Our Weekly Sunday Puzzle Page

The last Sunday of the year is come. If we had still been employed at the unexceptional bookbindery, we would have had to have worked Christmas Eve and today, because B-shifters get no respect whatsoever, save for what might accidentally happen their way, and then only if it's not spotted and stomped flat first. To add injury to insult, we would have been chivvied enthusiastically out the door before the stroke of midnight, lest the company be forced to pay us time-and-a-half. We would have been made to feel lucky that we were allowed to have the actual holiday off, even though the A-shifters would have gotten a 3-day weekend. 

Today we get to kick back, sleep as long and as late as we wish, and enjoy whatever small pleasures the day brings us. Sometimes there is justice.

As it is the last Sunday of the year, today's puzzle will be a special one.

It is technically a J-land puzzle, albeit one with a difference. It includes the name of a journaler, and also a hidden message that rhymes with her name. Those of you who solve the puzzle will need to determine the first letter of the third word of the message to complete it successfully, but it shouldn't be difficult to suss; it is not very subtle.

Happy New Year to all, and to all a good morn.

Peace.

 

Grumpy Old People

As the year 2006 winds slowly down to its indisputable end, we pause a moment to ponder what the advent of a new year might mean, and conclude ... not much.

There are some who will insist that aging is grand, that passing a particular age means entering the golden years - a sort of senior paradise where birds sing, the sun always shines, and the soothing sound of trickling water brings serenity to the fevered brain (at least if you believe the commercials.)

We are not among them.

Although in birth years we have not yet attained the privilege of mingling with those of official senior status, we can with some certainty say that physically, we deserve to stand on a pedestal and proclaim "I’m OLD."

This is the first in what may possibly (although we promise nothing) become an occasional series on the possibilities inherent in the act of aging.

Be forewarned - here are some of the joys of watching oneself fall to pieces:

Projectile sneezing - much of this, we suppose, may be attributed to the fact that we both still smoke, but the truth nevertheless remains that a sternutation (we learned a new word!) is, as they say, semi-autonomous, and often results in a glob of mucus being ejected at truly marvelous speeds, made problematic by the near-certainty that a tissue is seldom at hand, resulting in the question "Where did it go?" As it is of an anonymous color and at best translucent, if not immediately located, it can lie in wait for the unsuspecting to randomly encounter it, leading to language much more colorful than the object itself.

The Push - it is a beneficial physical fact that living beings receive, in the form of a particular pressure, an indication that their bowels are in need of evacuation, and we learn at a very young age that there is a generally precise length of time involved by which we may gauge when the probable becomes the inevitable, and take the necessary steps to forestall accidents. Aging does not alter that span, but the exigencies of decrepit bodies make the trip to the bathroom seem longer than it once was, rendering it much more adventuresome. If one makes it to the goal safely, one sometimes discovers that one has been cozened, and a lengthy wait is sure to ensue. Reading materials are highly recommended.

Sitting with Scissors - It is also inevitable that, with advancing age, one’s joints lose the suppleness of youth, and become increasingly immobile. What was once a simple operation of slipping one’s fingers out of the handle’s apertures becomes an increasingly impossible task, as the holes seem to shrink and the painted metal (if you still possess a pair of those quaint, old-fashioned style of scissors - you know, the kind that quickly lose their tightness and sharpness) to cling to one’s knuckles, resulting in a ballet of twirling scissors, locked joints, and more colorful language.

The Light Fantastic - There comes a time in one’s life when the feet, due to the creeping onset of muscular weakness, become increasingly difficult to raise more than a fraction of an inch off the ground, leading to the astonishing discovery that there are hitherto unsuspected invisible objects littering every inch of our floor space, patiently waiting for us to locate and trip over them. They seem to be especially prevalent on rugs, but can be found occasionally even on bare linoleum.

And we don’t even want to speak about extension cords.

To all of you who choose to spend your valuable time dropping by to say hello, we thank you and wish you health and wealth of spirit in the coming year.

Happy New Year and

Peace.

Bonnie and Walt

Our Weekly Wednesday Answer Page

As promised, here is the answer to the sudoku that we published (printed? 'ported? who knows or cares?) on December 10th.

As is readily apparent,the list includes all the things that, in one way or another, can be found within the puzzle, or associated with it.

We had a very quiet and enjoyable Christmas day; we hope your celebrations were equally as enjoyable.

Peace.

Bonnie and Walt

Our Special Holiday Weekly Sunday Puzzle Page

Okay, so we fibbed. We've decided to begin the CityState series of puzzles after New Year's, and instead present, on Christmas Eve, this special edition sudoku that somehow seems appropriate.

As is our wont, a word appears on the diagonal, and the fill-in features a phrase that shouldn't be too difficult to figure out.

We've decided to begin publishing the puzzle answers on Wednesdays, beginning with the one we printed two Sundays ago, so if you haven't done a particular puzzle, you might want to avoid peeking. 

We wish you all a very merry Christmas and a happy Chanukkah, and blessings for the year to come.

Peace and love.

Bonnie and Walt 

Once Again, 'Tis the Season

We were going to do a piece on how the Christmas holiday has been diverted from its original purpose, and is now an excuse for those of particular faiths to conduct battles in the media against those whom they perceive to be their enemies, or a threat to their way of life.

Instead, we'll simply repeat the phrase that has been around since the beginning, and remains the best delineation of what this Season of Affirmation was meant to be about:

Peace on Earth. Good will to humankind.

Bonnie and Walt

 

A Reminder

On September 11th, 2001, 2996 Americans died in a concerted attack on our country by members of al-Qaeda. To date, in Iraq, 2954 reported American deaths have occurred.

http://icasualties.org/oif/

Peace. Please.

Bonnie and Walt

Bonnie's Catalog Curio Closet - Year-end Edition, Part 2

We love the Christmas holiday, it is so endearingly ... commercial. At few other times of the year can you find brochures, circulars and catalogs filled to overflowing with items that you never knew you needed - indeed, that you probably never considered owning - but there they are, displayed in glorious full color on blindingly glossy pages, absolutely useless trinkets that lead you to shake your head in bewilderment and mutter "What the fuck?"

It's time to finish our tour of the curio closet, that magical container of the inexplicable and the breathtakingly boneheaded, a collection of artifacts that represent the idea that in Corporate America, nothing is too tacky, shoddy or worthless to attract the dollars of the harried shopper.

We begin with the physical embodiment of what has apparently become an actual sport, featured on ESPN and possessed of its own championships -

Yes, it's speedstacking! The erstwhile pastime of bored waitresses and busboys has now become, through the magic of cable television necessity, a sport! Joy! It is not enough that you can go to the supermart and cheaply buy a column of Dixie cups, should you so desire, no! You must have this official collection of plastic cups! Trust us, nothing else will do!

Those of you who, as do we, remember the early days of video games will perhaps recall the advent of the Nintendo Entertainment System and one of its flagship titles, The Legend of Zelda. As time has passed, the legend has grown, and has led to this next marvelous item -

It includes a certificate of authenticity, thereby proclaiming that this is the actual gear that virtual fantasy character Link employed to strike down the evil creatures of Hyrule. We're somewhat surprised that Link has not affixed his autograph to the items.

What can we say about this next toy? 

"Find his "magic" tickle spot!" "Tee-hee hee-hee" "Ages 3-up"

Do we really want to be teaching our 3-year-olds about magic tickle spots? Isn't elementary school soon enough to be teaching them about sex ed? Enough is enough, we say! It's difficult to continue the tour after this outrage, but we must.

This next item is just so over-the-top, we stand in awe. Gone are the days of simple and relatively inexpensive exercise wheels for small pets, they are so ... quaint. These days, we must own something that offers much more entertainment value, thusly -

 

A track, so the little darling doesn't accidentally go barreling into something. A Dazzle Ball, complete with decals that will serve to obliterate your view of your small pet, and - a checkered flag (!), presumably in case a number of pet owners decide to gather together to conduct a meet. You'll notice that in the illustration, the pet has had the poor grace to face perpendicularly to the track, thereby insuring that its owner will lose the race.

Our next treasure is just so wrong -

The antiquated charm of the original rotary dial is completely destroyed by substituting push buttons for the original holes. Of what possible use is a rotary dial that cannot rotate? Oh, the desecration!

This is another of those bibelots that renders us speechless- where has respect for the office of the President disappeared to?

Do we truly want to be treated to the spectacle of a shimmying Presidential figure?

Our last two items are connected, and are meant to appeal to the budding artists among us - the first one is self-explanatory, and once again words fail us -

And, if that's not enough for you art lovers, there's this accompaniment -

We are moved to wonder if the figurine's left ear is detachable.

Vincent would, we do not doubt, be flattered that this is how we remember him.

The lights go down, the doors swing slowly closed, and the refreshment table awaits, so until next year, the Curio Closet will stand in stately isolation, awaiting the next shipment of detritus, and we will, for now, bid you a fond farewell and a good night.

Peace.