As we walked in the parking lot at the Park Plaza after watching a thoroughly enjoyable movie about another "Walk," we realized once again that becoming thoroughly absorbed in a movie will frequently diminish one's recall of exactly where you parked your car before entering the theater. Sometimes the best thing to do is click the unlock button on your car keys, letting the noise of the horn and the flash of your lights led you there. "Wait a minute, I'm trying to find my keys first," she said. Well, finding the car won't do us much good if we can't find the keys, will it? And now, finding the car without those keys might not happen either. So, I can agree that finding the keys is the first thing, I guess. This really is a walk in the wilderness after "A Walk In The Woods." Or is it a "Walk On The Wild Side?" Where's old Lou Reed when you need him?
Back to "A Walk In The Woods." I wouldn't call it a "buddy film." Robert Redford and Nick Nolte make an unlikely pair. The movie is more of a reflection on what is important in life and about realizing it late in life, I think. Or, maybe it's just me being later in life, so I see everything through that lens. In any case, "the woods" are those along the iconic Appalachian Trail. I've seen bits and pieces of that Trail, but never walked any part of it myself. No, I am not feeling the call of the Trail either. This is a time of year when I'd like to be walking more, but it is beastly hot and humid here and it's raining most of the time. So, I put it off and worry about not getting enough exercise to chase those same two pounds around the week this week. If only worrying used up calories. No matter how important that seems to me each day nowadays, it was time tonight to remember that taking a little time away from all the day-to-day stresses makes a big difference. Feeling that stress? "A Walk In The Woods" might be just the thing. Not that walking in the woods is important, but spending some time away from it all, absorbed in something else with someone important to you, is worth doing.
Sure, you might wind up walking in the wilderness looking for your car, but you might just wear away some of that stress that's been on your mind. It worked for us.
Thursday, September 3, 2015
Wednesday, August 19, 2015
Gimme Swelter
Gimme Swelter
Yes, it's that time again. August. It isn't often that "this August" is worse than some "August of your youth" or "back home." But this August, this week? I think it's the worst. Even if you have the good fortune of having a nearby pool at which you can end the day, it can happen as it did yesterday. We were overheated and out of sorts and hoping to spend some quality time cooling it there. But, as the Rolling Stones put it nearly fifty years ago--"it's just a shot away, just a shot away--it's just a shot away." What sounds more like a shot than distant thunder?
Sure enough, it happened. We heard it rumble, and flash, then "Oh, a storm is threatening, my very life today." We had to leave the pool as the thunderstorm approached and stumble back home--"War, it's just a shot away." This week has been miserable enough that more than once I said it out loud--how can anyone stand to work outside today?
Monday, it rained all day, a deluge. We spent time walking around a certain Plaza , dodging the spots where the overhanging roof leaked a pouring faucet down on us. We dared to hope for a hot, sunny day. Then we had to cross an alley between buildings, where it turned out the water was four inches deep. Aa Mick and the rest of the Stones put it back in 1969, "Oh, the flood is threat'nng my very life today." But the sweltering weather returned yesterday, unrelieved by the pool stay we had been hoping for.
Today, it was awful again--in terms of heat, anyway. You still have to qualify that some. Any day you can be free, be loved, have hope, give love, smile, frown--whatever--is a gift isn't it? Just a few moments ago, when I opened the sliding glass door and the hot air plowed in, nearly knocking me over, I remembered it's still good to be alive, so I have to say it--"Gimme, gimme swelter, or I'm gonna fade away."
Sunday, August 16, 2015
The Road Not Taken
I own a collection of puns that I picked up one day and, after opening it randomly to a couple of different entries, I was hooked. I went to customer service to see if they had anything with which to remove the hook and they handed me a deck of cards and said "Here, go fish." and this was a branch of a large bookstore operation. Just can't understand how these bookstores keep afloat. canoe? Want to try punning? Don't go there. That road is not one for the taking. Soon enough you will find yourself stuck, and it's a sticky business--branches or not.
Not long ago, I was reading an article written by a local writer that I read on a semi-regular basis. Her subject was couponing, and at first glance, when she described her mother's attachment to green stamps, and I reflected on my own mother's experiences with green stamps, I sized it up as at once a genuinely informative article on the present-day art of couponing and a wry reflection on how, despite ourselves, we are "becoming our parents" as we age. I set the article aside for a more careful read when I would have some time and went on to other things.
When I picked it up again, I realized the direction the author had taken did not include the reflection on how we are taking on some of the characteristics, habits, idiosyncrasies of our parents. I had read that into the reference to her own mother. As has often happened, I misread the direction she was taking. I wondered if this was simply because she had long ago accepted the notion that she was becoming like her mother? Or did she not notice that her interest and apparent commitment to using the new variety of coupons that are sprouting everywhere around us was similar to her mother's green stamps habit? Or, was her mother not really a coupon person and her interest in saving did not extend to coupons in general? We'll never know. Perhaps her article had included that discussion about following in her mother's footsteps and it wound up on the cutting room floor, so to speak, in the interest of brevity. Or, like usual, I had no idea where she was going with the story.
But it gave me pause, and now I can hardly type--paws are just not made for keyboard work. One of the similarities between I have observed in my own behavior and what I recall of my father's is a love of puns and associated malapropisms. Often, I get distracted from what a speaker or writer has said or written, because I'm chasing a self-made pun. The article described above started with a pun of sorts. "Here's the deal (no pun intended)." Which made me ask, what's wrong with intentional punning? Why are puns like the Rodney Dangerfield of humor, they "get no respect." But what is due the author of the following--"The Zen enthusiast said to the hot dog vendor, 'make me one with everything.'" This one is just so right. Who could put down such a clever expression?
I spend way too much time examining puns from all sorts of places. They seem to fall on me and I collect them. Most are not gems, but a few require a bit of thought. Others are easily spotted as in the question, do animal rights activists prefer PETA bread? Speaking of Spot, I really miss him--I spilled some spot remover on my dog and now he's gone. Now I am worried about my pony. He's got a cold and he's a little hoarse. Make me stop....
Not long ago, I was reading an article written by a local writer that I read on a semi-regular basis. Her subject was couponing, and at first glance, when she described her mother's attachment to green stamps, and I reflected on my own mother's experiences with green stamps, I sized it up as at once a genuinely informative article on the present-day art of couponing and a wry reflection on how, despite ourselves, we are "becoming our parents" as we age. I set the article aside for a more careful read when I would have some time and went on to other things.
When I picked it up again, I realized the direction the author had taken did not include the reflection on how we are taking on some of the characteristics, habits, idiosyncrasies of our parents. I had read that into the reference to her own mother. As has often happened, I misread the direction she was taking. I wondered if this was simply because she had long ago accepted the notion that she was becoming like her mother? Or did she not notice that her interest and apparent commitment to using the new variety of coupons that are sprouting everywhere around us was similar to her mother's green stamps habit? Or, was her mother not really a coupon person and her interest in saving did not extend to coupons in general? We'll never know. Perhaps her article had included that discussion about following in her mother's footsteps and it wound up on the cutting room floor, so to speak, in the interest of brevity. Or, like usual, I had no idea where she was going with the story.
But it gave me pause, and now I can hardly type--paws are just not made for keyboard work. One of the similarities between I have observed in my own behavior and what I recall of my father's is a love of puns and associated malapropisms. Often, I get distracted from what a speaker or writer has said or written, because I'm chasing a self-made pun. The article described above started with a pun of sorts. "Here's the deal (no pun intended)." Which made me ask, what's wrong with intentional punning? Why are puns like the Rodney Dangerfield of humor, they "get no respect." But what is due the author of the following--"The Zen enthusiast said to the hot dog vendor, 'make me one with everything.'" This one is just so right. Who could put down such a clever expression?
I spend way too much time examining puns from all sorts of places. They seem to fall on me and I collect them. Most are not gems, but a few require a bit of thought. Others are easily spotted as in the question, do animal rights activists prefer PETA bread? Speaking of Spot, I really miss him--I spilled some spot remover on my dog and now he's gone. Now I am worried about my pony. He's got a cold and he's a little hoarse. Make me stop....
Thursday, August 6, 2015
I thought I Was Having an Apocryphal Moment, But....
On my way to the hardware store to buy a pipe wrench, I looked up and found myself at the corner of Bow and Arrow (streets, that is, and I am not making this up). I had driven past Archer, which is where I really needed to turn to get to Grayco, but I drove past and turned at my next opportunity, which was Bow Circle, and that just happens to be the street the hardware sore is located on, even though it is quicker to turn at Archer, then you don't have to double back to actually enter the parking lot. But back to pipe wrenches. The Stilton or pipe wrench was invented--not by the Pied Piper, he was another sort of nut job--but by Daniel Stilton, and patented in 1869. In those days there were no standard nut sizes, so every nut job needed his own wrench, or so it seemed.
But the adjustable pipe wrench was invented for use with round objects, such as pipe. Softer lead pipe could be grasped by the steel teeth of the pipe wrench and turned. It might be thought that one pipe wrench might handle an infinite number of nut jobs, This wrench must be distinguished, however, from a spanner, which can be adjusted to fit a nearly infinite number of nut sizes. Unlike the pipe wrench, which had to have teeth to grasp the rounded lead pipe, the spanner had flat parallel edges that were adjusted to fit the flat corners of a square or four-sided nut, or otherwise flat-sided nuts of say eight sides, for example.
Neither of these wrenches should be confused with a lead pipe cinch, which is a sure thing, sometimes used to refer to sure profits, such as those made by monopolistic wealthy people. By extension, a lead pipe cinch would be a certainty, unlike my turn one street late onto Bow from Arrow, instead of Archer--winding up at the intersection of Bow and Arrow.
There I sat, musing about the old-time tool I was running out to buy, really for the first time in my life. When I owned my first house, I borrowed a pipe wrench from my father-in-law. The second house we bought, was near my own father's house, so I would borrow his when I needed one. Shortly after that, my father-in-law sold his last house and gave me a box of his old tools, including his pipe wrench. I'd kept it until my son bought his first house, and I had what I thought was my last house on the market. I gave it to him. Now, I am about to buy a house again. This seemed to be an apocryphal moment, but....
Later that day, I was driving my car back home after having jump-started it for the second time--this time to buy a new battery for way more than I wanted pay. As I grumbled to myself about the battery and its cost driving back home, I was glaring through the windshield at the mess on it. What was it that I was struggling to see the road through? Well, it was white, sort of, and splattered over most of it. The place we have lived in for the past couple of years has no garage, so the car is parked beneath a large live oak, which shelters birds of all sorts throughout the year, and well, you get the idea, my windshield view was obscured by a lot of bird "stuff." I knew the cause of my sh***y outlook on life today, in more ways than one. Was this another apocryphal moment? Nope, apocryphal really means fictitious or erroneous. The word people like me who use it--or misuse it--these days, really are looking for the word epiphany--'a usually sudden manifestation or perception of the essential nature or meaning of something.” I thought these were apocryphal moments (little ones) but they were really minor epiphanies. Oh well. What's in a name?
But the adjustable pipe wrench was invented for use with round objects, such as pipe. Softer lead pipe could be grasped by the steel teeth of the pipe wrench and turned. It might be thought that one pipe wrench might handle an infinite number of nut jobs, This wrench must be distinguished, however, from a spanner, which can be adjusted to fit a nearly infinite number of nut sizes. Unlike the pipe wrench, which had to have teeth to grasp the rounded lead pipe, the spanner had flat parallel edges that were adjusted to fit the flat corners of a square or four-sided nut, or otherwise flat-sided nuts of say eight sides, for example.
Neither of these wrenches should be confused with a lead pipe cinch, which is a sure thing, sometimes used to refer to sure profits, such as those made by monopolistic wealthy people. By extension, a lead pipe cinch would be a certainty, unlike my turn one street late onto Bow from Arrow, instead of Archer--winding up at the intersection of Bow and Arrow.
There I sat, musing about the old-time tool I was running out to buy, really for the first time in my life. When I owned my first house, I borrowed a pipe wrench from my father-in-law. The second house we bought, was near my own father's house, so I would borrow his when I needed one. Shortly after that, my father-in-law sold his last house and gave me a box of his old tools, including his pipe wrench. I'd kept it until my son bought his first house, and I had what I thought was my last house on the market. I gave it to him. Now, I am about to buy a house again. This seemed to be an apocryphal moment, but....
Later that day, I was driving my car back home after having jump-started it for the second time--this time to buy a new battery for way more than I wanted pay. As I grumbled to myself about the battery and its cost driving back home, I was glaring through the windshield at the mess on it. What was it that I was struggling to see the road through? Well, it was white, sort of, and splattered over most of it. The place we have lived in for the past couple of years has no garage, so the car is parked beneath a large live oak, which shelters birds of all sorts throughout the year, and well, you get the idea, my windshield view was obscured by a lot of bird "stuff." I knew the cause of my sh***y outlook on life today, in more ways than one. Was this another apocryphal moment? Nope, apocryphal really means fictitious or erroneous. The word people like me who use it--or misuse it--these days, really are looking for the word epiphany--'a usually sudden manifestation or perception of the essential nature or meaning of something.” I thought these were apocryphal moments (little ones) but they were really minor epiphanies. Oh well. What's in a name?
Monday, July 27, 2015
Sailing Along, Unaware
As we sailed tonight on our rented cat,
'cross wakes and tides and all of that,
I gave no thought to any dying,
easily done not a bit of trying.
We watched the setting sun,
Breezing along, cool as could be.
Joy, sails, and friends as one,
But his absence didn't touch me.
Arriving home, a mix of blessing
A friend lost long ago, now passed.
Another sends a note addressing
Connecting now, not in the past.
'cross wakes and tides and all of that,
I gave no thought to any dying,
easily done not a bit of trying.
We watched the setting sun,
Breezing along, cool as could be.
Joy, sails, and friends as one,
But his absence didn't touch me.
Arriving home, a mix of blessing
A friend lost long ago, now passed.
Another sends a note addressing
Connecting now, not in the past.
Monday, July 20, 2015
50 Cent, Uncle Scrooge and the Almighty Dollar
50-Cent, Uncle Scroge and The Almighty Dollar
Does anyone else see the irony? 50 Cent has filed for bankruptcy protection...Irony? The dictionary says "the expression of one's meaning by using language that normally signifies the opposite, typically for humorous or emphatic effect." The name 50 Cent literally means he is all about the money, doesn't it? Oh, and 50 Cent needs protection... Have you ever seen this guy? Talk about fearsome.
Just so we're clear, this is personal bankruptcy, and does not affect his various business interests and, as his attorney explains, this " just allows him the chance to pursue an orderly reorganization of his financial affairs." 50 Cent told the Wall Street Journal he still hopes to become a billionaire one day, and if it doesn't work out, "I'll be extremely disappointed and feel like I haven't done what I was supposed to do." Sounds almost like a higher calling.
50 Cent himself points out that even Walt Disney once filed for personal bankruptcy protection. Oh, yeah? Are you sure it wasn't one of his characters? Was it just some Mickey Mouse stuff? I don't know, it sounds Goofy to me.
Ah, but back to 50 Cent--he is beset by some personal setbacks in two recent civil cases, and thus he faces some significant challenges and "needs protection." Even those of us who aren't named after money have the need for bankruptcy protection. But maybe having a monetary name makes it more difficult, not easier. By making it big early this man named for money has stumbled. To whom should he turn for help? A couple of options come to mind. He could take heed of some advice from another person whose name means money--like , let's say the Reverend Creflo Dollar. Or, perhaps he can continue to follow in the footsteps of Walt Disney.
As it turns out, if Mr. Disney had money troubles, Uncle Scrooge McDuck was probably involved in Disney's bankruptcy adventure referred to by Mr. 50 Cent above. You remember Scrooge McDuck--he had a giant room filled with gold where he enjoyed spending time, as I recall. Scrooge McDuck was not always highly successful. He stubbed his toe (do ducks have toes in those webbed feet?) a few times prospecting for gold before he struck it rich in the Klondike.
Recently, the Motley Fool (financial and investing advice web site) published a story on this highly successful billionaire, Scrooge McDuck. Given his earlier mention of Walt Disney as a well-known figure in whose footsteps he is already following, perhaps 50 Cent ought to look to those tips based on Uncle Scrooge's career.
- Work harder (but smarter) than everyone else, and keep an eye out for con men. Says McDuck, "Life is filled with tough jobs, and there'll always be sharpies to cheat me ... well, I'll be tougher than the toughies and sharper than the sharpies, and I'll make my money square!"
- Don't ignore the value of good connections to family or friends. Young Scrooge comes to America with little more than the clothes on his back in "The Master of the Mississippi," but one of the first things he does is seek out his riverboat-captain uncle. Scrooge's only connection in his new country makes him a teen aged riverboat captain several years later.
- Persistence pays off ... eventually. There wasn't gold at the end of most of Scrooge's rainbows, but in "The New Laird of Castle McDuck," he reaffirms his overriding optimism by exclaiming that "there's always another rainbow!" Scrooge's story is familiar to many entrepreneurs and self-made men, who often go through several failed ventures before they find one that really works.
- Sometimes what you really need is a stroke of luck. Scrooge spent years trying and failing to strike it rich around the world before finally finding a gold deposit in the Yukon. The value of hard work and an expert knowledge of prospecting surely helped him discover the gold. However, in Scrooge's origin story, it's made clear that much of his success comes from having arrived in the Yukon before the gold rush began, and then happened to chance upon a completely isolated spot in Canada.
- Put your money to work for you. Two years after Scrooge found gold in the Yukon, he'd pulled enough out of the ground to become a millionaire. At the prevailing exchange rate of the day, that means he'd managed to dig up about 3,300 pounds of the stuff. After that, he decided to become a businessman -- and that business, naturally enough, was bank ownership. According to "The Billionaire of Dismal Downs," Scrooge became a billionaire within five years of transitioning from laborer to lender,
The secret, I think, is found in his teachings. He espouses the "Prosperity Theology," which Wikipedia describes as "a Christian religious doctrine that financial blessing is the will of God for Christians, and that faith, positive speech, and donations to Christian ministries will increase one's material wealth." Wealth is interpreted in prosperity theology as a blessing from God, obtained through a spiritual law of positive confession, visualization, and donations. Donations, donations and more, with several hundred thousand members in his church, Creflo has it made.
Except for the deeply flawed mission of turning church contributions in the tens of millions of dollars to his own use (ownership of two Rolls Royces, three multimillion dollar homes and a private jet). Think of the good that could have been accomplished with all those contributions.
So, 50 Cent, what will it be--your own Disney World or will you try Creflo's approach to produce some "Prosperity Entertainment?" Do you hear a higher calling or a low one?
So, 50 Cent, what will it be--your own Disney World or will you try Creflo's approach to produce some "Prosperity Entertainment?" Do you hear a higher calling or a low one?
Sunday, July 5, 2015
Bacon, Bakin' and Odd
Bacon, Bakin' And Odd
We're taking it easy today, except for getting ready for a 4th of July parade of visitors. The preparation that consists mainly of a trip to the grocery store for "some snacks." We delegated cooking the main course (and some of the sides, come to think of it) to Bullies' BarBQ--a merchant we have had the privilege of living about five minutes away from for the past couple of years.
It really is too beastly hot for anyone to ask me to actually cook for all of them, trust me. As I moved about the store and picked up what I thought were "snacks," namely pretzels, potato chips, taco chips, I heard my dear wife say, "Oh, we'll be needing some bacon, too." This reignited a condition I had only lately begun to recover from in just the past fifteen hours or so--Baconitis. Yesterday it manifested itself when somebody observed that we were "bakin' like bacon."
It was just an impulsive observation about how beastly hot it has been for the past few weeks. Don't get me wrong, I don't really mind heat for the 4th of July. All my life temperature in the 80' and 90's were typical on the 4th. The problem was that someone had brought up bacon again. It's all around me. I've decided this is an "-itis" because bacon has become so ubiquitous that I am worried it is becoming some sort of obsession, or maybe it's possession--I'm being possessed by some sort of bacon spirit.
Technically, "-itis" means inflammation. Inflammation is, for me and most everyone I know, irritating. So is Baconitis! But the real problem is that you can never quite forget about it, when you begin to realize you are surrounded by bacon, and people will bring it up or display it almost everywhere. Here is just a brief recounting of where bacon has been popping up around me the past few days. There was a report about the effect of the introduction of "baconator fries" on the price of Wendy's stock (it closed higher). Baconator fries are intended to complement guess what? The Baconator burger, Wendy's most successful burger, of course. Three nights ago, we ate out at the local Bonefish restaurant. The special on the evening's menu was salmon topped with cheese and, what else? Bacon. My wife expressed her opinion that bacon and salmon don't go together. Seriously, no one else has found any food with which bacon does not go. There's bacon added to grits, bacon added to salads, even to a sauce you pour on waffles.
Arby's has introduced brown sugar bacon sandwich, it consists of Arby's traditional sliced beef with brown sugar bacon sauce. Paula Deen has a recipe for brown sugar bacon. The web site EndlessSimmer.com has over one hundred uses for bacon. I couldn't bring myself to read them all, but one included recipe was bacon apple pie--apple pie with a bacon lattice on top in lieu of the more traditional pie crust lattice.
Want to stay current on all things bacon? Subscribe to Bacon Today, "daily news on the world of sweet, sweet bacon" Did you say you need a book to read to your children? Another void has lately been filled--you will find there is now a children's book you can read to your child entitled, I Want To Be Bacon When I Grow Up.
Are you more of an Internet sort of person? Go to BaconFreak.com. I had been putting off the completion of this little essay until the bacon wave subsided in my world, but I concluded it never will, when my wife pointed out the bacon-flavored chocolate at the local chocolatier. We're doomed. Chocolate and bacon have formed an alliance.
P.S., I recently attended a prayer service where the minister recited the following invocation: Dear Lord, once we had Johnny Cash, Bob Hope and Steve Jpbs. Now, we have no Cash, no Hope and no Jobs. Please, please, please, we beg foe you-- watch over Kevin Bacon!
We're taking it easy today, except for getting ready for a 4th of July parade of visitors. The preparation that consists mainly of a trip to the grocery store for "some snacks." We delegated cooking the main course (and some of the sides, come to think of it) to Bullies' BarBQ--a merchant we have had the privilege of living about five minutes away from for the past couple of years.
It really is too beastly hot for anyone to ask me to actually cook for all of them, trust me. As I moved about the store and picked up what I thought were "snacks," namely pretzels, potato chips, taco chips, I heard my dear wife say, "Oh, we'll be needing some bacon, too." This reignited a condition I had only lately begun to recover from in just the past fifteen hours or so--Baconitis. Yesterday it manifested itself when somebody observed that we were "bakin' like bacon."
It was just an impulsive observation about how beastly hot it has been for the past few weeks. Don't get me wrong, I don't really mind heat for the 4th of July. All my life temperature in the 80' and 90's were typical on the 4th. The problem was that someone had brought up bacon again. It's all around me. I've decided this is an "-itis" because bacon has become so ubiquitous that I am worried it is becoming some sort of obsession, or maybe it's possession--I'm being possessed by some sort of bacon spirit.
Technically, "-itis" means inflammation. Inflammation is, for me and most everyone I know, irritating. So is Baconitis! But the real problem is that you can never quite forget about it, when you begin to realize you are surrounded by bacon, and people will bring it up or display it almost everywhere. Here is just a brief recounting of where bacon has been popping up around me the past few days. There was a report about the effect of the introduction of "baconator fries" on the price of Wendy's stock (it closed higher). Baconator fries are intended to complement guess what? The Baconator burger, Wendy's most successful burger, of course. Three nights ago, we ate out at the local Bonefish restaurant. The special on the evening's menu was salmon topped with cheese and, what else? Bacon. My wife expressed her opinion that bacon and salmon don't go together. Seriously, no one else has found any food with which bacon does not go. There's bacon added to grits, bacon added to salads, even to a sauce you pour on waffles.
Arby's has introduced brown sugar bacon sandwich, it consists of Arby's traditional sliced beef with brown sugar bacon sauce. Paula Deen has a recipe for brown sugar bacon. The web site EndlessSimmer.com has over one hundred uses for bacon. I couldn't bring myself to read them all, but one included recipe was bacon apple pie--apple pie with a bacon lattice on top in lieu of the more traditional pie crust lattice.
Want to stay current on all things bacon? Subscribe to Bacon Today, "daily news on the world of sweet, sweet bacon" Did you say you need a book to read to your children? Another void has lately been filled--you will find there is now a children's book you can read to your child entitled, I Want To Be Bacon When I Grow Up.
Are you more of an Internet sort of person? Go to BaconFreak.com. I had been putting off the completion of this little essay until the bacon wave subsided in my world, but I concluded it never will, when my wife pointed out the bacon-flavored chocolate at the local chocolatier. We're doomed. Chocolate and bacon have formed an alliance.
P.S., I recently attended a prayer service where the minister recited the following invocation: Dear Lord, once we had Johnny Cash, Bob Hope and Steve Jpbs. Now, we have no Cash, no Hope and no Jobs. Please, please, please, we beg foe you-- watch over Kevin Bacon!
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