Other Things Young People Missed

Social media always has these things where people post photos of items from the 60's, 70's or 80's and suggest that someone like and share if he knows for what it was used.  For example, someone might put up a picture of a record adaptor, a device that was used to play 45's on turntables, and ask whether anyone knew for what it was used.  More often than not, I know what the item is, although I miss a couple now and then.

Then there are the ones that us old fogeys are constantly thumping on, like dial telephones, but there are other things younger people don't and can't possibly understand because they've never experienced them.  Sure, they can pick up a dial telephone and look at it like a relic, but that's a museum piece now.  The things to which I'm referring can't be replicated so easily and they won't be found in a museum.  At best they're in history books.

For example, it used to be that gas was pumped for a person by a gas station attendant.  What's more, the gas tank was located somewhere in the rear of the vehicle and gas was pumped into the tank behind the license plate.  Who'd ever think of looking for the gas tank behind the license plate now?  There may be a station or two that will have that available for drivers nowadays, but that's so retro that it's quaint.  Most people pump their own gas now.

Another thing that was different was beverages at fast food restaurants.  Now, once one's bought a drink at McDonald's or Burger King, there's a station where free refills can be obtained.  Back in the day, if one wanted a refill one bought another drink.  There were no refill stations.  The decision was made to allow free refills by Taco Bell, which was owned by a soft drink company, in 1988.  Before then, one had to buy another drink if one wanted a refill.

Regarding telephones, there didn't used to be call-waiting or caller ID, much less voice mails.  If one called a person who was on the phone, one got a busy signal.  There was no way to know anyone was calling, as there was no digital read-out nor was there voice mail.  And for the person calling who received a busy signal, there was no way to know if the person was on another call or if the phone was simply off the hook. 

Getting from one place to another, especially on long trips, was done with paper maps.  There was no GPS, no Tom-Tom or Garmin, nothing.  I still rely on maps to the exclusion, almost, of mechanical devices.  Where the devices are useful is for back-ups, accidents or road work.  Before the devices came along, there was no way of knowing about these things unless a radio station reported it.  But one had to know which radio station to listen to to hear the report, and that was accomplished mostly by luck. 

Likewise, television was limited, severely.  Until cable television came along, people in most metropolitan areas got five or six stations, at most, with varying degrees of reception.  The fact that I'm a Cubs' fan is attributable, in part, to the fact that the Cubs played on WGN, which was always visible, while the other team in Chicago played on WFLD, which more often than not was like watching baseball being played in a blizzard.  Now, baseball fans can watch games in every city in which they're being played, in addition to old series on stations like TVLand. 

Food has changed, too.  Besides the health craze and similar fads (tofu???), there's been an explosion in taste, for lack of a better term.  For example, when I was growing up, if one wanted potato chips, one ate potato chips, which tasted like potatoes that had been fried and sliced.  Then there were BBQ potato chips.  One big innovation was rippled potato chips, which affected the texture more than anything.  The other day, I had Asiago-flavored potato chips. I saw Gouda-flavored potato chips.  It's insane, but in a good way.  Crackers now have different flavors as well. 

Progress and innovation have improved our lives in many ways.  Most of us who grew up in the 60's and 70's can easily point out the obvious ways -- computers, cellphones, etc. -- but the ways outlined above are often forgotten.  Life is better and easier.

I just wonder what our Mother would think about all of this.

(c) 2016 The Truxton Spangler Chronicles

Things My Wife Says

I love my wife.  Yeah, she's hot.  I'm overly -- some would say unnaturally -- attracted to her.  But I genuinely like her and enjoy her company.  I wouldn't care if she was voted the most physically attractive woman by all humanity, I'd still appreciate her at least as much for her personality and intelligence as for her beauty.

What makes Karen fun is her joy for life, her insatiable curiosity and her constant needling of me.  Sure, sometimes the last item gets on my nerves, such as when she's telling me to watch what I eat (don't I always...?).  More often than not, however, what she says just tickles my soul.

For starters, since she came from a different (and much better) state than Illinois, she has certain verbal mannerisms that are unique.  For example, she'll say The dog needs fed rather than The dog needs to be fed.  She's prone to using terms for things that I've never heard before, which makes communication new and exciting at times. 

When I get tickled at her, Karen thinks I'm laughing at her.  Nothing could be farther from the truth.  I find her regional dialectic to be refreshing.  I like words, language.  That my wife speaks differently than I do is the same as the fact that she does other things differently than I do.  That doesn't mean she's set for ridicule.  It just means I find it enjoyable that she's different.  To be the same as me would be boring.

Picking a place to eat is nightmarish.  Karen has specific dietary needs, so where we can eat can be a challenge.  I'm a goat; I can eat just about anything, anywhere.  She, on the other hand, has to be careful about where we eat.  So when we go out to eat, the choice of where we eat is an issue, because it makes perfect sense to me that she should choose from the three or four places where she can eat.  Being the stubborn Scot that she is, she tells me that I should choose.  Having been down this road more than a time or two, the discussion usually follows this routine:

Me:  All right, let's eat at Applebee's.

Karen:  But they don't have anything I like there.

Me:  How about Qdoba?

Karen:  But we just ate there two nights ago.

Me:  What about Panera?

Karen:  I can't eat there.

Me:  What about Arby's?

Karen:  No. 

Me:  Fine, then you pick it.

Karen:  But I want you to choose.

Yet where Karen really shines is when she comments about me.  Karen doesn't mince words.  She won't go into attack mode unless it's about politics and she's provoked.  Since we're pretty similar in our political beliefs, that's not really an issue for us.  No, her comments about me are just pure honesty...with a heavy patina of hilarity.

Once, Karen took a look at my high school picture when I told her she'd never have dated me then.  She took one look at my picture and declared without missing a beat that only because of my unfortunate eyewear would I have been disqualified.  Doesn't my personality, my wit and my charm have any way of overriding that?, I asked.  Nope, that eyewear was hideous, she averred.

Fortunately for me time travel is not yet possible and she's stuck with me and my upgraded eyewear now.

Recently we revisited my woeful high school years and the hypothetical that we might have dated had we been in the same school.  I would have taken you on, she said casually, as if she were considering hiring an apprentice bricklayer for a summer job.  You would have taken me on? I asked her with mock hurt.  Yeah, I would have taken you on, she replied, unconcerned about the employment overtones of the comment.  I just guffawed at her comment.

But even that compares to her most recent comment.  In a rush to get out the door for some errands, I grabbed a T-shirt out of the closet that was some shade of green and put it on, hoping that it would match the green-plaid cargo shorts I had on already. 

(Note:  My wardrobe choices are a constant source of consternation for us.  Apparently, even at fifty-five years of age, I dress like a child, according to my wife.  Although I'll readily admit that I can barely spell fashion, much less adhere to it, I'm not nearly as bad as she thinks and not nearly as good as I think.  I'm somewhere in between, although, again, Karen would declare that I'm somewhere between horrible and hideous when left to my own fashion devices.  We've squabbled so much on this point I ask her to just lay out my clothes for me so we can get the dressing part over with and get on our way.  Karen, in turn, tells me I'm a grown adult and that I should pick out my own clothes, which I then do, only to provoke more fashion outrage from her, and the cycle continues.)

So as we drive away Karen tugs my shirt over my pants leg and says, quite naturally, Wow, this shirt matches your shorts.  How'd that happen?

And there, people, is a perfect illustration of faint praise.

I just broke down laughing.  Karen was surprised at my outburst, seeing nothing hilarious about her comment but everything surprising about the outcome of my clothing choice.  I laughed for a good five minutes about her query.  Based on our history of quibbling about my clothing choices, her question was a good one.  But the delivery sealed the deal.  I'm still chuckling about her surprised question about my wardrobe choice that day.

So the things my wife says are amusing and funny and enjoyable.  They are what makes like livable.  She's not always right about everything -- although she'd disagree with that -- but it's not about being right.  It's about the humor, the fun, the wit. 

The funniest part about it, though, is she was right about that T-shirt.

I have no idea how that happened.

(c) 2016 The Truxton Spangler Chronicles

Cankles, Coughing and Cover-Ups

Another week, another attempt to deceive the American public by Cankles.  This week's cover-up is relatively benign, considering all the other attempts she and her minions have made, but its implications going forward are ominous.

First, the truly minor cover-up had to do with Cankles' health.  After a coughing fit last week, she had to leave a 9/11 memorial service and, as she was being led into the vehicle to whisk her away, she faltered so badly that she had to be held up by her security team.  She then went not to the hospital but to her daughter's house, from which she emerged a few hours later looking drawn and tired. 

At first, her staff tried to float the ludicrous story that she'd lost her shoe under the vehicle.  Then it gave another cockamamie story that she was overheated at the memorial service.  It wasn't until hours later that the fact that she'd been diagnosed with pneumonia was revealed. 

The problem isn't so much Cankles' inability to tell the truth -- that ship has long since sailed -- but the ramifications for a Cankles presidency are daunting. First of all, the woman's sixty-nine-years-old.  If she's this infirm during a campaign, how will she be during the rigors of an international crisis?  Can the nation depend on her leadership being firm and unwavering?  Or will she be sidelined due to a chronic or debilitating illness?

Assuming the worst case scenario (although there are those who would call it a best-case scenario) and Cankles has to resign, that leaves us with the underwhelming Tim Kaine, presently the Democratic candidate for vice president.  Although votes are cast that elect him as vice-president in the event Cankles gets in, no one is voting for him as vice president, yet he'd be a heartbeat away from the presidency in that eventuality.  From the little I've heard him speak -- both in Spanish and in English -- he's skilled in nothing more than circumlocution.  He answers questions without even answering them.  Here's a quote from Mr. Kaine answering the question about when he first learned his running mate had pneumonia:

"I don’t want to get into the character of communications, but I reached out to her as soon as the incident happened on Sunday and we had a good dialogue here but other than that, that was the first time we talked,” Kaine said. "I obviously knew from Monday [Sept. 9] when she was coughing that she had a cough and it was likely an allergy but the first time we talked after when we were together Monday was I reached out to her yesterday in New York.”

Huh?

This campaign has been a joke of epic proportions.  For as badly as Mr. Trump has handled and mangled things, nothing he's done is as bad, comparatively, as what Cankles' campaign has produced.  Remember, she's the seasoned politician.  He's nothing more than a businessman cum politician.

There's a possible angle on this pneumonia scare that no one's mentioning, or at least I've heard mentioned.  Cankles has dutifully avoided press conferences, other than the scripted Democratic debates that were little more than speech opportunities for herself.  What if this whole pneumonia act is nothing more than an attempt to gain sympathy for the debates or, even better, avoid or limit the number of debates altogether?  She can claim she's too sick to attend them, and although nothing would please her more than wiping the floor with Mr. Trump, she just can't hack it, on the advice of her doctor.  Asking questions of her doctors would be futile, of course, due to patient-doctor privilege.

It's Machiavellian, I know, but consider how Cankles operates.

Some might actually say this is deplorable.

It is.

(c) 2016 The Truxton Spangler Chronicles

The Clinton News Network

I don't pay attention to every news outlet there is.  In fact, I pay very little attention to Fox, and that I do simply to hear about news the other MSM outlets don't report.  For years, based on what little I've seen it do, I've joked that CNN stood for the Clinton News Network.  I was only joking, derisively, but it appears I may not have been too far off.

Let's examine some of the recent events that took place on CNN, shall we? 

First, when the father of Tyrone Woods, who died at Benghazi, was talking about how Cankles owed his family an apology for not taking better care to protect his son, the talking head at CNN kept pressing him to say whether Donald Trump should apologize to Khizr Khan for his comments about barring Muslims from entering the United States.  Nevermind that Mr. Trump had nothing to do with sending Mr. Khan's son into battle.  Nevermind that Cankles lied to Mr. Woods about the reason there was an attack on the U.S. consulate.  Mr. Trump should apologize to Mr. Khan because his words made him feel bad, while Mr. Woods kept arguing that Cankles should apologize for having been derelict in her duty to protect U.S. citizens.  The two issues weren't remotely equivalent, unless one worked for CNN.

Not satisfied with the protection it was giving Cankles, it decided to edit tweets made by Mr. Trump. Whether one agrees with Mr. Trump's rhetoric, his words shouldn't be edited to fit a particular political agenda.  CNN actually took out the word Crooked and reprinted the tweet without the word.

Still not satisfied with protecting Cankles, a retired policeman who broke into a car to save a baby from a hot car wore a T-shirt stumping for Mr. Trump.  When it originally aired the interview with the hero, the shirt was clearly visible and read:  Trump for President, 2016.  When the interview was aired later on HLN (which is part of the CNN portfolio), this is how it was seen:

Imagine the outcry if Fox did something similar with a BLM member, or a Bernie supporter or a Cankles acolyte.  Leftists' heads would explode without outrage.  But this selective censorship is not only common but expected on the Left.  Anything that pushes Cankles closer to making history is acceptable to them, no matter how it shreds the Left's integrity and message, no matter how hypocritical it may be for a news organization to censor speech, the overriding concern is getting Cankles elected and having access to her lowness when she's sitting on the throne.

If Mr. Trump were to lose the election in a fair-and-square election, that would be one thing.

This thing is rigged.

(c) 2016 The Truxton Spangler Chronicles