Tag: Culture

Six reasons Saturday mornings are time for a Long Awkward Pause

Every Saturday morning, I and the rest of the staff over at Long Awkward Pause take turns chiming in on The Saturday Six, which is a series of (Warning: spoiler alert!) six related items that should probably be destroyed after reading. This week’s list asks: What if ad slogans had to be truthful?

imageChris: The BBQ pizza scares me…what is that meat they use? Is it even legal?

Katie: Another alternative: “People eat here for some reason (and that reason is because they hate themselves).”

Ned: Can’t find what you’re looking for on our salad bar? Try the sneeze guard!

(Ok, so that leaves…. uh… *removes socks* five more HERE)

Search for ‘nuggets’ believed to cause stress in chickens

(My new posting schedule here at Ned’s Blog leaves Wednesdays open to any number of things, including updates to The Box with Skippy the Rabid Squirrel, The Door (of Shame, Blame and Brilliance) or, as in today’s case, a Wednesday Rewind. This column hasn’t appeared on the blog before and comes from 2002, when Carl’s Jr. was making a run at the highly coveted chicken nugget market. The ads, which were funny, also managed to ruffle some feathers…)
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image As you may have heard, Carl’s Jr.’s recent commercials are raising quite a flap among chicken advocates. As you may not have heard, there really is a group of people who work full-time advocating for the rights of chickens (Though, as far as I can tell, not a single member of this group is, indeed, an actual chicken.)

The ad in question is the one that shows a group of scientists examining a live hen as they search for its “nuggets,” which, for me at least, helped explain a few things about my last doctor’s visit. But members of United Poultry Concerns — a chicken advocacy group based in Virginia — don’t see it that way, and want to have the commercial pulled because they say the mock examination “caused the chicken undue stress.”

In a statement given to the Los Angeles Times, UPC president Karen Davis was quoted as saying, “There’s no question that the bright lights of filming, in combination with the numerous takes, would make the experience stressful for the chicken.”

Considering that the chicken in that commercial was at least alive and flapping, one can only imagine how stressed-out a chicken must get when told it’s going to be in a commercial for KFC. Continue reading Search for ‘nuggets’ believed to cause stress in chickens

What do Etta James, AC/DC and John Denver have in common? My Life in Six Songs.

image You may have heard of the My Life in Six Songs challenge at Running on Sober, where bloggers are invited to come tell their life story in six songs. Or less, depending on how quickly they go insane trying to pick the right songs. Obviously, the older you are the more difficult it is because 1) You’ve experienced more in your life, 2) You’ve heard more music, and 3) You keep forgetting which songs you’ve already picked. Being almost 30 40 45 FINE! 48! picking six songs and explaining why they best represent your life is a lot like picking an ice cream at Cold Stone: So many to choose from and, ultimately, you know you’re going to have a brain freeze.

In the end, my six song choices came down to music from Carole King, John Williams, Brad Paisley, Bill Withers, Etta James and AC/DC, with a bonus track from John Denver — my waffle cone, so to speak. I had the privilege of sharing the honor with Victoria at Neuronotes, who is a highly intelligent and well spoken woman who knows her way around science as much as she does the human condition — qualities that are a stark contrast to…

Well, me.

To experience this contrast firsthand, and understand how Etta James and AC/DC each play a role in my life’s soundtrack, just ask the DJ… here

Apparently, not getting to the gym adds 10 pounds of guilt to everything

image Forgive me for I have sinned; it’s been nearly two months since my last workout.

That was my thought as I entered the gym this week, ready to pay my penance in the company of those who’d kept the faith in my absence. I had my moves planned: enter quickly, cut left and directly into the weight room, bypassing the front desk and the gym’s owner to avoid a possible “confessional” situation.

But of course I couldn’t be that lucky.

“Hey there, Ned!”

I stopped in mid-stride, so close to the pivot that would’ve carried me to freedom. “Hey, Jim,” I said, smiling meekly. Apologetically.

Pathetically, really.

Jim leaned forward on the desk, dressed in his usual sweatpants and T-shirt lightly stained with perspiration after leading a 50-minute aerobics workout that helped trim his ballooning body fat from .08 down to .05. He looked at me and folded his hands together on the desktop, as if ready to pray for me. Continue reading Apparently, not getting to the gym adds 10 pounds of guilt to everything

Helpful tips for Southerners dealing with Fornicating Locust

(Today I’m actually coming to you from the offices at Long Awkward Pause, where we like to say “offices” instead of climate-controlled storage units…)

image It’s June 2014, and that means a new generation of newlyweds in The South will be racing past family and friends while being showered with frantically mating cicadas. What are cicadas you ask? Think really big crickets.

No, think grasshoppers on steroids.

Actually, think “Hopper” from A Bug’s Life.

For those who haven’t experienced cicada season, it’s easy to imagine if you keep one thing in mind: For six weeks, wherever you go and whatever you do, you will be doing it within the general vicinity of at least 200 cicadas, each of which will be participating in something generally reserved for late night cable. To make matters worse, thousands of male cicadas will be attempting to attract disinterested females by repeating a series of deafening mating calls, which entomologists, after years of research, have finally translated to mean: hey baby hey baby hey baby… (Click here for more at LAP)

New trend in grad gifts has parents going for bust

image After reading about how the parents of LuLu Diaz gave their daughter $6,000 breast implants for her high school graduation gift, I couldn’t help but be shocked by the idea of a father agreeing to anything that would make his teenaged daughter more enticing to teenaged boys. As luck would have it, I actually spent several years in my teens. Because of this I can tell you there are many teenaged boys who still haven’t made it past the “breast” portion of this column. Sadly, some may never finish reading it because, in order to break them out of their current hypnotic spell, it will become necessary for a close friend or family member to light them on fire.

Let’s face it: This is the nature of most men until the aging process inspires a level of physical maturity that dethrones sex as the main motivator. While there is no set timeline for this transformation, most experts agree it begins anywhere between six and eight months after death.

Until then, at least from a father’s perspective, men can’t be trusted. Continue reading New trend in grad gifts has parents going for bust

Thank You

As I flipped open my iPad, sipping my morning coffee, my wife nudged me and pointed to this before I could explore my WP Reader:

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While coffee was brewing in our cluttered kitchen here in Florence, Ore., blogger Aman Shrivastava, a freshman engineering student at the Indian Institute of Technology in Roorkee, Uttarakhand, India, pushed the “follow” button — and became one of 4,500 people who have contributed to this blog reaching more people than I ever thought possible. I am constantly amazed and just as often humbled by all of you; your generosity of spirit; your witty and insightful comments that never fail to elicit a laugh (sometimes more than the actual post); your support of me and each other throughout the world; and your endless creativity, wisdom and acceptance, even when… Continue reading Thank You

Falling into a tuba is no excuse for missing your high school reunion

image Welcome to the first-ever post of Post Traumatic Monday! Regular readers of this blog will notice this new, one-time feature is almost exactly like my Post Traumatic Sunday posts, except, in this case, it’s a day late. Other than that, they’re pretty much the same. However, I do have an excuse for yesterday’s missing assignment, which is… my dog ate my blog? Actually, I really do have a good excuse, which I will explain later this week. Before we get started, I should explain to those visiting for the first time that these weekly posts were written during my first marriage. None have appeared on this blog before, and only a couple were included in my book. So what’s the point, you ask? Simply to offer reflections from someone dealing with an unhappy marriage in the best way he knew how:

With humor.

Eight years later, I am happily re-married to someone who inspires me each day to laugh for the right reasons. It’s good to laugh with you now — for all the right reasons…

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When it comes to receiving unsolicited material in the mail, few things are more frightening than an invitation to your 20th high school reunion.

Except maybe a voodoo doll made from your own clothes and hair. Continue reading Falling into a tuba is no excuse for missing your high school reunion

Apparently, one Fiddler on the Roof actually played a trombone

"Skippy" the rabid, blindfolded squirrel in his natural habitat. Pretty much.
“Skippy” the rabid, blindfolded squirrel in his natural habitat. Pretty much.
“RELEASE THE SQUIRREL!”

It’s been a week since those words were exclaimed in Braveheart fashion, sending Skippy, our newsroom’s resident rabid squirrel, on a journey to collect your odd and inexplicable photos. Why?

Because Skippy really needs to get out more.

But also because, With Great Power Comes Great Responsibility. And thanks to Kerbey at I Don’t Get It, I realized I have an obligation to use my investigative journalism superpowers to reveal the truth behind more than just The Box of old, unidentified and unclaimed photos in our newsroom. That’s why, like Spider-Man, I am swinging into action to help others, except without the sticky webbing or skin-tight body suit — because I also have a responsibility not to frighten people. Continue reading Apparently, one Fiddler on the Roof actually played a trombone

Parents: Lung capacity is key when choosing an inflatable toy

(Because I am still off the grid and out of air from inflating water toys over the weekend, I am offering this re-post from the archives as a warning to parents as they kick off the summer inflatable-toy-buying season. In the meantime, Skippy the Rabid Blindfolded Squirrel and I hope to see all of you tomorrow for the next edition of The Box! Assuming, of course, that Skippy gets his blindfold off…)

Inflated whale We live less than 15 minutes from our favorite lake. The problem is, it also happens to be everyone else’s favorite lake, which means in order to get a spot within the vicinity of actual water, you have to be there when the gates open at noon and participate in something similar to the Oklahoma Land Rush. It’s not uncommon to see small children strapped to inflatable toys and tossed ahead of the crowd in order to claim prime territory.

As a parent, it’s not a gamble I’m willing to take with my child. Especially since, as a general rule, it only counts if your child is in an upright position once they skid to a stop.

The good news is that once the initial pandemonium is over, things generally settle into a state of peaceful co-existence as, one by one, parents begin passing out while blowing up inflatable toys. Sadly, the evolutionary process has not been able to keep up with the growing demand for larger and larger inflatable animals. Unless you are a pearl diver by trade, chances are your lung capacity is nowhere near what it needs to be in order to fully inflate your child’s favorite water toy. Continue reading Parents: Lung capacity is key when choosing an inflatable toy