Random Neuron Firings

Well, well, well. It’s Monday, and look who’s in trouble. A pro athlete. Oh, and another pro athlete.

What’s a man to do with his free time, after all? You know…the NFL prides itself on making sure that these guys get plenty of off-season training; not only at the gym, but in the classroom. I read somewhere on ESPN’s site that young players and new recruits have to attend sessions on dealing with the pressures of being in the NFL — sudden fame, mostly, and the instant shower of cash that comes with it.

Apparently, at least in some cases, you can take the boy out of the ghetto, but…yeah.

Anheuser-Busch may be sold to a Belgian company? What the???

Seems like every major bastion of the American corporate infrastructure has knuckled under to foreign ownership on some level. GM, Pepsi, Ford…they all have huge ties to overseas funding.  And now Bud? What’ll the rednecks drink?

And speaking of positively weird: did you know that foreign countries are buying up more than just American retail companies? Check this out, from a USA Today article:

On a single day in June [2006], an Australian-Spanish partnership paid $3.8 billion to lease the Indiana Toll Road. An Australian company bought a 99-year lease on Virginia’s Pocahontas Parkway, and Texas officials decided to let a Spanish-American partnership build and run a toll road from Austin to Seguin for 50 years.

Foreign countries are now buying the very surfaces on which we drive the conveyances they sold to us. What’s next?

The world’s goin’ to the devil, I tell ya. You mark me.

I’m off to school, but I thought I’d leave you with a cute sign-off. Jake is my joy…

Grammie Fink out.

It’s Dad in his new toy!

Happy Father’s Day to all the papas out there. I say there’s no time like the present to lobby for your 2010 gift. Presenting….

The ICON Aircraft A5 — JetSki to the Skies.

That’s right. For a mere $139,000, you too can take to the blue yonder — and you don’t even need a pilot’s license! Now isn’t that special?

And, according to the Light Sport Aircraft section of the FAA flying rules, you don’t even need a physical to fly one of these babies. All anyone needs in order to take off is 20 hours of training and a driver license.

Yikes.

However, at 18 MPG and flying on either jet fuel or gasoline, Dad better really, really want to fly. With roll-out planned for sometime in 2010, you can start saving money now to buy him this futuristic airplane made to feel and “drive” like a car, right down to the analog controls.

Speaking of futuristic travel, you absolutely have to watch this video. Made by Disney in 1958, it predicts what travel will be like in the “world of tomorrow.”

A couple of the predictions are actually pretty close to what’s happening now and what stands to happen soon. The rest of it’s basically nutty, but watch it — it’s worth the loadtime and you’ll get a kick out of it.

(I especially liked the part where the car drops “Father off at the office, and Mother and son to the shopping center.” Heh.)

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Sometimes, I really do hate being such a picky eater. I like all the wrong things, and hate many of the right ones. Why is that?

My mother always cooked balanced meals. I mean, they were probably heavy on the starches, as that is what most down-home, Midwestern girls raised on farms were taught to cook, but we usually had a meat, a veggie, some kind of potato or noodle or other starch, and bread if we wanted it. There were lots of casseroles. And iced tea. Always iced tea, 365 days a year.

I also don’t know why my sister likes vegetables and I don’t. I know it’s personal preference and all that, but we were subjected to the same foods growing up. Why does she like cauliflower and broccoli, and I do not? Some veggies are ok. I’ll eat the basics: green beans, peas, corn, celery, carrots, lettuce. [Bizarre side note: I can make a meal out of cold, pickled beets.] But everything else…all the trendy, “you have to like these” vegetables, I can’t stand.

Not that I abhor all healthy foods, mind you. I do love the fruit experience, although much of it is high in sugar.

And the weird thing is that growing up, we hardly ever had dessert. Super strange, because my mother was a sugar addict until the day she died, and my sister and I have been for decades. It’s no wonder my mom was Type II diabetic, and Mavis and I are both hypoglycemic.

How did I get this affinity for sweets? There are several theories which I won’t bother reciting, but suffice it to say that when I was a child, sweets were sacred, awe-inspiring, more-valuable-than-gold rewards. If we were good at the market while Mother was doing her grocery shopping, she’d buy us a candy bar or some ice cream from the Treasure Island snack bar.

If we were delightful little girls at the department store when Mother needed to shop for clothes or a wedding gift, she would reward us by stopping at the Woolworth’s candy counter. We always got the same thing. I think Mavis chose M & Ms, and I got the chocolate stars. A quarter-pound, and that was all. But it was heaven; something to work towards.

And there was no “saving for later,” either, dear heart. Every last piece of candy was gone before we got home, as if it was going to somehow disintegrate in our hands when we walked through the door.

It wasn’t Mother’s fault. She grew up on a post-Depression farm with next to nothing. She almost single-handedly raised her eight younger siblings, and I’m sure sweet treats for the entire family were basically non-existent. A box of decadent chocolates or a selection from the candy counter was totally beyond her reach until she married my dad.

Speaking of decadent: My favorite sweet treat of all time….

Cake! I’ll take any type, in almost any flavor. As long as it has that fluffy, springy, cake-y texture and lots and lots (and lots) of icing, I’ll take it. The more of it, the better.

Of course, I also like these, which is about the equivalent of pouring a half a cup of table sugar into a bowl and spooning it down the hatch. But they’re not near as much fun as cake.

Somebody bake me a cake, ok? Ok? Ok? Please? Today. Right now. Go.

Fink out.

I know some people (intelligent, nice, loving people) who say things like:

“I don’t do email; I want the human contact experience.”

“The Internet is an addiction. People need to get away from their computers and experience life.”

“Don’t email me; I won’t answer. If you want to talk to me, call me or talk to me in person.”

And the best one…

“I hate the Internet and email and all that. I don’t even know how to check my email.”

That’s right, sweety. Hate it because you don’t know anything about it. What gets me about these folks (and have I mentioned that they’re nice, intelligent people?) is that they are equating using the web with inactivity, laziness, and aversion to “getting out and breathing the air.”

I couldn’t disagree more. But then, you probably knew that.

Never before in human history has the acquisition of knowledge been so readily available. Stuff on the web begs to be known; discovered. Since when is discovery a bad thing? And why can’t “getting out and breathing the air” coincide with discovery?

Listen to the Fink. Go ahead. Drink the Kool-Aid. Use the web inside your daily “human” activities. You’ll like it, I promise. For instinks…

• While you’re on your daily run, snap a photo of a gorgeous flower or tree or cute animal and email it to your mom. Perfect example: my friend Kay, who lives in Slovenia, has a blog. She takes pictures on her walks and bike rides. Check it out.
• While at a family gathering or out with friends, instead of arguing about who was the first Browns player to be enshrined in the Hall of Fame, or how many M & Ms it would take to fill a Volkswagen Beetle, use ChaCha.com. You don’t even need a computer (only a cell phone), and it’s free.
• Use 800.GOOG.411 from your phone if you need quick directions, a phone number, an address or business hours. Of course, this service by Google is free.
• If you want to make sure you remember to do a thing when you get back from your power walk, use your cell phone and dial 866.JOTT.123 and speak the reminder into the phone. Jott.com will automatically send you an email message with the exact text of the reminder. Again — free service, easy, and purposeful.

So don’t hate me for my webby-ness. Really. I’m just trying to help my fellow humanoid. And I do get up from the computer, honest. Girlfriend has to make the coffee, ya know.

Fink out.