A Recipe for the Ages

Best wishes to you all as you settle back with your family to watch a traditional afternoon of Stupder Bowl hype and commercials.  It seems like only yesterday, since it was, that we were gathered about with our friends and loved ones to feast upon everyone’s favorite feisty, furry rodent for that traditional, heartwarming February 2nd meal.

And now, like always, you may be wondering what to do with all of those groundhog leftovers!  For those of you in this category, you don’t have to settle for that same old high-fat Velveeta™ groundhog dip and pizza.  There is a cornucopia of wholesome, heart-healthy groundhog recipes available on the internet for you to snack upon to your heart’s delight (and health!).

One of my personal favorites is the chipotle garlic groundhog wrap:

In large frying pan, brown 1 lb ground groundhog (or thinly sliced groundhog flank steak).  Once browned, sautee with finely chopped onion and yellow or red bell pepper until medium crispy-soft and sprinkle 1 Tablespoon Garlic flakes.

Scoop groundhog mixture into 10 large tomato-wheat tortillas.  Top generously with Chipotle Tobasco™ sauce, blue cheese, and spinach.  Add 1-2 Tablespoons Garlic flakes to taste, and Voila!  It’s a wrap!

Enjoy this delicious, heart-healthy Stupder Bowl meal and rest knowing you need fear neither vampire nor werewolf tonight.       

A Belated Reflection on the Holiday

When one arrives at that moment in one’s life when one is battling the invasion of a fowl army of giant zombie turkeys from outer space, one regrettably finds time for little else.  True, one may take comfort once victory is achieved, being thankful in the knowledge that our galaxy shall likely not face that threat again for perhaps another two or three generations, but the effort can be very draining.  The pilgrims certainly learned the magnitude of this, for in their first winter on the North American Continent certain destruction would have befallen them if not for the valiant, giant zombie turkey-fighting prowess of the noble Squanto on that first Thanksgiving.   

Although one indeed understands that not everyone will have to contend with that fowl menace, each one at one time in one’s life (perhaps even several times) shall undoubtedly face one’s own “fowl army of giant zombie turkeys from outer space,” in a primarily metaphorical sense.  Afterwards, one shall never again look upon “our fine, feathered, friends” in the same way.  In addition, one’s perceptions, one’s very worldview shall forever be colored by the harrowing experience.  One shall take time to ponder, perhaps laugh or weep when reflecting upon the event, for it is impossible to escape from it unscathed.  One shall learn to appreciate the little things in life … electrons, neutrinos–even tiny, theoretical quarks! … And one shall learn to take a special zest (and, may it be said, urgency) in consuming one’s turkey leftovers!

ADVENTURE ON THE HIGH SEAS!

Look, Rufus, a ship!  We’re saved!


Uh, oh…

A FEW MOMENTS LATER:

This scene is too graphic for depiction, but suffice it to say it includes

Cruel Laughter, Yelps, and Screams of Horror accompanied by unimaginable terrors:

Snip!  Cut!  Buzz! “Ar, arr, me hearties!” Clip, clip!  “Avast, and shiver me timbers, ye’ve let it grow long!” Brush, brush, snip! “Yo, ho, ho, and a bottle of hairspray!  How’s that look?”

“Um…”

“Now walk the plank, ye scurvy scalawags!”

SPLASH!

THEN (after a short swim):

Make that… shaved.


AND SO, THE FEARSOME PIRATES MARAUDED THE SEAS, committing many such BARBERIC ACTS by which they earned their name!

A Culinary Masterpiece

Ah!  The sweet, sweet taste of blueberries sprinkled liberally with chili powder …

A true breakfast delight, wrought by the unfettered creativity of the subconscious mind!

The skeptic may claim that I grabbed the wrong spice container while hurriedly fumbling through a dark cupboard, but I know better. 

Broadway Actors at $8 per Show!

Fall is
approaching and that means once again, for me, a community theatre
production.  I’ve directed and/or acted in a fall play for the past few
years.  If I direct I usually take a very small acting part, only if
absolutely needed to fill out the cast.  I choose plays because they’re
funny, not as some sort of ego trip.

This year, however, that’s all changed:  I have
assigned myself a central part in a one-act play.  Preparing for this
and being president of Salem’s Rotary Club for 2007-2008 has taken up
some time and I just haven’t had much motivation to update this site
much lately.  I’ve had a few half-baked ideas for entries over the past
couple months, but haven’t felt like putting them through the creative
fires of the xanga oven.  It’s best not to serve them partially cooked
lest someone get e-coli poisoning (Like “e. coli” but
transmitted/digested via internet).  

So
if anyone (or no one)
wants to see Stupidocles’s alter ego on the stage, I am to play the
part of Rodney/Holmes in a Sherlock Homes parody called “Hidden
Meanings” on September 28-30 and October 5-7 at the Salem Community
Theatre (7:30 Fri and Sat, 3:00 Sun).  Another very different one-act
play will be paired with it:  a comedic melodrama set in mountain
country with a handlebar-mustachioed villain, a damsel in distress, and
a noble hero.  I’m not in that one (which might make it better), but both
plays should be a lot of fun… and as stated above, you have the rare opportunity to see Broadway actors perform for a mere $8 for the two plays together!

Poetry Winner Scandal Slightly Averted

Last weekend “Tex,” winner of this xanga’s 2007 Unannounced Poetry Contest, was nearly embroiled in a huge scandal resulting from his failure to answer simple questions about the Lone-Star State during a radio-broadcast celebrity quiz contest in which he participated at a recent stop on his whirlwind Champion’s Poetry Tour.  The poetry champion named Texas as a state of Mexico, and remembered the Alamo as being its capital.

Tex seemed quite comfortable with his answers, but his call-in teammate on the quiz show expressed shock and disappointment as Tex’s goof cost them free tickets to the Whirlygigs concert in Golconda that evening.

When confronted with his errors by radio dee-jay Rolph Funderburke, Tex allegedly went into a rage, yelling “I never claimed to be from Texas, you fool Yankee!” and storming out of the studio.  Tex was later quoted as saying that he is a proud resident of Texico, IL and that his statements on the radio, while technically incorrect, were taken completely out of context. 

Tex’s whirlwind Champion’s Poetry Tour continues with a stop at the Pinckneyville public library on Thursday August 30, 2:07 to 2:09 A.M., for a reading from his acclaimed poetry collection, “The Stars at Night are Big and Bright.”

Living History

     One of the perks of my profession is the occasional opportunity to hear peoples’ stories.  Many patients, especially elderly ones it seems, are more than happy to talk about their past experiences.  I may hear the same story several times, or learn a bit more than I actually want to know.  But I often receive some interesting insights or observations. 

Today I saw a man possessing a last name with a very high ratio of consonants to vowels, a frequent characteristic of Eastern European surnames, so I asked him about his country of ancestry and in our ensuing conversation he told me the story of how in WWII his mother had been in a concentration camp, forced to perform some kind of factory work.  She hid the fact that she was pregnant because the Nazis were known to perform experiments upon pregnant women.  When Allied forces bombed the building she was in, the wall nearby collapsed outward and she and a few others rushed out.  Had it fallen inward, it would have crushed her, but instead it provided an opening to freedom.  She made her way along the Rhine river, hiding in the reeds as soldiers marched by on the road overhead.  At some point, she was assisted by a farm family who hid her in a shed (under some sort of storage area for vegetables if I understood correctly).  She managed eventually to make it safely back to Russia, but sadly her husband never made it out of the concentration camp.  Six years after her child was born, she was “sponsored” by a family in Wisconsin, where she and her son moved.  Shortly thereafter, she discovered that some of her fellow concentration camp survivors were living in Massachusetts, so she moved again to be near to those with whom, through shared suffering, she had formed a close bond.  She taught her son to speak Russian, Polish, Ukrainian, and Czechoslovakian.

A few years ago, I talked to another much older man who had moved from Germany at about the age of 14, but for some reason most of the rest of his family stayed behind.  In America, he attended school at first with far younger children due to his poor English skills, and these youngsters gave him the nickname “Dutch” (maybe from the German word for the language– Deutsch, as in “Sprechen Sie Deutsch?”).  His proficiency as a native speaker of German enabled him to serve as an interrogator in the U.S. Army during WWII, while his brothers fought for the other side in the Nazi Army.   I’m fairly certain he said they were reunited after the war, but I’m a little foggy on that part.

Anyway, it’s interesting to hear some of these stories.  And sometimes we even get around to doing an eye exam.

Anatomy of an Unfunny Blog Entry

Dear Stupidocles,

How do you manage to consistently write blog entries that are so incredibly not funny?

Sincerely,

Oliver Reeders

Well sir or madam (as the case may be), let me step out of my Stupidocles persona for a moment to answer your question.  There are so many unfunny entries to choose from, but let’s analyze “Of all the nerve!“, my review of Al Gore’s “The Assault on Reason”: 

First I begin by establishing the stupidity of my assumed persona:  “I don’t normally do book reviews, especially of books I’ve never read nor intend to read”.  Who else but an idiot would not normally do book reviews, especially of books they’ve never read nor intend to read?

Then I expand on this stupidity by raging against something for a preposterous or inscrutable reason:  “…but this one has me furious!  That title represents the height of arrogance…Mr. Gore has the gall to insist…”  Why, you may ask, would “The Assault on Reason” represent the height of arrogance and deserve to be condemned without being read?  Ah, you say, because Stupidocles is a partisan hack with a political agenda against Mr. Gore.  Time to tune out his rant–this nut has nothing to say.

Finally I provide the real reason for my persona’s discontent:  “…I would never be so presumptuous as to assert that my book was The definitive example of anything.”  Stupidocles has misread the italicized The in the title and taken it entirely the wrong way:  When someone says “That eel restaurant is the place to go” or “Candy Land is the game of the century” they mean that it is the best, most perfect of its kind.  So one can understand why Stupidocles, thinking along these lines, would be offended by Mr. Gore’s book title touting itself as the best, most perfect Assault on Reason.  Especially when Stupidocles himself takes pride in the business of assaulting reason and considers himself to be quite good at it.

Announcement:  Results of 2007 Unannounced Poetry Contest to be Announced!

Okay, here it is:

Announcement for the Results of the 2007 Unannounced Poetry Contest!

Before announcing the winner of this year’s 2007 Unannounced Poetry Contest, I would first like to report a little celebrity gossip that only Xanga users will understand:   Prince Foot of Pheedbaak is looking unhealthily slim these days!  Is it his skimpy diet of one teaspoon of birdseed per day, his excessive exercise regimen, or just his overactive metabolism?  Perhaps one of our readers may enlighten the rest of us!

And now, to the poetry contest:

The people have spoken.  By the overwhelming score of 2 to 1 to 0… er, that is 2 billion to 1 billion to 0 billion, I announce to you that “Tex” with his poem Cicadas has been declared the unequivocal winner of the 2007 Unannounced Poetry Contest!  Lest you question where these billions of votes came from, one of them came in the form of a comment, and the rest were all e-mailed directly to me.  When I have such a clear-cut forest, I mean winner, that kind of landslide really has to be taken into consideration, in spite of how much erosion due to loss of vegetation has occurred, I mean how annoying the winner’s voice may happen to be.  I’m judging chiefly on the merits of the poem more than the delivery, and weighing the opinions of the readers in the process.  June Threbey’s Sweet Evil came in second with 1 billion votes.  I’m not sure what all those people saw in her poem (in which she strangely seems to characterize pickles as a health food in contrast to cookies and chocolate).  Everyone knows dark chocolate is good for you.  Guess there’s just a lot of people out there who can relate to gluttony.  Nonsense, by an un-witty Mr. Ahl, came in third but did manage to garner a respectable 0 billion votes.

So, congrats to “Tex” and the Lone-Star State!  Once we confirm his identity, it will be quite appropriate to award him some coupons for dinner at a certain steakhouse we all know.  Of course, even such a generous gift pales in comparison to all the worldwide fame and millions of dollars in endorsements that are soon to follow!

Lid-Conqueror, Bold and Strong

I now know why they call it Muscleman’s Applesauce.  Though in this case, it was in fact a large jar of apple butter of that same brand that sought to defy me.   I suspected that it would make a tasty topping for the pancakes I was making.  After many failed attempts to open the jar, however, I settled for other, more accessible spreads instead.  Meanwhile, that smug jar taunted me with repeated insults and boasts of its invincible unopenability.  Eventually I just had to walk away for a while to cool off before I did something I might regret.

So I left the house to get some groceries.  I returned only to find my old foe still lounging arrogantly upon the kitchen table acting as if it owned the place.   But this time, something had changed.  I was not to be cowed by a jar of apple butter.  Not anymore!

I knew deep down that someone had to put this jar in its place or it would be forever bullying people.  It was time to assert my manliness.

Employing the psychological intimidation, scowling, flexing, and huffing characteristic of sumo wrestlers and shot putters, I then lunged at my foe with a mighty bellow, determined to grapple it to the death.  Imagine my surprise when this time the lid popped off immediately without a struggle!

What have I learned, my friends, from this ordeal?  What wisdom may I in turn impart to you?

I’ve learned that jars of apple butter, like people, can be obnoxious and arrogant.  But their bark may be worse than their bite.  Sometimes, you’ve just got to blister their bluster–give them an old-fashioned whuppin’ to teach them a lesson.  Show them who’s boss.  So next time you run into a recalcitrant jar or person, just huff and puff and flex your muscles like a sumo wrestler or shot putter, then leap into grapplin’ action and your opponent will fold like a piece of paper…or laundry.  But remember to bellow.  It is of all actions most essential to the Conqueror, Bold and Strong.