My Fresh Hell
Life in Scribbletown.

And Now Here's Something You'll Really Like


Or not. I don't have much to say today but I really need to get the last entry off the main screen. We are moving past the recent tragedy (which appears to have been a robbery gone very bad but I'm not convinced that what I'm reading in the paper is the real story. Time will tell, I suppose.) and making plans for the spring.

Dusty and I will be heading to California in April to visit my aunt and uncle. I haven't been out there since 1993 – long before any of their FOUR grandchildren were born. So, clearly it's past time. Not to mention that it's an all-expenses-paid trip, which is the only kind I can take these days.

I do have two things to mention that have nothing to do with anything.

First, I want to bitch about a new product. I will not link to it because that only gives it more attention than it deserves, which is none. Perhaps you've seen the commercials? Actually seen this in the stores? Or, perhaps, you were, until this moment, blissfully unaware that Kraft has yet again found another way to let the lazy people in the world continue to get lazier. The product is called Crumbles. It is a bag of crumbled up cheese.

Yes, I know what you're thinking. What the F--? Pre-grated cheese is ridiculous. How long does that take, really, to grate cheese? Not to mention that pre-grated and pre-cut anything perishable loses flavor, dries out, and has to be doctored with a variety of chemicals to make it look and taste edible. I'm sure there's some un-lazy, good reason for needing pre-grated cheese. But that is not what this is. It is crumbled cheese, in ragged chunks. Which, you can do with your hands if you don't have a grater handy. Or, just chop the shit up with a knife – oh, and you can ALREADY buy cheese in chunks. So…..again, why? Why? Why? I hate products aimed at stupid people. Which is 90% of everything in the grocery store these days. Am I beginning to sound Andy Rooney-ish? Tough.

I actually grate my own parmesan. Because it's fresh and tastes better. I scorn the canister. I also crumble, with my own clean hands, my own block of feta. It's betta (get it?). Not to mention half the cost of the pre-crumbled feta cheese that lurks on the shelf. Beware! Do not be fooled! You must be ever-diligent when purchasing food because they mingle the expensive lazy crap in with the less expensive DIY food.

Oh, did I mention I don't own a microwave oven? I don't. I have no idea what I'd do with one if I did. Really. No amount of praise will ever make me consider bringing in a radioactive food destroyer. You mark my words – one day we will discover that it destroys all that is good in food and will cause all manner of cancers. Probably causes peanut allergies somehow as well. Those certainly weren't around when I was a kid.

There's a reason you're not supposed to EVER put baby formula in one. Not that I ever had to worry about that but I did have to stop a babysitter from warming up Red's breastmilk in the microwave even though the bottle AND the bottle liners CLEARLY SAY not to. I mean, my god. I lost sleep over that one. Why not just throw the milk on the floor and give her Kool-Aid for all the good the irradiated milk will do her? Kee-rist.

How much time does it take to fill a pan with hot TAP water (no stove needed) and stick the bottle in there. Two minutes, three? Lazy damn people.

Boy, I really went off on a tangent, didn't I?

I have one last observation. Bear with me, please.

We subscribe to Direct-TV as there is no option out in the middle of nowhere. Just like there's no option to dial-up Internet access (which really sucks – that's why I keep my day job). But, I love my satellite dish. I hated cable when I lived in the city. Mainly because I could not choose my cable company. With satellite, I have a little choice. DTV offers scads of music channels, none of which I've ever listened to before. When I want music, I pop in a CD. When I turn on the TV, I want to watch something. With talking. And moving pictures.

The other night, because there was nothing to watch, and I was in between my bedtime turn with Dusty and Red's bedtime routine, I flipped around the music channels out of mere curiosity. I went to Easy Listening.

What did I hear? Pink Floyd.

Is Pink Floyd now considered easy listening? It was the "Us and Them/etc" thing from the Dark Side of the Moon CD, which is easier to listen to then some other songs but still…… I really that old that the stuff I listened to at stoner parties in high school is now easy listening? Grandma music? Shit.

In the information box at the bottom of the screen, DTV listed the Title, Artist and CD. It then said, "You are listening to rock music." In case there was any doubt. Which, apparently there is since I flipped to EL.

As I punched through a few more music channels, I realized they were scrambled. U2 is not Country, hip hop was playing on the Smooth R&B channel. Clearly, DTV had changed all the channels and I was holding an old guide (Yes, holding. As in paper. I don't really cotton to that on-the-television guide. I like to see the big picture. Just like I prefer to read the newspaper in paper form). But still.

Pink Floyd = Easy Listening. If you're a pothead, maybe. Or, 40 years old.

Jeebus wept.


4:02 p.m. ::
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