AN OPEN HOSE OPEN HOUSE

ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED BY THE SOMERS RECORD (10-18-18)

     Last Saturday the Somers Volunteer Fire Department held an open house, where they invited residents to come over and take a closer look at what they do and how they do it. I brought the ever-furry Gidget-the-dog with me, to see if she might take to the lifestyle and consider becoming a firedog. Sometimes a firehouse has a Dalmatian with a lot of dots on it, and when you connect the dots it forms a dog. But I didn't see one there, so I thought maybe Gidget might volunteer, if I could teach her to slide down the fire pole. The members served lunch, had some activities for the kids and answered questions.

     The firemen executed a "controlled burn," where they construct a small room, fill it with furniture, light it ablaze and then extinguish it in front of the crowd. Before starting the demonstration they made an announcement to remind residents to change their smoke alarm batteries and to get their chimneys cleaned. So if you haven't done those two things, now is the time. I'm often unable to start a fire in my fireplace, let alone my chimney. The only place I can get a decent fire going is in my toaster, meaning that my toast, once again, is toast.

     The four firefighters in full protective gear trained the hose on the conflagration in a swirling motion, starting on the ceiling and working down through the room. The blaze was so hot that when the first man went to the back, the next man up moved forward. Soon all that was left was a smouldering mess, not unlike Kim Kardashian after a keg party. There are three things that I noticed during this demonstration. The first thing that struck me was that the couches used in the burn room were so ugly, it's a wonder no one thought of torching them before this. Way back in the quality control room of the furniture factory, some worker named #11 (but everyone calls him #6) should have taken a full can of lighter fluid and doused it right there to put it out of its misery. The second thing I noticed is that even a controlled fire is scary. The room and its contents caught fire so fast, everyone could see that trying to put it out with a fire extinguisher is pointless, and escaping should always be the first thing on your mind. The third thing that struck me was the kid behind me, who hit me with a plastic fireman's hat, possibly on purpose.

     There was an open fire truck on display, and firefighter Bill showed me around. I asked him what was in the back, and thank goodness he didn't say, "A lot of hose," a sentence which seems pretty harmless in print, but is much worse when spoken out loud. There were a bunch of fire extinguishers, because they have to different ones for each type of fire, whether it be electrical, grease, flammables or what used to be my toast. There were some other tanks in the rear and I asked if they were oxygen, but Bill said that you do not want to bring more oxygen to a fire. They are filled with just regular fresh air. Where they could possibly find that I have no idea. Not my kitchen, I just finished making a tuna fish sandwich. If you go outside to get some fresh air, that's where all the smokers and vapers are, creating these big clouds of carcinogens. They'll have to wait until some fresh air blows in from Oregon to fill up those tanks.

     Bill said that the fire truck is a "tool box on wheels," and they have just about everything in there. They have generators, axes, electric saws, the "jaws of life," jacks and cribbing to secure disabled vehicles, flashlights, blowers, emergency medical apparatus, even equipment to perform an ice rescue. You just don't realize how many different emergencies the Fire Department may be called upon to respond to. There was a case of bottled water in there too, but a fire would have to be awfully small to get down to that option.

     There was a ton of smoke coming from behind the truck, and I turned on my phone in case I needed to call the Fire Department, but it was just the lunch grill going full blast. Me and Gidget wandered over for a cheeseburger and fries. By the time we got back to the fire truck kids were sitting at the driver's seat for a photo-op from their Mom. The Somers Volunteer Fire Department is looking for recruits, so who knows, maybe some of those kids will volunteer one day. We may have to wait until their feet can reach the pedals.   

THE FAIRE-EST OF THEM ALL

ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED BY THE SOMERS RECORD (10-11-18)

      Last Sunday your faithful travel correspondent (that's me) took a ride to the town of Tuxedo to check out the New York Renaissance Faire. We had never been up there, and had no idea what to expect. The Faire is a bit of a mish-mosh of all kinds of fantasy and reality, but I had already temporarily suspended all belief back in the parking lot, where I took it on faith that I would be able to get back out of my space when I left. If you walk around the Faire long enough, you'll see a little of everything: pirates, Robin Hood, Games of Thrones, archery, falconry, fair maidens, flagons and dragons, jesters and jousters. There are also camel rides, and I'm not sure how camels fit into this scheme, but if you ask a camel a question like that, you're not likely to like the answer.

      Many people either show up in period costume, or they dress like that all the time. There's a lot of "thee," "thy" and "thou," and everyone refers to each other as "M'lord," "M'lady" or "M'gender non-specific individual." The girls all look great- they wear their corsets on the outside where you can see how much time it took to put them on, and there isn't a boyish figure that can't be made bustier by a bustier. The experience has an other-worldly feel to it, as if you are attending a red-headed petting zoo. Some had dipped into the grog a bit, perhaps imbibed a yard or two of ale. In fact there may have been a yard sale going on over by Sherwood Forest.

     There was an archery exhibition, and I was hoping someone would try to shoot an apple off somebody's head, or vice versa. The contest came down to a final between a fair maiden and a Robin Hood-looking dude. Robin Hood was the guy who robbed from the rich and gave to the poor, way before the democrats made it an art form. How hard could the sport of archery be? There's an arrow pointing RIGHT AT the target! I would bet you ten bucks that there's a sports book on everything that happens at this place. As the fair maiden drew back her bow, the audience was in a quiver, and so were the arrows. She let one fly, straight and true, but victory was elusive for the lady this day....

      We made our way over to the Roselawn field to check out the joust, and I really wasn't expecting much. But as we watched Sir Edgeron of Aquataine face Don Vincenzo di Sicilia, I was cheering along with everybody else. A hearty "HUZZAH!" can clear cobwebs out of your soul that you didn't even know were there. Even though I knew for certain that these two guys atop their horses were going to jab at each other with their lances, it was still less predictable than the N.Y. Giant offense. You could tell that there was some trash-talking going on, some disparaging remarks about you and the horse you rode in on. The contestants were covered from head to toe in armor, and if it was me up on that horse I would have 86-ed the lance and brought an electric can opener instead.

      After that we dropped in on a performance of "Cirque du Sewer," an adorable show consisting of some acrobatics and some wild animal taming. It was a gal, her boyfriend, her trained cat and her trained rat. If the cat was trained better she probably wouldn't still have the rat. The cat did a few tricks when it felt like it, you know how cats are, and the rat just seemed glad to get out of his house, which is by definition a rat-hole. The girl was quite endearing and quite limber.

      Then we watched a glass blower from Snake Oil Glassworks plying her trade. She was finishing up a beautiful mug, exacting work, and I was just hoping she wouldn't ruin it, but in the end, she blew it.

      By the late afternoon I was bushed from all the activities and retreated to the parking lot, dragon my tired self back to the car. I wasn't used to the enchanting pace. But the cast members were enthusiastic throughout. They are true professionals who tour the country sharing their skills and talents. The recurring theme that we noticed throughout the festival was that not one performer took themselves too seriously. A sense of humor and poking a little fun at oneself could go a long way in this world. Maybe they could use a little of that in Congress. I imagined that this was a pretty healthy way of looking at things, until I imagined Mitch McConnell in a puffy shirt and tights.
 

IN EVERYBODY'S BUSINESS

ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED BY THE SOMERS RECORD (10-04-18)

     Local business is the economic driver that keeps most towns moving. Entrepreneur Magazine says that small businesses provide 60 to 80 percent of all U.S. jobs. And last Saturday they got a chance to meet their customers at Celebrate Somers Day, set up by the Chamber of Commerce. The Towne Center was closed to traffic, and booths were set up so that proprietors and staff could schmooze a little and explain what they do. You think Jeff Bezos is going to set up an Amazon booth for you to wander up to him and complain that the banana slicer you ordered doesn't work, even though it got four stars?

     That reminds me, I wonder if Somers is in the running for this Amazon second headquarters that I've heard so much about. I'm not sure why you need two headquarters unless you have two heads. Even actual quarters only have one head. If they must have a second headquarters, I suppose they could order one on Amazon. Nevertheless, mayors all over the country have been making videos that show them groveling and whining that their city should be the one to host the new facility, even though they seem unable to operate a camcorder. Why not have the second headquarters in the Amazon Jungle itself? I guess it might not be a good idea, especially if I order a package and a poisonous frog or some damn thing jumps out and bites me while I'm trying to get that banana slicer to work. If Somers does become the second headquarters for Amazon it would be SUPER convenient to order something, then just go over and pick it up. It would be like having local businesses, right HERE in town!

     Well, we already have them, and they were on display amid a record turnout. Gidget, the self-proclaimed Cutest Dog in the World, accompanied me as we walked around and enjoyed the beautiful sunny afternoon. You can't get too far with Gidget without a little girl coming up to pet her. "Does she bite?" I always ask their Moms, but the kids are pretty well-behaved.

     The Somers Boosters were there, as well as the Boy Scouts and Girl Scouts. I was never a Boy Scout OR a Girl Scout, and as a result I fell behind on a lot of basic skills. For example, when it came time for me to get married it took me ten years to tie the knot, because I didn't have any training in it. Near the DJ there was an adorable group of really tiny cheerleaders running a pretty complicated routine. The football team that went with them was apparently so small they weren't even visible to the naked eye. Then the Irish step dancers performed, and I couldn't see them over the crowd so I asked the Somers Boosters to give me a lift up. Then somebody came over collecting for a 50/50 raffle, but they stalked off when I wanted them to pay for 50 percent of the ticket.

     Somers Pediatric Dentistry was there, as well as Somers Smiles. There was a loose tooth walking around, and I thought it might be mine, because I lost one when I was six and I never found it. I tried to catch it because I never got my twenty-five cents from the tooth fairy, but I was a whole lot faster at age six.

     Arnie from the Somers Historical Society was there with a 1917 Model T Ford from the Wright Reis Collection. It's amazing to study the car and see that everything that a car has now, this car had then, except you didn't have to wade through a half hour of touch screens to get to it. I don't get along too well with Fords right now anyway. My wife has one, and if you put your foot under the rear tailgate it lifts up automatically, and automatically hits you in the face. While you are putting in the groceries, it automatically shuts six inches and hits you in the back of the head. It's a real time-saver once you clear concussion protocols. Anyway, the Model T was impressive, but the parking space was even more impressive; I had to park over at Fireman's Field.

     I thought I heard some rumbling from the rumble-seat, but it turned out to be my stomach. Fratelli's had a pizza stand going, Mama Rosa's was serving some samples and there was a Road Grub truck and some other food vendors around. DiCicco's had a booth set up, and they said they'd be up and running mid-December or so. I can't wait, because every time my wife buys chicken from the supermarket, there's always one or two pieces that have a rubbery taste to them. Rubber chickens may work well in comedy, but not in francese.

     The Somers Democrats were there, as were the Somers Republicans. If it was up to me, I would have located the pizza stand right between the two, so all of a sudden two ends of the political spectrum are talking again and BOOM- the Nobel Peace Prize goes to: Rick Melén. I'd like to thank the Nobel committee for this prize. No purchase is required, right? I understand that some of the world's problems are too tough to solve with an ordinary slice of pizza, and for those you need to order extra cheese.
 

WHY DID THE CHICKEN X THE ROAD?

ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED BY THE SOMERS RECORD (09-27-18)

      This is the kind of thing that runs through my mind on a daily basis, and FYI, I am not proud of it: I was thinking the other day that somewhere in a glass office in the Googleplex, there's a guy in the Self-Driving Car Division who heads a department that oversees the development of an algorithm that determines what the largest animal is that their car can decide to run over.

      Before I even got around to that, I thought about how miserable it would be to work in a glass office. There is all kinds of research that proves that taking a nap increases productivity and creativity. The CDC says that not sleeping in 24 hours is like having a .10 blood-alcohol level. So if you're not getting any rest you're probably staggering around the workplace like a tourist at Mardi Gras, especially if you're a work-aholic. I'd like to de-stigmatize taking a nap at work, but do I really want to be in a glass office showing everybody how efficiently I'm increasing my productivity, snoring with my mouth open? Plus, the boss can peek in and see that I have NEVER cleaned my computer keyboard, which contains particles of dust from when the universe was first formed.

      Anyway, my self-driving vehicle is going to have to learn to decide between swerving out of the way of a stray animal and possibly causing an accident with an oncoming self-driving vehicle which is also swerving to avoid the same animal, or sacrificing its poor little life. If you're a bug and you have some sort of urgent business on the opposite side of the street, you'd better ask yourself if it's worth your life, because nobody's going to miss you when fail to make your appointment. Sometimes I see a tiny mouse scoot across the road, and I don't even see its feet moving, so it looks like a toy mouse. I've never actually checked to see if it IS a toy mouse or not, so if anyone out there has lost a toy mouse that they just put new batteries in, I've seen it. My advice is to put new batteries in your toy cat and tell him to get right on it.

      I was driving on the Taconic the other night, and at the last second I see that this frog is jumping really high leaps across the road like a cartoon frog, and it's too late to safely adjust my course, and I couldn't help thinking, wow- it's just like that video game "Frogger" from the '80s. It would have been worth sinking another two quarters in just to find out which one of us won.

      Fifteen minutes later I ran over a skunk that somebody else ran over first. Stunk up the whole car, so I hit the "recirculate" button on my dashboard, thereby trapping all the skunk-related air in my car. Then I opened the window to let it out, and more skunk-stunk drifted in. There's an old wives tale that if you get sprayed by a skunk you can bathe in tomato juice to alleviate the smell. Who was the old wife experimenting with this idea, and was there vodka and a huge stalk of celery involved? You'd have to actually own stock in the Sacramento Company to come up with thirty gallons of tomato juice to fill up your tub. Just save some money and bathe the skunk in the tomato juice before hitting him with your car.

     An opossum is an endearing creature that I would not like to run over, despite the fact that it looks a little like Georgie Jessel. If you're old enough to know who Georgie Jessel you should be taking vitamin supplements, and there's not a moment to lose. Georgie Jessel was a comedian back in the olden days, when humor was first invented. Actually, I remember the very first joke, which was a big riot in the Jurassic era, and it goes like this: Question: Why do iguanodons have small balls? Answer: Because so few of them know how to dance! The caveman who told that joke howled his head off, but nobody else got it until fifteen minutes later, then they hit him with a rock.

     Some animals have their own crossing signs, with a picture of a moose or a duck and the word "XING" under it. Sometimes it's just a picture of a prancing deer, alerting you to the fact that deer are around, not necessarily XING, but just working on their prance routines. A deer once came out of nowhere (not to habitat-shame it or anything) and hit my car. I was rattled by the collision, but the deer seemed only mildly inconvenienced, and wandered off, leaving my fender to fend for itself.

      If the shoe is on the other hoof, you could be driving around in a jeep in the Veldt, and a rhinoceros could run YOU over. So remember to treat every living creature with respect, and stock up on your karma. Don't kill any animals you don't absolutely have to, and try not to put yourself into a situation where you absolutely have to. And that means YOU, idiots who pose on Instagram with a simpering grin and a dead giraffe that they shot with a twenty-millimeter anti-aircraft gun for "sport." If the giraffe was just pretending to be dead, wakes up and eats you for "sport," it will probably serve you right. And if anyone out there works for Google, feel free to circulate this article, in case you're working on a self-driving rhinoceros.