FAST! FAST! FAST Relief!

Who knows where that first gif comes from, or what it means - it's a "found" gif, like so many of them - but it reminded me of that old Anacin commercial where the hammers are pounding inside the guy's head. This was before the classic "Mother, please! I'd rather do it myself!" ad, which is (at last!) now available on YouTube.

Anacin goes on and on about having three ingredients, and one has to wonder what they are. Some pain relievers still add caffeine (though I don't know why - as a "pick-me-up"?), but back then it was not at all unheard-of for over-the-counter drugs to include codeine, which is now recognized as a narcotic. Which is perhaps why I used to love to take big slugs of Benylin cough syrup straight from the bottle. It went down warm, and made all my little troubles go  away.

Abandoned Edsels

I love old cars, but I hate Edsels, boxy, low-riding, with that hideous triangular toilet seat glommed on to the front. But seeing them abandoned and rusting away like this is somehow comforting. Collectors cherish these things because of their rarity, and the taint forever associated with it: from then on, anything which bombed badly after a huge buildup was called an "Edsel". The fact it was named after Henry Ford's son made the failure particularly excruciating. Wikipedia explains it like this:

Edsel and its failures

Historians have advanced several theories in an effort to explain the Edsel's failure. Popular culture often faults the car’s styling. Consumer Reports has alleged that poor workmanship was the Edsel's chief problem. Marketing experts hold the Edsel up as a supreme example of the corporate culture’s failure to understand American consumers. Business analysts cite the weak internal support for the product inside Ford’s executive offices. According to author and Edsel scholar* Jan Deutsch, the Edsel was "the wrong car at the wrong time."

"The aim was right, but the target moved"

The Edsel is most notorious for being a marketing disaster. The name "Edsel" became synonymous with the real-life commercial failure of the predicted "perfect" product or product idea. Similar ill-fated products have often been colloquially referred to as "Edsels". Ford's own Sierra model, which launched almost 25 years later, is often compared to the Edsel owing to initial buyer antipathy to its perceived radical styling, even though, unlike the Edsel, it ultimately became a sales success. 

Since the Edsel program was such a debacle, it gave marketers a vivid illustration of how not to market a product. The principal reason the Edsel's failure is so infamous is that Ford had absolutely no idea that the failure was going to happen until after the vehicles had been designed and built, the dealerships established and $400 million invested in the product's development and launch. Incredibly, Ford had presumed to invest $400 million (well over $4.0 billion in the 21st century) in developing a new product line without attempting to determine whether such an investment would be wise or prudent.

The prerelease advertising campaign promoted the car as having "more YOU ideas", and the teaser advertisements in magazines only revealed glimpses of the car through a highly blurred lens or wrapped in paper or under tarps. In fact, Ford had never test-marketed the vehicle or its unique styling concepts with potential buyers prior to either the vehicle’s initial development decision or the vehicle’s shipments to its new dealerships. Edsels were shipped to the dealerships undercover and remained wrapped on the dealer lots.

*My only question is: what's an Edsel scholar? Imagine doing THAT all day.

Come ride in my teal automobile

Though any color would do,

I would much prefer a green-blue.

Giant Ball of Matches: WATCH IT BURN!

Cat MANGLES baby trolls!

My new baby trolls were problematic from the start. It's not that they cost a lot of money, but shipping and handling charges on Etsy are always more than the item itself. Then there was a sort of import tax slapped on it, a DUTY of more than $14.00 (see bitter tirade, below). I don't understand this and am trying to get it back. If this is going to keep happening, it's the end of my internet shopping, because 95% of the stuff I buy is from the States. Canada just does not have these things. So what, and why?? But this video is more fun. Late at night, lying in bed, I was playing with my new baby trolls (having reverted back to childhood so I could do it right this time), when Bentley the cat appeared. The rest is documented here. 

Horse Playing in a Paddling Pool Funny

Pee tree

Jane Toppan's Characteristic Smile

19th-century serial killer Jane Toppan demonstrates her characteristic smile.

Jane Toppan: what you should know

Jane Toppan (17 August 1854 – 29 October 1938), born Honora Kelley, was an American serial killer, nicknamed "Jolly Jane". After her arrest in 1901, she confessed to 31 murders. She is quoted as saying that her ambition was "to have killed more people—helpless people—than any other man or woman who ever lived".

An article in the Hoosier State Chronicles published shortly after her arrest reported that Toppan would fondle her victims as they died and attempt to see the inner workings of their souls through their eyes. When Toppan was questioned (after her arrest), she stated she derived a sexual thrill from patients being near death, coming back to life and then dying again.Toppan would administer a drug mixture to the patients she chose as her victims, lie with them and hold them close to her as they died.

Toppan is often considered an 'angel of death', a type of serial killer who takes on a caretaker role and attacks the vulnerable and dependent, though she also murdered for seemingly more personal reasons, such as in the case of the Davis family. It is possible Toppan was also motivated by jealousy, in the case of the murder of her foster sister. She later described her motivation as a paralysis of thought and reason, a strong urge to poison.

Toppan used poison for more than just murder, reportedly poisoning a housekeeper just enough so that she appeared drunk in order to steal her job and kill the family. She even poisoned herself to evoke the sympathy of men she was courting. - Wikipedia

Cat in cherry tree

(Something tells me that these might not all be the same cat. But perhaps it's the same tree?)

'50s Treasures (and dubious pleasures)

Bentley: white toots

Bye-bye, birdie food

When Doc met Suzy (screenshots from Cannery Row)

Rainbow unicorn butterfly kitten

Troll Towers

Troll Towers is a work in progress. Since shooting this video I've welcomed three more trolls into the highrise, with three more (babies!) on the way. In fact, Troll Towers has now doubled in size to accommodate the newcomers. 

I am not sure what is happening to me, because I've never collected dolls, not even trolls, at least not after about age ten.

Am I being cast back in time? To some extent. But the 1980s Dam trolls I'm collecting now weren't available during my initial '60s troll phase. These are larger, more full-bodied, really more troll-ish, and each one has a unique facial expression which is a little eerie, almost too real. I know from my reborn doll research that this is called a "sculpt", and that someone carved the face individually before making the mold. I'm used to my trolls having the same bland vinyl expression, so this is a little unsettling.

It's harder to dress these guys due to their more robust proportions, and I think they might look undignified in shorts, skirts and halter tops. But the trolls in my YouTube video are wearing outfits I made for them. Imagine it: the little girl whose Mum bought her a horrible Debbie doll (lest she turn into a lesbian) has become a late-blooming fashion designer for trolls.

This is the most troll-ish troll I've ever seen. He's seven inches tall, huge for a troll. WHY CAN'T I HAVE HIM?? I can, of course, but it sets up the worst guilt in me. We're on a perpetual budget, which I really don't mind, most of the time. We literally write down everything we spend to the nearest nickel. But hell, I just spent $110.00 on trolls! Six trolls, so it's really not such a bad deal, but. . . My husband wonders what new craziness this is. But I want this troll. Trolls in general aren't expensive, but the shipping and handling is murder, more than the troll costs as a rule. 

Bill keeps telling me he wants to landscape the back yard. All I want is trolls. Just compare the cost. 

I'm going to get that troll.

Horse playing piano

       

    Horse playing piano

Chatham, Chatham, ching-ching-ching

Ja da
Ja da
Ja da, ja da, jing jing jing
Ja da
Ja da
Ja da, ja da, jing jing jing

Just a simple little melody
That my mama used to sing to me
Ja da
Ja da
Ja da, ja da, jing jing jing

Just a simple little melody
That my mama used to sing to me
Ja da
Ja da
Ja da, ja da, jing jing jing
By jingo!
Ja da, ja da, jing jing jing

Kirk and Spock: the infamous elevator scene

My mashup/hoedown of the infamous elevator scene from the original Star Trek series (is there any other - ?), which some fans feel is the closest Kirk and Spock ever come to a love scene, or, at very least, a bromance. Since this is made up of tiny gif fragments of a second or two, with various sections sped up, slowed down or reversed (and frames messed with, in some cases), the action isn't 100% smooth, but I'm pretty happy with it. That moment when Kirk and Spock stand poised as if for a kiss is pretty powerful, and the whole thing DOES look sort of homoerotic. 

This thing has so many megabytes or kilobops or whatever-they-are that smoke is coming out of my computer. So, here.

NOTE. If this thing runs slow, let it run through a whole cycle and it should speed up. If it runs at all.

"Some nut with a gun": mass shootings as everyday reality

When will the insanity end? Anarchy, a blood-bath? But then today I had a sort of silly but not-so-silly thought pop into my head. Maybe SOMETHING had to pop into my head to keep me out of this depression that wants to roll over and kill me. Remember the "Y2K virus/millennium bug" that was supposed to bring the world to a screechng halt? Nothing happened, I mean nothing. We all had a happy new year. In Canada, we had the ludicrous notion that taking away pennies would bring the economy crashing down. Nothing happened except greater convenience for consumers and commerce. 

My point, if I do have a point, or maybe I'm just treading mud here, is that "the worst" often does not happen. We and they fear that if the country cracks down on guns, there will be World War III - total anarchy - a bloodbath. There might not be. Australia did it very successfully, and after tightening gun laws, mass shootings STOPPED. It is within the realm of human capability to do this. Swaggering idiots, dinosaurs without a brain in their head, are really very cowardly people. They'd be scared back into their caves.

Or not? So how is it going right now? Is it "OK" to just hunker down and wait for the next disaster because we/they fear repercussions from the Second Amendment rabid dogs? Change is possible. Change is needed. Change is likely, with courage and the ability to take decisive action for the good of the people. It can happen.
 

Objections jump up, suddenly and loudly; "YES, BUT. . . ", followed by a lot of yammering about WHY this is all impossible. So it's OK for kids to be randomly slaughtered, OK to say, hey, it's just a nut with a gun, a nut with a gun, a nut with a gun. . . ? Change is possible. Change is life. Change is inevitable. Change is how a people move forward in the face of fear and intimidation. It's NOT impossible.




 
Do not ask me to go in there and do it all myself, to fix the problem, to shut up unless I have a way to implement everything I am saying. I am saying what I am saying, trying to be heard. I am SICK AND TIRED of harrowing scenes and bloodbaths that are so much a way of life that we ignore them, brush them off as "normal". I could say "I don't know what the answer is", but the truth is, I DO know what the answer is. The only thing lacking is the courage to make it happen.

 

(Post-script. I haven't written about "heavy issues" for quite a long time. I'm not sure why, but it may have something to do with my mental health. I can't exactly walk a path full of sinkholes without peril.

I haven't written extensively about my bipolar disorder because I know that's perilous, too (though why I worry about "losing readers" is anybody's guess). But today I saw the meme, or whatever-it-is (I am not even sure what a meme is, any more than I am sure about an app, which means my contribution to the internet will soon come to a close). It shook something loose, and I began to write.

This piece, what turned out to be an essay, was just a comment in response to a Facebook post. I know what I write may seem insane or unconnected to what is going on in the States. My point is: making changes don't necessarily bring the world crashing down. The Second Amendment fanatics are cowards, bullies who swagger and insist that each and every bloodbath is caused by "some nut with a gun". I don't know how long that can go on, but it does seem like forever sometimes. Trump will never do anything because he is a complete bozo and does not know what he is doing. 

But someone has to do something to disarm these people so that you can't casually buy a gun at the corner store with a ludicrous, non-existent "background check". As someone with bipolar disorder, I am tired of the "nut with the gun", "psycho", "nut-bar", "whack job" mentality that not only removes responsibility for gun violence from "normal" people (i. e. the Second Amendment crowd who hang Confederate flags outside their homes), but dismisses mental illness itself as less than human, something that needs to be confined in some societal human zoo to protect society from rampant, lethal violence.

And this as a time when there is a lot of talk about "hey, let's try to reduce the stigma around mental illness! Aren't we swell to try to do that? But let's not hope for too much. These are nut bars, after all. Whack jobs." That is what I see. I have not edited this at all. It is an outpouring, and I assume it will garner my usual 17 views (not that I care) because in spite of all my best efforts I am perpetually obscure, and will remain that way. Not to mention a certified "nut bar" (but, at least, without a gun).

Cats and cherry blossoms: it's that time again

Horse with rubber chicken

I don't know why it is, but some horses love to thrash on certain toys - particularly toys that squeak. I don't know what instinctive brain wiring causes them to do this - or maybe it's just fun. I've seen them swing around stuffed animals in a similar manner. 

Year of the Dog: auspicious gifts

Year of the Dog: The Yorkie!

Gung hay fat choy!

VERY weird meow!

I don't know what it is with this cat. It's the weirdest-sounding meow I've ever heard. No information is provided. My hope is that there isn't something wrong, that the cat hasn't had a stroke or something. Meows vary enormously, so maybe this cat is merely old or has strange vocal cords.

My cat Bentley barely meows at all, and when he does, it's soft and gentlemanly. The exception is when he has to go somewhere in his carrying case. He knows nothing good will come of this. When we boarded him for ten days so we could go to Hawaii, we thought things would go smoothly because we boarded him at the same place several years ago, and he seemed OK. Maybe he remembered having a good experience.

Instead, he meowed piteously in the car all the way to the place, which is something like a luxurious cat hotel. He would have his own room, his own window, individual play time/attention each day. But Bentley didn't do well at the cat hotel, and even lost weight. When he got home, he sat there drinking water for five minutes. We will never leave him like that again - surely it's easier on him to stay in the house and have my daughter-in-law check in on him and feed him and clean his box. He'd still be lonely, but not so devastated. 

 

It's true that a pet can tie you down, but we don't have a lot of funds for travel anyway. People say cats are aloof, that they offer no companionship, but Bentley greets us at the door whenever we have been out, sits in my office chair, curls up on my lap (though he only "makes biscuits" on Bill's lap, for some reason), and loafs around on my bed. He never wants to be far from us. We never planned to have a cat - my little lovebird Paco died after I had had her for only a few weeks - and Bentley was a grown-up cat, not the kitten everyone advised us to adopt. But Bentley had his needs, and we had ours, and they somehow meshed. Now we can't imagine our lives without him.