It May Be My Middle Name, But That Doesn't Mean I'm Obligated To Eat'em

 A real English muffin boasts substance.

My "go-to" breakfast of choice when there's little time - or you don't want or feel like a proper sit down breakfast - is an English muffin toasted medium and slathered with butter and crunchy peanut butter.

Yes ... an English muffin with butter and crunchy peanut butter. That's butter. Not margarine, not some sort of Oleo, not that "I Can't Believe It's Not Butter" stuff and certainly not the yoghurt-substitute-trans-fatted-calf-extra-ingredient-faux-butter-better-for-you-than-butter-and-tastes-like-real-butter dreck. And yes ... that's crunchy peanut butter. Not the creamy, earth-toned, characterless spread. (I do not understand the need for creamy peanut butter unless you have a denture problem.)

But ... there's that main ingredient: The English Muffin. And let me tell you something: Thomas English Muffins? Completely substandard when it comes to my wants in that department.

There is no point to this kind of English muffin ...

... unless it is the only thing in your pantry and you will die if you don't eat it.

They're flatter than a pancake, you can't separate one half from the other without it ripping gouges and holes in the halves (this must be what the company means by "nooks and crannies") and their flimsy as all get-out. Oft times you're relegated to taking a knife to slice the sucker in half and that completely defeats the purpose of an English muffin ... and its nooks and crannies that are supposed to lovingly maintain their pittedness in order to cater to the liquids and other condiments applied to the bread after toasting.

Give me those down-home, plain wrapped, English muffins any day of the week. Yeah, the ingredients in Thomas' product may be notches above but, when it comes to consistency, texture, hefty-appearance and simple "Feel Good Inc." appreciation, the plain wraps beat Thomas top side down.

So there.

.......... Ruprecht ( STOP settling for Thomas English Muffins. You deserve better. )

Joy To The World ... Again!

Yay! Daylight Saving Time is here again!

Advantages of this time period include:

• Summertime!
• Better use of daylight hours!
• Summer days!
• Fewer road accidents resulting in fewer road injuries!
• More social time for everyone as outdoor activity is increased!
• Electricity savings because you are out of the house and using less in your house!

Know who else observes DST? Albania, Andorra, Argentina, Austria, Azerbaijan, Belgium, Bermuda, Bosnia and Herzegovina, Bulgaria, Canada, Croatia, Cuba, Cyprus, Czech Republic, Denmark, Estonia, Falkland Islands, Faroe Islands, Finland, France, Gaza Strip, Germany, Gibraltar, Greece, Greenland, Haiti, Vatican City, Hungary, Iran, Ireland, Isle of Man, Israel, Italy, Jordan, Kosovo, Latvia, Lebanon, Liechtenstein, Lithuania, Luxembourg, Republic of Macedonia, Malta, Mexico, Moldova, Monaco, Montenegro, Morocco, The Netherlands, Norway, Poland, Portugal, Romania, Saint Pierre and Miquelon, San Marino, Serbia, Slovakia, Slovenia, Spain, Sweden, Switzerland, Syria, The Bahamas, Turkey, Turks and Caicos Islands, Ukraine, United Kingdom, West Bank, Western Sahara and more will be joining most of the United States! Which means any of you who are cranky about the coming time change can be comforted in the fact you'll be doing so - if the need strikes you - internationally!

*McWoot ... !!!*

And that's hand-in-hand coming together ... isn't it?

Love, peace and understanding, people ... love, peace and understanding.

And ... if I know most of you, you've already used up your allotment of naps for the year already ...

Happy Daylight Saving Time! (I don't need to tell you to spring ahead one hour when you go to bed Saturday night, do I? Because you've lived long enough to remember this ... I'm certain of it.)

.......... Ruprecht ( STOP griping about things you can't change ... unless you want to move to Arizona )

Love

"If you wish to be loved,

show more of your faults than your virtues."

- Edward G. Bulwer-Lytton

 

Him:  I just realized that you are totally going to love Nebraska ... (the film, I don't know how you'll feel about the state)

Me:  I figured I would. (The film ... not the state.)
 
Him:  I mean, it's about a crotchety, near-senile old man who bothers people. Right up your alley!
 
Me:  I'm not following you ... Jerk ...
 
Him:  Not following? That's probably the near-senile part kicking in ...
 
Me:  Perhaps you didn't see the "jerk" in the response above ... said lovingly ...

.......... Ruprecht ( won't STOP being crotchety no matter what anyone thinks )

If you wish to be loved, show more of your faults than your virtues.

Edward G. Bulwer-Lytton

Read more at http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/topics/topic_love4.html#3ALGB0GuAbeyUYd0.99

BuzzFeed Me, Baby. Just BuzzFeed Me

Of course, I'm kidding.
 
Don't BuzzFeed. Don't ever BuzzFeed me. You'll be wasting your time. But ... if you're BuzzFeeding, you already know that so ... never mind.

Here's the deal: No, no and no.

No, I don't care which Lord Of The Rings character I am. No, I don't care which NASCAR driver I lean toward. No, I don't give a hoot which state bird I would best represent.

No, I don't know nor care which food I'm most like, which soft drink I would make the best spokesman for or what number I would look like if I looked like a number.

I could give a flying farce which Seinfeld personality is most like me nor which Big Bang Theory / Veronica Mars / Lost / Breaking Bad / Mad Men character would best go with a particular part of the country. (Those who know me know I have never seen an episode of Seinfeld so you really know the pointlessness of that ...)

I have no clue what color is antagonistic to me at a given altitude, what roller coaster is closest to my shoe size, which pizza topping I would be likely to find in my purse (if I carried one), which flavored water I'm partial to, if I would make a better blond / brunette / redhead / bald person or which of my five senses I would prefer to lose if I had to lose one.

I don't give a rat's ass which celebrity I would gravitate toward if I went gluten free, I can't fathom what name I would name the General Lee if I were in charge of such a naming and I won't suggest the next title or villain in the next Star Wars film.

You know what drink I would be if I were a drink? I don't care. You know what planet I would wish to wear around my waist in a race? Nope ... don't care. You know how short my skirt would be at an upcoming Christmas party? What? You don't? Guess what? Me neither.

I don't care which 80s song best represents me, what classic bombshell I would date back in the day, which archaic word I would bring back if I could make one popular again, which tile style my brain looks like, what year I would prefer to be reborn in, which cat breed my ass looks like, what state I would live in if I could live in any state I wanted nor which luchador I would like to go up against if the world depended on me to go up against one next week.

So ... here's my suggestion, BuzzFeed: 

Buzz on by me.

Thanks in advance for your time and consideration. 

.......... Ruprecht ( STOP ... just stop ... )

It Sounds As If ...

Yes ... as a matter of fact there will be more images in this post
which will probably piss someone off ...

"Chivalry seems to be making the rounds, with men explaining that women like old-fashioned men who treat women like 'the weaker sex.'"

What?

Really?

Hokay ... I want to know something:

Who are these men? Where do they come from? Are they found in the states? Or from somewhere else? On television? Fiction novels? Where? Where are they? Because I haven't ever heard of one single man - be it a friend, acquaintance or someone on the local six o'clock news - who would take the time to explain chivalry let alone in a manner which condescends to women being treated as the weaker sex.

Right off the bat, this is why I called bullshit on many of the aspects of this article: 8 Acts of Politeness That are Better than Chivalry. A better title to the piece (which advocates a whole lot of ordinary good judgment for those who don't necessarily practice it) might be "A Few Acts Of Common Sense For The Clueless."

But the "chivalry" noted in the title of the article? It's pointless. I'll even go further in stating the author ("petticoat despot") didn't know what chivalry meant when she originally wrote what she wrote.

Without looking like a complete and total condescending asshat (and to some it won't make a whit of difference, I will probably come across as that very thing) let's take a gander at a few meanings of the word "chivalry" for shits and giggles. A couple authoritative definitions might shed a little light on the subject.
 
The World English Dictionary, items 1 and 2, states chivalry is: 

• the combination of qualities expected of an ideal knight, especially courage, honor, justice and a readiness to help the weak 
• courteous behavior, especially towards women

Notice neither definition denotes "weak women" nor do they imply women are the weaker sex. (Note: If courteous behavior is a crime? Then throw me in jail because I'm guilty. And if courteous behavior, especially toward women, is the same? Guilty again. Go ahead and double my incarceration.)

Here are a few more. Per Dictionary.com chivalry is:

• the sum of the ideal qualifications of a knight, including courtesy, generosity, valor and dexterity in arms
• the rules and customs of medieval knighthood
• gallant warriors or gentlemen

Again, nothing about a weaker sex.

In the author's statement highlighted at the very top of this post, there's that "glaring" implication about "the weaker sex." Yeah, glaring to the "nth" degree. 

So I ask: Who is making this a gender thing?

The author. And no one else.

When I am out in public, do I hold doors open / offer my seat / etc. to women? Damned straight I do. Just the same as I do for men, children, the elderly, ad nauseum. Why? Out of simple, pure politeness and common decency ... and especially so when there appears to be a need. Not because I'm trying to prove a point, not because I'm trying to throw implication around for my own benefit, not to stick it to feminists. And do I do those things with chivalrous intent? At times, damned straight I do ... but without giving anyone a lecture on what chivalry is and without outward ulterior motive. Again, I do it out of generosity, when there is need and because I'm a nice guy. To do so in any other manner would be disingenuous or underhanded.


The author said it perfectly: 

"You never know the circumstances of the people around you. You imagine them. Your imagination will probably be wrong a lot."  

Correct. But where the author fails to catch a clue is that that very thing works both ways - she indicates men have an ulterior motive in appearing chivalrous. One more time:

"Your imagination will probably be wrong a lot."

Bingo. It's the assumption there is something more than simple politeness at work.

So riddle me this: How is it the author can get away with foisting assumption on a given situation if no one else is allowed to do so? The author simply doesn't get it. It's a clear case of the right hand not knowing what the left hand is doing.
 
Regardless of the author's cluelessness on this point, there are excellent points in the the article as reflected by some of the piece's commenters:

"All of these tips sum up to one overall tip: be sympathetic towards the people around you and act accordingly."

"Gotta admit I like some things that are considered "chivalrous" but really boil down to just considerate, good manners."

It sounds as if the only person having a problem with chivalry is the author ... who's making something of nothing. 

.......... Ruprecht ( STOP putting words in people's mouths )

Makes Perfect Sense

This:

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

(Note: I need a new rubber chicken)

Taco Hell, Indeed

A long time ago ...

It was late in the afternoon on a sunny Southern California day. We had been running around all over the place on various errands. No breakfast had been eaten that morning and, all of a sudden, we realized we were famished. We needed to stop right then and there to get something to eat and the only thing visible was a Taco Bell. Not our favorite fast food place, but it was quick and easy and we weren't going to be particular about it at that very moment.

We got something. I remember having ordered some sort of super taco or some such. When our food arrived, we were like hyenas at a fresh kill - we tore at the wrappers to get at the food tucked within them and we scarfed that first bite as if we hadn't eaten in days.

Two bites in, I detected some sort of funk, something I felt just wasn't right with my food. I didn't immediately recognize what it was but something wasn't jake. I looked at my taco while working around a mouthful of food:

There, staring at me from the end of my last bite, was meat and cheese, just waiting for me to take another gobble. But it was the cheese that drew my attention: On a majority of the strands there was a fine, fine "fur" of the most delicate mold you could possibly imagine. It surrounded each strand almost completely and the mold itself had started to ever-so-slightly discolor. It was causing the bright orange of the cheddar to take on a dull hue. You could see the cheese beginning to go grey overall. It wasn't anywhere near there yet, but you could see it coming.

I immediately spit out my food, wiped all around my mouth with loads of napkins and downed copious amounts of beverage to wash out the unpleasantness.

I vowed right then and there never to eat at a Taco Bell ever again. Unbeknownst to me (and in retrospect) this was the start of my continuing harp (which I carry on about to this very day) about using the words "always" and "never" ... because that vow was a hollow one, an untrue one I would violate years later, despite the fact I had uttered it. Despite the fact I would tell the story time and again over the months which immediately followed "The Hairy Cheese Incident" (as I've "lovingly" referred to it over the years).

Fast forward three and half years or so: I was in Utah. The kids wanted to stop at a Taco Bell we were driving past. I involuntarily shuddered, but quickly reasoned that: 1) I hadn't been in one of the establishments for years; 2) that previous incident was an aberration which couldn't happen again, and 3) I simply needed to put on my big boy pants and suck it up no matter what my thoughts about the place were.

Now ... understand what I've stated above: It was the better part of 4 years since I last stepped foot in a Taco Bell and it was some 700 miles distant from the one I was about to step in this time. What could possibly go wrong?

Let it be known it wasn't a taco I had ordered this time around. It was something else entirely. Yes ... there was cheese in it, but it wasn't a taco, the very thing that could have sent me back to that terrible time all those years ago to relive the fear of that episode once again.

But it didn't make a difference ...

Food ordered and served, I unwrapped whatever my choice was. There, looking at me like a long, lost friend, was that familiar shredded cheese ... complete with a familiar fine fur of encroaching mold beginning to encase it. I felt my stomach lurch; I involuntarily swallowed, wrapped the concoction back up and pushed it away from me.
 
Seriously: What were the chances "The Hairy Cheese Incident" could possibly rear its ugly head once more?

But it did. And right then, I put my foot down and promised myself I would NEVER go into a Taco Bell again.

My name is Michael and I'm here to tell you I have kept that promise to myself. For the better better part of a decade I have not gone near a Taco Bell ...

.......... Ruprecht ( STOPped eating at Taco Bell long ago )