The Wa Blog

Art imitates (urban) life and it is fun

2012-02-19T05:00:00.000-08:00

Taking a little vacation. Instead of a column this week, I have a recommendation if you are anywhere near the L.A, area. Get thee to the Los Angeles County Museum of Art to see a miracle of art, science and whimsy in motion: Chris Burden's "Metropolis II."

It is a cityscape with thousands of tiny cars and trains whizzing down roads and tracks from all directions through and around buildings in a poetic evocation of our own urban frenzies. There is even a second-floor balcony from which you can observe the whole thing.

And hey, bring a kid and get in free.

Click the picture below for a gorgeous video of this fun, brilliant installation.

Wednesday Wa Pic - Whoa.

2012-02-15T05:00:00.000-08:00

This is an ad from the a Yahoo page I saw recently. I do not know who decided an angry evil baby pic would best promote education as a career. Perhaps they are suggesting women can escape the burden of home and child rearing if they become a teacher. But I suspect it's more likely somebody in charge was just having "a bit of a day."

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Valentine's Day advice for men

2012-02-12T07:00:00.000-08:00

An e-reader for Valentine's Day...ahh, romance.

. . .

Sometimes society comes together as one to effect a goal, and society is never better at this than when it is making men feel guilty about Valentine's Day.

Tuesday is the big day, and if you are a guy and you have not already made plans, you should think seriously about looking into Canadian citizenship.

Not that Canada is any escape from V Day—they celebrate it February 14th the same as we do—but at least you can try to start over where the women, I hear, are less picky. This is because they have gotten used to all their Canadian man-hotties (Ryan Gosling, Brendan Fraser, Keanu Reeves) leaving.

I am the kind of man who plans ahead and also the kind of man who procrastinates; I think the philosophers call this "the duality of man." So my wife never knows what to expect on Valentine's Day.

Sometimes she finds herself in a candlelit French restaurant sipping wine, but all too often she wakes up right before Brad Pitt clinks her glass.

Most men could not find romance with a mirror and a flashlight. Or, you know, two other devices that usually make finding things easy. I always forget how that saying goes.

Sometimes I get my act together in the romance department, and by "get my act together" I mean I find a lovely card, and by "lovely card" I mean one which does not have two sumo wrestlers on it.

The restaurant thing is a good idea, but not on the actual day, when crowds of over-stressed men do not inspire the best service from the waitstaff, and women are chomping down on rings hidden in desserts, then fleeing for the exits in search of emergency dental clinics.

Go another night, or go for a hike, have a picnic in one of our many Southern Californian wooded canyons. Women are never more impressed than when men show manly skills, like when they know how to work a snakebite kit.

Retailers want men to think they must "go big" on Valentine's Day or risk their woman's disappointment. There is a very obvious, self-serving reason for this. Retailers are women.

I am joking.

But I say "go small" on Tuesday. It's the thought that counts. Oh boy. I used the "T word," didn't I?

Well, just do the best you can, men, and it will be enough. If not, I hear Vancouver is gorgeous this time of year.

. . .

Wednesday Wa Pic - It's wedgie time

2012-02-08T05:00:00.000-08:00

Their lap belts actually attach to your underwear. You do not want to get in a collision.

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Super Bowl sponsors outnumber viewers

2012-02-05T07:00:00.000-08:00

Above is a screen shot from the NFL Web site this week, underlined by me. Folks, "widdled" is not a word, unless you are British, and then it involves peeing. I don't think the NFL is British.

Maybe they meant "whittled" or "winnowed." Maybe somebody even dictated it and the listener copied it wrong. Impossible to say. It does, however, fulfill a certain football player stereotype. You know what I'm talking about. Jocks don't use spell-check.

. . .

In any case, this afternoon brings us the Super Bowl presented by Chevrolet, who would like to remind you that that new Chevy isn't just going to buy itself.

The excitement has been building all week as America had its eyes glued to the online "Countdown to Kickoff" timer, sponsored by KFC Hot Wings. If you were in Indianapolis this week you might also have enjoyed the "Fan Jam" presented by Pepsi or "The NFL Experience" sponsored by GMC or the Fan Store brought to you by VISA.

Personally, I can't wait for the Bridgestone Halftime Show featuring Madonna. (For those of you who do not know who Madonna is, ask your grandparents.)

Please join me in ramping up the pre-game excitement with this trivia quiz, sponsored by Mountain Dew ("Try our new flavor, 'Plains Dew.'")

1. The Super Bowl is not sponsored by:
a) Procter and Gamble
b) AT&T
c) Exxon Mobil
d) Just kidding! There is nobody who is not sponsoring the Super Bowl!

2. The two teams playing are:
a) the Giants and the Patriots
b) probably more exciting on paper
c) "a few yards short of a first down," if you know what I'm saying
d) the Packers and the Dolphins

3. When NFL coaches tell players to "jump," the players say:
a) "How high?"
b) "Hawaii!"
c) "Oh, hi!"
d) "How?"

4. The Super Bowl is great for the country because:
a) it reminds us that we as Americans can best settle our differences by running into each other at high speed
b) it occupies commentators who might otherwise be yakking about politics
c) it provides employment for those first-down-measurement-chain-pole manufacturers
d) life is just better with Betty White ads in it

5. You might be surprised to know:
a) there are actually 33 teams in the NFL, not 32, but one of them has mastered time travel
b) Tyler Sash is a player with the New York Giants, not a 19th Century presidential fashion statement
c) The Cincinnati Bengals' cheerleading squad is called the "Ben-Gals." Seriously.
d) Mallett, Spikes and Love are three Patriots players, not the name of a Valentine's Day specialty bouquet at FTD

This afternoon Americans will come together all across our land to celebrate what Americans love best—advertising. The preceding column was brought to you by DreamWorks Pictures ("If you like movies about war and horses, we think we've got the movie for you.")

. . .

Wednesday Wa Pic

2012-02-01T07:07:00.000-08:00

If you have to remind me, chances are it ain't happenin'.

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Oscar nomination ruminations

2012-01-29T06:00:00.000-08:00

The Oscar nominations came out this week and made me feel once again like a teetotaler at a wine tasting. I have only seen one of the nine Best Pic nominees, "The Tree of Life," which wasn't really even a movie; it was more like a slide show of God's travel pictures.

See?

Terrence Malick was nominated for directing it, but it seemed to be not so much directed as unfurled, like some kind of delicate, complex tapestry on which your own level of patience is displayed.

A guy walked out of the showing I attended. Maybe that twelfth slow, lingering shot of the birth of the cosmos got to him.

It is not a film with much of a narrative. Boy does not meet girl. Boy meets abusive dad, true, but dinosaur also meets dinosaur and star nebula meets...what? Eternity, I guess.

Whether you think it is the best movie of the year will depend on whether you like to contemplate the very meaning of life with a bucket of popcorn between your thighs.

"Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close" will not win, because no film with an ampersand has ever won.

"Moneyball" sounds like too much fun, "Hugo" and "Midnight In Paris" and "The Artist" are way too French to have a shot.

I'm calling it for "The Descendents," because it has two things everyone loves: Hawaii and George Clooney.

I also saw "The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo," and if Rooney Mara wins Best Actress for the title role it will be the first time in Oscar history (I am pretty sure about this) that an actress has won without showing more than one expression.

I do not know why the Academy does not break down and add a Best Nudity category. They could even stick it under "Visual Effects" and let a woman have a shot at that geekbound award for once.

Pitifully, the only other nominated movie I saw last year which did not involve animated pandas, kitties or Muppets was "Harry Potter MCLXVIII, Part XVXIIMXII." It is up for Art Direction, Makeup and Visual Effects. It may win the first two, but without nudity it has no shot at the third.

Oh yeah, I saw that "Planet of the Apes" movie. Unlikely as it sounds, it ponders the meaning of life too. Plus a gorilla takes down a helicopter. Do you hear me, Academy? Gorilla? Helicopter? There should sooo be an award for that.

. . .

Wednesday Wa Pic - signage most fowl

2012-01-25T05:00:00.000-08:00

Peafowl don't need any encouragement from you. This neighborhood in Arcadia, CA, apparently has enough peacocks and -hens without the intervention of humanity. Think it's a joke sign?

I turned the corner and there was evidence to the contrary.

A large flock of peafowl lives at the Los Angeles County Arboretum, and they roam freely in the residential neighborhoods to its west. Here is one video taken by a local; a peacock on her rooftop, in full mating stance, evidently failing to impress several peahens.

I've been there, pal. I've been there.

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Men save the darnedest things

2012-01-22T06:00:00.000-08:00

Every human has a hoarding instinct, which stems from a million years of harsh winters and, in my case, manifests itself in the accumulating of cardboard storage boxes.

My wife does not fully appreciate the arc of human history behind this.

Those same million years resulted in her own ability to hoard arcane facts, which take up much less room in the garage.

If you want to ship a broken printer back to the manufacturer, I am your man. If you want to know the name of that tart citrus fruit used predominantly in making marmalade, she can tell you all about the Seville orange.

When spring cleaning comes, you do not hear anybody nagging anybody else about "clearing out the junk" in her mind. The garage, though? Different story.

I save boxes of all sizes because you never know when you will need one. Actually, that is not true. You know exactly when you will need one—the day after you get rid of all your boxes.

Plus, the Boy Scout motto I once memorized, "Be prepared," is basically a license to hoard.

You might make the argument that saving useful things is not hoarding, and that proves that you are what scientists call a "man." Women hoard too, but mostly just out of spite.

Please take this short quiz to determine your gender:

Do you save the connector cables to video cameras/TVs/VCRs you no longer own, in case they might fit some other device in the future?

Yes / No

Even though they no longer manufacture any device of any kind with those kinds of connectors, and never will again?

Yes / No

Do you feel that cans of motor oil, since they are not explicitly marked, have an implied expiration date of never?

Yes / No

Are you really ever going to get around to making that "classic" car in your garage "awesome" again, or even saleable as scrap?

Heck Yes / No

If you answered "Yes/Heck Yes" to any question above, you are a man, with an innate genetic ability to find value in items which other, better-smelling members of the species only see as worthless, space-hogging junk.

Revel in this ancient skill. It is the reason you are sitting there reading this and a mammoth isn't.

You may look at my garage and see 279 nested boxes sorted by shade of tan, but I see something entirely different.

I see victory.

. . .

Wednesday Wa Pic - Don't mess with confection

2012-01-18T05:00:00.000-08:00

A rose by any other name...

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Wednesday Wa Pic - Forrest Rump

2012-01-11T05:00:00.000-08:00

Do not pretend you do not want this sign in your home.

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RuPaul for president

2012-01-08T05:00:00.000-08:00

I have been amazed for months now to hear that RuPaul, the famous drag queen/singer, is running for the nomination of the Republican Party for president.

I would have guessed, and perhaps this shows my tendency to stereotype, that Ru was a liberal, in that way which most six foot four inch glitter-gown-and-blonde-wig-wearing African American men are liberal.

Shame on me for assuming.

In this looks-obsessed culture of ours, RuPaul does have an edge over many of the other conservatives, I have to admit. Better legs than Michele Bachmann. More fabulous hair than Mitt Romney (plus, it comes in blonde, brunette and hot pink.)

A figure which Newt Gingrich can only dream of. And at a time in our nation's history when Americans seem finally willing to elect a man or a woman to their highest office, RuPaul is a double-threat.

You might say wait, he/she does not have any political experience. (And, by the way, RuPaul has said himself, "You can call me 'he.' You can call me 'she.' You can call me Regis and Kathie Lee. I don't care! Just as long as you call me.")

Rupe does need to update his references, though, since Kathie Lee left the show a decade ago, and now even Regis has too.

But politicians are renowned for highlighting their lack of experience, for playing the "Pick me, I am a Washington outsider" card, and you can't get much more "outside" than the drag clubs of Manhattan.

Also, like most candidates, RuPaul has dutifully written an autobiography, "Lettin' It All Hang Out." Unlike most candidates, in addition to his life story, his book includes beauty tips.

What's that? Hold on, my wife wants to tell me something. Huh? You're kidding! RON Paul? He...seriously? But glitter, right? At least glitter. No? No wigs either? Oh. A Baptist, you say? Used to be an Ob/Gyn? Delivered 4,000 babies? Wow, I guess that could drive anybody into politics.

Well, sorry for the misunderstanding, folks. I was kind of looking forward to having a president who once starred in a movie called "Starbooty." A president who could, with a few hours notice, play the role of president or First Lady.

But the country is probably not ready for that. Visiting diplomats might be confused or, worse, turned on.

The office has been held by a peanut farmer, a postmaster, an actor, a newspaper editor, farmers, soldiers, oil men, lawyers. Lots of lawyers. The country could do a lot worse than a former gynecologist.

. . .

Artist's conception of Inauguration Day.

Wednesday Wa Pics - Rose Parade edition

2012-01-04T06:28:00.000-08:00

Instead of a Wednesday Wa Pic this week, it is Wa "pics." I spent another year volunteering at the Rose Parade post-parade viewing area, standing next to several floats and explaining their materials to the visiting throngs. People have no idea there are orange lentils. There are. As always, the details on the floats were amazing. Like this one, backed with gold clover seed:

DANGER: FALLING BLACK BEANS

It was 80º and the crowds were thick, but happy. Many of them from out of state had not realized there could be sun in January. So the orange lentil thing was a second blow to their reality.

Roy Rogers' taxidermied horse Trigger, mounted on this float, got a lot of press. A lady asked me, "Is it true on the Roy Rogers float, that is a real horse? My husband doesn't believe me." "Yes," I said. "That's really Trigger." "Tony!" the lady screamed back into the crowd. "I was right!. TONY! That is a real horse." Was, I guess. Was a real horse.

I was near this float for much of my two day stint, sponsored by a Lutheran radio show which has had a float in the parade since about 1950. Several Christians expressed surprise to me that such an openly religious float would be allowed in these "politically correct times." I told them the Tournament of Roses is a private organization and can pretty much run any float they want, unless it is offensive on television.

My favorite fact about this float: Jesus' portrait is crafted out of spices. Yes, in case you never knew it before: Jesus was a Ginger.

This is the back side of the same float. I shot this because I was struck by how even the back sides of floats, the sides nobody really takes a picture of, are done so lovingly.

I really look like a guy who wants to sell you a float, don't I? This is the Farmers Insurance float, and whenever I stood next to it, the question I got most, 10 to 1, was "What is supposed to be on that fourth hook up there?" Various disasters which Farmers, presumably, will protect you from are represented on three hooks; a falling piano, lightning, a tornado, and...an empty hook. I did not know if the hook was empty because the decorators ran out of time, or the item fell off, or what. Since the theme of the whole parade was "Just Imagine," I told people to do just that regarding the hook.

The Tournament of Roses thinks of everything. Everything. If you look closely at the upper right of the picture, you can see raised white dots on the book's cover. This was a braille catalog of every float in the parade (!) for us to loan to blind people. Traditionally, on the morning of the second day of float viewing, the elderly and disabled are allowed in first before the crowds. This book was two inches thick, with plastic pages. You might wonder why a blind person would come to the post-parade float viewing. I did.

Next year I switch committees to something they call "Parade Operations," which means I will be up all night assigned to guarding a single float and, if I am lucky, escorting it along the parade route on New Year's Day on a scooter. There are other jobs in the committee, though, so I may not end up in the parade. Wherever I end up, though, rest assured: there will be pictures.

New laws I'd like to see

2012-01-01T05:00:00.000-08:00

Every year you see articles discussing the wacky new laws going into effect January 1st, which is clear proof that where there's a will there's a lobbyist.

Today, however, I am writing about laws I would like to see enacted. If you are a lobbyist or, better yet, a Senator intending to be a lobbyist, please contact me immediately.

The fine for driving up to someone's bumper on the freeway and flashing your headlights, even though the passing lane on the left is wide open, shall be increased to the sum of $1 million.

The penalty for jamming on one's brakes in response to the above headlight-flashing shall be converted from a "moving violation" to a civic commendation by the mayor and a cash award of $1000.

Any politician who leaves the public stage due to blatant hypocrisy and ethics violations, but returns to run for office 10 or 20 years later as if it never happened, shall be considered ineligible for any ballot and shall be forced to play the role of the "incontinent but wacky" neighbor on "2 1/2 Men."

Production, distribution and sale of beer to which caffeine has been added shall be mandatory.

The federal E-verify program will be expanded beyond its role as a verifier of citizenship status to include verifying the status of other things which start with E, like elasticity (socks, waistbands, opinions), earnestness (undertakers, real housewives of New Jersey) and eclipses (lunar, solar, career.)

An actual new California law prohibits the sale of "a live animal on any street, highway, public right-of-way, parking lot, carnival, or boardwalk." The loophole is gun shows. My new law would keep animals from being sold at gun shows. Guns, however, would now be sold at animal shows.

Finally, if a citizen is walking his dog past the park, and a second citizen's dog is frolicking illegally off-leash, like it's a "dog park" or something, when an actual dog park is just a mile up the road, but the second citizen can't be bothered to drive to the actual dog park, because that would be inconvenient, and if for instance the first citizen's dog chafes at being leashed and freaks out and, say, yanks his master's arm out of its socket trying to rip the free romping dog to shreds out of jealousy, the first citizen shall have the right to "E-verify" the second citizen into the next county.

Happy New Year.

. . .

Wednesday Wa Pic - camp coffee

2011-12-28T08:06:00.000-08:00

Judging by last week's post about the same kitchen staff, I don't think they are bluffing.

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Christmas carols around the world

2011-12-25T05:00:00.000-08:00

What I like to do at dawn on Christmas morning is sing carols. Perhaps you heard me. Christmas carols are sung the world over, because singing them the world under is hard after a night of nog-based revelry.

Carols are often more entertaining in other languages. One from the 16th Century, sung in Catalan, is called "Fum-fum-fum." Scholars think this may be meant to imitate the sound of a drum. Or a guitar. Other scholars point out that the Catalan language only contains the one word, "fum." The truth is lost to history.

Who can forget the German carol, "Schneeflockchen, Weissrockchen"? I wish I could. Somebody, please, hum "Jingle Bell Rock." Something.

The Polish carol, "Ach, ubogi zlobie" achingly evokes the pathos of zlobie like nothing you have ever heard, because you haven't.

This can't hold a candle, though, to the Romanian carol, "Ho, ho, ho!" which makes up, in enthusiasm, what it lacks in lyrical variety.

If you have a tuba handy, the Swedish carol, "Nu tandos tusen juleljus" ("No dragon tattoos, Merry Christmas!") is fantastic. But really, if you are seeking to feel that deep-down holiday spirit, look no further than the Filipino carol, "Ang Pasko ay Sumapit" ("Give us this day a small Corgie.")

Other canine references may be found in Yuletide music. The Czech carol, "Nesem vam noviny" ("Nothing but net") contains the cheerful refrain "Here boy, good boy, now stay" fully 27 times. The chorus includes a nod to Schnauzers.

Some foreign language carols you have heard of, like "O Tannenbaum" and "Feliz Navidad," but the reasons are murky why those have become classics to Americans, but others haven't. To my mind, other Spanish carols like "A la Nanita Nana" ("Hey hey hey, goodbye") and "Arre borriquito" ("Who's hungry?") deserve just as much recognition.

One has to wonder why the Hungarian carol, "Pasztorok, Pasztorok" ("Pizza, pizza") has not become better known, especially since its lyrics reference many things Americans love, among them shopping, driven snow and crullers.

A good Christmas carol evokes a warmth which ordinary songs cannot. It lifts the spirits. That is why I woke my family, and the occupants of several passing planes, this morning with a rousing rendition of "Joulun kellot" ("Rise and wallow") in Finnish, followed by my traditional Christmas morning pot-clanging, which I do to simulate the ringing of church bells all over town.

Merry Christmas to you too, and a hearty "Fum" to all.

. . .

Wednesday Wa Pic - Cook's rules

2011-12-21T05:00:00.001-08:00

A sign on the lodge's kitchen door at our camp. Borrowed, apparently, from the S.D. Zoo at some point. You know there is a history of harassment when they have to trot out the synonyms.

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The Adventures of Mentos Boy and Sticky Dad

2011-12-18T05:00:00.000-08:00

Wednesday my son's 5th grade science project was due, which he was given a month to complete, and which he, naturally, started on Monday.

I am not complaining. This runs in the family, so there is a certain "chip off the old block" pride to it. I call it the "all-nighter" gene.

It is a dominant gene, too, like the family freckles and the penchant for red sauces.

I knew he had a month to complete his science experiment, but being proactive is, to me, as alien as tanning. I cannot. So suddenly it's Monday and it's crunch time.

The experiment was inspired by an episode of the TV show "Mythbusters" (the best name for a show ever, except for maybe "The Flying Nun").

The boy wants to test several types of sodas to see which one blasts the highest geyser when Mentos candies are dropped in. He swears there is "science" involved. Chemical reactions. Physical reactions. The reaction of my neighbor when he find Mountain Dew on his roof.

(Science is irresistible!)

We set up on the driveway. One of the soda bottles geysered with such force it immediately blew one of the three Mentos back out, nullifying the results. Another time my son, in anticipation of the sticky blast, recoiled before all his Mentos were even inserted, resulting in a fizzle.

They say no home improvement job is done until you have made three trips to the hardware store, and I guess the principle is the same with geyser science and the supermarket.

Just as a great night of partying often results in a hangover, a fun day of blasting Diet Coke skyward results in writing the report.

It is hard for a 10 year old boy to expand "Woohoooooo!" into two pages of deductive reportage. He made a game attempt; I wrote some suggestions for revision; he ignored them but moved the same words around impressively so as to imply revision.

A chip off the old block. Definitely.

I printed out a slew of photos I had taken of the whole process, which he glued onto on of those big three-sided display boards along with his "findings." It turns out the microscopic craters on the surface of Mentos create "nucleation." Nucleation allows the soda bubbles to form so fast, and in such numbers, they seek escape velocity.

This is all by way of saying if you can convince people to buy your candy and soda, people with no intention of eating or drinking it, you are totally in the right business.

. . .

See below for a photo of the experimentation. Hey, you didn't think I was going to let HIM have all the fun, did you?

SCIENCE!!!

Cute, but not very impressive, you say? True, so take a look at the world record for most people popping off their Mentos and sodas at one epic event. Do people really wear raincoats and blast soda into the sky? People do.

Wednesday Wa Pic - Korean Barbe-confuse

2011-12-14T05:00:00.000-08:00

Sign on the wall of a restaurant in L.A.'s Koreatown. This is either a reference to stealing leftovers or to some obscure ritual I don't know about involving lettuce.

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Specs make the man

2011-12-11T05:30:00.000-08:00

This week I got eyeglasses for the first time, not because I needed them, for that would imply weakness, but just to look cool. At 50 a man, I admit, needs to employ certain devices to retain cool, and I figured glasses were cheaper than a leather jacket.

Also, glasses generally do not make you smell like a cow.

The eye exam is one of the last bastions of barbarism our society allows, besides elections. On the walls are color posters showing all the inside parts of an eyeball you always feared were in there. This sets the mood.

You rest your chin on a little plastic shelf and they blast a puff of air into your naked eyes, I guess to measure your tolerance for really inept flirtation. My tolerance? High.

Then they shine a bright light into your pupils, the most painful thing your eyes have ever endured, unless you have seen an Olivia Newton-John movie. They don't turn off the light until you agree to send a donation to Amnesty International to fight the use of torture, which is both ironic and effective.

Finally you have to stare through the dual lenses of a large black device, while the doctor flips the focus knobs, and tell the doctor precisely at what point the mistakes of your past become clear.

The doc made little notations on a checklist and then pronounced that I was "presbyopic," which I think means I only have eyes for Protestants.

Then I went out and chose some frames from the next-to-the-cheapest display, while the frame saleslady hid her disappointment admirably. English was clearly not her first language, because she declared that the glasses would make my vision "crispy" again.

Then she laid a tiny ruler across the bridge of my nose and told me to look between her eyes, which I thought was the cheesiest come-on ever. "Sixty-five," she exclaimed, at which I was insulted until I remembered there is no such thing as an age-guessing ruler. She was referring to the number of millimeters between my pupils, for the frame-makers.

The next day I picked up my new glasses, which are, honestly, to aid my distance vision while driving, but any fool would have to admit they did make me look smarter, if not cool. The downside is, now I have no excuse for making a wrong turn.

But I tell you what; I can spot a Presbyterian Church from 200 yards.

. . .

Wednesday Wa Pic - Wow. Just wow.

2011-12-08T09:03:00.000-08:00

At Disney's Hollywood Studios, Florida. Sponsored restrooms.

Some good old fashioned theme park bonding

2011-12-04T06:00:00.000-08:00

I just spent Thanksgiving week in Florida visiting theme parks, which I recommend if you like your seething holiday crowds in shorts.

I am joking. The crowds were thinner than I expected, probably because people were busy elsewhere turning the economy around.

The real draw for us at Universal's Islands of Adventure was the "Harry Potter" island, which I only wish had had Herve Villechaize pointing to the sky and yelling "The hippogriff! The hippogriff!"

We chugged butterbeer (see photo), bought chocolate frogs at Honeydukes, browsed the extendable ears at Zonko's joke shop and took a wild flying broom ride, evading dragons and giant spiders.

It is surreal to be able to walk around in a world which once only existed in a book you read but now is there, under your feet. I liked it. The closest I ever came to it before was visiting Flintstones Bedrock City near the Grand Canyon. This was better.

Butterbeer...coming to L.A. in 2015

The highlight of Disney's Hollywood Studios for me was the Rock 'n' Roller Coaster, which simulates a hyper-speed ride through the Los Angeles night in a stretch limo.

We raced in the dark through a full revolution and a corkscrew or two, which really captured the essence of the 101 freeway, and it was thrilling because it only took a minute and a half to cross L.A.; something I have always dreamed of.

We hit both Disney's Magic Kingdom and EPCOT ("Earth's Population Comes On Thursday") on one epic day. If you have never spent a 12 hour day at theme parks, I recommend it for the feet, the lower back and the hips, especially if you don't need them any more.

EPCOT is a showcase of the countries of the world and their souvenirs. Fun fact: Japan is next to Morocco.

The Magic Kingdom is essentially Disneyland East, but with sentimental attractions from my childhood long gone from Anaheim, like the Carousel of Progress, the PeopleMover and the Electrical Parade. I had that woozy feeling of being in a place out of time; the past both in my head yet real and right in front of me.

Thanksgiving passed in a blur of burgers and pizza, but I took a moment to give thanks for the family with whom I got to share this trip. There is no bonding like the bonding you achieve with someone who is also getting dragon-breath blasted full in his face. I think Emerson said it first, but it bears repeating.

. . .

MORE PHOTOS FROM THE TRIP:

One photo I wish I had gotten, but didn't because I was driving: A building sign in the touristy area a few miles from Disney World said "Come in, see live gators! Small pets welcome."

And now some pictures I did get:

This was at Disney's Animal Kingdom. I do not know why a tiger being assailed by three pillowy clouds means "Place trash here." And I guess I never will.

At Disney Studios, they have a big outdoor collection of busts of Emmy winners which look nothing like the celebrities. I was sure the name after "Betty" on this one should have been "Ford."

Even in Universal's ancient lost continent-land, cash is available.

I am confident this is a sign which the Animal Kingdom designers copied directly from a real Himalayan sign. Such touches were everywhere and brilliantly done over by the roller coaster called "Everest." I still think it's funny.

Morocco, in EPCOT. Strangely, it was stucco and tile, not red felt.

Even in the Disney restrooms you cannot escape paid sponsorship. In protest, I used the air dryer.

Gourmet is not the word I would use, necessarily.

U-No-Poo is a joke product sold in Honeydukes candy shop at Universal/Harry Potter. It's meant to cause constipation in the unwitting user, and it's in the original books. This is why I love literature.

Wednesday Wa Pic - airport edition

2011-11-30T05:00:00.000-08:00

A two-fer for you this week. I just returned from a family trip to Florida's amusement parks, and shot these pics in an airport on the way home; which airport I could not say, as there were several, and I was still buzzed from butterbeer.

I find humor in stores which are named with a single pretentious generic noun, much like the store in this previous post and this one. This shop is one of those purveyors of shi-shi little soaps, but I had hoped, on first glance, it was a supply shop for hobbyists who lathe.

I know. Too much to ask of airport retail.

I love the profoundly vague slogan in this hotel ad. May I suggest my own alternative:

"Where obliqueness meets nebulosity."

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Wacky gadgets for the holiday season

2011-11-27T06:00:00.000-08:00

Now that our pesky annual thankfulness is out of the way and the humility and awe of late December have not yet kicked in, we are in that sweet spot of the season when our main focus as Americans is buying crap nobody needs. To wit:

"AssureLink" smart-phone enabled garage door opener. Can't remember if you shut the garage door when you left for work, even though you were facing it as you backed out? Even though you've closed it every day for the past 10 years? Check your garage door's "status" remotely using a smart phone from miles away. Close it if it's open, or, if you are like me, accidentally open it when it is closed. Who can put a price on peace of mind? Sears—$263.99.

"Grill Alert" talking wireless meat thermometer. Like most men, do you tend to get a bit too chatty at barbecues? Stick this probe in your grilling meat and flit away, social butterfly! The device will alert you when your meat is ready, using its patented "voice prompt," which says things like (I am guessing) "Hey, you pretentious gadget freak, time to eat!" Or the like.

"n'ICE" cubes. Made of stainless steel, these frosty metal reusable ice cubes "chill fine liquors without diluting," unlike regular ice cubes. (Cosmetic dentistry repairs not included.)

"Gamer chair" ($209.99) appears to be a nicely upholstered version of what we used to call in the 1970's a "bean bag chair" ($9.99) except that this one "conforms to your shape for full body support," (and "lightens your wallet" to the tune of an extra $200.) They told us the 21st Century would be like this!

"FroliCat DART" is a lamp-sized apparatus which shoots a laser beam on your floor or wall in quick, random patterns for your cat to chase. The company's "mission" is "to allow pet lovers to spend more quality time with their pets." The company is not, apparently, referring to the time your pet plays with their laser, during which you could be in Brazil, frankly.

"Drivemocion" LED car message sign lights up with five different messages for fellow drivers—"Sorry," "Thanks," "Back off," a happy face or a frowny face. I need more options. I need a sign which simulates heat-seeking missiles being fired. I need one which flashes "BMW within range, sir!" That's what I need. And perhaps an anger management class or two.

Now go, already. Stop reading and go shop. And yes, I am sure your garage door is fine.

. . .

Wednesday Wa Pic - United behind a common need

2011-11-23T05:00:00.000-08:00

It is good the porta-potties have united. Who can forget the violence which occurred in those dark days before?

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