#uncle warren

[thatsbelievable]

It’s like my Uncle Warren always says, “Hammer hit nail, never fail. Hammer hit face, guaranteed trip to the emergency room and no, you can’t sue the hammer manufacturer, believe me, I tried.”

[thebartleyeffect]

So this is how it went down when I was a kid:

Uncle Warren...

(And I'm sure you DO remember... Uncle WARREN. 😆)

...and I were riding around together one sunny morning at the beach, headed over to Niantic so he could pick up a copy of his morning newspaper.

Out of the blue, he extended his arm and his index finger in my direction and said:

"Pull my finger."

I had no idea why he would tell me to do such a thing, but I had no reason to distrust him and so, with my six-year-old arm, I reached over from the passenger seat, took hold of his index finger and pulled.

The fart that erupted from deep inside him was at once both sustained in its duration and redolent in its all-encompassing, noxious bouquet and was notable for its deep baritone quality in that it made all the coins in his ashtray vibrate in harmonic resonance.

"Uncle WARREN!!!", I shrieked in what was obviously feigned horror, given that I was giggling uproariously in little-kid delight at having been shown this wonderful new trick.

Oh, I couldn't WAIT to show the kids at school when I got home in September!

As things turned out, my time at the beach ended later that following weekend and Warren drove me back to Massachusetts to save my parents the trip down to the shoreline.

The taillights of Warren's 8-cylinder land yacht had barely disappeared from view down Westernview Drive when I suddenly remembered my new trick that he had shown me just a few days before.

"Mom!!!" I called out, "I have a trick to show you!"

"A trick? What kind of trick?", she asked, with genuine curiosity as she placed a freshly washed frying pan from breakfast into the drying rack and then turned around to face me.

Proudly and with all the confidence of my six years, I stuck my arm out and jabbed my index finger in her direction.

"Pull my finger!"

I have no doubts that her facial expression at this point must have changed from one of curiosity to one that could only be described as skeptical ambivalence.

She shot a quick look in my dad's direction, a look that no doubt communicated volumes of her displeasure at Uncle Warren's complete lack of judgment. My dad's stomach must have tightened with the knowledge that he was going to have to lower the boom on his own brother, once my mother got done with him.

She pulled my finger, I scrunched my eyes shut tight for maximum effect at the business end of this little trick and let it rip.

I burst into a fit of laughter, and yet I was somewhat dismayed to see that my Mom did not seem inclined to join me in my hysterics.

"Who taught you that trick?", she asked me in a dangerously neutral voice.

"Uncle Warren did!", I replied, beaming with pride at how well and how flawlessly I had performed this neat new trick for my mother.

That's when my mom turned to my dad and said in a very direct and business-like tone: "Charlie, I want you to have a talk with your brother."

My dad, sensing the danger, adopted his most serious face, although he must have been dying from laughter on the inside.

"Ok ok, I'll call him tonight", he promised her solemnly.

And that was the end of it.

Poor Warren -- I really threw him under the bus with that one.

I'm sure he forgave me, but still...

[ms-scarletwings]

There’s always that one character in any large enough adventuring party isn’t there

[wittypenguin]

[A]lways [B]uying [L]ettuce

(with apologies to David Mamet)

I have a fair few problems with Glengarry Glen Ross, the two biggest ones being the complete lack of any female in an entire cast of characters who are entirely concerned with financial decisions of the largest sort in one’s life, and the other being the single-noted focus of the aim of success and dominance over everyone else in the world for no better reasons than one has the ability to declare one’s dominance. There is a small bit of dialogue from the script of the film, delivered by Alec Baldwin, which is frequently quoted and which I’ve already slaughtered in the title of this post.

Because only one thing counts in this life: Get them to sign on the line which is dotted. You hear me, you fucking faggots? A-B-C. A: Always B: Be C: Closing. Always be closing. ALWAYS BE CLOSING.

That’s the real quote (or a bit of it, anyway; head here for the full, Rory-worthy context). It’s preceded by statements that one’s car is a declaration of who one is, as well as the watch one wears, or one’s annual gross income. That mindset is anathema to me, and anyone who holds those notions close to their heart as being true can shove them right up their assholes until they come out their œsophagus, so don’t come crying to me that I’m some less-than masculine individual who underperforms and is in general a loser. I’ve taken more risks in my life than you’ve had hot dinners and the courage I’ve displayed making them makes me stronger than any of your so-called ‘successes’ represent you’ve ever had beyond sheer luck. Fuck off with your Rolex and your BMWs. Will either of those ever make you as content as knowing — really knowing — that you not only risked everything, you were willing to live with the consequences when things didn’t work? I think not.

Anyway. Back to the topic of this: Lettuce.

Two cultivars of Lactuca sativa: “Green Leaf” and "Red Leaf” [left and right, respectively]. (Photo by the author) — — — —

To return to my point: I’ve been following the rubric of ‘eating better’ for about three years now. After being faced with a continual run of blood tests for Cholesterol levels with results of ‘above average,’ my doctor suggested a number of alterations of my diet. One was the elimination of alcohol (that’s been gone for over two years now, and I suspect it was more for mental than cardiac health), another was to eat less pasta in favour of at least more whole grains, and the third was simply ‘more vegetables.’ The fact that Warren Ellis had his body freak out and nearly kill him close to the time I got this warning helped me to pay attention.

I knew someone who declared that they didn’t need to eat any vegetables as they got all their vitamins from a daily pill, but that is nothing but reductionist piffle. The average vegetable provides all sorts of things which do not come as a dietary supplement; fibre, for instance, can come in a pill, but comes as an entirely separate form than the ‘multi-vitamin.’ Bah. They were a fool and will hopefully no longer be following their own foolishness today, if they’re listening to their doctor.

Prior to getting The Word from my GP, I ate two different meals in alteration through the week: pasta and veggie burgers, back and forth, day after day. Occasionally there would be something for variety, but that would be had at a restaurant, as I am a ‘lazy vegetarian’ (I cannot be bothered to select, freeze, thaw, and cook meat) so it would only be when eating out that I would have chicken or beef or lamb, or whatever. Some call that ‘boring,’ no doubt. I don’t care, as I view it as ‘practical.’ I don’t much care about food, preferring to be passionate about film, literature, and politics.

So, after The Word was handed down from on high by my Physician, I resolved to Do Better. I still have the same two meals — pasta and veggie burgers are prepared in alteration — but they are divided one from another with an evening meal consisting of a Salad As Big As My Head. By doing this, I have increased my vegetable intake to 50% of my total evening meals. Additionally, burgers are prepared with several leaves of lettuce and an entire sliced tomato, and the pasta sauce is my own creation which is choked with celery, carrots, zucchini, bell peppers, and a variety of other vegetables.

The result of this is that I also seem to be either finishing or starting a head of green leaf lettuce every single day.

I’ve been fond of getting a few groceries on the way home from work ever since I started riding the bike instead of commuting by bus. It seems the most efficient and convenient way of getting home after buying groceries, and the produce is fresher as a result of the more frequent purchasing. Also, one keeps on top of the things one needs in a better manner. No longer do I find that I’ve forgotten to get milk again or that I cannot do laundry until I go and get detergent or whatever.

This also means that I seem to be in a constant state of stopping off to get something at the grocery store before settling in for the evening, and it always seems to involve lettuce.

Thus the rule to ABL or “Always Buying Lettuce” of the title.

I am healthier, happier, and will probably live longer as a result, as well as doing less to perpetuate the petroleum industry’s destruction of the earth’s environment. Yes, the lettuce has to get to the store somehow, but I don’t have to use gasoline to get either it or myself to my home. This is better for everyone.

Now, if only I could stop eating ice cream…

[sunflowerwalker-blog]

i dont want sleep

sleep wants you

remember uncle warren

[lastlemming]

Visit Original Link

Uncle Warren 3

[lastlemming]

Visit Original Link

uncle warren 1

[mypencries]

I KEEP SHAKING MY HEAD....

I can't believe these women and children had to go through this.