Life of pie

I loves me some pumpkin pie. Always have.

I remember when I was a kid my parents bought a pumpkin pie from Ralphs and had the bad sense to leave me alone with it. I polished off that baby in no time, and when they got home all that was left was an empty pie tin and a kid with a bad, bad stomach ache.

Of course that pie was about a fourth the size of this one.

This is a pumpkin pie from Costco, the mecca of pumpkin pies. Smaller than a crop circle, larger than a manhole cover, this unbelievably tasty dessert is what I've been snacking on since our first Thanksgiving dinner on Thursday night.

You read that right - our first dinner.

Every year, we have the official TG'ing dinner with the family. Pretty routine. The same stories, faces and fights that we have every year. But then, we have a second one on Saturday night with our close friends.

And while the faces may change, the pie remains the same.

Of course, these pies don't just appear by themselves. Although what a great world this would be if they did. On Wednesday before TG'ing, I make the trek to Costco and pick up three giant pies for the holiday meals. You don't know what fun is until you're fighting for a pumpkin pie at Costco the day before TG'ing.

Anyway, it's Sunday morning and time for breakfast.

Or as we call it here, the sweetest meal of the day.

A good day for almost everyone

Before.

After.

Good vs. Evil

It’s not so much a movie as a direct assault on the nervous system. The first time I ever saw The Exorcist was at the late, great National Theater in Westwood. It was also the last time. Well, the last time I saw it in its entirety.

I can say without hesitation I’ve never been so terrified at a movie, any movie, before or since. There was more than one time I had to close my eyes because I didn't want any one of a number of horrifying images burned into my memory.

So when I saw The Exorcist on my cable channel listings, I thought maybe it’s time to get past my fear and see if I could get through it start to finish a second time, although I use the term “start-to-finish” in the loosest sense of the words.

I knew I had to lay down a few ground rules for myself. First, as I implied a second ago, I wasn’t going to watch it literally start to finish. I’d take breaks, maybe watch a little bit every morning before I went to work – which is what I wound up doing. And that brings me to my second point: I wasn’t going to watch it at night.

It’s not that I’m afraid of things that go bump in the night. I’m afraid of things that levitate, vomit pea soup, spin their heads around and sound like Mercedes McCambridge in the night. No, this was going to be a daytime viewing so I’d have plenty of hours to make sure it wasn’t top of mind just as I was drifting off to dreamland.

Or attempting to.

Now that I’ve seen it again and had a chance to think about it, it wasn’t nearly as scary as the first time. At least not in the same way. I can see now the effects, which while still great, were limited by the technology of the time. The head spinning doesn’t look quite as real as it did. The levitating looks like a magic trick. The blood, hers and others, looks a little too red to be real.

What is even better than I remember is the caliber of acting from the entire cast. The subtlety and nuance in each actor's performance is nothing short of remarkable. It would've been easy to drift into the expected horror film hamminess, but no one in the movie treats the material as anything other than real.

But what's as scary to me now as it was then is the idea of good versus evil. I’m a believer there's evil in the world, and there's a constant battle going on. Don't believe me? Pick up a newspaper (or an iPad).

The scene where Father Karras says to Father Merrin, “I believe there are three distinct personalities.” And Father Merrin replies, “There is only one.” rings true to me.

The tricks the devil uses in the movie to deceive - a combination of lies with just enough truth mixed in - seem eerily similar to what goes on in the world around us every day.

I think that's the power of the film, reminding us that the battle between good and evil is ongoing and real. And if we let our guard down for a second, the wrong side wins.

Which makes The Exorcist a film worth watching with your eyes open.

Quit asking

From presidential debates to housing values to climate change, people have to stop asking the question, "Is this the new normal?"

Don't get me wrong, I liked it the first time I heard it - a hundred thousand times ago. But like "at the end of the day," "having said that," "___ is the new 30" and "______ is the new black," I've heard it more than one time too many. It's worn out its welcome.

What bothers me about it is the fearfulness it represents. The minute anything changes, the question is asked. But how can one really know, because by the time you give or get an answer, things have changed again.

Catch phrases get popular fast and spread like wildfire: it's hard to know why one becomes timeless and another just becomes annoying. For every "And there's nothing wrong with that." there's a "Really?" gasping for air in the gutter.

I know, you read this blog for an occasional smile and witty end line, and today all you get is complaining.

I know what you're thinking.

Don't ask.

Humorous Religious Birthday Male Amputee Red Hair 30+

Segmentation is nothing new to advertising and marketing. We’ve been carving our clients’ targets into slimmer and slimmer segments forever, using things like age, sex, interests, interests in sex (see what I did there?), zip code, household income, number of dogs, kind of car, etc.

But the practice seems to have spilled over into other areas.

Cable channels are a good example: if you’re a foodie, the Food Network is there for you. Shopaholic? QVC 24/7. Weather enthusiast? First, if you are I wouldn’t admit it to anyone. But secondly, there’s always the Weather Channel with local weather on the 8’s – so I hear.

I recently came up against the latest example when I was looking for a birthday card for my nephew.

On the racks, the greeting cards were segmented into not only the examples here, but dozens more. All I wanted was a card that said Happy Birthday. They don’t make it easy. Maybe they think they are, but they’re not.

I should probably head over to the Complaints Chain Store CEO 50+ Birthday Cards Relatives and see what I can find.

Urine no position to talk

I am a series of contradictions. I’m private by nature, but also a little social butterfly. Outgoing, but guarded. I like good conversation, but have no patience for small talk. I’d never describe myself as chatty, especially in certain places.

Like elevators. Or restrooms.

For some reason, the design of most men’s rooms is far too neighborly for me. At least a lot of them have the good sense to put up a divider between urinals. But even that doesn’t stop these lamebrains with full bladders and empty heads from wanting to strike up a conversation while emptying the tank.

Here’s my question: how starved for conversation are you that you feel the need to talk to a complete stranger while they’re peeing?

It usually starts with a head nod, and the usual, “Hey.” Who the hell knows where it goes from there: sports scores, cars, women. Happy to talk about them all.

Just. Not. Here.

It’s like going to clubs and seeing guys in the men’s room on their cell phones. Is that the best place to make the call? Not that urinals and toilets flushing don't make a lovely backdrop to the conversation.

Fortunately, side-by-side isn’t the only option where I’m currently working. There’s one urinal off by itself, a stall wall on one side, and a tile wall on the other. Conversation proof and private. Or as private as it can be in a public restroom. This is the one I use. If it’s busy, I’ll leave and go to another men’s room on another floor in the building. They’re all the same.

I know what you're thinking: if I want privacy, why not just use a stall? Because if I use a stall I have to close the door and lock it. I'm a bit of a germophobe. I don't want to touch more things than I have to, if you get my drift.

So a little advice when nature calls. Go, do your business, and leave. Don’t strike up a conversation, with me or anybody else.

Because you know what's almost more unbearable than being involved in a bathroom conversation? Listening to one.

Movin' on down

I have a good friend who's constantly reminding me that any day above ground is a good day. I think that's probably true for most people.

Unless you're Sherman Hemsley, who's been above ground since he died of lung cancer on July 24th.

Well, above ground and in refrigerated storage in a funeral home in El Paso.

A long way from the east side.

Seems the hold up was, and I know you'll be as shocked as I was, money. After Hemsley died, his half-brother crawled out of the woodwork and sued his brother's companion of the last 20 years, Flora Bernal, to be made executor of his estate. Sadly, it's been a very long time since The Jeffersons. His estate was estimated at just over $50,000.

Today the judge ruled against his half-brother, and kept Flora Bernal executor per Hemsley's last wishes in his will. She is now free to manage his estate, and finally put his body to rest.

There's not a lot of dignity in death as it is. But being on ice for three and a half months while people fight over your estate sure takes away what little there may have been left.

But it's all settled now, and he's finally movin' on up to that deluxe apartment in the sky.

Finally, rest in peace Sherman.