While I'm griping, I'll move on to my other big gripe this week, or month, or season.
What in the world has happened to Syfy (once Scifi) channel? They once had some of the most interesting programming anywhere. They did a lot of their own movies (Earthsea). They picked up discontinued network shows (Firefly/Serenity) Their regular programming was a mix of reality programming (Destination Truth, Fact or Faked) and odd fiction (Eureka, Haven).
Since before Thanksgiving, they've been a faint echo of Chiller network, rehashing and rerunning, over and over again, horror movies. Did someone in their office forget to change the calendar from October?
Some of it has been fine -- nothing wrong with horror on "Friday the Thirteenth", for example. But most of it -- there's nothing original in the movies they've been constantly replaying. How many times can we watch the three versions/chapters of the Halloween series? How many times is anyone going to sit through Troy? And disasters are fine for 2012 The End of The World. Creatures are coming out of all the cracks this old world is showing as it falls apart and blows away, but can't someone please -- pleasepleaseplease -- get rid of that damned Dinocroc for once and for all?
The only original syfy programming has been Ghost Hunters and Face-Off. Ghost Hunters I watch, Face-Off I don't. Doesn't appeal to me, but it belongs in the line-up.
That is, it did, back in the day when they actually had a line-up.
The network teased us a bit back at Christmas, advertising widely that Haven, Eureka, and Warehouse 13 were all coming back brand new,
They did.
For ONE Christmas themed episode each, that was rebroadcast extensively until the aforementioned Friday the Thirteenth.
I feel cheated. I feel that Syfy has turned its back on the fans that made the network such a great place to watch original programming. Maybe they ran out of ideas. Maybe they've made enough money and just don't care anymore. Maybe they fired all the writers and no one has told them how many unemployed writers there are out there. Maybe the adventurers and skeptics all went home for very long holidays
Because I don't care any more. I'll watch my horror movies on the horror movie channel, and instead of watching TV I'll read a book.
Or write one.
Original ideas are out there. Someone just has to look.
It could be an adventure.
Wednesday, February 15, 2012
Sunday, February 12, 2012
What happened to the Cow?
Our local radio station, C-103, home of the cow, used to be a great way of getting local news. They would do anything 'breaking' local, then area news, then state, then national. (Plus obituaries and sports) Now, the only local news they give us is what is picked up by the city stations, which is a disappointment. After all, if I wanted to know what the city has to say, I'd be listening to the city stations, wouldn't I?
There's been a lot of things happening locally. Fires, car accidents, flood, road closures. I really do care more that a student rolled his car and was killed than I do that the Lady Warriors beat the Lady Something-elses three days ago.
The station has a website. It used to be updated every other day, at the least. They would put up the local news, and the scores, and offer items from their radio-swap-shop program. Now, of course, they no longer carry local news until it is stale and citified. They update possibly once a week, and the Trash'n'Treasures offerings are few and far between. Even the obits are brief and outdated. And nothing is archived anymore.
I know what happened. Anyone who lives and listens can probably make a good guess. Somebody retired. Somebody died.
The radio station was run by a man -- I think his name was Ted Foster, but I can't even be sure of that. He really turned the station into something special. He got them into the 21st century with the website, he helped to organize the programming, he did the news. He did a LOT. He did the work of three men.
They've hired one young man to take this man's place. Now, Matt is very good. He does a lot of work, a lot of appearances, and is easy on the ears.
But he's one person, and he's still learning.
I hate to see Ted's legacy withering away, and so soon after his departure. The station is sinking into the small-town, small-time category that it was so steadily rising above. The Cow was reasonably competing with the city stations.
Now it has become a mere echo of them, faint and failing.
I wish we in Adams County could have our voice back.
There's been a lot of things happening locally. Fires, car accidents, flood, road closures. I really do care more that a student rolled his car and was killed than I do that the Lady Warriors beat the Lady Something-elses three days ago.
The station has a website. It used to be updated every other day, at the least. They would put up the local news, and the scores, and offer items from their radio-swap-shop program. Now, of course, they no longer carry local news until it is stale and citified. They update possibly once a week, and the Trash'n'Treasures offerings are few and far between. Even the obits are brief and outdated. And nothing is archived anymore.
I know what happened. Anyone who lives and listens can probably make a good guess. Somebody retired. Somebody died.
The radio station was run by a man -- I think his name was Ted Foster, but I can't even be sure of that. He really turned the station into something special. He got them into the 21st century with the website, he helped to organize the programming, he did the news. He did a LOT. He did the work of three men.
They've hired one young man to take this man's place. Now, Matt is very good. He does a lot of work, a lot of appearances, and is easy on the ears.
But he's one person, and he's still learning.
I hate to see Ted's legacy withering away, and so soon after his departure. The station is sinking into the small-town, small-time category that it was so steadily rising above. The Cow was reasonably competing with the city stations.
Now it has become a mere echo of them, faint and failing.
I wish we in Adams County could have our voice back.
Wednesday, February 8, 2012
lighting the darktime
For centuries, Christmas lights and candles in the windows and blazing fires have spread the light in the darkest time of winter. That solstice, every year, is the time of briefest light, and mankind has been fighting back from the beginning.
After the season -- whichever of them you celebrate, daylight begins creeping back into this old world. Minute by minute, day by day -- or maybe it's minute by day -- the time of not-dark increases. Our joyous blazing celebrations have brought back light, even if we don't think of it that way.
Recent years, the wooing of the light starts earlier and lasts longer. We begin, now, with ghost lights in October. Orange and white, only the orange has a tendency to look a lirrle red. We leave the spakling clear lights on through November, and then comes the extravaganza of Yuletide.
Carnival, which culminates in Mardi Gras, begins at Epiphany -- the twelfth day of Christmas.
But, between then and now, there are more secular holidays, made for fun and cheer.
Red lights and reshaped wreaths on doors celebrate Valentine's Day, the time of year when the sap rises in our spirits as well as in our yards. Green lights replace the red, and the wreaths are joined together in threes, to celebrate St Patrick and the return of the Green to the northern hemisphere.
And the twinkling lights give way to pastel ornaments and blushing bouquets, awaiting the full touch of sun as they burst into bloom.
From ghost lights to green lights, we keep away the darkness.
Or at least we try.
After the season -- whichever of them you celebrate, daylight begins creeping back into this old world. Minute by minute, day by day -- or maybe it's minute by day -- the time of not-dark increases. Our joyous blazing celebrations have brought back light, even if we don't think of it that way.
Recent years, the wooing of the light starts earlier and lasts longer. We begin, now, with ghost lights in October. Orange and white, only the orange has a tendency to look a lirrle red. We leave the spakling clear lights on through November, and then comes the extravaganza of Yuletide.
Carnival, which culminates in Mardi Gras, begins at Epiphany -- the twelfth day of Christmas.
But, between then and now, there are more secular holidays, made for fun and cheer.
Red lights and reshaped wreaths on doors celebrate Valentine's Day, the time of year when the sap rises in our spirits as well as in our yards. Green lights replace the red, and the wreaths are joined together in threes, to celebrate St Patrick and the return of the Green to the northern hemisphere.
And the twinkling lights give way to pastel ornaments and blushing bouquets, awaiting the full touch of sun as they burst into bloom.
From ghost lights to green lights, we keep away the darkness.
Or at least we try.
Sunday, February 5, 2012
Super Sunday
Every Sunday is quiet here. People in this community go to church. have family dinners, and spend the afternoons having fun.
Today, the Sunday solemnity is especially deep. People are staying home and staying in. Everyone who was going anywhere left hours ago and have now reached their destination.
A sacred hush has fallen across the land.
It won't last, of course. There will soon be jumping and shouting and cursing heard from many homes. There will be eating and eating and eating. There will be drinking to go with the eating, and more drinking for the cursing. Dishes will be broken, windows will shatter, depending on whose team is winning and who the refs are favoring with willful blindness. There may be broken noses and there will eventually be broken automobiles and broken families.
Who cares, now, what the future holds? Who cares for the rest of the world? Who cares that the day of the Lord (for many) has become the more important day of the football? Who cares that a day of rest has become a day of frenzy? Who cares that the serenity of the evening will be broken and shattered?
It's Super Bowl Sunday, a final day of excess before winter is thrown off and natural light returns to the world.
Tonight, when the Madness has ended, I will begin to believe in Spring.
Today, the Sunday solemnity is especially deep. People are staying home and staying in. Everyone who was going anywhere left hours ago and have now reached their destination.
A sacred hush has fallen across the land.
It won't last, of course. There will soon be jumping and shouting and cursing heard from many homes. There will be eating and eating and eating. There will be drinking to go with the eating, and more drinking for the cursing. Dishes will be broken, windows will shatter, depending on whose team is winning and who the refs are favoring with willful blindness. There may be broken noses and there will eventually be broken automobiles and broken families.
Who cares, now, what the future holds? Who cares for the rest of the world? Who cares that the day of the Lord (for many) has become the more important day of the football? Who cares that a day of rest has become a day of frenzy? Who cares that the serenity of the evening will be broken and shattered?
It's Super Bowl Sunday, a final day of excess before winter is thrown off and natural light returns to the world.
Tonight, when the Madness has ended, I will begin to believe in Spring.
Thursday, February 2, 2012
Prove it, groundhogs.
Another year, another day for the national joke. Will the groundhog see his shadow? Did the groundhog see his shadow? Is it only six more weeks until spring, or do we have six more weeks of winter?
Which groundhog should we believe? Phil saw his shadow; the local equivalent did not. Which is right, six weeks til spring, six weeks of winter? The debate, while good-natured, rages on.
Perhaps, just maybe, there is help. Perhaps there is an answer! I will look high and low, and in the most obvious places, and I will find the answer.
From Feb 2 until Mar 21 is between six and seven weeks. From Groundhog Day until the first day of spring is approximately six weeks!
Let's all take a deep breath of relief. We are free to believe both or neither groundhog. It remains winter for six more weeks, when it becomes spring according to the calendar!
Just like every year.
Which groundhog should we believe? Phil saw his shadow; the local equivalent did not. Which is right, six weeks til spring, six weeks of winter? The debate, while good-natured, rages on.
Perhaps, just maybe, there is help. Perhaps there is an answer! I will look high and low, and in the most obvious places, and I will find the answer.
From Feb 2 until Mar 21 is between six and seven weeks. From Groundhog Day until the first day of spring is approximately six weeks!
Let's all take a deep breath of relief. We are free to believe both or neither groundhog. It remains winter for six more weeks, when it becomes spring according to the calendar!
Just like every year.
Tuesday, January 31, 2012
My Turn: Campaign 2012
At least I waited until it actually has been 2012 for a little while. Damn politicians and the media -- especially the media -- started back in August with the budget hang-up. Which, of course, was the other guy's fault. The other party's fault.
Thank goodness there's no need for a Democrat circus. That would detract sooo much from the Republican's parties. And we, the Great American Public, would have to find other things to worry about, like how to pay the doctors and where to find a job.
The Republican primaries have pretty much amused me. So far, the first one, New Hampshire, has been my favorite. Everyone was voting for Romney.
"Why?" the after-vote pollsters asked. "Is it his politics? His policies? His platform? His personality? His looks?"
"No," the Republican voters answered. "We just voted for him because we think he can beat Obama."
I'm still wondering what he's supposed to beat Obama with.
Thank goodness there's no need for a Democrat circus. That would detract sooo much from the Republican's parties. And we, the Great American Public, would have to find other things to worry about, like how to pay the doctors and where to find a job.
The Republican primaries have pretty much amused me. So far, the first one, New Hampshire, has been my favorite. Everyone was voting for Romney.
"Why?" the after-vote pollsters asked. "Is it his politics? His policies? His platform? His personality? His looks?"
"No," the Republican voters answered. "We just voted for him because we think he can beat Obama."
I'm still wondering what he's supposed to beat Obama with.
Saturday, January 28, 2012
Cooking and Looking
Cooking shows used to be about cooking. About recipes, and following the directions. Cooking shows were the original reality TV. The smooth blends, the careful combining of dry and wet ingredients, every step demonstrated and shown, step-by-step. Oven temps and burner settings and the right type of pan. They told how to do it all, what it should look like, how it should smell.
Now, there are many, many, MANY variations of cooking shows. They have little connection to the follow-the-recipe shows of old.
Actually, they are not cooking shows. They are eating shows.
You can watch 'chefs' eat their way around a city, the important thing being who can most quickly eat the most. Any cooking or flavor components are there as clues to the next food you have to quickly ingest in spite of flavor, texture, or taste.
You can watch a fat man (how did he get that way?) wander all over the country eating the world's largest hamburger or the great steak of blank. Yeah, just watch that man eat!
Of course, the shows do go into the kitchens. They show you a powdery spice mix and tell you here's the secret ingredients -- not that you know any more about what the ingredients are. They show you how it's put on and how the food is cooked and the way to build the sandwich, if there is a sandwich.
Then there are the 'kitchen' shows. Contestants line up at prep tables and they are all supposed to make something, sometimes the same things, out of identical ingredients. They show all the cooks doing the same or different things. One contestant uses a skillet, one boils, one broils, another bakes. Sometimes the cook will tell the camera, 'I think broiling will preserve the flavor without destroying the integrity of the selection.' Huh?
I know I want to try that for supper tonight.
Then they have to be judged. The judges must consider whether the grape leaf should be tilted more to the right or the left, and if the sauce dribbled across the plate is writing in secret code or not. (Points off if they can read it.) Finally, they must decide if the food is edible enough for the prize. It doesn't matter if the idea of the food is appetizing -- that's completely nonessential.
I, for one, do not think fish flavored ice cream is ever edible, no matter how much cream and sugar is mixed in. Because that's a favorite 'strategy'. If you don't know what else to do with it, make it ice cream. YUM!
Why do people watch this? What is the fascination?
Food needs to be tasted. It needs to be smelled. It needs to be felt. One can't know the texture of a blend from looking at it on the screen. One can't inhale the aroma of good things coming together in a skillet or an oven. Most of all, one can't taste the result.
So why watch? If you want to see fat people eat, go to the fair. If you want to watch a circus, go to the circus. If you want to enjoy food, fix it for yourself. That's what appeases the appetite.
Now, there are many, many, MANY variations of cooking shows. They have little connection to the follow-the-recipe shows of old.
Actually, they are not cooking shows. They are eating shows.
You can watch 'chefs' eat their way around a city, the important thing being who can most quickly eat the most. Any cooking or flavor components are there as clues to the next food you have to quickly ingest in spite of flavor, texture, or taste.
You can watch a fat man (how did he get that way?) wander all over the country eating the world's largest hamburger or the great steak of blank. Yeah, just watch that man eat!
Of course, the shows do go into the kitchens. They show you a powdery spice mix and tell you here's the secret ingredients -- not that you know any more about what the ingredients are. They show you how it's put on and how the food is cooked and the way to build the sandwich, if there is a sandwich.
Then there are the 'kitchen' shows. Contestants line up at prep tables and they are all supposed to make something, sometimes the same things, out of identical ingredients. They show all the cooks doing the same or different things. One contestant uses a skillet, one boils, one broils, another bakes. Sometimes the cook will tell the camera, 'I think broiling will preserve the flavor without destroying the integrity of the selection.' Huh?
I know I want to try that for supper tonight.
Then they have to be judged. The judges must consider whether the grape leaf should be tilted more to the right or the left, and if the sauce dribbled across the plate is writing in secret code or not. (Points off if they can read it.) Finally, they must decide if the food is edible enough for the prize. It doesn't matter if the idea of the food is appetizing -- that's completely nonessential.
I, for one, do not think fish flavored ice cream is ever edible, no matter how much cream and sugar is mixed in. Because that's a favorite 'strategy'. If you don't know what else to do with it, make it ice cream. YUM!
Why do people watch this? What is the fascination?
Food needs to be tasted. It needs to be smelled. It needs to be felt. One can't know the texture of a blend from looking at it on the screen. One can't inhale the aroma of good things coming together in a skillet or an oven. Most of all, one can't taste the result.
So why watch? If you want to see fat people eat, go to the fair. If you want to watch a circus, go to the circus. If you want to enjoy food, fix it for yourself. That's what appeases the appetite.
Wednesday, January 25, 2012
where is winter?
When I went to get my mail today, I saw the daffodils in my flower bed. Full buds, lush green leaves, several inches high. How they got that big without my seeing them, I don't know, but there they were.
It's still January, and this is still Ohio.
We've had some snow, a few cold snaps, but not really any winter yet. It hasn't been really cold for a really long time (like a whole week.) We haven't had to go out and shovel the sidewalks. We've barely had to salt the roads.
It sounds like a good winter, doesn't it? Makes you wonder what I'm complaining about and why?
I can answer that. I've lived hereabouts my whole life. If we don't have weather in its 'prescribed courses' -- we pay.
We pay with day after day of tornado alerts. We pay with droughts or cold in July when the crops need warmth, or wild winds, or something.
When we have mild Januaries, we often pay with frigid Februaries and meltless Marches. In fact, we get snowed in in March, if we haven't got our fair share of the white stuff before then.
A green Christmas, any native can tell you, often means a white Easter. (Or opening Day, depending on how you reckon the seasons.)
Neighbors, family, and friends -- do not be like those precipitate daffodils. Do not creep out from your cover until it is the season for creeping. Do not be caught unprepared and unaware.
It may seem that winter has snuck in and snuck out, but chances are that wily old man is waiting for you to step outside in your shirtsleeves. He will slam your door in your face -- maybe using those March winds?-- and then he will layer you beneath the cotton flakes of snow.
BEWARE!
It's still January, and this is still Ohio.
We've had some snow, a few cold snaps, but not really any winter yet. It hasn't been really cold for a really long time (like a whole week.) We haven't had to go out and shovel the sidewalks. We've barely had to salt the roads.
It sounds like a good winter, doesn't it? Makes you wonder what I'm complaining about and why?
I can answer that. I've lived hereabouts my whole life. If we don't have weather in its 'prescribed courses' -- we pay.
We pay with day after day of tornado alerts. We pay with droughts or cold in July when the crops need warmth, or wild winds, or something.
When we have mild Januaries, we often pay with frigid Februaries and meltless Marches. In fact, we get snowed in in March, if we haven't got our fair share of the white stuff before then.
A green Christmas, any native can tell you, often means a white Easter. (Or opening Day, depending on how you reckon the seasons.)
Neighbors, family, and friends -- do not be like those precipitate daffodils. Do not creep out from your cover until it is the season for creeping. Do not be caught unprepared and unaware.
It may seem that winter has snuck in and snuck out, but chances are that wily old man is waiting for you to step outside in your shirtsleeves. He will slam your door in your face -- maybe using those March winds?-- and then he will layer you beneath the cotton flakes of snow.
BEWARE!
Tuesday, January 24, 2012
Monday, January 23, 2012
Where, oh, (under)Wear
There was a news story recently about 'found' panties being hung along the Purple People Bridge in Cincinnati.( http://www.local12.com/news/local/story/Panties-Found-Along-Ohio-Road-To-Be-Hung-on-Bridge/jZle-W5AP0W-0BAU_UwfDw.cspx ) The panties display is intended to bring attention to cervical cancer.
No where does it say what will be done with the panties afterwards.
Will they be allowed to hang until they've fallen off or blown away? Imagine boating beneath the bridges and having women's undergarments fluttering into your vessel. Is your woman going to believe that if she isn't there at the time? Unless that story was also to make news.
Will they be washed and sanitized and repackaged into zip-lock(T) bags, tagged as sanitized, and redistributed to the poor? Auctioned off in odd lots?
I haven't been able to find the answer, although there has to be a way, especially in this information age.
The pantie disposal problem made me wonder, too. If you were in desperate need of underwear, and had no way to get any on your own, where would you go? Who would you ask? How particular would you, personally, be? Many people find the thought of second hand underwear as totally disgusting. Of course, many people think underwear unnecessary and nonessential, anyway.
I don't know what your thoughts and feelings are on the matter.
I don't care.
But I think it's worth thinking about, if you needed these items, what would you do? Who would you ask, where would you go? What would you accept, if your alternative was doing without?
Maybe you could throw a new pack into a charity basket every now and then.
Or, when you pass under the bridge, and catch an awareness-raising garment, you can donate it back to someone's cause.
Thanks.
No where does it say what will be done with the panties afterwards.
Will they be allowed to hang until they've fallen off or blown away? Imagine boating beneath the bridges and having women's undergarments fluttering into your vessel. Is your woman going to believe that if she isn't there at the time? Unless that story was also to make news.
Will they be washed and sanitized and repackaged into zip-lock(T) bags, tagged as sanitized, and redistributed to the poor? Auctioned off in odd lots?
I haven't been able to find the answer, although there has to be a way, especially in this information age.
The pantie disposal problem made me wonder, too. If you were in desperate need of underwear, and had no way to get any on your own, where would you go? Who would you ask? How particular would you, personally, be? Many people find the thought of second hand underwear as totally disgusting. Of course, many people think underwear unnecessary and nonessential, anyway.
I don't know what your thoughts and feelings are on the matter.
I don't care.
But I think it's worth thinking about, if you needed these items, what would you do? Who would you ask, where would you go? What would you accept, if your alternative was doing without?
Maybe you could throw a new pack into a charity basket every now and then.
Or, when you pass under the bridge, and catch an awareness-raising garment, you can donate it back to someone's cause.
Thanks.
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