Saturday, December 03, 2016

Football Counter-Programming 2016--Conference Championships Edition

You thought I was done?

Well, actually, I thought that I was as well . . . but then I remembered that there was still football to be played and that people were still devoting their time to it. So I am BACK!

And . . . I'm going to tell you about the dream I had last night.

(I'm SORRY! I realize that listening to other people's dreams is tedious. But I remember this one really well and I don't have any other good idea for this week's post.)

So . . .


The dream begins with me standing on the sidewalk of Disney World Paris. I'm watching  cast members if cadet style blue military uniforms march in a small parade formation while tourist families walk the other way through Main Street USA (though, if it is Disney World Paris, maybe it is the Main Street Elysee?). Over the park's hidden speaker system, I hear a voice announce that effective immediately, the French language will only be spoken within the Disney World Paris park. The operators apologize if this is a problem for people, but they believe it is the most effective decision for the workers and the visitors to the park.

I shrug and cross the street. I pass by a deep blue colored combination recycling/trash receptacle. And as I pass it, it moves and talks. I realize that it is a park cast member working inside the fake trash can and it is their job to delight the passing guests with conversation and fun kid-friendly jokes about throwing away and recycling your debris. I momentarily feel very, very sorry for the cast member squatted down in this terrible costume. . . . and the scene shifts . . .

I'm still in Disney Paris, but along the other side of some other street. Now I am sitting on top of a real trash dumpster of some sort and I'm sitting hammock style, reclining back with my sandaled feet crossed, out in front of me. As I am relaxing, park goers are stopping to talk to me, commenting politely--but critically--about my feet. They can tell (because I'm wearing sandals) that there is some sort of fungus on my foot (especially my left one) and they are suggesting that I go to a doctor to check that out. And perhaps my feet need to be cleaned as well because one passer-by goes so far as to pluck a very small, extremely tiny plant seedling off of my big toenail. He presents it to me and claims that it was growing on my toe. I'm embarrassed--but not as much as you would expect for some reason.

. . . and the scene shifts again . . .

Now I'm still sitting on the dumpster things, but it is moving. Maybe it has wheels or something? And it is moving pretty fast down a two-lane country road, at night. There are houses and driveways, and drainage ditches along either lane of the road. It is a typical country road almost anywhere in Georgia and it is becoming night. There are cars behind me and other cars approaching me in the left lane. I am controlling the dumpster vehicle sort of like Aladdin controlling the magic carpet or maybe a large skateboard--leaning left and right to make the "vehicle" change direction. I'm trying to stay with the flow of traffic, but eventually I have to veer into the left, oncoming lane and then things get really dicey. I'm weaving more and more and eventually get driven off the road on the left into the driveways of the houses. I slowly come to a stop.

Now . . . while I am maneuvering the dumpster car--even though I am sitting on top of it without a seat, a steering wheel, or a dashboard, I can hear the radio. And I'm listening to an NPR broadcaster that is talking about whatever the news of the day are. But the radio broadcaster is filling in for the normal host and this substitute person is messing up reading the script. Eventually the broadcaster gets so off script that they begin talking about the person they are filling in for instead. Trying to imitate the famous person's voice and phrases. It's weird and not what you expect to hear on the radio.

And, that's it. The dream ended.


But what is another layer of odd? I've had portions of the maneuvering a weird skateboard vehicle on a country road dream before. And each time I'm forced off the road because I can't do it well enough. Why is this a recurring dream for me? And what, if anything, does the rest of the dream mean? If you have ideas, I welcome your comments.

And until I am here again, please remember . . . no one cares what your dreams are--especially when your favorite football teams playoff dreams are about to be crushed by forces completely out of their control.

Saturday, November 26, 2016

Football Counter-Programming 2016--Week 13

Credit: myfoxmemphiscom
If you see me driving around town, then now you know why I sport this license plate. I find this to be the funniest passage in any of the Harry Potter books and it is just odd and obscure enough that I thought it would be a great choice for a personalized license plate that only those in the know would possibly get.

And that is all I've got to give you this week. I've had family visit for Thanksgiving, followed by Christmas decorations, and several other tasks in the last few days. I'm sort of tired and there is no way I'm going to successfully convince you NOT to watch football during Rivalry Week.

So, I'll just say Go Bucks! and good night.

And . . . remember . . . no one cares whether your favorite player has the most pairs of Gold Pants of anyone from your Alma Mater.

See you . . . well, I guess I'll see you when the playoffs are set and the big games are ready to go? Thanks for sticking with me during all of these weeks of Football Counter-Programming.

Tuesday, November 22, 2016

Unknown Drafts . . .

(The first in an unknowable series.)

I find that I have LOTS of draft ideas floating around in my WWYG?! dashboard that were started and not finished. Sometimes they are rants that I typed in anger and saved for a cooling off. Looking back on them, I find that I need to delete and move on. Sometimes the drafts are simply the start of something that didn't engage my attention and needed to be dropped because I lost the thread.

And sometimes the drafts are just unfinished movie reviews of The End of the Tour that I couldn't get around to writing. (Short answer? I liked it. Let's all move on.)

But this . . . now the photo above is something that needed to be finished. Not just because the Thanksgiving/Christmas nexus is almost here and this is the time of year to be quoting It's a Wonderful Life.

I can't remember what motivated me to start this idea back in early January of this year (2016). But maybe I AM afraid of success?

(But not to the degree that I would kill myself to cash in on the life insurance money, don't worry.)

What do you think? Can you decipher why I might have started this post? Does this post in any way divert your focus on big rivalry football games this weekend? What sort of ideas do you have that never get completed?

Saturday, November 19, 2016

Football Counter-Programming 2016--Week 12

I decided to make another video this week to save the time typing. (But now I'm typing anyway . . . especially to explain that the Endscreen links didn't work, and I don't yet know why. But I didn't want to reedit the video to fix that issue.)

Anyway, sorry about the delay in posting. I recorded the video this morning and then got involved with painting the kitchen and didn't get back around to it until now. And remember. No one cares what color your kitchen is painted, as long as your playoff-bound team definitely beats an underdog.

Saturday, November 12, 2016

Football Counter-Programming 2016--Week 11

Original image:

This was recorded Saturday morning, post-breakfast, pre-shower. Unscripted. So I am sure it is less than comprehensive.

Leave me a comment telling me what I'm wrong about. Tell me what I left out. Tell me what I glossed over.

And remember . . . EVERYONE cares who you voted for in this election and all elections to come. Make sure you have good reasons for doing so.

See you next week.

(Also note: I saw the typo in the freeze frame text. I tried to annotate a correction rather than redo the whole video. Sorry.)