Don't Laugh, It's Coming

Now That's Realism

FREDERICA, Delaware –– The apparent suicide of a woman found hanging from a tree went unreported for hours because passers-by thought the body was a Halloween decoration, authorities said.

The 42-year-old woman used rope to hang herself across the street from some homes on a moderately busy road late Tuesday or early Wednesday, state police said.

The body, suspended about 15 feet above the ground, could be easily seen from passing vehicles.

State police spokesman Cpl. Jeff Oldham and neighbors said people noticed the body at breakfast time Wednesday but dismissed it as a holiday prank. Authorities were called to the scene more than three hours later.

"They thought it was a Halloween decoration," Fay Glanden, wife of Mayor William Glanden, told The (Wilmington) News Journal.

"It looked like something somebody would have rigged up," she said.

Musical Maxims

Have you ever thought how much great (and terrible) advice and life philosophies there are in pop songs? I sat around the other day and tried to recall all the pithy lines I could. Here's 10 off the top of my head. Maybe you can add your own to this list:

1. Every form of refuge has its price. (Lyin’ Eyes, Eagles)

2. Freedom’s just another word for nothing left to lose (Me and Bobby McGee, Janis Joplin).

3. You don’t need a weatherman to know which way the wind blows. (Subterranean Homesick Blues, Bob Dylan)

4. All that glitters is gold (All Star, Smash Mouth)

5. Life is what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans. (Watching the Wheels, John Lennon).

6. You don’t know what you’ve got till it’s gone. (Big Yellow Taxi, Joni Mitchell)

7. In the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make. (The End, Beatles)

8. All you need is love. (All You Need is Love, Beatles)

9. You can’t please everyone, so you’ve got to please yourself. (Garden Party, Rick Nelson)

10. It’s what we do that makes us what we are. (One Less Set of Footsteps, Jim Croce)

What Happens in the Blogosphere Stays in the Blogosphere (Yeah, Right)

I’m sure by now, if you live in America and come within one linear mile of a television set now and then, you have seen the commercials hawking Las Vegas as a place where you can do things you normally wouldn’t do, with the knowledge that your dirty deeds (or at least your embarrassing ones) won’t become gossip fodder back home. You’ve no doubt heard the slogan that sums up the philosophy:

WHAT HAPPENS IN VEGAS
STAYS IN VEGAS

As it usually happens with catchy slogans, this one has caught on and is being copied and modified all over. The other day, I even saw a student on the campus of America’s largest Baptist university with a T-shirt that read

WHAT HAPPENS AT BAYLOR
STAYS AT BAYLOR

This got me to thinking (which is always a dangerous turn of events). What if this slogan concept had been available much earlier in world history? What kind of T-shirts would have been in evidence?

I think all the way back to the 1500s on the North Carolina coast, the site of England’s first North American colony. No doubt Virginia Dare and her fellow “lost” colonists were wearing clothing that said

WHAT HAPPENS ON ROANOKE ISLAND
STAYS ON ROANOKE ISLAND

In the same way, Amelia Earhart’s support team should have worried when they saw her step into her plane after refueling in Lae, bound for Howland Island, wearing a T-shirt that said

WHAT HAPPENS IN OPEN WATER
STAYS IN OPEN WATER

These types of shirts likely would have shown up at other points in history. Imagine the guards watching Tsar Nicholas II and his family in that cellar in 1918, wearing T-shirts with hammers and sickles that proclaimed

WHAT HAPPENS IN EKATERINBURG
STAYS IN EKATERINBURG

And what good Nazi anxious to impress Hitler and Himmler would have been caught dead in 1944 without a brown T-shirt that read

WHAT HAPPENS IN AUSCHWITZ
STAYS IN AUSCHWITZ

I think other criminals would have been attracted to the slogan concept as well. Too bad Scotland Yard didn't stop and question the surgeon’s assistant wearing the bloody smock that read

WHAT HAPPENS IN WHITECHAPEL
STAYS IN WHITECHAPEL

And people should have been a bit suspicious about Unabomber Theodore Kaczynski when he came into town for supplies wearing sunglasses and a smelly, torn sweatshirt that read

WHAT HAPPENS IN LONELY, REMOTE SHACKS IN THE WILDS OF MONTANA
STAYS IN LONELY, REMOTE SHACKS IN THE WILDS OF MONTANA

Politics would be a natural for these as well. In fact, I’ve learned that Deep Throat didn’t decide to reveal his identity because he wanted to. He was forced to, being outed by neighbors who saw him mowing the lawn in shirts that said

WHAT HAPPENED IN EMPTY WASHINGTON D.C. PARKING GARAGES AT NIGHT DURING THE NIXON ADMINISTRATION
WILL STAY IN EMPTY WASHINGTON D.C. PARKING GARAGES AT NIGHT DURING THE NIXON ADMINISTRATION
(AT LEAST UNTIL I’M DEAD)

Speaking of Nixon, the T-shirts he and Bill Clinton had made didn’t work like they hoped:

WHAT HAPPENS IN THE OVAL OFFICE
STAYS IN THE OVAL OFFICE

Those guys should have learned from President Harding’s cabinet members back in the 1920s during the Teapot Dome Scandal, when they wore little pins on their starched white dress shirts that said

WHAT HAPPENS IN SMOKE-FILLED ROOMS
STAYS IN SMOKE-FILLED ROOMS

I see this slogan working on TV shows as well. Of course, there needs to be a bit of sex or other salaciousness to make it work right. For example, Aunt Bee wouldn’t have drawn in any more viewers wearing an apron that said

WHAT HAPPENS IN MAYBERRY
STAYS IN MAYBERRY

Surely one of the saddest, most frustrating T-shirts on television was the one worn by Gilligan and his friends that said

WHAT HAPPENS ON THE ISLAND
STAYS ON THE ISLAND

And we should have kept a better eye on Pee Wee Herman when he began wearing shirts that said

WHAT HAPPENS IN THE PLAYHOUSE
STAYS IN THE PLAYHOUSE

Finally, will we see this T-shirt on the Sopranos anytime soon?

WHAT HAPPENS IN NEW JERSEY
STAYS, WEIGHTED DOWN BY CONCRETE AND DUMPED IN A CANAL SOMEWHERE, IN NEW JERSEY

Will Jesus Return Now That the Astros Have Won?

Yes, that's the question I'm asking today. Are the end times here? First, all these hurricanes and earthquakes. Then the impossible -- Houston actually WINS a National League playoff.

I have been rooting for Houston almost since I was old enough to watch TV or listen to radio. So many times have I waited through the playoffs, only to be denied a trip to the World Series by some incredible mistake. My analogy was always that the Astros were Charlie Brown, and the World Series was the football that Lucy pulled away at the last moment every single time.

Now, I guess I'll have to take that blurb about "long-suffering Astros fan" out of my profile. At this point, I don't even care as much that they win the World Series than that they fought the odds and made it. I'll be watching Saturday some way, even though Mrs. Muley and I will be down in San Antonio celebrating our 17th anniversary. We've got a nice hotel on the Riverwalk, so we're going to be eating Mexican food, strolling around, and doing other things I won't discuss here.

Have a great weekend, guys. And root for the 'Stros!

The Latest from Waco

SUICIDE SQUIRREL

It is squirrel season in Central Texas right now. On the campus where I work, the little things are scurrying back and forth, gathering nuts for the winter. This is a life-affirming activity, but there is at least one squirrel around here with a death wish. Twice now, as I have driven off the campus toward home at the end of a day, this little fella has waited for my approach, then has run straight in front of my vehicle at the last minute, hoping my wheels would crush him to a furry paste. I know it’s got to be the same squirrel, because the two episodes have occurred in exactly the same spot.

Even when I have stopped and tried to drive around the squirrel, instead of running in the opposite direction he darts straight for my tires. He wants to be dead, dead, dead, and he wants me to kill him. He’s the Charlie Tuna of the treetops.

So far, I have resisted all his attempts to have me play the part of a mercy killer. But if he keeps it up, my patience might wear out. I keep wondering – what fuels his death wish? Is Mrs. Nutsy cheating with a bushier squirrel from the tree next door? Did some scavenging rodent steal the supply of pecans he’s painstakingly spent all summer amassing? Did some heartless frat boy spike an acorn with PCP and feed it to the little guy? I detect a series on Animal Planet here: “Suicide Squirrels.”

OH, PLEASE

While browsing through the stacks in the library, I saw an anthology of stories collected by Alfred Hitchcock called Stories that Scared Even Me. Now, c’mon. Did these tales really terrify old Alfred?

I SCANNED THE SHERIFF

The other day at the grocery store checkout, I noticed that the nametag of the high school girl who scanned my items said her name was “Marley.” And she didn’t have black skin or dreadlocks, or talk with a Jamaican accent. I said, “I know you probably get this all the time, but were you named after the singer?” She said, “You mean Bob Marley?” (as if maybe I thought the ghost in A Christmas Carol actually sang carols, I don’t know). I said “Yes,” and she then confirmed the fact that her parents were big Marley fans. “You know, there’s another girl who works here who’s named Marley as well,” she told me. I was a bit taken aback.

How did I miss this apparent trend –– little Millennial WASP girls named after the doobie king himself? Have any of you run into someone (not a Rastafarian vocalist) named Marley? Is there already a women’s perfume or a Bratz doll character named Marley?

AISLES OF SMILES

Speaking of grocery stores, I notice that they have upgraded the special kiddie carts they provide for parents to push small kids around the aisles in. They used to have those extra-long carts with a few plastic seats just added on the back, but now they are using big enclosed plastic buggies, with fake steering wheels and flashing lights on the fake dashboard to keep the sugar-fueled little tykes occupied while mom tries to ignore them and shop. Some of the buggies at the HEB where I shop are even decorated with pictures of Barney and Baby Bop.

I’m wondering two things. First of all, since almost all consumer products evolve endlessly, what is the next step for these kiddie carts? Will they next have actual TV screens and DVD players in them, so kids can watch TV or DVDs while mommy shops? And will they then add X-Boxes or Playstations? I wouldn’t doubt it.

My second thought is this. If kids can have this opportunity to be entertained when faced with being forced to endure a boring shopping trip, why not adults? When men are forced to accompany their wives clothes shopping, why can’t they sit in an enclosed cart filled with munchies and beer, a TV tuned to sports and copies of Maxim and Stuff? And gals, when you have to accompany your husbands as they patrol the aisles at Home Depot or the neighborhood electronics store, why can’t you be pushed around in comfort in a buggy filled with snacks and video or your choice as you lounge on a seat with built-in massage devices? Hmmm?

KIDS SAY THE DARNDEST THINGS

A few weeks ago in the 4th grade Sunday school class Mrs. Muley and I teach, they had a Baylor baseball player come and give his testimony to the kids, and talk to them about his plans for life. He mentioned that after he finishes playing baseball, he might go to seminary. “Does anyone know what a seminary is?” he asked the class. One puzzled-looking little boy raised his hand.

“Isn’t that where they bury people?” he replied.

Quote of the week:

"If a woman has to choose between catching a fly ball and saving an infant's life, she will choose to save the infant's life without even considering if there is a man on base."

--Dave Barry

Deep Breath...Take Two

Okay, as the old phrase goes, it's time to &*$# or get off the pot.

I have been in a blogging limbo for three or four weeks, wondering what to do. The long story short is this. I got a great thrill out of blogging, but that was the problem. I was devoting WAY to much time to it, committing myself (in my own mind) to make at least one post a day, if not more. I was throwing in everything but the kitchen sink in an effort to do something every day, and try to keep an audience. At some point, the well ran dry.

Also, I became somewhat obsessed with the numbers game. How many visits did my site get today? How many comments did my last post get? None so far. (15 minutes later) Let me check back again and see if anyone's commented. Nobody? (20 minutes later) Surely someone's commented by now! No one? (I'll wait 10 minutes and check again...)

Between the time I was spending writing posts -- and rewriting posts -- and then checking back for hits and comments on my posts, not to mention checking other blogs I loved, commenting on THEM, then checking back those to see if THOSE comments had been commented on, I was using almost every available minute of "free" time blogging. And what's worse, more and more of that time wasn't truly free. I was stealing time away from things that should have been untouchables -- like family and work -- to fuel my blogging obsession.

So, no more of that insanity. I can't handle it anymore. Besides, I have some new projects -- two historical research writing projects and some family history stuff -- that's incredibly exciting to me, and that's taking up a lot of my free time now.

But, the undeniable fact is, I still enjoy blogging, and I enjoy interacting with the friends I've made through the blogosphere. So here's what I'm going to try to do -- a classic in the art of compromise. Like an addict trying to leave the halfway house for the first time, I'm going to start off by trying to do just one post a week -- maybe a "Week in Waco" wrapup -- and see how that goes. If that works, then maybe I can increase things slowly, if the mood hits me. I know this sounds incredibly self-indulgent and anal, and I know the main thought now from you probably is, "Do I care?" But for those few of you who might care, that's my plan. Please stick with me -- maybe Muley still has a few kicks left in him.

And besides, I can finally get that picture of Rita off the top of this site!