Leftovers & Links #55

On the list of things I hate, taking a dump anywhere but home is in the top 100. Maybe the top 50, depending on the place and the poop. When I’m dead, it’s absolutely OK to say, “At least he’ll never again have to sit on someone else’s toilet.”

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Man pranks conservative radio show

by naming a ton of punk bands

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At the Burger King drive-through, I was third in line. The car in front of mine had no rear plates, and no temporary plates, just an empty space where the license plate is supposed to be mounted. The car behind mine was a police car.

Then I was second in line, and I watched and waited as the passenger in the plateless car tossed two empty beer cans onto the parking lot, while the driver shouted his order into the microphone when an ordinary volume would suffice, and added, "don't fuck it up." The BK employee said, “Thank you, please pull forward,” and the idiots' car rolled toward the drive-thru window.

There was no raised curb preventing it, so instead of placing my order I pulled away, making the cop car next in line. I looped around to the back of the line again, and watched as the cops placed their order, then drove ahead, directly behind the car with no license plates.

Predictably — and indeed it was my intent — the cops soon flipped on their woo-woo noisemaker and pulled over the unlicensed vehicle, there in the parking lot. Then it got more dramatic than I'd intended, as the cops drew their guns and everybody shouted for thirty seconds or so. By the time I had my Whoppers and onion rings, the driver and passenger were in handcuffs, in the back of the patrol car.

I'm glad nobody got killed, which is always a risk when police are involved. I've second-guessed myself, a little, for basically ‘calling the cops’ by bailing out of the drive-through line, knowing I'd be giving the oinkers a clear view of the vehicle in front of them.

I don't quite regret it, though. And it wasn’t about the missing license plate — I don’t give a damn about license plates. Wasn’t about the presumably drunk driving, or littering on the parking lot. I did it because that fucker disrespected the staff at Burger King.

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For only a few homoerotic moments between Kirk and Spock, author Della van Hise lost her gig writing Star Trek novels.

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I’m a sucker for old musicals and old music, so let’s dance.

On the dancers’ biography page, it says “Bianca and Nils are members of the Swedish national team in Boogie Woogie and Lindy Hop.” I say, the USA has an army, navy, air force, and marines, all dedicated to killing people and making the world a worse place. Why can’t we have a national dance team, to celebrate life and dance and make things better?

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Eugene, Oregon is the only city I know that was named for its founder’s first name, not his last name.

It was Eugene Skinner, if you were wondering.

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OK, damn it. I’ve heard of the show for years, but never seen Diners, Drive-Ins, and Dives, mostly because I don’t have cable or even a TV. Another thing keeping me away, though, is that I have seen another Guy Fieri show, Guy's Grocery Games, and the man’s relentless on-screen optimism and cheerfulness make me want to heave.

I do, however, love diners, drive-ins, and dives, so finally, this article — basically a love letter to the show — has convinced me to give it a watch. Am I gonna regret this?

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Bob & Bob, International Headquarters.

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At a local, ordinary theater, a ticket to an evening screening of an ordinary movie costs $16.62. That's ordinary.

The most I’ve ever paid to see a movie is still seven bucks, and like Wilt Chamberlain's 100-point game, it’s a record that will never be broken.

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Dig, a history podcast: In which several degreed women do a deep dig through something from history every two weeks. No ads, no jokes, no banter, no annoyingly long introductions or stupid theme song, and minimal begging for donations — mostly it’s just the facts, ma’am.

Recent eps I’ve enjoyed included the history of Aunt Jemima, and the history of entrapment and misconduct by police. Even some episodes that seemed likely to be boring, based on the descriptions, weren't boring.

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Remember when we were young and innocent, or at least young? Before the wrinkles. When ‘better’ was possible. When you could list the things you were worried about on an index card. When you thought dreams could come true. When you knew you’d have everything under control in a few years, because by then you’d be an adult, and adults had their shit together, right? So we thought, and so it goes.

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Mystery links — Like life itself, there’s no knowing where you’re going:

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Sing along with Doug:
"Somewhere"
music by Leonard Bernstein
lyrics by Stephen Soundheim
performed by Tom Waits
Sincere tip 'o the hat:
BoingBoing
Captain Hampockets
Follow Me Here
Hyperallergic
LiarTownUSA
Messy Nessy Chick
National Zero
Ran Prieur
Vintage Everyday
Voenix Rising
EXTRA SPECIAL THANKS:
Becky Jo
Name Withheld
Dave S.
Leftovers & Links