People Are People …

There are certain things said which are totally worth it.

This is one of those things …

............... Ruprecht ( STOP )

Better

You know what would make this show better?

If the name was changed to:

“Million Dollar Monkey Drop”

............... Ruprecht ( STOP )

I Think Her Name Was 'Dakota'

Today, as I sat and ate lunch in my car, I saw a woman sitting on a bench waiting for a bus.

And she was good.

How good was she? You be the judge:

It was about 59°F degrees outside. Yet she was in a bare-armed tanktop, she was continually drinking from a soft drink container and she fanned herself incessantly.

As a matter of fact, after about 5 minutes of fanning, she put on a big, bulky jacket ... apparently because she grew cold from all the fanning she did.

I mean … this woman was that good …

............... Ruprecht ( STOP )

A Rather Boring Experiment

I call McDonald's 'McCrappage' for a reason. I mean: Is there any reason I need to explain myself, people?

No ... I didn't think so.

Still, I'll admit to getting the occasional hankering for a Big Mac. Thankfully, those times are few and far between.

But, a week ago, I did something I wouldn't normally do (I hope you're sitting down): I ventured into a McDonald's and ordered a McRib sandwich.

Truth be told, it was an experiment more than anything else.

The way I figured it, I'd been working my ass off all day and, being McCrappage was the closest thing around, the remainder of the day's physical work would surely burn off any ill effects some McMysteryMeat on a bun might conjure up.

Yes, I've heard the wild tales involving people venturing hundreds of miles to satisfy their McRib cravings when they discover a McDonald's hours away is running the rare promotion. I've read of a few of these folks 'stocking up' on their needed BBQ sauce drowned fix, purchasing dozens at a time. (What in the world do they do with them? Eat them all at one sitting? Munch them continually over the course of days? Freeze'em for later consumption?) I've witnessed the frenzied looks of some overcome by the mere mention of a McRib. Sure, some of these stories are probably true, some fact-based ... and some so fantastical as to be fabricated, a result of hearing a 15-second radio spot for their beloved meal.

So, I decided to check out this sandwich for myself.

Sitting down with my purchase in a crowded Saturday McDonald's, I opened the container and discovered my order was misconstructed to begin with; I requested extra pickles and no onion. I got just the opposite - tons of onion, nary a pickle. (The beginning of my experience wasn't looking on the bright side from the get-go.)


Correcting the mistake in a (surprisingly) short amount of time, I sat down again, looked at the sandwich once more and took it all in: Oozing barbeque sauce dribbled down the sides of the sandwich. I wondered why so much sauce was necessary. Could this have been the work of an over-zealous employee? Or was this how it was supposed to look?

I took a deep breath and dove in. Savoring the flavor (I use the term loosely), I tried to come up with an appropriate adjective or two for the experience .... and couldn't.


You see, the taste I was met with was rather ... underwhelming. There was a hint of porky flavor to the sandwich, but it was overpowered by the abundance of sauce it was slathered in. 'Meh' was the best thing I could come up with. No taste explosion, not even that good, really ... but not in the least bit bad or repulsive, as some people have proffered.

I continued eating. I was hungry, after all. I needed fuel for the remainder of the day. I kept chewing, taking yet another bite, looking for something - anything - that hinted at what others found so enticing about a McRib. For the life of me, I just couldn't come up with a single idea as to its popularity.

Will I order one again? No. There's just nothing at all exciting about it, nothing that left me with an impression. Surely, nothing that would make me order another one down the line.

So, I'm confused: What's all the hoopla about? Why do so many people get whipped into a frothy herd mentality frenzy over this completely unremarkable fast food McBlandwich?

I. Don't. Know.

............... Ruprecht ( STOP )

It's Got That Bad Graphicky Taste, Y'know?

I don't really know how something like this happens.

But it did.

The cup my Coca Cola came in today ... a cup exactly like the one above (and which was the subject of one of my photoblog posts March 10th of this year)?

Well, it tasted exactly like that cup looks. I'm not kidding. It wasn't pleasant.

Imagine that, if you will .....

........................ Ruprecht ( STOP )

Inspiration On-Line

I wasn't necessarily looking for inspiration today.

I just figured it would come from out of the blue somewhere.

Sure enough ..... it did.

Boomer
God Bless America

withthebanned
Land that I love

Zoiks
stand beside her

Darmon
And guide her

Boomer
through the night

Boomerette
with the light from above

Darmon
From the mountains, to the prairies

Zoiks
To the oceans, white with foam

Ruprecht
God Bless America. *Our* home sweet home.

Boomer
nicely done (*second verse, same as the first*)

................... Ruprecht ( STOP )

Life Among The Dead

I was at the L.A. County Fair Labor Day.

Admission was a buck ... the weather was gearing up to be picture perfect ... smokey meats and frolickous noise would be wafting in the air ... people everywhere. What's not to like?

I did the things I like to do at the Fair all by my lonesome. It's rather refreshing getting that opportunity. No needs, no hurrys, no unexpected restroom breaks, no doing what you don't want to do. Just the solitude of indulging in your very own whims.

Toward the end of the day, with seven hours under my belt, I thought it was about time to call it quits. I was still pleasantly satisfied at the smoked turkey leg I'd purchased hours earlier, my feet were beginning to get tired and it was beginning to get overly crowded with late afternoon revelers wanting nothing more than to go on carnival rides. But, finding myself passing the grandstands, I eyed an attraction: Our Body: The Universe Within. This was an exhibit I'd passed up in Vegas one year and missed somewhere else another ... but I saw here the chance to finally catch it and in a relaxed atmosphere no less. With the late afternoon sun beating down on everyone milling about at the Fair, this seemed like the perfect opportunity for physical as well as mental refreshment. (I mean, it had to be air-conditioned inside with all those plasticized bodies, right?)

Let it be said the exhibit was fascinating ... strange ... a bit weird ... brilliantly educational. It was a kick to see everyday average Joes and Josephines gawking in wonder at the exhibits, sometimes screwing up their faces in such manners as to be comical.

Questions by kids were directed at their parents. Boyfriends asked their girlfriends if this wasn't the coolest thing they'd ever seen. Old men and old ladies standing with their hands behind their backs contemplating the human form with steely intensity. Everyone gazed at lucite-encased exhibits of the hands and feet, then looked at their own, marveling at all the tendons within that moved their extremities in the unique and myriad ways they do.

For the most part, everyone was relatively quiet and respectful. There was an overall drone in the place; queries and oohs and aahs, even a few eeews and chuckles.

Relatively quiet, that is, until I got over to one particular exhibit showing a man in motion with muscle stripped away and hanging off his bones to show structure and relative positioning.

Each exhibit in the place was accompanied by a signpost that detailed various body parts and structures being showcased. At this particular model of the man with the dangling musculature, there was a rambunctious 4 year-old inside the roped off area around the display, merrily playing a self-absorbed game of Ring Around The Rosy with the pole holding the sign, gleefully screaming his head off. His parents - a young mother with a baby in her arms, a young father with another in his and several other kids milling about (no clue if they were theirs or not) - did nothing to corral the little boy.

I was right there when a fracas broke out. And it all happened in a span of 10 seconds: I saw the signpost begin to sway until it was at a point where it was coming dangerously close to banging against the plasticized man. I had half a mind to grab the little Buster Brown by his Buster Browns, but was patiently waiting for the parents to say or do something ... anything. Just then, a commotion behind me: a uniformed security guard rushed in and yelled at the kid. She saw, as I did, that the sign was perilously close to gouging the exhibit's head. As she climbed between the ropes to nab the child, the mother finally said something:

"Timothy ... don't do that. Come out here." The guard grabbed him by the shoulder; the mother hadn't moved an inch. "There's no need for that ma'am ... I'll take care of him." But ... she remained there while little Timmy ducked and dodged out of the way of the guard. The father just looked on in boredom.

Timmy finally escaped to his mother's side, a bit frightened by the guard who was stopping the sign from swaying. The mother yelled at the guard: "I said I would handle it!"

Words were then exchanged between the two. The mother walked off in a huff, Timmy in one hand, the other child still cradled in her arm. The father motioned the remainder of the children onward.

The guard, flabbergasted and out of breath, glared as the group retreated into another part of the room. She didn't take her eyes off them the remainder of the time they were in the place.

I continued my examination of the plasticized man on display ... and I could have sworn I saw him sigh in relief as little Timmy walked off.

......................... Ruprecht ( STOP )