Doubling your funk for only a buck

It was a pivotal time in my life. Nearing 40 I was at a point where I needed answers. Not unlike many others I wondered what the rest of my life would hold as I began the decline into being "kind of old." What was certain, obvious, to me was that I needed to get away for a period of reflection to a place where solace and solitude would foster deep introspection leading to an epiphany from which enlightenment would ensue. And in that moment of supreme discovery, enveloped in the golden light from on high spotlighting me in its warm, golden revelation I came upon something many others have found only after investing the sacrifice of a bared soul: I needed a vacation.

But not just any old vacation. I desperately needed and absolutely required a vacation to an exotic place free of the trappings of modern life and its associated congestion of mind, soul and freeway. So, in relatively short order I packed up my wife and two young sons and headed to Southern California. And it was in this environment I found myself leaving the magic of Universal Studios tired, yet hopeful of capturing the answers to life's mysteries that even after quests to Baja, Hollywood and the beach still eluded me.

We headed out the gate, posing for one last picture with some zombie mummies from an epic blockbuster (later we found that they were not zombies in costume but members of the grounds keeping staff trying to trim some hedges) and joining the herd of other tourists heading to the allure that is the Universal City Walk. Most of the throng moved together into the carnival-like, shop-lined City Walk. But just before we reached the vortex that would suck us in only to spit us out the other end of the walk penniless, destitute and wondering what in the world just happened, I noticed a small commotion. I will be forever grateful I did.

A small crowd was gathered around a man who had just turned on a large, 1980s vintage boom box. A thumping, bass-heavy tune pumped from the device causing the people who encircled this curious fellow to tap their feet and/or bob their heads. This gentleman was no typical street hawker break dancing and moon walking for a few coins. Nay, as he began to perform - to merely call it dancing would be like calling a Bugatti Veyron a nice car - he sent out a vibe that connected with the audience. While the music played he worked his magic. I hate to use such a worn out cliche, but that is what happened my friend. Finally the song began to lower in volume beginning a segue into a new tune and that is when it happened.

As the music dropped his voice rose. The man smiled a broad smile that beat back the encroaching darkness with its brightness. He scanned the crowd with his confident, knowing gaze and then he said those words that have remained etched as clearly in my mind these many years later as they were on that fateful evening. "Put a dollar in the hat and I will double your funk. That's right, I promise that for one dollar your funk will be doubled."

I could not believe what I heard. The impact of those words hit me hard, like the time when I was 15 and found out that professional wrestling was staged or when the news came that Milli Vanilli lip-synched. I questioned myself. Did I hear it right? Did he just say that I could have my funk doubled for only one lousy buck? Before I knew what I was doing I was pulling a wad of bills from my pocket. I quickly called to my sons, giving them each a dollar and instructing them to put them in the hat when the Funkmaestro grooved on by with the hat.

You have to understand why I did what I did at just that moment. This precious person was not offering the kind of funk that is considered a haze - a negative thing that you find yourself in before you drink 8-10 cups of coffee in the morning. Nor did he offer the funk of the type that rolls like a thick toxic fog from piles of clothes stuffed in the depths of the closet in a teenager's bedroom. This funk is not to be confused with the double paradiddle funk drum beat, the Double Funk Crunch dance band (which sounds better as a breakfast cereal) nor the famous Funk brothers of professional wrestling fame.

The funk he offered was the glorious type. More akin to a Double Double burger at In-N-Out type of funk doubling. This was powerful stuff, life changing stuff. It was an opportunity for me to change my stars and those of my two boys for the price of a small box of Skittles at the movie theater.

He moved toward us holding out the hat, which when a dollar was tossed in would convey a double portion of funk upon the tosser-inner. Not just increasing funk, but DOUBLING it. I admit I was nervous. I herded the boys to a place where we would have a clear line of access for our dollars to reach the hat lest he move by and we get no funk at all. "Wave your dollars," I told the boys, "We want him to see us." I was sweating, shaking slightly and determined to make this man take my money. It was what the entire trip was about.

And then he was there, smiling as we slam dunked our dollars and he moved by us, tossing back over his shoulder a happy, "Now you're funk is doubled." How great it was. I was elated as I gazed down upon my boys and Patrick said, "I think my funk is doubled," and Nick chimed in, "Mine too!" I felt a satisfaction that only a father can fell when he knows that no matter what may now come, he has done right by his sons, ensuring their successful futures. My wife rolled her eyes in what I interpreted as gladness that she had chosen those years before to join in holy matrimony a man who was now receiving a double portion of funk.

As we turned and left the crowd, the glow of his million candle power smile lingering on the horizon, and walked toward the parking ramp I had Rick James, James Brown, Parliament, Cameo and even the Ohio Players holding a jam session in my mind. I knew all was right and would remain that way. I knew my funk had been doubled. It was the best dollar I ever spent.

(If you would like your funk doubled send $1 to Dave Smith, 311 N. Prairie Ave., Fairmont, MN 56031)

Serious Science

There are a lot of people out there who just accept what ever comes across the newspaper headlines, Face Book news feed, evening news sound bite or in their email. 

For example I offer the "Thousand Dollar Bill" email that is somehow forwarded by otherwise stable people even after more than a decade of bunkhood. Or what about the one where they say Barak Obama is the President? Well known myths like these are perpetrated by people all the time, people who are willing to simply accept whatever is trotted out before them without performing even the most rudimentary verification of whether the statement/rumor/offer is in fact valid or true.

Why do people so frequently allow themselves to be caught up in such crazy coercions and fanciful forwards? I mean, from some people this type of involuntary impulse is not surprising at all. But too many people who have the advantage of neurotransmitters to allow for complex tasks such as typing ride this bandwagon too. Probably because it is easier to hit forward than it is to visit Snopes.com. Maybe because there are far more dreamers around then people let on.

At any rate THAT kind of behavior is not what you are going to find in this blog. No, in fact you will find the opposite: thorough research and investigation of matters deemed crucial to humanity, then a publication - sharing if you will - of the results with the populace of this little ball floating through space we like to call Earth. And such is the case today as I and my crack investigative team tackle an issue that, until now, haunted mankind for decades:

Which is better, Twizzlers or Red Vines?

The debate has run on and on, but for once and finally it is solved by the New View Research Crew - a team of highly skilled and trained experts gathered together for just these kinds of matters - consisting of my wife, teenage son and me. 

We scientifically approached this issue by first picking up a pack of each of these contenders for the twisted treat title at a local super center that I will not name (though it does rhyme with small dart). Then we sat in our living room watching Galaxy Quest and systematically eating samples of each one, cleansing our palettes with Diet Pepsi between sessions. The results of the team's painstaking effort to bring closure to this issue is revealed now, to you, for the first time.

We judged in three categories: aroma, flavor and consistency and then picked an overall winner based not on historical popularity, fancy packaging, claims of low and no fat, or bribes of obscene amounts of cash, but on hard, scientific proof. After all what is this the Academy Awards? 

WARNING: The following analysis will include highly sophisticated phraseology including terms such as, but not limited to, fruity, weird and licorice.

In the aroma category Twizzlers had a better fruit flavor while Red Vines had a hint of licorice. Both had a weird note in the aroma akin to play-doh. However the Red Vines took this to a higher level adding a hint of petro-chemically bouquet. One researcher said Red Vines were, "fruity with a hint of rubber."

In the all-important flavor category the Twizzlers came out as much fruitier than its counterpart. In fruitiness you could say Twizzlers were San Fransisco and Red Vines were Birmingham. However, neither one was overly fruit flavored.

And lastly, the consistency category. Red Vines were called "kind of plasticy," "dry" and "grainy." Twizzlers were less "kind of plasticy," "dry" and "grainy." Both just kind of disappeared after a few bites with tasters unable to explain what happened to them or where they went.

The Winner is: Twizzlers, which fared better in each category, though they were close enough that the expert research team decided more sampling was warranted, so they ate the remaining supply of both and determined to keep the results, but not rule out another study at some point in time. Like Tuesday maybe.

Books is good stuffs

I have hundreds of books. I read them... a lot.
I enjoy all kinds of different styles and genres as well. Around the house I have books piled or laid in various places which I am reading at any given time, scraps of paper, business cards, pieces of yarn or whatever else I can grab marking my place in each. In places where I frequently stop there may even be a - I shudder to admit it - pile of books I am working my way through.

Now that last line caused some of you to instantly smirk, chuckle and say something like "I bet there is a big stack of them in the bathroom," followed by a hearty, "hyuk, hyuk, hyuk," or something very close to that. Well, you are wrong. In many a home the bathroom (throne room) is a sacred sanctuary of silence and solace. I understand, I can relate. However I don't leave books in the "throne room" out of respect to the books. In my mind that would be akin to eating in the "throne room", which is the height of futility (or maybe efficiency). Now back to the crux of the matter...

I know I am not the only one to posses hundreds if not thousands of books. I am admittedly an addict as many others apparently are. I feel pretty comfortable saying this because it only takes a stroll around the local yard/rummage/garage sales or thrift stores to find tons (I weighed them one Saturday with a scale I bought on site for a quarter) of paper backs, hard backs, texts, reference, coffee table and various other tomes. You can literally pick them up for a dime a dozen.

There was a time when only the rich could afford books and in some nations today they are still rarities.  During medieval times books were so hard to come by that only the richest people had libraries and some of those started universities based simply on the fact that he owned a number of books. (If you want to get an idea of what went into creating books in that period and how expensive and time consuming it would be now check http://www.saintjohnsbible.org/) But not today, books... well you can't swing a dead cat without hitting a bunch of books these days. And if you are appalled at swinging a dead cat, read a book: Tom Sawyer.

 A lot has been typed to this point and the purpose of it all is to say just this: I am glad that books are everywhere. I am glad that people still read them, pass them on and read some more. I am glad that printing technology allows books to be as common as a pack o' lies at a political fundraiser. I am glad that in this country you can access books at libraries, stores and even garage sales and learn about anything you want,  experience far away places, meet exotic people and even laugh about inane topics through the pages of a book. If you don't read books it is high time to start. Now.

Well that is my initial blog post. Why a tame topic like books? Because books are all about reading and writing, just like this blog.