Fire And Ice

News reports say that we are on track for the coldest January in Anchorage history. It seems to me that we are so close now to the end of the month, that we would have to fall into the sun to avoid the record, a prospect that some of us could face with equanimity.
Another report claims that being cold causes the body to create more brown fat which draws fat from other cells and burns it. Since I work outside, I should have enough brown fat to have gotten me reclassified during apartheid. The question is, how have I avoided bursting into flames? A prospect that I could have faced with, you know, equanimity.
I have Siri to keep me company during my long, cold slog, but she can be so irritating that I might just as well stay home. Yesterday, I asked her to play, You Can't Always Get What You Want, by the Rolling Stones. She cheerily announced, "Let's hear, This Ain't What You Want," and she was right, it wasn't.

I'm A Poet, And I Don't Have Knowledge Of It

According to an essay I haven't read by Walker Percy, whom I've never heard of, “misnamings, misunderstandings, or misrememberings” can lead to “an authentic poetic experience … an experience, moreover, which was notably absent before the mistake was made.”

Almost two years ago, right here in this blog, I quoted a Rolling Stones lyric, "My favorite flavor, cherry red," that I'd always heard as "My fever, flavored, cherry red" 

"Isn't that a much better line?" I asked.

At the rate I'm losing my faculties, in two more years I could be Shakespeare.

Which is great; one of my customers visited this blog recently and asked me, "Why Manqué Man?" I said, I thought a manqué was someone that showed early promise, but in the end accomplished nothing. "That's not you," he said. Harsh! He didn't know me then, I might have shown early promise.

And By A Total Stranger, Too

Uh huh, that's right my class warfare tweet was retweeted.

Phat Chance

We were talking about nutrition today. "I'm really into that," I said. "Or, more accurately, I'm heavily into that."

The False Promise Of Internet Security

After my Hotmail account was hacked, and everyone's Zappos account was, I bought and installed a password manager today. After wrestling with it for a few hours, I realize that my internet surfing will be safe and secure because I won't be able to surf the internet any more. One of the reviewers claimed to be tech savvy, yet unable to get the program to work successfully. I don't know why I thought I was tech savvier than the reviewer, but I plunged on (and the unfortunate toilet reference there is not completely unintentional).  I have gotten it to work, but it's taken almost eight hours, and I only have managed the passwords on seven websites. It would be eight, but I'm completely locked out of my bank account.  I'm hopeful that if I have no access to my money, no one else does either, but I've been hopeful before. Well, not really hopeful, hopeful, but you know, asleep or something.

We Have Had Record Snowfall Up Here And I Go Back To Work In 11 Hours

... And speaking of things that have never happened before:

Give Me Two Senators And My Change In Congressmen

It's insulting that the people who keeping talking about class warfare are the ones waging and winning class warfare.

A Loaf Of Bread, A Jug Of Wine, And.. Wait, Skip The Wine, How About Another Loaf of Bread And A Pound Of Cheese?

Glimpsing myself in a mirror just now, I  realize I look like someone who was trapped in a lard catastrophe; someone that had to tunnel out using only his mouth. I'm home now, but unfortunately, I'm like a whale swimming up so rapidly that when I reach the surface,  I can't stop:  I just ate an entire loaf of bread and a pound of cheese. I wonder if whales hate themselves when they've got plankton running down their chins and their blowhole is full of ambergris.  Mmmm, ambergris.

By the way, I don't want to nag, but did you visit Buddy Roemer's web site like I asked you to?                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                              

Mirage

Riding home in Anchorage. Phoenix seems like a dream. A dream that won't come true. I only have the fat I'm carrying to let me know it really happened.
So much fresh snow that the main highway out of town is closed. There is really no escape from this life.

What I Did On My Summery Vacation

I never mentioned that we've been in Phoenix for the last week and a half. We came for a mini family reunion ( the only kind we can have since our family is so small) and to see if we can afford a house here (we can't).
We also explored the cultural resources of Phoenix (Hula's Modern Tiki Lounge) and traditional southwest dining by making two trips to Arizona's oldest soda fountain.
We've been staying at Homewood Suites. It's part of the Hilton family, the amiable kid brother to The Hilton's cold, grasping patriarch. One night we were running too late to get back in time for the complementary dinner. Part of the family thought it was charming that the hostess called to see if we were okay. I understood it to mean that she thought we were too fat and cheap to pass up a free meal.
Tomorrow, back to Anchorage and winter.