Whiskey in a Pod and Other Bad Ideas

So, when Mike went to sleep last night he was in Atlanta, and when he woke up this morning he thought he was in Chicago. The temperature dropped by over 40 degrees. This morning I saw that retired greyhound, Josephine, walking with her guardians, wearing an orange, black and white coat. I didn’t get close enough to see the figures on the coat, but it was no doubt Halloween-themed. And speaking of Halloween, last night was weird in another way. It being All souls Day, or Halloween, the streets were crawling with goblins, little characters from movies, and other assorted creatures, all carrying pillowcases or large pumpkin-shaped baskets. Some were kids from Happy Meadows, and some were bussed in from who knows where. It was not a good night for a little black cat to be nosing around, so I stayed in. Mike and Judy answered the door and gave out candy for hours, it seemed, while we were all cooped up upstairs. They were afraid that if they kept opening the door the other cats would get out, a thing that has never happened, ever. They only leave the house in a carrier, to see the Extreme vet. They don’t even show interest in trying to get out. But, I’m sure if the door is left standing open, curiosity would get the best of one or more of them. Better not happen.

One day this past week, I think Tuesday, was National Cat Day (See “Happy National Cat Day, Y’all'” October 29, 2017.) This is an absurd designation for a day. Cats are special every day, and require no special recognition. Or looking at it another way, cats are so special that no amount of recognition would adequately represent our specialness. I could see having a National iguana day, or a National ferret day. Even dogs are too special to be limited to one day of recognition per year. Maybe they should have a month. Maybe they already do.

So, Mike had his chemo yesterday, and got some indication of a plan. Unless something changes he will have his stem cell transplant by the end of the year. I am going to the hospital with him. It should be interesting, and he will need me to keep him company, and to document his experience. I hope he doesn’t get too sick. So far his chemo has been a breeze, relatively speaking. I will keep you posted.

Let’s get back to me ranting about misuse of the English language. Last time I was spouting off about trite language (“It Is What It Is”, October 24, 2019.) I saw in the sports page this week the following quote by a prominent local football coach: “The misnomer there is that I don’t want the game in Jacksonville.” Misnomer is a term reserved for the incorrect use of a term, not the incorrect expression of an idea. That would be a misconception. So, the sentence properly expressed would be, “The misconception there is that I don’t want the game in Jacksonville.” However, this is a lie, because elsewhere in the article he clearly states that he opposes playing the game in Jacksonville. So he is not being truthful, and relying on bad English usage in the process. And, he makes more money than the local governor, and way more than the Chair of the English department of his institution.

So, the expression, “Washington, first in war, first in peace, and last in the American League” no longer applies. For one thing, Washington is no longer in the American League. As near as I can tell, the Washington Senators relocated to Arlington, Texas in 1972 and became the Texas Rangers.  Washington was finally and deservedly graced with a new major league baseball franchise when the Montreal Expos, a National League team, relocated there in 2005. They were renamed the Washington Nationals. They didn’t finish in first place in the National League this year, but did earn a wild card into the playoffs, which they won. They just won the World Series, beating the Houston Astros in 7 games, all won by the visiting team, an almost unimaginable circumstance. The Houston team also has a history of moving around, but without ever leaving Houston. They began as a National League expansion team in 1962, the same year that the New York Mets began their existence. Houston was known as the Colt .45s until 1965 when they moved into the world’s first domed stadium, the Astrodome, in 1965. Houston, as you I am sure are aware is the home of NASA, which was new and exciting in those days, working as they were on the moonshot. So, the team changed their nickname to the Astros. In 1994 they were moved from the National League West division to the Central Division. In 2013 they were moved to the American League. This last move was apparently never explained to Mike, who thinks they are still in the National League. You can imagine how confusing this World Series was to him. The Astros, by the way, are the only major league baseball team to have won a pennant in both leagues. Now that is special.

I understand that a manufacturer of Scotch whiskey has introduced whiskey in a pod, presumably so that the consumer no longer has to go to the trouble to pour the whiskey into a glass. This is the latest in a series of products produced in pods including coffee, vaping devices, and laundry detergent. I see many disadvantages to the whiskey concept, however. What if you want your scotch over ice? What if you want to have it in a mix? What if you are civilized and enjoy sipping your drink? This is a good example of just because you can doesn’t mean you should. And another sad fact is that this is just one more product in the world of alcohol that Mike won’t get to experience. He swore off in 1983 and has not partaken thereof since. He says if he relapses it sure as hell won’t be with a whiskey pod. Other innovations he has missed out on include wine coolers, ice beer, Coors light, exotic martinis, and flavored vodka (see “The End of the World,” May 26, 2018.) Too bad, Mike!

Mike seems to be enjoying his semi-retirement, having eliminated over 80% of his work load by closing his practice. He does miss his patients, though. Now that he has more time for other activities he is reading some interesting books, some of which I will mention from time to time, and maybe toss you a pearl once in a while.

Getting back to the weather, we finally got some more rain. It is funny hearing people complain about the rain even when we need it desperately. It’s just like everyone was complaining (myself included) about how cold it was this morning. So, as usual, not that much of interest going on in Happy Meadows. I’m sure that will change, in some totally unexpected way. If it does, you will certainly hear about it from me. Until then, be safe, be happy, and resist that urge to try that bleu cheese pod about to hit your local grocery store (just kidding. Go ahead, try it.)  Au revoir!

Author: Black Magic

Black Magic is a handsome, charming, and self-absorbed cat who lives with Mike and Judy Gordon in Marietta, Georgia. He is about 7 years old, and he will remind you at every opportunity that his grandfather was Black Jack, that famous cat who wrote his own autobiography. Black Magic has a great many opinions, and despite his natural feline arrogance, he seems to be genuinely spiritual. But the reader can decide for him/herself.

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