Where oh where did the post I wrote yesterday evening go? It’s lost, orbiting somewhere in cyberspace.
No doubt, the evil Dr. Smith from “Lost In Space” was involved in its demise.
The post was about technology in cars–how far it has come since annoying seat-belt buzzers; disconnected voices from under the dashboard, that announced “your door was ajar.”
Nobody liked those automatic shoulder harnesses that snugged around one’s neck and shoulders. It was too much like being held hostage.
What if synthesized warning car voices resembled those of mothers, mothers-in-law, or backseat drivers in general?
“You’re lost. You’re going the wrong way, Mister. Stop and ask for directions.”
You’re driving way too fast. There, I told you so. That’s why you have so many speeding tickets.”
“Turn around. I think I left the water on in the bathroom.”
I don’t anyone would check the box for that option–too much like real life.
Automatic emergency braking, blindside monitoring, lane departure warning systems, make backseat driving unnecessary.
Dr. Smith stay away from my car!
What would Howard Cosell have to say–if he, and ABC’s Monday Night Football crew were still around?
“Well, Frank and Dandy Don, it’s a sign of the times that, this year, the NCAA BB playoffs are in direct competition with April, a pregnant giraffe, soon to deliver; nobody knows for certain, when, or if it will happen.”
“Down on the farm, Howard, animals didn’t need or want television coverage. As far as I could tell, anyway,” Dandy Don replied.
“Frank, you’ve been unusually quiet on this subject. Do you have anything to add?”
“Howard, I’m staying out of this one. I have nothing against mothers and motherhood.”
The clash of two media attention-grabbers is well underway. The NCAA basketball playoffs, vs April the Animal Park giraffe. The pregnant giraffe, seems to be winning so far. April, could live up to her namesake–deliver in April.
As Howard implied, “Could there be a bit of jealousy between these two factions?
“I’m certain, that April, if she can hold up to the extra strain of publicity, is up to the task.”
Maynard G. Krebs
Beatnik in residence
Pounded out sweet
Syncopated bongo beat
Don’t blame me
I didn’t make the rules
Don’t kill my good time
Like those other fools
Cause your boogie
Ain’t got no cools
Knock-knock who’s there?
Don’t like it? Don’t knock it
Tired punchlines–nobody cared
Lost among receding hairlines
Figures of speech
Nobody under thirty understood
Fedora hats replaced
By baseball caps worn backward
By those aspiring to be hip and cool
Gomer Pyle, Satch from the Bowery Boys
Sported askew caps and portrayed fools
In the words of Billy Sol Hurok, from SCTV, played by the late, great, John Candy.
In so far as, things didn’t blow up as much in the good old days; mainly because there were no smart phones; nor were there hoverboards. We had washing machines, but they weren’t prone to exploding.
Pinto cars had exploding gas tanks. Corvairs were deemed unsafe by Ralph Nader. A lot of us drove those cars every day.
I’ve been busy running errands all day and I simply have nothing to write–except about things blowing up.
Bob Ross, painted “happy little trees, laughing clouds.”
His, PBS show, presented the possibility–that, I too, could become a landscape painter.
Tight-curled hair was an essential part of his persona.
Bob Ross’s hair was actually straight? I’m shocked–is nothing sacred?
This cartoon featured a lion, monarch of the mythical kingdom of Bongo Congo. King Leonardo, was somewhat inept, and aided by his wiser cohort–Odie Cologne, who happened to be skunk.
Villains, Biggie Rat and Itchy Brother, conspired to cause mayhem and take over the kingdom. Their voices were portrayed like those of classic movie villains–Edward G. Robinson and others; which I found amusing.
Little Lulu and pal, Chubby–who was the brunt of various schemes of mischief-making. It was, of course, all in good fun. He was certainly a good sport.
Tennessee Tuxedo, a bow-tied penguin, had Chumley, a dull-witted, walrus sidekick. Which is, allegedly, where Chumlee, from Pawn Stars, got his unflattering nickname. The dashing duo escaped from the clutches of zoo director, Stanley Livingstone, to go on adventures.
Chumley, went along with Tennessee Tuxedo’s wacky schemes, because that was what dull-witted sidekicks were supposed to do.
“Roger Ramjet, he’s our man, hero of our nation…”
When space jockey, Roger Ramjet wasn’t jetting through the skies, he was lecturing young charges about duty, honor, and patriotism. How many, stickler for the rules, bosses were referred to as “Roger Ramjets,” out of earshot, over the years? The numbers would be staggering.