Department Of First Things First
Innumerable thanks to friend MB for sending me this cartoon by the immeasurably spot-on Roz Chast, under the subject of Happy Mother’s Day/Unappreciated Author’s Day:
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Department Of Wait A Minute – Did He Just Sing That?
One advantage of occasionally listening to an oldies station is occasionally having reminders of how much I loathed the songs of Gary Puckett And The Union Gap.
In the songs GP & TUG which were most known for – “Young Girl,” “Lady Willpower,” and “Woman, Woman” – lead singer GP expresses a recurrent and overriding concern: girls and women should have sex with him.
In Lady Willpower he’s frustrated that Lady W won’t sleep with him. He promises he’ll be nice to her if she does, but warns their relationship will end if she doesn’t. By Young Girl he’s been so successful in his entreaties that the ladies apparently want them some GP lovin,’ but one in particular…well…he doesn’t want to go to jail for statutory rape. In the power ballad Woman Woman, GP has gotten at least one woman to sleep with him, only it’s not going the way he planned – he suspects she’s checking out her other options. Woman Woman‘s claim to The Equal Rights Hall of Shame ® is its third verse, arguably one of the more patronizing misogynist set of lyrics of its time (and that’s saying a lot):
A woman wears a certain look
when she is on the move
and the man can always tell
what’s on her mind
(lyrics from Woman, Woman , written by Jim Glaser and Jimmy Payne,
recorded by Gary Puckett & The Union Gap)
Of course, the years those songs were popular (late 60’s – early 70’s) was a time when rock music – and just as important, rock radio – was experiencing a new freedom in terms of what bands could sing and DJs could play on the air. Translation: a lot of sexuality, implied and overt, was being expressed – and a lot of it was really good. Remember subversive delight of listening to the Kink’s “Lola” and figuring out what was between the lines, so to speak (and celebrating the face that the Kinks had snuck one past your parents, the radio censors – The Establishment in general)? In fact, gems like Lola (along with the saucy dialog from early movies, from Mae West to the Marx Brothers) are one reason I’m in favor of something admittedly controversial – not censorship per se, but certain general “decency” guidelines for art. I truly believe that such lines-not-to-be-crossed inspires or even forces artists to greater heights of creativity, in that they must find ways to cross those lines and cleverly imply what they cannot overtly say or show….
Which is a subject worthy of its own day/post. Digression over. Returning to subject:
GP & TUG were not the only ick offenders; it (lovelorn/horny guy trying to get his girl to have sex with him) was a popular topic of the times. Even a group like Bread, known for its soft rock hits (“If,” “Baby I’m-a-Want You,”  “Everything I Own,” “Sweet Surrender,” “Guitar Man”) had a song called “Let Your Love Go,” their all-but-forgotten early hit, which I liked at the time (and still do  ), as its melody and catchy rhythm outweighed (for moiself) the leering silliness of its girl-you-need-to-have-sex-with-me-right-now-trust-me-it’ll-be-good-for-you lyrics.
Moiself is aware of the pitfalls judging the art of yesterday by the standards of today, but that’s not what I’m doing here: I strongly remember thinking the GP & TUG songs ick-creepy at the time of their release, no matter what my peers thought.  Don’t take my word for it, look up the GP & TUG sons yourself, if you have no life the time and are curious. They are unintentionally hilarious in a way that transcends time and social norms. Also, the band’s costumes are just plain goof-worthy.
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Department Of My Favorite Wrong Number
I answered our home phone other day and it was a wrong number…which almost never happens anymore. What with the various forms of telephone screening available, I bet that rarely happens to you, either.
Moiself (almost) never picks up the phone if I don’t recognize the number/if caller ID doesn’t tell me who it is. The Other Day ® was one of those occasions that puts the almost in almost never: I was expecting a call from someone and didn’t know how their business might be identified. Usually when I make that kind of exception – answer the phone even though caller ID can provide no specific information – it turns out to be or one of those annoying sales or political robocalls which somehow managed to attach themselves to a legitimate business number. 
But the call I received The Other Day ® was an actual wrong number!! Dialed by a Real Live Person ® !! Whom I got to inform (after asking the number they’d intended to dial) that this was indeed a wrong number as they had transposed two digits in the number they’d intended to dial!! And for some reason, this made me happy!!
And for some reason translation: This Brain of Mine ® reacted to the event by recalling the story of My Favorite Wrong Number. 
One evening, a long time in a galaxy far, far away,  I answered the telephone in the rental house I shared with two other women. The caller, whose voice indicated she was an elderly woman with a black urban/southern accent, asked to speak with Raymond. “I’m sorry,” I told her, “There’s no one named Raymond here. You must have dialed a wrong number.”
Instead of apologizing for her misdial, the woman insisted that I put Raymond on the phone. I told her there was no one in the house named Raymond; she refused to believe me. She had dialed Raymond’s number and wanted to speak with him. This back and forth continued for about four rounds of There is no Raymond here/you dialed the wrong number from me, and This is not the wrong number and I want to speak with Raymond from her. Why did I keep the exchange going? I’m not sure – I do remember getting some petty pleasure from her obstinate refusal to concede her error…or perhaps I just didn’t want to hang up on an old lady. Finally, my amusement faded to annoyance, and the approximate conversation took place:
Moiself: Okay. Why don’t you tell me the number you meant to dial?
Caller: I know I dialed 415-8671!
Moiself: Ah, here’s the problem: our number is 415-8617. You transposed the last two digits.
Caller (huffing with indignation): I did no such thing! I’ve been dialing that number for years.
Moiself: Well, tonight you dialed it wrong.
Neither of us spoke for several seconds, during which I anticipated a sheepish apology followed by a quick hang up from the caller.
Caller (after a dramatic pause): If this is a wrong number, then why did you answer?
For a moment there, she stunned me into silence by the sheer existential WTF-ness of her accusation-framed-as-question. Yeah…so…why did I answer a wrong number?
Moiself (sputtering with astonishment): Look, lady, you called me!?!?!?
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Department Of Is CBD A BFD?
Is it just my imagination, or is it inevitable that every store in Oregon,  from those selling hair gels to orthotic shoe inserts, will soon be offering CBD products for sale?
Nope; looks like it’s not just me:
The flood of CBD products has become so overwhelming that the U.S. Food and Drug Administration recently stepped into the fray.
The agency has whipped out a flurry of warning letters to companies marketing CBD products, telling them to stop making unfounded health claims for the substance.
Companies have falsely claimed CBD can stop cancer cells, slow the progression of Alzheimer’s disease, ease nerve pain and fibromyalgia, and curb withdrawal symptoms for people undergoing substance abuse treatment, the FDA letters state.
(The Controversy Over CBD Oil Health Claims, Newsmax Health)
Across the nation there are growing concerns re the overblown claims of the health or medical benefits of cannabidiol (CBD) – which, BTW, due to what medical school professor Marcel-Bonn Miller calls “the legally murky status of marijuana,” is produced without regulation as to strength or quality. (“It really is the Wild West,” Bonn-Miller said. “Joe Bob who starts up a CBD company could say whatever the hell he wants on a label and sell it to people.”)
When it comes to marijuana-related products there is much exaggeration from all sides, and it is hard to weed out (sorry) the possible help from the probable hype…but most of what I’ve read and seen has raised my instinctive, “miracle cure” antenna. This happened most recently on Tuesday, when I was driving past a pet shop in downtown Hillsboro whose signboard suggested pet owners stop in and check out their “CBD oil for pet pain relief.”
For a moment, I was tempted to delay my errand, park my car, enter the store, point to the signboard and ask the clerk if their CBD oil would work for reptiles in distress. You see, RuPaul, my red-tailed boa constrictor, appears to be in pain from an abcessed tooth. I would wait for the inevitable, “Oh, of course…” sales pitch, which I would interrupt with,
“So, you’re saying you have no qualms about selling me snake oil?”
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Department of Epicurean Excursion 
Featuring this week’s cookbook, author and recipe:
At Home in the Whole Food Kitchen by Amy Chaplin
* Creamy Cauliflower and Celery Root Soup With Roasted Shitakes
* Steamed Greens with Zesty Flax Seed Dressing
For the soup: I liked it enough to give it the standard two thumbs up, but the recipe’s addition of a topping of roasted sliced shitakes elevates the rating to:
For the greens:
☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼
Recipe Rating Refresher [9
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Department Of Remember This?
Aka Department Of You Can’t Make Up This Shit
Headlines along the lines of, Prolife Congressman Resigns In Disgrace After Revelations He Asked Mistress To Abort Pregnancy had their 15 minutes of media attention ~ 18 months ago, when Pennsylvania Republican congressman Tim Murphy’s text messages with his extramarital lover were leaked, revealing that he’d asked her to “take care of” her pregnancy by him.
A politician actively working to block all women’s access to a medical procedure while he covertly suggests his illicit lover seek out the same procedure? Imagine that.
Rep. Murphy gave the customary weasel-worded, non-apology resignation statement (my emphases):
“After discussions with my family and staff, I have come to the decision that I will not seek reelection to Congress at the end of my current term. In the coming weeks I will take personal time to seek help as my family and I continue to work through our personal difficulties and seek healing. I ask you to respect our privacy during this time.”
I know, I know.
Holy crap – bickering five year olds on the schoolyard playground know the rules. Gee, Congressman Murphy Pecksniff,  let’s make a deal: we’ll respect yours if you’ll respect ours.
How does this lying, cheating, turdsack of hypocrisy have the shriveling oblivious cojones to ask for privacy for himself, when he supports the government having the right to stick its nose in a woman’s uterus very personal healthcare decisions?
I was thinking of the Congressman Murphy stinkbomb as per what’s going on those inbred backwater shithole states – yeah, Alabama, excuse me, TALIBAMA, I’m talkin’ to you – whose legislatures are working to restrict or ban outright abortion. This is as much as I have the stomach for right now. There will be more, yes, much more about this, in next week’s blog.
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May you be WTF wary and check the FAQ about the OMG claims of CBD;
May you have a Favorite Wrong Number story (and if you do, share it with moiself);
May our paths never cross at a Gary Puckett and The Union Gap Karaoke Fest;
…and may the hijinks ensue.
Thanks for stopping by. Au Vendredi!
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 I’m a what?
 It’s on my Fun Songs playlist.
 One male friend said he thought the GP & TUG songs “romantic.”
 The most recent one I received, which turned out to be a partisan political survey, was identified on my caller ID as “Hillsboro Clean Water Services,” which is an actual city service.
 Real phone numbers disguised to protect…something.
 Palo Alto, CA, circa 1987
 and the other 29 states which have legalized either recreational or medical marijuana products.
 A recurring feature of this blog, since week 2 of April 2019, wherein moiself decided that moiself would go through my cookbooks alphabetically and, one day a week, cook (at least) one recipe from one book.
* Two Thumbs up: Liked it
* Two Hamster Thumbs Up : Loved it
* Thumbs Down – Not even Kevin (a character from The Office who would eat anything) would like this.
* Twiddling Thumbs: I was, in due course, bored by this recipe.
* Thumbscrew: It was torture to make this recipe.
* All Thumbs: Good recipe, but I somehow mucked it up .
* Thumby McThumb Face: This recipe was fun to make.
* Thumbing my nose: Yeah, I made this recipe, but I did not respect it.
 A slang term for a hypocrite. Is that a great word, or what?
May 17, 2019 @ 21:27:04
“inbred backwater shithole states” – one of the best phrases you’ve ever written!! Love your blog.
May 17, 2019 @ 22:32:56
Thanks, Beth. I’m sure my mother would be proud (well….actually….)