Squeaky Squeaky Squeaky: A Postmodern Valentine

Oh, give it a rest, willya?

True story. Before wife and kids, Da-da lived in a three-story apartment building that boasted paper-thin walls, ceilings and floors. You could hear everything, and Da-da means everything. Yeah, it was as fun as it sounds, but the apartments had great views, so we all put up with it.

Da-da lived on the second floor, sandwiched between The Grumps, a nearly soundless/loveless marriage on the first floor below, and the perky Lapins on the top floor above. (No, those aren't their real names.)

The loveless Grumps always looked like this:

Da-da's Most-Downloaded Pic of 2012

Yes, it's BOB the tumbleweed! Bob the tumbleweed? Bob received tens of thousands of hits from all over the world. Go figure. Bob is dry, transient, unsatisfying, leaves stickers wherever he goes (which are actually seeds for more sticker bushes) and is as fitting a monument for 2012 as you're gonna get. So long, Bob.

Pay It Forward: NASA and the Chicken

So many poultry panoplies, so little time.

Grandma Scotty sent his little tidbit. No idea as to original author; story's been floating around for a decade.

Anyway, seems scientists at NASA built a gun, once upon a time, specifically to launch standard four pound dead chickens at the windshields of airliners, military jets and the space shuttle, all traveling at maximum velocity, and often without asking the chickens' permission. The idea was to simulate the frequent incidents of aviation collisions with airborne fowl to test the strength of aircraft windshields.

British engineers heard about the gun and were eager to test it on the windshields of their new high speed trains. Arrangements were made, and a gun was sent to the British engineers. When the gun was fired, the engineers stood shocked as the chicken hurled out of the barrel, crashed into the shatterproof shield, smashed it to smithereens, blasted through the control console, snapped the engineer's back-rest in two, and embedded itself in the back wall of the cabin, like an arrow shot from a bow.

The horrified Brits sent NASA the disastrous results of the experiment, along with the designs of the windshield and begged the U.S. scientists for suggestions.

NASA responded with a one-line memo, "Defrost the chicken." (True story)

Defrosting doesn't have to be an ordeal for the chicken.

Grampa Scotty Eats His Napkin: A True Tale of Gringo Horror

This is obvious, right?

This is Da-da's favorite Grampa Scotty/Cinco de Mayo/gringo horror story. As you may or may not recall, Da-da's dad looks just like Scotty from Star Trek -- which has no bearing on this story, Da-da just finds it infinitely amusing. Onward.

The year was 1958. Grampa Scotty, then about 24, was at his boss's house for dinner in Riverside, CA, which back then was nothing but rolling hills of orange groves and blue sky. Da-da can still smell the spring orange blossoms. Anyway, Young Gramps' boss was Hispanic, and his boss's wife ran a fine-dining Mexican restaurant. Being fresh off the boat from Indiana, Young Grampa Scotty was excited, as he'd never had Mexican food before (Da-da finds this so alien, having grown up with it). Indeed, Young Gramps had never even SEEN Mexican food before, as there were no Mexican restaurants IN HIS ENTIRE STATE, let alone any Hispanic foods in the whitebread grocery stores of 1950s Middle America. No corn chips. No tortillas. No refried beans. Not even a can of salsa. (Then again, a prime porterhouse steak was only $0.89 cents a pound.)

Young Gramps arrived early and hungry. He was then given his first margarita, which blew his mind ("Tequila? Is that a dance?" he asked), and his first chips, salsa and guacamole. Imagine that. Shortly thereafter, dinner was served.

Young Grampa Scotty sat at a large table replete with alien food: tacos, enchiladas, refried beans, guacamole, flautas, bottomless bowls of salsa verde and salsa fresca (and Da-da's getting hungry). Young Gramps took all this in and watched his hosts to see what to do next. He had no idea how to eat this food. Then he watched in horror as his hosts picked up their napkins AND STARTED TO EAT THEM.  

Omigod. They're eating their napkins! What's wrong with these people?

He sat staring at them until they realized their guest was in some kind of Midwestern Culture Shock. They asked him if everything was ok. Stunned, he told them he'd never seen anyone eat their napkins before.

Now it was their turn to stare. The two native Southern Californians suddenly burst out laughing, caught their breath, and laughed again. Trying to hold it together, they tried to explain. "It's not a napkin," (you poor silly gringo), "it's a TORTILLA." More laughter ensued. Young Gramps joined in... and stopped laughing after introducing himself to a big verdant bowl of pickled serranos and jalapenos.

Da-da imagines that this story is still told by Grampa Scotty's boss' family, year after year, echoing laughter across every Cinco de Mayo from hell to juevos rancheros. Tequila Dancing for all Da-da's friends. And would someone please get Grampa Scotty a margarita and a fresh napkin?

Behold: the serrano extinguisher.

Of Rocks, Dead Rights, and a Tumbleweed Named Bob

Da-da loves this true family story, as it aptly details an important aspect of his complex clan. The following may give the gentle reader some inkling to the twisted Godzillas and trolls and Superfund sites lurking beneath the pleasingly carefree, totemic menus of Da-da ontological taco stand.

Envision a bright summer day in the midwest 60 years ago. Doves and bunnies leap about in gay '50s abandon. (You could say, "GAY ABANDON," back then without bursting into flame.) Da-da's father, then a teen -- the infamous Grampa Scotty, whose birthday is this week -- driving with his own grandpa, a feisty five-foot-seven relic of epic force and moment. You've heard of the rock and the hard place? Great gramps was both. Let's call him ROCK.

Anyway, teen Gramps and Rock were driving along when they came to a four-way stop. There was a bit of traffic, and everyone seemed to be behaving themselves, observing the rules of right of way. When it came his turn, the driver of the car (call it #1) to Rock's right started across the intersection... when suddenly the driver of the car behind him (#2) decided to skip his turn and follow car #1 right through the intersection.