![Smoke if you got em!]()
by Richard Timothy | Jun 7, 2010 | Horribly Horrible, I Do Suggest, I Think There's a Point, Non-Fiction, Observationally Speaking, Public Service Announcement
I was going share one of my new Vegas trip inspired Smirks today, but something happened last night after getting home that I feel a touch compelled to expand on. Some might call it a coincidence, but personally it seemed all too diabolical to be a mere coincidence. Once home we unloaded the car, and went through the mail, and turned on the AC, finally, because it was warmer inside the house than it was outside. Now considering we didn’t turn on the AC until June, I that as a rather impressive accomplishment. Angela and I even congratulated each other on that very fact.
As we waited for the air to begin flowing throughout the house I spent some time at the computer doing a little rereading and finally checking my e-mail for the first time that week. Eventually I went down stairs to see what Angela was up to, and to my complete lack of surprise she was sitting in front of the television working on her laptop, waiting for one of her Shirley Temple DVDs to start.
I did my best keep her company, but with the movie not half over and the clock ticking at me that it was already thirty minutes past midnight, I kissed goodnight and headed to bed, or so I thought. The long drive had worn me out so falling asleep was really not that difficult of a task. As for staying asleep, well that’s where the diabolical nature of the evening began.
I remember Angela climbing into bed. I had no idea what time it was, but for some reason having your significant other climb into bed while you’ve been sleeping is usually one of those things people remember. It’s like when the dishes start to rattle in the cupboard and you eventually think to yourself, “Oh hey! An earthquake!” except it’s not quite as subtle as that. It was shortly after I got repositioned that I heard a faint noise what sounded like a single and very direct bird chirp. It was too dark to be the demon wake-up call bird, so I let it go with a small sigh and tried to get myself to reboot back into an REM state of slumber. All of a sudden I heard it again. Another chirp made its way into my brain and destroyed any residual sleepy time thoughts I might have been having. My mind was now full of with a slew of dirty words that were probably incomprehensible to anyone listening due my knack for sleepily mumbling profanity.
As I got out of bed, Angela informed me that the smoke detector in the television room needed to have its battery replaced. Yes, the chirping was the smoke detector doing its best to annoy its master to the brink of either bludgeoning the device into silence or, through repetition, encouraging its owner to replace the batteries. Problem was, there were no 9-volt batteries in the house and 2:15 AM going out to get batteries was nowhere on my to-do list. Kindly, Angela had removed the detector from the ceiling and placed it in my office and covered with a few blankets to muffle the sound. This helped some, but the battery was still inside so the repetitious chirping had no intention on stopping any time soon.
I went into my office, and found the blanketed violator of dream time euphoria and with just a hint of vindictiveness I opened that round plastic disk of intended life saving functionality and gutted that little bastard, removing its life giving battery. Then I kept pressing the test button until there was no juice left. I had squeezed the life out of it, and I felt rather justified by that.
As I walked out of my office in a triumphant stagger of someone who really needed their nap after a long hard battle I heard a little chirp. “What the…, piece of sh…, rat bas…, sonofabi…, damn it!” was about all I could muster as I turned around and walked back into my office. Had there been any implements of light to medium destruction close by I would have swung first and asked questions later. So as I stood there, holding the detector in one hand and the batter in the other I heard the chirp again… there was another one out there that had decided that it too needed changing. Either that or it was smoke detector mating season in my house and two of these devices decided that they were in season and it was time to begin their mating calls.
I began begrudgingly exploring the house. Three chirps later I discovered the culprit was right next the bedroom in Angela’s office. Fortunately I was tall enough that was able to just stand on the floor and twist, pull, unplug and depower that little monster. Had I been required to use a chair to climb up to remove that thing, I’m pretty sure one if not both of us would have died. Once I got the battery out, there was one short moment of satisfaction where, as I pushed the tester button, the final chirp started strong, but as the power drained the chirp muttered and sputtered in to dead silence.
Yes, TWO smoke detectors decided to remind me that it was time to change their batteries at 2AM on a Monday night after getting back from Vegas. Yeah, so if I ever meet Loki I’m going to have him castrated, you know, for fun. The thing is this is the third time that’s happened. I wouldn’t care if they started chirping away once I got home. I’d gladly go to the store and gotten them some 9-volt feed to shut them up for another 6 months, but seriously 2 AM on three different occasions? Screw you smoke detectors… screw you.
I did have a thought as a stumbled back into bed. Smoke detectors need a snooze button. You can push it in instance that the battery starts to run low and beep to remind you of this, but it just so happens to be 2 or 3 in the morning. All you do is push the snooze button and the detector will shut up for about 10 hours. That way you can go back to sleep get a full night’s sleep and then when you get home from work the snooze will have worn off and the detector will be chirping away reminding you to replace the batteries right then instead of two hours after to go to bed.
It was baffling to me that there were actually two culprits taking part in the last night’s smoke detector incident. I mean maybe the house was upset that we had left for the week without telling it where we were going. I really have no idea. It just seems to me that there was some sort of meddling meddler that would have set up that type of dual reaction at roughly the same time of night. I know! I’ll bet it was that bird that kept attacking the bedroom window for all those weeks. It must have finally gotten into the house and set up the whole thing. Now I really hate that bird.
Well I suppose if the bird comes back in the next day or two to gloat then I’ll know who was responsible, otherwise it’s off the hook. On a side note, it hasn’t been around in almost a month so I’m pretty sure it’s finally moved on.
The incident was over fairly quick, but by all means, trust me on this and have some backup 9-volts in your home, just in case. Even if you are of a pleasant disposition, chirping smoke detectors in the middle of the night does cause one to lose that disposition in a hurry. I guess the only thing left to add is… note to self: pick up a two packs of 9-volt batteries on the way home tonight.
Any of you have your own smoke detector stories? Do share.
Image Source:
Google Images, key words: smoke detector, bed head, printer smash, snooze button, and pack of 9-volt.
![Smoke if you got em!]()
by Richard Timothy | May 31, 2010 | Gratefully Grateful, Holiday Banter, I Do Suggest, I Think There's a Point, Lightbulbs and Soapboxes, My List of Things that Don't Suck, Non-Fiction, Observationally Speaking
I did have a Smirk that I was going to post today, which I’ve been working on the past few days, but, clearly, I opted out of posting it due mainly to the fact that today is a holiday, Memorial Day to be precise. At its origin, Memorial Day was refereed as Decoration Day, where people would decorate the graves of Union soldiers that died during the American Civil War. The decorations were a way of paying respect and giving thanks to the soldiers who died while in service of the military.
Even as early as 1882 the name Memorial Day was used in relation to this holiday, but it was not until 1971 that it officially changed. The day was changed to always be observed on the last Monday of May in order to ensure a three day weekend. It also marks the beginning of summer.
I get that Memorial Day is for remembering our fallen military, but for me ever since I was little, the holiday as evolved into something more. To me, Memorial Day is a Dia de los Muertos, Day of the Dead. It’s not just a day for fallen soldiers, it’s a day for remembering all that have passed on. Since my mom’s grandparents were alive while I was growing up in Wyoming, there was never a need to go the their graves for memorial day, but once a year the family we would travel to Idaho and visit the little head stones of my dad’s parents. Then, as we would weed, edge, and deleaf their graves, and scrub clean their headstones, my dad would tell us stories about Grandma and Grandpa Timothy.
When my dad’s voice would start to crack and the silence between each sentence grew longer that is when the stories would come to a close, and we would go to the car and get out the food for our Memorial Day picnic. Usually it was sandwiches and Kool-Aid, and sometimes it was sandwiches and Kool-Aid and 7 Up mixed together for the magical combination of twice the sugar with only half the bubbles. Still, it was a treat that we never took for granted.
After lunch was over, we would usually head back home which consisted of me sitting in the middle of back seat with my feet on the hump and my knees to my chest. I would dare say that this was my least favorite traveling position, but as it turned out, it was rather fortuitous. I was a head duck away from a sitting fetal position, which was always helpful when sitting between my two older brothers who, on more than one occasion, would feel compelled to fight out what was between them… namely me. I love them both to pieces now, but as the little brother growing up, my old brothers were bastards… of course I mean no disrespect towards my mom. I’m just saying… we didn’t always get along when we were little.
Memorial Day is one of those red wine holidays. The older I get the more I appreciate and savor the holiday. I am grateful to the service men that did what they felt they needed to for this country, and I’m grateful for those that I have known who have expired. My grandparents on both sides of the family are now gone, but it was their lessons they transferred onto my parents that helped them become the parents they are for me. Today is a holiday to celebrate the memories we have of those who are gone and it should be a celebration. Their life has affected our life and for that, I am thankful.
Even though today is the US day of observance there are similar holidays celebrated for this same purpose. There is:
And I’m sure the list just keeps going from there. There is a certain homage that is tied to people who have served and died for their country. I do think, though, that one can serve their country without military service. I look at people working at a soup kitchen to assist those in need, or people offering their time to serve people in hospitals, or donating blood, or any type of service that helps others. To me, that is serving your country.
And to add just a one more thing to my little soapbox moment here, please try to leave the politics at home on days like today. Let’s try being gracious to those that are gone. So lift a glass, pint, mug, bottle, cask, keg… whatever really, but lift your drink and offer a thanks. I don’t see the point in getting angry on a day like today, it doesn’t do you any good and it doesn’t do those that are gone any good. I do admit I have no experience with losing a loved one due to war. I’m sure it’s different for you.
I think most service men die because those in charge made poor decisions or were too proud to have conversations with other people in charge that could save lives. Then again, there is also the occasional crazy bastard that just wants to kill epic amounts of innocent people. In which case I do think people like that could benefit from either a lobotomy or a circumcision that starts at the base of the neck. I guess the point is, that on your day of remembrance, you choose to remember the loved ones who is gone, and not what took them away.
I’m actually off to my brother’s for a BBQ this afternoon. When I get there, I’m going to have both my parents tell us a story about their parents. Even though we didn’t visit any graves this year, at least we can share and celebrate the memories we have of them. So to all those who have gone to whatever beyond you think might exist or not exist, to those who believed in and gave something to this world and their country , and to my grandparents, my Aunt Carol and Uncle Dee, and to my friend Alison. And finally to days like today, which remind us to remember. Cheers!
How was your Memorial Day?
Image Sources:
Google Images, key words: Memorial Day, family picnic, and grandpa telling stories.
![Smoke if you got em!]()
by Richard Timothy | May 27, 2010 | I Do Suggest, I Think There's a Point, Lightbulbs and Soapboxes, MST3K, My Cutie Baby Sweetie Pie, My List of Things that Don't Suck, Non-Fiction, Observationally Speaking, Reviewed and Recommended
Movies, we all know what one looks like after it’s had its 15 minutes and then walks the path of inevitable DVDism. And even though I gather most of my film consumption via DVD, I have even been known to do the occasional theater experience as well. I’d like to say it’s better, but you know how it goes, once you get there you find need for a tub of popcorn and a soda usually costs you slightly more than your first born, and if you want to get some Junior Mints to go along with that, you have to haggle with yourself on whether making your car payment that month is really more important than a box of processed dark chocolate stuffed with a foreign substance that is the equivalent of a aftermath of a candy canes sneeze. Sad thing is, sometimes we actually decide that chocolate covered peppermint boogers are worth being a little late on the car payment for the month.
There are some films that I think are enhanced by seeing them on the big screen. Granted, most of this enhancement comes from watching a film in a theater full of devoted fans as opposed to watching it with a group of people that are only in the theater because they want to get out of the summer heat. Fan excitement is a power to be reckoned with. Because of fan excitement I have found myself in the past enjoying the hell out of an incredibly mediocre film. Then again the opposite can happen as well. You can go to a rather exciting and entertaining film and if you happen to be surrounded by a collection of people jacked up on Ritalin, there is a chance it’s going to lose some of its splendor.
One of the magical aspects of the cinema is that it is an entertainment medium that gives every person that watches it the self proclaimed title of film critic. When first starting out as a film critic the initial practice of rating a film is very Roman in origin. A film either receives a thumbs up, meaning that it should be allowed to live so that others can experience the same viewing pleasure that you received. Or you give it a thumbs down, which simply means that you would recommend going to the dentist for a root canal as a viable entertainment option as opposed to seeing the film.
The situation that then follows is a result of film makers not holding themselves to a higher standard, or it could just be that the industry is flooded with trite and uninspiring film makers. The result is the relentless flow of films that are not good, but they don’t really suck either. This requires the novice film critic to add a new dimension to their film rating system. Enter the three star system:
1 Star = Hated it.
2 Star = It was ok.
3 Star = Loved it.
As opinions about film grow, so does the range of your ability to review a film, thus increasing your rating system to a five points, stars, A through F or something similar. For today’s purposes and to add clarity, I’m going to borrow Netflix’s five-star system and their definitions. It breaks down like this:
1 Star = Hated It
2 Star = Didn’t Like It
3 Star = Liked It
4 Star = Really Liked It
5 Star = Loved It
The problem I have with this is that there are way too many movies out there that evoke absolutely no emotion at all, or just fail to exceed any of your movie watching expectations, thus creating a completely new movie going experience. These are what I predominantly call background movies. Something you can put on in the background, while you are doing something else. The film really doesn’t have enough merit to encourage you to pay attention to them, meaning they are easy to ignore.
For me these are movies that earn my 3 Star rating. The nice thing about these films is their utter lack of interest, so it’s easy to work on other things and focus on other things while these movies play. This is the main reason movies I disliked or hated don’t fall into this category. Movies you dislike are instilling in you a negative response or an unpleasant emotion. On a personal note, if you are of the disposition that you need noise while you create and your preferred background noise is a television, please never create while a film that affects you negatively is playing. It’s just a bad way to create in my opinion.
Here is my personal 5 Star film rating system:
- 5 Star = Loved it. I am going to purchase this film when it comes out for my personal collection and worth watching a few times.
- 4 Star = Exceeded my expectations and worth the time I spent watching it.
- 3 Star = Met most to all of my expectations. An ok film… or in other words, out of all the movies I’ve ever seen that definitely was one.
- 2 Star = Mostly worthless. Met few to no expectations I had for the film.
- 1 Star = Screw you movie! That is two hours of my life I will never get back. I am actually stupider because I have watched this film. It might also be comparable to a vomit milkshake. (There are few movies that I hate this much, but there are some.)
If it makes sense to you, please feel free to adopt it and raise it as one of your own.
Also, based on that system, here are a few movies that I’ve seen that fall into each category:
1 Star = There Will Be Blood, No Country for Old Men, and Star Trek 5
2 Star = Aeon Flux, Burn After Reading, and Jerry Maguire
3 Star = Across the Universe, Crazy Heart, and Dances with Wolves
4 Star = The Breakfast Club, Dear Frankie, and O Brother, Where Art Thou?
5 Star = Harvey, The Hudsucker Proxy, and Stranger than Fiction
I do need to point out that I think for all people there is a kind of holy writ of viewing euphoria. It is very personal to the viewer and overflows with nostalgia, carrying with it such joy and appreciation that you could have it playing nonstop for days at a time. And whether you are paying attention or not, it’s fine, because you know that when you do stop and pay attention, it is always going to put a smile on your face, unconsciously causing you to appreciate everything in life that much more. It’s a kind of bliss movie, a blovie if you will. See even the word makes you smile. For me, it would have to be MST3K (or one of its off shoots), and for my sweetie-baby-cutie-pie its old Shirley Temple films. There is something permeatingly happy about watching Angela watch Shirley. They are a bit contagious in that regard.
So, what are some of your blovies?
Image Source:
Google Images, key words: watching movies, thumbs up, bored audience, and MST3K.
by Richard Timothy | May 25, 2010 | Gratefully Grateful, I Do Suggest, I Think There's a Point, Lightbulbs and Soapboxes, My List of Things that Don't Suck, Non-Fiction, Observationally Speaking, Public Service Announcement, Reviewed and Recommended
I remembered my towel today, and I didn’t panic once. Plus, I do believe I understand the psyche of Linus much better now as well. I did notice that there were a number of people at work today that gave me a noticeable glance of confused inquiry when I walked into the office with a towel draped over my satchel. The nice thing about towel accompaniment is that when you enter a situation where people are in the midst of panic you know you are going to be just fine, and you know why? Because you remembered your towel.
I figure this is the reason why these people only hurriedly glance in my direction as opposed to deliberate staring, or conversing with me as to why I had a towel. I would dare venture to say that the only people smiling at me were people who had also come to work today with a towel, but I was the only towel wielding one in the place. So venturing to say that would do no good. I did explain to a few friends in upper management my towel toting ensemble was a result of it being Towel Day, but this really didn’t help the confusion. So I gave them the history of this panic free day of remembrance.
Towel day first started in 2001, just two weeks after the sudden and premature death of author Douglas Adams. And since its incarnation, on every 25th of May for the past nine years, fans of Douglas display their love and appreciation of both the author and his works by toweling around for the day with a towel.
For those of you not familiar with the work of Douglas and therefore are a bit lost in regards to the towel homage being giving, here is my public service for the day. Here is the origin of the greatness of the towel, found in Chapter 3 of The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy.
“A towel, it says, is about the most massively useful thing an interstellar hitchhiker can have. Partly it has great practical value. You can wrap it around you for warmth as you bound across the cold moons of Jaglan Beta; you can lie on it on the brilliant marble-sanded beaches of Santraginus V, inhaling the heady sea vapors; you can sleep under it beneath the stars which shine so redly on the desert world of Kakrafoon; use it to sail a miniraft down the slow heavy River Moth; wet it for use in hand-to-hand-combat; wrap it round your head to ward off noxious fumes or avoid the gaze of the Ravenous Bugblatter Beast of Traal (such a mind-bogglingly stupid animal, it assumes that if you can’t see it, it can’t see you); you can wave your towel in emergencies as a distress signal, and of course dry yourself off with it if it still seems to be clean enough.
More importantly, a towel has immense psychological value. For some reason, if a strag (strag: non-hitch hiker) discovers that a hitch hiker has his towel with him, he will automatically assume that he is also in possession of a toothbrush, face flannel, soap, tin of biscuits, flask, compass, map, ball of string, gnat spray, wet weather gear, space suit etc., etc. Furthermore, the strag will then happily lend the hitch hiker any of these or a dozen other items that the hitch hiker might accidentally have “lost”. What the strag will think is that any man who can hitch the length and breadth of the galaxy, rough it, slum it, struggle against terrible odds, win through, and still knows where his towel is is clearly a man to be reckoned with.”
— Douglas Adams, The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy
Douglas captured my creative appreciation when I first introduced to him by my brother Dave, who gave me a copy of The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy for my 16th birthday. It was groovy enough that upon turning 16, I was legal to drive a car without supervisor, but to top it off I had a guide book, which even though it never helped me get a date, at least it reassured me that I would never be as depressed and Marvin, and encouraged me to always know where my towel was.
At 16 “The Guide” was a novelty and a source of a good laugh, but I never really let myself marinade in its Douglasian wit. It was a good read and a recommendation that I would give to others, but I never sought for more. My true appreciation for Douglas didn’t develop until he was, well, post Douglas and I read The Salmon of Doubt for the first time. There was something about the person Douglas that others wrote about that captured my true appreciation for the writer Douglas. The short articles that filled the first half of Salmon of The Doubt kept me laughing out at his wit, wordplay, and perspective on life that makes the loss of Douglas that much more reminiscent of Vogon poetry.
Since it is Towel Day and I am going to share a few of my Douglas related tokens I received this year, both from one of my new Facebook friends John Palfrey. The first is a nugget of Douglas trivia. Apparently, according to the book Pigs Might Fly by Mark Blake, The Inside Story of Pink Floyd, David Gilmour and Douglas Adams were best mates… I had no idea. So to those of you that didn’t know, you’re welcome (thanks John), and if you happen to be one of those that did know, you have all earned yourself the brown Arts & Literature Trivial Pursuit triangle. Well done and roll again.
The other thank you to John is for sending me the photo he took of Douglas’ headstone a few years back. Yes, that is a toy dolphin setting on top of it. There are some sayings that seem to find their perfect place in time and space. Creating a type of literary immortality where, as long as there are people who read, these phrases will live on. Some have been tried by time and translation, and are here for the long count. Phrases like, “And it came to pass”, “To be or not to be”, and “When in Rome.”
Then there are some sayings that are so poignant that even in their own time they catch a people’s minds and hearts and will not go gently into that good night. These phrases include “I have a dream”, “We have nothing to fear but fear itself”, and, of course, “So long and thanks for all the fish.” There are words that tie humanity together. Phrases that inspire in us, give us joy, strengthen our resolve, fill us with passion, bring us together in unity, and fill us with laughter. Douglas always had a gift at the latter of those.
Apart from all the unsure and panic stricken glances that today held, I did have, what I believe alcoholics refer to as a moment of clarity, which was this… regardless how you feel about Douglas or his canon of Hitchhiking tales, there is one irrevocable truth that encompasses today… As long as we live in a world where there are towels, we will have a world that remembers Douglas Adams.
Did any of you remember your towel today?
Image Source: John Palfrey and Google Images, key words: Towel Day, Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, and The Salmon of Doubt.
by Richard Timothy | May 20, 2010 | I Do Suggest, I Just Don't Get It, I Think There's a Point, Non-Fiction, Observationally Speaking, Something I Know Nothing About
There are some things that I do my very best not to have an opinion about. Things like, is the Loch Ness Monster real, which car would win in a race between a ’70 AMC Gremlin and a ’71 Ford Pinto, or are all babies cute? The answer to that last one, by the way, is no. Not all babies are cute. I have seen some ugly babies in my time, I just lie a lot and tell people their baby is cute…. Ok so I guess I do have an opinion about that last one. The point being, there are some things I do try to remain opinionless about. One of those things just happens to be things of a paranormal nature, or monster related sightings.
This, however, is becoming a little more difficult as of late, mainly due to the barrage of recent television shows focused on these very topics. Let’s list a few of the shows currently dedicated to “finding proof.” We have Ghost Hunters, Ghost Hunters International, Paranormal State, Destination Truth, Monster Quest, Ghost Adventures, Most Haunted, Unsolved Mysteries, Ghost Hunters Academy, Ghost Lab, The Haunted, A Haunting, Scariest Places on Earth, Psychic Kids, Scooby-Doo, and Creepy Canada, just to name a few.
I don’t know about you but that list seems a little excessive to me. I get that the reason more and more of them are popping up is because they are relatively inexpensive to make, and people seem to be watching these shows a bit more than they have done in the past. Still, I do have my gripes. Some shows seem more focused on displaying their designer tee shirts and immaculately styled hair than they are on finding anything paranormal. That’s right Ghost Adventures boys, I’m talking to you. Stop pretending to be possessed because you are not strong enough actors to carry an episode it’s full 43 minutes. You’re not fooling anyone… except maybe all the 13 year old girls that watch the show because they think you’re cute, but they don’t count. That age group is responsible for things like Hanna Montana and New Kids on the Block, not a lot of reliability when it comes to good taste at 13, except maybe Flintstones Vitamins.
Then we have the monster hunter type shows were people interview locals about what they saw anywhere from three months to 47 years ago. Then they spend one evening searching for the said monster/creature of myth and at the end… the one thing you can count on 100% of the time is the use of the phrase, “the evidence is inconclusive,” or as I like to call it the “we got nothing” disclaimer. 
Why do I watch them then? I think it’s a kind of 20/80 reasoning. 20% of it is mildly entertaining and 80% of it I enjoy, but it has to do with the research and history of were these myths may have originated from and I get to learn about new places around the world. Yes there are times when I am the Discovery Channel’s bitch, and discover I’ve spend three hours in one sitting watching that channel… damn you Shark Week.
My true lack of appreciation for these shows has to do with the losers of these shows. Let’s take one of the hunting for ghosts’ shows. You have these people who are caretakers for some estate, cellar, boat, theatre, or deteriorating insane asylum who believe wholeheartedly that they have their own little piece of the paranormal puzzle. Then they bring in these so called experts who put up a bunch of cameras and audio recorders and then spend maybe six hours total in the building and come back telling boasting “I think we got something.”
Then when they go back to the caretakers and reveal, “… they got nothing” and in their opinion their paranormal puzzle piece is just a piece and is not paranormal at all. Those moments always make me sad, it’s like when you discovered ** SPOILER ALERT** Santa wasn’t real, or the Easter Bunny didn’t really lay all those eggs you found in the backyard. It’s one of those moments that you lose a little piece of your imagination. And that is what happens to each one of those people who are told that their paranormal place is not haunted, poor things.
At least the people that are told their special place is haunted get to revel in that for a bit. I do wonder though, don’t you think TAPS could start some kind of rating system for “officially haunted” places, kind of like a ZAGAT rating for restaurants. The higher the rating the more paranormal activity a location has. Owners of these establishments could place their little TAPS rating plaque for people to see and to use it as a tool to help them plan where they would like to go on their next holiday. I mean, I know I wouldn’t use it, but I’m sure there are plenty that would.
And since I’m giving suggestions for improving these shows, there is one thing that would universally help every single one of these ghost finding shows currently on the air. All you have to do is look at the greatest ghost hunting team of all time and you will know exactly what I mean… they need a pet. The reason for the interstellar success and fame of Scooby-Doo is because they had a pet, they had Scooby. And yes interstellar, the sheer grandeur and magnificence of Scooby-Doo has vastly exceeded our solar system… I don’t care that I can’t prove that statement, the fact is it’s still true. I say pets because I’m not sure if this paradigm is strictly dog related or if it is a bit more open to just pets in general.
Now there are some shows that do attempt to use elements from Scooby’s many documented cases. Case in point Most Haunted. Just like the Scooby, the Most Haunted team spends a large portion of their time running away from every sound, movement, reflection, and anything that could even possibly be connected to any form of paranormal activity. Well done, you learned well from Scooby and Shaggy. The first time I saw this happen, I was all for spending a little more time with this band of “fraidy cat” investigators. After about three more situations like this in about a five minute time span, I gave up and changed the channel.
There was one key element that Most Haunted missed, an element that causes the Scooby performance to succeed and the Most Haunted performance to fail. This is the food motivated regrouping process that occurs after the run. Now if you were to have the Most Haunted crew forget about ghosts and begin looking for sandwiches then you’d have something I’d be willing to keep watching. Not only did they run away from ghosts, but they were able to make a four inch thick sandwich from random food they found in the house… now that is impressive.
Also, there is one final element… the Scooby snack. I have no idea what kind of narcotic a Scooby snack is, but it restores energy and courage to the heroes and enables them to continue with their ghost hunting without running away, and thus the evidence for assigning a location with the title “Haunted” is completed. Perhaps the Most Haunted crew needs to take a bunch of valium after they finish their sandwich, reinforcing in them the state of lucid calm. That way the next time they see the light from the camera filming them reflect in a mirror they won’t run away and instead walk up to that reflection and pet it until it either gets bored and runs away or until they become friends and can go find something a little more ghostly related.
As for the reality of whether these shows are true or false, real or fake, fact or make believe, I really don’t have an opinion. People believe what they want. I do like that it encourages people, especially adults, to use their imagination a bit more. Ghosts or not, I think we could all use a bit more imagination in our days, I know I could. One favor though, when using your imagination please try to avoid yelling, “What was that!” every time you walk into a room. It can get a trifle wearing.
What are your thoughts on the topic?
Image Sources:
Google Images, key words: ghosts, shark week, The Atlantic Paranormal Society, and Scooby and Shaggy.
I was going share one of my new Vegas trip inspired Smirks today, but something happened last night after getting home that I feel a touch compelled to expand on. Some might call it a coincidence, but personally it seemed all too diabolical to be a mere coincidence. Once home we unloaded the car, and went through the mail, and turned on the AC, finally, because it was warmer inside the house than it was outside. Now considering we didn’t turn on the AC until June, I that as a rather impressive accomplishment. Angela and I even congratulated each other on that very fact.
I remember Angela climbing into bed. I had no idea what time it was, but for some reason having your significant other climb into bed while you’ve been sleeping is usually one of those things people remember. It’s like when the dishes start to rattle in the cupboard and you eventually think to yourself, “Oh hey! An earthquake!” except it’s not quite as subtle as that. It was shortly after I got repositioned that I heard a faint noise what sounded like a single and very direct bird chirp. It was too dark to be the demon wake-up call bird, so I let it go with a small sigh and tried to get myself to reboot back into an REM state of slumber. All of a sudden I heard it again. Another chirp made its way into my brain and destroyed any residual sleepy time thoughts I might have been having. My mind was now full of with a slew of dirty words that were probably incomprehensible to anyone listening due my knack for sleepily mumbling profanity.
The incident was over fairly quick, but by all means, trust me on this and have some backup 9-volts in your home, just in case. Even if you are of a pleasant disposition, chirping smoke detectors in the middle of the night does cause one to lose that disposition in a hurry. I guess the only thing left to add is… note to self: pick up a two packs of 9-volt batteries on the way home tonight.
