first met Steve, on Thanksgiving in 2000, she was diminished in body and mind but still remained interested in her musical legacy. She took me aside after dinner and asked me, "Does Steve play any musical instruments?"

"No, but he does have a really good singing voice," I answered truthfully.

"Good, good," she replied, nodding her head. I could see the wheels turning, calculating the increased chance that, assuming things with Steve worked out, her eventual great-grandchild would be musical as well, assuring the musical legacy for another generation. I know that made her very happy.

Grandma was too sick to come to our wedding in 2004, and she died in January 2005. We had the piano shipped here last summer, and, $3,900 in restoration costs later, it's like new inside and ready to make music again (see photo, above).

Now I just have to learn to play it.