Not a Treat

The other day I spoke about candy corn and fruitcake. I don't understand why folks don't like them. But it just so happens there is a holiday treat which I don't care about. They arrive annually at Christmas and I avoid them. Candy canes simply have no appeal for me.

They have too much peppermint. They're too sticky when you eat them. They take too long to eat. About the best thing I can say for candy canes are they're all right to melt into your hot chocolate. But only if you can keep the drink hot enough long enough to manage that.

I've read that candy canes were first made to mollify youngsters during Church services. You know, to keep them quiet during pious observances. If you want an explanation of why Church attendance is down among the last few generations, I vote candy canes. Who would actually want to continuing going some place associated with those awful sugar sticks? It's nothing doctrinal, it's repressed memories of having candy canes forced down your gullet.

Candy canes hang around because we've been played. It's Christmas! You have to get your candy canes! Humbug.

Well, I suppose something has to take up the space at the bottom of the candy jar though.

Lutherans at Christmas

My friend Dave is a good man. He's as serious of a Lutheran as I am a Catholic, and we've had a few interesting discussions on religion over the years. But we've always been cool about it, which you should be. Oh, maybe the talks became pointed once or twice, but we were always all right with each other in the end. Which you should be.

Anyway, his visit reminded me of a little fun I had at his expense years ago. His son was in the old barn, and it was December. I told him, "Hey, when you see your Dad, ask him if Lutherans celebrate Christmas."

About an hour later the Shop phone rang. As this was before cell phones, I didn't know who was calling. I simply answered, "Cosgriff, this is Marty."

There was initially dead silence. Then Dave's voice asked, "Do Lutherans celebrate Christmas?" in exactly the put-on incredulous voice I would have expected.

AND NOW, THE PUNCH LINE. Let's see how many readers get it.

I asked Dave awhile back if I could use the Lutheran Christmas joke in my blog. He said, "Only if you don't call me Cloyce."

You got it old pal.

Struck Gold, uh, Fruit

I don't care about the low opinion which many people seem to hold about it, I like it. The holidays simply aren't here without it gracing the larder. I'm talking about fruitcake, one of my favorite holiday traditions. I put it right up there with the Bathroom from Hell. More on that later.

I love fruitcake, yet for whatever reason it was hard to find this year. Until yesterday. Our local supermarket finally had some in stock so I bought two. I didn't want to risk being left wanting.

Many folks see fruitcake the way they see candy corn during Halloween. I don't understand it on either count. Sure, candy corn is awfully sweet. It is pretty much just little triangles of sugar. But why is that a problem, a very non-diabetic Marty asks. It ain't like ya ain't gonna get too much sugar towards the end of each October. Or enough sugar. Or, uh, you know what I mean.

Wither fruitcake? It isn't particularly sweet and it isn't, as I've heard complained, rock hard. With a cup of hot coffee or cold milk it's not much different than lots of cakes and pastries. Where's the love?

But, whatever. I like it and I've got it. Let the Christmas season commence!

Cord Accords

I understand that sometimes, when working with corded power tools, you need more power cord. I also understand that there are these things called extension cords. They come in several lengths, from 15 feet to 100. You can carry them with you to use as needed. What a concept.

Still, I have drain cleaning customers who want to keep 100 and 150 feet of power cord always attached to their drain snake. I do not understand that. At all. The extra line permanently attached actually throws the unit off balance, so that it leans backward from the added weight, sometimes threating to fall over. Yet you're rarely more than 25 feet from a 110 outlet in any home, office, or business. You don't need all that permanent length. "I just want to make sure I enough cord, Cosgriff." Oh, all right, whatevs.

Even more beyond my comprehension are the guys who want the power cords on their machines wrapped as tightly as humanly possible around the pegs on the units which serve to contain the wiring. You can almost see a guy holding his foot against a machine to keep it steady while he pulls the power cord so taut that a bullet couldn't penetrate the wall it effectively makes. They do this without considering that they may actually damage the cord. Why must it be see so tight anyway? There are no style points for how a cord is wrapped around a drain machine.

But, again, whatevs. I make more money replacing power cords that way.

Emotional Investment

I am an advertiser's nightmare, a destroyer of the hype machine, anathema to television networks. The older I get, the more I ignore both adverts and hyperbole.

I'm not trying to hit on anyone's favorites or foes, but only using Michigan football as an example. I watched most of last Saturday's game against Ohio State and did not enjoy a minute. I was more relieved than happy when the Wolverines won. I simply didn't have any fun despite, for me, a positive outcome.

Last night U of M won the Big Ten title game over Iowa. I did not watch a second. Indeed, I crawled into bed and was asleep before 7. I woke up around 1 to find they had won, and I was happy. I didn't stress the outcome at all in ignoring the game and felt better afterwards.

Perhaps, to be fair, it's only me, yet I increasingly find that high powered sports just aren't worth the emotional investment. I'm inclined to exempt baseball, for various reasons I won't get into here. I can't imagine myself not watching and listening to baseball. But football, well, too much hype, too much hyperbole, and a certain unsportsmanlike arrogance. It's not good for the soul.

Evil in Wheelchairs

I really, really don't care for inserting myself into the whole woke business. It's simply a morass which can only muddy everyone. Then something happens which makes me ask, who would even, ever think that? 

Doctor Who is a long running and generally entertaining British sci-fi franchise. The most recent version reintroduced a character called Davros. Davros has been around since 1975 and is evil. Very, disgustingly, despicably evil. He has also always been wheelchair bound.

They changed that. The new Davros can walk because, in the words of Russell Davies, the BBC executive currently in charge of Doctor Who, "We didn't like the imagery of the bad guy being in a wheelchair." 

He's on to something, you know. When I first saw Davros way back when my initial thought was, "Huh. Dave down the street must be evil because he's in a wheelchair..."

Of course that wasn't my first thought. I can't imagine that it was anybody's first thought. Nor their second, third, or eighty ninth. How twisted could a mind be to even draw that conclusion, that outrageous thought, from such a benign fact?

Do they, the woke crowd, actually mean this stuff? Are they that stupid, or do they in fact have an agenda? Sometimes I wonder.

History on the Road

You learn, or at at least you can learn, on the road. What did I learn yesterday?

Indiana State Route 9 is the highway of the Vice Presidents. All you folks in all our history who were one heartbeat away? Indiana 9 has your back.

U. S. Route 6 is the route of the Grand Army of the Republic, the Union Army of the Civil War. It specifically refers to an association of Union Civil War veterans formed after the conflict. Kinda cool.

I also learned that you can get small tubs of cookie dough bits in the refrigerated snack aisles at truck stops. All right, maybe that isn't as important as remembering history. But they're sweeter than any candy bar I know.