Monday, June 28, 2010
The ups and downs of Father's Day
The question of the day is: what's up with Michael Morsch? There was a huge two-week gap between his last blog entries and this one... could it be that his prolific output of hogwash is slowing? Also, his Twitter account has turned into little more than an endless string of links to boring Montgomery Newspapers stories. Come on, sir! Your public (me) demands more!
As it stands now, there is a minimum height requirement to get on an amusement park roller coaster. But the older I get, I think maybe there should be a maximum age limit, one that determines when it is no longer fun to hurtle through the skies strapped to a giant corkscrew.
Now me, I'd be able to figure that out on my own.
It was a wonderful Father’s Day recently with Younger Daughter.
Ah, this appears to be the latest in a long, long line of posts dealing with "I did something the other day that was fun."
And I had the added pleasure of having my mom visit from Illinois on Dad’s Day. The three of us decided to spend the holiday at Hershey Park, which in theory was a nice enough plan.
No - in theory, that's a TERRIBLE plan. Who decided this? What boob decided it would be good for a young girl, her fifty-some father, and his seventy- or eighty-some mother to spend the day at an amusement park?
But the realities were (1) Mom isn’t as young as she used to be and the hills at Hershey Park were challenging for her in the hot weather;
Again, between the three of them, at least ONE should have thought of that.
(2) I’m not as young as I used to be and thrill rides scare me a lot more now than they used to; (3) Younger Daughter is both young and not scared in the least of thrill rides.
To paraphrase Sir Hugo Drax from "Moonraker": That paragraph plods on with the tedious inevitability of an unloved season. You can smell the "joke" a mile off.
So while Mom found benches in the shade on which to rest, Younger Daughter and I tackled a few of the roller coasters . . . under protest from me I might add.
I guess this trip really happened... but WHY would it happen? It seems like everyone is miserable... Grandma on the verge of collapse, Dad complaining about going on rides... why did he agree to go in the first place?
First it was “Great Bear,” which was not all that great but bearable; next it was the “Comet,” which was better than “Cupid,” “Donner” and “Blitzen” combined; and then it “Fahrenheit,” which just may be the last roller coaster I ever ride.
"... then it 'Fahrenheit'?" Spell check didn't catch that one, eh? In typical Morsch fashion, the most interesting part of the article - the features of each roller coaster - are completely glossed over.
If I had a nickel for every time I said, “I don’t think I’m going to like this” while standing in line waiting to get on a roller coaster that day, I would indeed have paid for the admissions of all three of us.
If I had a nickel for every tired old cliche trotted out by Morsch in this post alone... Also, correct me if I'm wrong, but wasn't Father's Day like two weeks ago? Why is he just writing about this now?
The thing about “Fahrenheit” is that it has a straight up and straight down feature. The straight up provides one with a view of nothing but blue skies and the feeling of falling over backwards and the straight down is so steep that the lump in one’s throat created by the deep drop is no doubt one’s knotted-up undershorts lodged tightly.
Hint: Jokes aren't funny if they're so poorly written that no one can understand them.
It was all worth it, though, because no matter how many twists and turns of the roller coasters I had to endure, I got to spend the day with my daughter and my mom.
Of course mom died of heat stroke halfway through the day. But the memories will live forever.
And I’ll get on those rides for as many years as I have to just to be able to do that.
"It's no longer fun to go on roller coasters! But I had a lot of fun going on the roller coasters. I'll never go on them again! But I'll go on them forever." Coherence, thy name is Morsch.
Labels: " Outta Leftfield, Hershey Park, Mike Morsch, Montgomery Newspapers
Another odd quotation mark before "Outta Leftfield," meaning that this post, too, will be filed separate from all the others.
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
Friday, June 18, 2010
A New Blog of Note
Joe Pugnetti of Perkasie, PA, maintains a blog that festers just above Outta Leftfield. The link says that it's called "Wurds from the Burbs," but the blog is entitled "A Liberal Point of View." Whatever its true name, I didn't want to touch this thing, but ol' Joe has been sending his ramblings in editorial form to the Souderton Independent, where I can't help but notice them.
Here's a gem from his latest, extolling the virtues of globalization:
But just as we read of the quaint political and social structures of 1,000 years ago, we will be considered just as immature by the generations to come once the earth is just one more planet in the federation of planets within the universe.
Thanks, Gene Roddenberry. Can you believe that? "You'll see how wrong you are - IN THE FUTURE!"
I'd encourage you to check out his absolutely meritless short story entitled "The Archives," which contains such gems as "I was as nervous as a girl preparing for the junior prom." Here's a sample:
But now, finally, 3 generations since the beginning of the what was eventually called the Reclamation,
Wow, the Reclamation! Such a vague and textbook sci-fi sort of name, isn't it?
someone other than one of the seven Circle of Elders
Wow, the seven Circle of Elders! So grammatically incorrect... and are there seven Elders in the Circle? Are there several separate Circles of Elders? Will humanity every really name their leaders "Elders"?
was authorized to read, review and report on the summary of the most darkest and conversely, most unifying time of human existence.
Wow, the "most darkest"!
Here's a gem from his latest, extolling the virtues of globalization:
But just as we read of the quaint political and social structures of 1,000 years ago, we will be considered just as immature by the generations to come once the earth is just one more planet in the federation of planets within the universe.
Thanks, Gene Roddenberry. Can you believe that? "You'll see how wrong you are - IN THE FUTURE!"
I'd encourage you to check out his absolutely meritless short story entitled "The Archives," which contains such gems as "I was as nervous as a girl preparing for the junior prom." Here's a sample:
But now, finally, 3 generations since the beginning of the what was eventually called the Reclamation,
Wow, the Reclamation! Such a vague and textbook sci-fi sort of name, isn't it?
someone other than one of the seven Circle of Elders
Wow, the seven Circle of Elders! So grammatically incorrect... and are there seven Elders in the Circle? Are there several separate Circles of Elders? Will humanity every really name their leaders "Elders"?
was authorized to read, review and report on the summary of the most darkest and conversely, most unifying time of human existence.
Wow, the "most darkest"!
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
Surprise! Morsch Steals from Other Articles
Outta Leftfield
Published: Wednesday, June 16, 2010
By Mike Morsch
Roam on the range: Wandering yaks go from yuks to yuck
Right off the bat, I'll say that this is unacceptable. We didn't get a blog entry at all yesterday. What's up with you, Morsch? Too busy posting Twitter links to boring articles from your own newspaper?
I'm guessing Morsch has never seen a live yak outside of a zoo, so this must be about something he read or saw on TV. At first he will find how big and dumb they are amusing ("yuks") and will maybe compare them to himself; then they'll poop, or roll in the dirt, and it will turn to "yuck." Mark my words. [Editor's Note: Do not mark any of my words after "At first."]
If you’re planning a trip to Wyoming’s Big Horn Mountains anytime soon, you may consider delaying it for a bit because, well … the yaks are roaming.
He read about this on the Internet. Guaranteed.
That’s right, roaming yaks. And they’re just wandering around eating everybody’s grass and mating with the cows. No telling what could happen to your car if you’re out roaming around Wyoming gawking at the yaks.
Has he ever watched "Wild America," or even seen a nature show before? He's acting like dinosaurs are roaming the earth once again. They're just yaks.
According to a wire service story, John and Laura DeMatteis of Buffalo, Wyo., raise the yaks and sell them for their meat and wool on their 300-acre ranch called the “Yak Daddy Ranch.” They must be NBA fans.
Why? Sorry, I don't watch basketball. Is the phrase "Mac Daddy" exclusive to that sport or something? I'm guessing that's what he's referencing...
Yaks (Latin name: Bos grunniens)
Right away, I knew Morsch was looking this information up somewhere.
are long-haired animals of the bovine family usually found in the Himalayan region of South Central Asia. Herd animals, they are among the largest and wildest bovines
Hey, you know what you find when you type "yak" into Wikipedia?
The yak, Bos grunniens, is a long-haired bovine found throughout the Himalayan region of south Central Asia... Yaks are herd animals. They are among the largest wild bovids.
Wow. Morsch, you immense sack of yak crap. Do this in a college paper, and you get an "F". For the class. We'll return to the issue of rampant plagiarism later.
roaming around Wyoming during those times when former Vice President Dick Cheney (Latin name: Grumpius oldguyus) is not in the state.
Wow, Morsch hates Dick Cheney. This is the second disparaging reference to him in Outta Leftfield.
The wire service story reveals that local rancher Scott Rogers was at first yukking it up over the yaks. But now his grass is taking a beating and he worries that his cows will have to sleep with one eye open, so he has become unhappy with the situation.
Alright, we'll address the rampant plagiarism right now. Per the wire service story:
Cattle ranchers in the foothills of Wyoming's Big Horn Mountains are no longer yukking over a herd of yaks that keeps getting loose.
Morsch has used that "yukking" joke twice now - in the headline and in this paragraph. Not only is it incredibly lame, but he didn't even think of it himself. This disgusts me. Other than the Dick Cheney joke, there's not a sentence in this "column" that hasn't been stolen from somewhere else.
Local officials, of course, are doing what elected and appointed officials do, which in most cases consists of going out to the ranch, shaking their fists at the yaks and yelling, “Hey, you darn yaks, get off my lawn!”
Really? Normally such a joke would end with "which in most cases consists of raising taxes" or "which in most cases consists of passing a 2,000 page piece of legislation." Not "which in most cases consists of (insert something nobody would ever, ever do, ever)."
Elected officials also are considering an ordinance against “yaks at large.” I wasn’t sure what that meant, so I went to the local newspaper website, the Caspar Star-Tribune, for more information.
Okay, stop. Just stop. So now, after getting quotes from another news story and Wikipedia, we're looking up yet another news story to quote from.
At first, I did not find any additional information on what local officials meant by “yaks at large,” but I did find out that a community called Glenrock has an annual “Yak About Annual Fleece Crafts, Festival and Trade Show” that includes a barn dance and a barbecue, all for $14. Really, though, that type of entertainment is a bargain at any price.
Even better! We've stumbled upon an article that has absolutely nothing to do with anything!
The festival features alpacas, yaks and mini-donkeys on display as well as an antique tractor display. I am mildly disappointed to learn that there apparently is no “Yak Gawking” competition at this festival.
Why? Because those are "funny" words? And please, can we stick to the topic of the article, which is... what again?
Having spent a fair of amount of time in Iowa and rural Illinois as a lad, I am well familiar with barn dances and tractor displays and I quite enjoy both.
Does "well familiar" make sense?
In fact, there was a time in my life when I was the “Stomp Dance Champion of Wayne County” as determined by local American Legion officials. (I wish I was making that up.) As I recall, the dance competition was in conjunction with a Legion chili supper and I found myself a particularly inspired dancer after dinner, which enabled me and my dance partner to take the title.
I've written my own article: "I was reading the Bible. One verse said 'Jesus wept.' I wondered what he was crying about. Reading the rest of the chapter, I discovered he was crying about Lazarus. I cried one time, back in 1st grade, when we lost a kickball game. Turns out I was pretty good at kickball, but we lost anyway." Cut! Print!
Further research, though, indicates that the “yaks at large” dust-up between the DeMatteis and Mr. Rogers (Latin name: Nottheguyus withthesweatersus)
This "Latin name" thing is just a bottomless mine of comedic gold.
has political implications that go beyond the roaming yaks. It just so happens that Laura DeMatteis is a candidate for a state office.
Apparently Rogers and a couple of his rancher pals approached the county commissioners about the wandering yaks problem and the “yaks at large” ordinance passed, only to be overturned as the state statute cited applies only to dogs and cats.
Fairly interesting. But, at the same time, fairly boring.
Johnson County Commissioner Smokey Wildeman (Latin name: Dontmessius withthisguyus)
Morsch is just going to keep rolling with this, isn't he? Bonus points for actually making me smile with that one.
— who just sounds like a guy who should be in politics in the Big Horn Mountains of Wyoming —
I thought he sounded like a guy you don't want to mess with. Bonus points subtracted for being redundant.
said hold on thar pardner, the board cited the wrong statute because of a typographical error, and he thinks the commissioners are going to consider a revised “yaks at large” ordinance.
Ah, there's nothing more hilarious than the workings of local government!
Despite their tendency to yak, yak, yak without really saying anything at times, I cannot imagine any county commissioners in Southeastern Pennsylvania having to contend with the words “revised yaks at large ordinance.” I could be wrong about that, though, as we do have some rural areas here in Montgomery County and I believe I may have actually seen an alpaca or two on a farm out in the western part of the county.
Can he really expect anyone to laugh at "yak, yak, yak"?
We have a buffalo farm and an ostrich farm near my old home base of Souderton. I like how he says "out in the western part of the county," like he wants credit for being a great traveler or something.
As for the yaks themselves, they remain hungry and frisky but mostly silent on their roaming issue. They are not yakety yaks and as such, they don’t talk back.
Ah, and when you absolutely positively can't think of anything else... make a "clever" song reference to wrap it all up.
Published: Wednesday, June 16, 2010
By Mike Morsch
Roam on the range: Wandering yaks go from yuks to yuck
Right off the bat, I'll say that this is unacceptable. We didn't get a blog entry at all yesterday. What's up with you, Morsch? Too busy posting Twitter links to boring articles from your own newspaper?
I'm guessing Morsch has never seen a live yak outside of a zoo, so this must be about something he read or saw on TV. At first he will find how big and dumb they are amusing ("yuks") and will maybe compare them to himself; then they'll poop, or roll in the dirt, and it will turn to "yuck." Mark my words. [Editor's Note: Do not mark any of my words after "At first."]
If you’re planning a trip to Wyoming’s Big Horn Mountains anytime soon, you may consider delaying it for a bit because, well … the yaks are roaming.
He read about this on the Internet. Guaranteed.
That’s right, roaming yaks. And they’re just wandering around eating everybody’s grass and mating with the cows. No telling what could happen to your car if you’re out roaming around Wyoming gawking at the yaks.
Has he ever watched "Wild America," or even seen a nature show before? He's acting like dinosaurs are roaming the earth once again. They're just yaks.
According to a wire service story, John and Laura DeMatteis of Buffalo, Wyo., raise the yaks and sell them for their meat and wool on their 300-acre ranch called the “Yak Daddy Ranch.” They must be NBA fans.
Why? Sorry, I don't watch basketball. Is the phrase "Mac Daddy" exclusive to that sport or something? I'm guessing that's what he's referencing...
Yaks (Latin name: Bos grunniens)
Right away, I knew Morsch was looking this information up somewhere.
are long-haired animals of the bovine family usually found in the Himalayan region of South Central Asia. Herd animals, they are among the largest and wildest bovines
Hey, you know what you find when you type "yak" into Wikipedia?
The yak, Bos grunniens, is a long-haired bovine found throughout the Himalayan region of south Central Asia... Yaks are herd animals. They are among the largest wild bovids.
Wow. Morsch, you immense sack of yak crap. Do this in a college paper, and you get an "F". For the class. We'll return to the issue of rampant plagiarism later.
roaming around Wyoming during those times when former Vice President Dick Cheney (Latin name: Grumpius oldguyus) is not in the state.
Wow, Morsch hates Dick Cheney. This is the second disparaging reference to him in Outta Leftfield.
The wire service story reveals that local rancher Scott Rogers was at first yukking it up over the yaks. But now his grass is taking a beating and he worries that his cows will have to sleep with one eye open, so he has become unhappy with the situation.
Alright, we'll address the rampant plagiarism right now. Per the wire service story:
Cattle ranchers in the foothills of Wyoming's Big Horn Mountains are no longer yukking over a herd of yaks that keeps getting loose.
Morsch has used that "yukking" joke twice now - in the headline and in this paragraph. Not only is it incredibly lame, but he didn't even think of it himself. This disgusts me. Other than the Dick Cheney joke, there's not a sentence in this "column" that hasn't been stolen from somewhere else.
Local officials, of course, are doing what elected and appointed officials do, which in most cases consists of going out to the ranch, shaking their fists at the yaks and yelling, “Hey, you darn yaks, get off my lawn!”
Really? Normally such a joke would end with "which in most cases consists of raising taxes" or "which in most cases consists of passing a 2,000 page piece of legislation." Not "which in most cases consists of (insert something nobody would ever, ever do, ever)."
Elected officials also are considering an ordinance against “yaks at large.” I wasn’t sure what that meant, so I went to the local newspaper website, the Caspar Star-Tribune, for more information.
Okay, stop. Just stop. So now, after getting quotes from another news story and Wikipedia, we're looking up yet another news story to quote from.
At first, I did not find any additional information on what local officials meant by “yaks at large,” but I did find out that a community called Glenrock has an annual “Yak About Annual Fleece Crafts, Festival and Trade Show” that includes a barn dance and a barbecue, all for $14. Really, though, that type of entertainment is a bargain at any price.
Even better! We've stumbled upon an article that has absolutely nothing to do with anything!
The festival features alpacas, yaks and mini-donkeys on display as well as an antique tractor display. I am mildly disappointed to learn that there apparently is no “Yak Gawking” competition at this festival.
Why? Because those are "funny" words? And please, can we stick to the topic of the article, which is... what again?
Having spent a fair of amount of time in Iowa and rural Illinois as a lad, I am well familiar with barn dances and tractor displays and I quite enjoy both.
Does "well familiar" make sense?
In fact, there was a time in my life when I was the “Stomp Dance Champion of Wayne County” as determined by local American Legion officials. (I wish I was making that up.) As I recall, the dance competition was in conjunction with a Legion chili supper and I found myself a particularly inspired dancer after dinner, which enabled me and my dance partner to take the title.
I've written my own article: "I was reading the Bible. One verse said 'Jesus wept.' I wondered what he was crying about. Reading the rest of the chapter, I discovered he was crying about Lazarus. I cried one time, back in 1st grade, when we lost a kickball game. Turns out I was pretty good at kickball, but we lost anyway." Cut! Print!
Further research, though, indicates that the “yaks at large” dust-up between the DeMatteis and Mr. Rogers (Latin name: Nottheguyus withthesweatersus)
This "Latin name" thing is just a bottomless mine of comedic gold.
has political implications that go beyond the roaming yaks. It just so happens that Laura DeMatteis is a candidate for a state office.
Apparently Rogers and a couple of his rancher pals approached the county commissioners about the wandering yaks problem and the “yaks at large” ordinance passed, only to be overturned as the state statute cited applies only to dogs and cats.
Fairly interesting. But, at the same time, fairly boring.
Johnson County Commissioner Smokey Wildeman (Latin name: Dontmessius withthisguyus)
Morsch is just going to keep rolling with this, isn't he? Bonus points for actually making me smile with that one.
— who just sounds like a guy who should be in politics in the Big Horn Mountains of Wyoming —
I thought he sounded like a guy you don't want to mess with. Bonus points subtracted for being redundant.
said hold on thar pardner, the board cited the wrong statute because of a typographical error, and he thinks the commissioners are going to consider a revised “yaks at large” ordinance.
Ah, there's nothing more hilarious than the workings of local government!
Despite their tendency to yak, yak, yak without really saying anything at times, I cannot imagine any county commissioners in Southeastern Pennsylvania having to contend with the words “revised yaks at large ordinance.” I could be wrong about that, though, as we do have some rural areas here in Montgomery County and I believe I may have actually seen an alpaca or two on a farm out in the western part of the county.
Can he really expect anyone to laugh at "yak, yak, yak"?
We have a buffalo farm and an ostrich farm near my old home base of Souderton. I like how he says "out in the western part of the county," like he wants credit for being a great traveler or something.
As for the yaks themselves, they remain hungry and frisky but mostly silent on their roaming issue. They are not yakety yaks and as such, they don’t talk back.
Ah, and when you absolutely positively can't think of anything else... make a "clever" song reference to wrap it all up.
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
How Dogs Think (per Lileks)
I've been saving this up for a slow news day... and since Morsch doesn't have his Tuesday post up yet (it's 11:06 AM and counting), this seems like a good time. Since the dawn of time (probably), man has wondered whether dogs think, and what they think about.
Well here's the answer, and it's as lame and predictable as only James Lileks can be.
Tuesday, April 6th
Farm life for a dog must have rocked. There was so much territory to call your own, big animals to bully, an amazing array of smells,
Up until here I was fully supportive of his premise - that dogs like it on the farm. They probably do, until they're taken out into the back field and shot.
a pack with an awesome cave that was warm in winter
Woah now! We're right into the mind of the dog here. I mean, a "pack" with a "cave"? Why, that must be how dogs think of our FAMILY and our HOUSE!
and had food in a hot-small-cave and a cold-small-cave, and chickens.
And that must be how they think of our OVEN and our FRIDGE! Because of course a dog wouldn't know those words, because it isn't as smart as we humans... although it knows words like "pack" and "cave." So dogs know words, but just not as many as we do. I think. And isn't it just hilarious how he sticks "and chickens" on the end - it's so random! Just like a dog would think!
Like having your own personal entourage of ninnies who would freak the moment you walked up and said HEY.
I don't get what he means. Is he talking about the chickens? Are we still inside the dog's mind - because how does it know "ninnies" but not "oven"?
It had its bad side – the hired man who lived in the stranger-cave, pack but not-pack;
The "hired man"? What kind of farm is this? A great twist to this little story would have been that the guy is actually a slave, and the dog struggles to understand what makes the slave different from the master. And why is this hired man a "bad side" of farm life - I mean, he's "pack"... but wait, he's also "not pack"! Whatever the heck that means.
the big loud machines that did not listen to a thing you said at all, the cars on the highway at the end of the road that had the cheek to come towards your territory, and then go away pretending you hadn’t driven them away.
Ah, the age-old battle between animal and machine. How come the dog thinks of an oven as an inanimate "hot-small-cave" but knows what a car is and thinks it has a personality?
And the horses, the stupid horses.
Ah, the age-old battle between dog and horse.
But there was the river, the rich aromatic river; the woods, endless and fragrant; the joy of running out at dawn with the whole day ahead and slops at the end of it.
If there's a word worse than "scraps," it's "slops." Now, I don't know how dogs think. I won't even pretend to. Maybe they think in pictures, maybe they just have feelings and urges. But they certainly don't think in this adorable slow-witted semi-human fashion. That's trite, cliche and lazy. In other words, that's Lileks.
Well here's the answer, and it's as lame and predictable as only James Lileks can be.
Tuesday, April 6th
Farm life for a dog must have rocked. There was so much territory to call your own, big animals to bully, an amazing array of smells,
Up until here I was fully supportive of his premise - that dogs like it on the farm. They probably do, until they're taken out into the back field and shot.
a pack with an awesome cave that was warm in winter
Woah now! We're right into the mind of the dog here. I mean, a "pack" with a "cave"? Why, that must be how dogs think of our FAMILY and our HOUSE!
and had food in a hot-small-cave and a cold-small-cave, and chickens.
And that must be how they think of our OVEN and our FRIDGE! Because of course a dog wouldn't know those words, because it isn't as smart as we humans... although it knows words like "pack" and "cave." So dogs know words, but just not as many as we do. I think. And isn't it just hilarious how he sticks "and chickens" on the end - it's so random! Just like a dog would think!
Like having your own personal entourage of ninnies who would freak the moment you walked up and said HEY.
I don't get what he means. Is he talking about the chickens? Are we still inside the dog's mind - because how does it know "ninnies" but not "oven"?
It had its bad side – the hired man who lived in the stranger-cave, pack but not-pack;
The "hired man"? What kind of farm is this? A great twist to this little story would have been that the guy is actually a slave, and the dog struggles to understand what makes the slave different from the master. And why is this hired man a "bad side" of farm life - I mean, he's "pack"... but wait, he's also "not pack"! Whatever the heck that means.
the big loud machines that did not listen to a thing you said at all, the cars on the highway at the end of the road that had the cheek to come towards your territory, and then go away pretending you hadn’t driven them away.
Ah, the age-old battle between animal and machine. How come the dog thinks of an oven as an inanimate "hot-small-cave" but knows what a car is and thinks it has a personality?
And the horses, the stupid horses.
Ah, the age-old battle between dog and horse.
But there was the river, the rich aromatic river; the woods, endless and fragrant; the joy of running out at dawn with the whole day ahead and slops at the end of it.
If there's a word worse than "scraps," it's "slops." Now, I don't know how dogs think. I won't even pretend to. Maybe they think in pictures, maybe they just have feelings and urges. But they certainly don't think in this adorable slow-witted semi-human fashion. That's trite, cliche and lazy. In other words, that's Lileks.
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
The Morsch Formula
Outta Leftfield
Published: Wednesday, June 09, 2010
By Mike Morsch
Executive Editor
Frozen concoction maker a perfect blend of cool ideas
It was only a matter of time before Morsch decided to spend an entire column on a food item. He made an atrocious blog post quite a while back about the Phillies hot dog selection, but never before has a newspaper been graced with such musings. Dare I say we are in for a real "treat"?
I will award myself 5,000 points if Morsch makes a similar pun.
Unless it’s during the Super Bowl, I usually tune out television advertisements when they come on. But every once in a while on my way to not paying attention (a common occurrence), I’ll hear something like “Margaritaville Frozen Concoction Maker,” and I stop right in my tracks.
Translation: I had no idea what I was going to write about, so I picked the next commercial that came on the TV.
Hey, wait a minute … what kind of concoction is it and why is it frozen? See how being a reporter affords me the opportunity to ask the important questions?
If by "reporter" you mean someone who does puff pieces on C-list celebrities.
It’s because “frozen concoction maker” is just fun to say, and fun things turn me into Curious George. The words used in conjunction with each other make me tilt my head like a dog who hears the words “Scooby snack.”
I have no problem with the fact that he just compared himself to a monkey and a dog. He's almost as smart as either of those species.
“It’s only a blender,” said The Blonde Accountant without even looking up from her magazine. She is quite accustomed to my idiosyncrasies and can oftentimes predict when I am going to latch onto something and start asking questions.
Totally fictional, especially the "without even looking up" part. I'm sure Morsch would love it if his "idiosyncrasies" were so well-known that he'd get an "Oh boy, here we go again" and a wacky trombone sound effect.
See, being asked to go shopping for a blender wouldn’t even come close to prompting me to quit strummin’ my six-string on my front porch swing.
This sounds like a song lyric, or a metaphor for something so horrible it can't be described. [Editor's Note: It's a Jimmy Buffet lyric, but he doesn't introduce that angle for another few paragraphs, so it's especially odd here.]
I don’t use a blender for anything — in fact, I wouldn’t have been absolutely certain that we even had a blender if someone asked me — so shopping for one wouldn’t even be on my radar.
It actually shocks me that Morsch has never tried to blend two hot dogs together to make some kind of super-dog.
But if I were asked to go looking for a new frozen concoction maker, I’d run out and get in the car even without being sure what it was, anxious nevertheless to have the following conversation with a sales associate:
I am so excited to see what "hilarious" interaction he's cooked up.
“Good afternoon sir. What brings you into the store today?
No end quotation marks. Another victory for the executive editor.
“I’m looking for a new frozen concoction maker. How many different models do you carry and what type of mpg (margaritas per gallon) does each get?”
And that's it. If you were wondering how the sales associate would react, you're out of luck. I guess the "mpg" thing is what we're supposed to laugh at.
Further research indicates that well, maybe the frozen concoction maker is only just a blender used for making frozen drinks. But boy, it’s a blender on steroids, a manly blender, if there is such a thing.
Hot on the heels of his "manly grill" ramblings, this seems rather unoriginal.
I was not surprised to learn that anything with the trademarked name “Margaritaville” is attached to singer Jimmy Buffet. In fact, the Big Parrothead has developed an entire “Margaritaville” brand, and among the many product lines are these frozen concoction makers.
This isn't really "humor." The Morsch Forumla (Pun in Title + Funny First Paragraph + Informative Middle Paragraphs + Title Pun Repeated in last Paragraph) doesn't seem tailor-made for guffaws... but that's obvious.
There are five models of the concoction makers: Bahamas, Key West, Figi, Tahiti and the Explorer. Essentially, the machines automatically shave and blend the necessary ingredients to make a frozen adult beverage.
That's what blenders usually do.
They range in price from the Bahamas at $199 up to the Tahiti at $499.
Prices are FUNNY!
The Tahiti is the super-mega-jumbo concoction maker, which features three 24-ounce blending jars and a rotating ice chute. For that kind of money, the blender ought to be able to not only shave the ice but shave me while I’m waiting for my drink, killing time by nibbling on sponge cake and watching the sun bake all those tourists covered with oil.
Morsch made a nearly identical joke in the Devon Horse Show article, where he suggested that an expensive hat should be able to put itself on, take itself off, etc. He also employs his oft-repeated strategy of clumsily slipping song lyrics into sentences.
In addition, I think a rotating ice chute is such a cool idea that it should be standard on every automobile, bicycle and cell phone.
An ice chute on a CELL PHONE??? This guy is from Planet Zany!
But there is more. For an additional fee, one can purchase a salt and lime tray, which includes a cutting board for cutting limes, a tray for holding lime wedges, a tray for rimming the glass with salt and a 1-ounce shot glass. A perfect accessory that it appears would eliminate the hassle of searching for one’s lost shaker of salt.
Ooooh another clever song reference, there. Question: is it funny to just list the features of an item? My keyboard features an "End" button so you don't have to slide the cursor all the way to the end of the line. Is that funny?
And since frozen drinks taste better when served at the beach, one can also purchase the handy frozen concoction maker travel bag — a padded, double-stitched canvas bag that has a convenient accessory pocket for the salt and lime tray — perfect for transporting the concoction maker to the more desirable beaches, those where one will not blow out one’s flip flops or step on pop tops.
Oh, I've figured out what makes it funny - inserting a Jimmy Buffet song lyric at the end of each paragraph!
I like frozen drinks as much as the next person. And through an effective marketing strategy, the frozen concoction maker has not only gotten me to think about blenders for the first time in my life, but it also has given me a greater appreciation for the potential role that the blender could play in other aspects of life.
Morsch always wimps out. Heaven forbid he actually come right out and say something is stupid. Even in the title he says it's "cool." It would be like if Jerry Seinfeld wraps up his "airline peanut bag" bit with, "But in all honesty folks, I'm sure they have their reasons for making them so hard to open, and really, they're delicious peanuts. God bless."
In fact, the next time I’m due for an updated cell phone, you can bet that I’m going to shop around for the one that has the best rotating ice chute.
Ugh.
When it comes to my newfound interest in the frozen concoction maker, some people claim that there’s a marketing professional to blame. But I know it’s my own dang fault.
Exerpt from Morsch's Outta Leftfield idea book:
Funny Ideas
Blender Commercial - quote Jimmy Buffet songs
Devon Horse Show - use lots of phrases with the word "horse"
Anything Else - reference baseball
I couldn’t resist getting wasted away again on all of the tomfoolery.
"Getting wasted away again" isn't even the correct lyric. Just like the "horsing around at the horse show" pun, I'm not really clear on where all the tomfoolery is. You know why I love doing this? There is never a disappointment. MM comes through for us every single time.
Published: Wednesday, June 09, 2010
By Mike Morsch
Executive Editor
Frozen concoction maker a perfect blend of cool ideas
It was only a matter of time before Morsch decided to spend an entire column on a food item. He made an atrocious blog post quite a while back about the Phillies hot dog selection, but never before has a newspaper been graced with such musings. Dare I say we are in for a real "treat"?
I will award myself 5,000 points if Morsch makes a similar pun.
Unless it’s during the Super Bowl, I usually tune out television advertisements when they come on. But every once in a while on my way to not paying attention (a common occurrence), I’ll hear something like “Margaritaville Frozen Concoction Maker,” and I stop right in my tracks.
Translation: I had no idea what I was going to write about, so I picked the next commercial that came on the TV.
Hey, wait a minute … what kind of concoction is it and why is it frozen? See how being a reporter affords me the opportunity to ask the important questions?
If by "reporter" you mean someone who does puff pieces on C-list celebrities.
It’s because “frozen concoction maker” is just fun to say, and fun things turn me into Curious George. The words used in conjunction with each other make me tilt my head like a dog who hears the words “Scooby snack.”
I have no problem with the fact that he just compared himself to a monkey and a dog. He's almost as smart as either of those species.
“It’s only a blender,” said The Blonde Accountant without even looking up from her magazine. She is quite accustomed to my idiosyncrasies and can oftentimes predict when I am going to latch onto something and start asking questions.
Totally fictional, especially the "without even looking up" part. I'm sure Morsch would love it if his "idiosyncrasies" were so well-known that he'd get an "Oh boy, here we go again" and a wacky trombone sound effect.
See, being asked to go shopping for a blender wouldn’t even come close to prompting me to quit strummin’ my six-string on my front porch swing.
This sounds like a song lyric, or a metaphor for something so horrible it can't be described. [Editor's Note: It's a Jimmy Buffet lyric, but he doesn't introduce that angle for another few paragraphs, so it's especially odd here.]
I don’t use a blender for anything — in fact, I wouldn’t have been absolutely certain that we even had a blender if someone asked me — so shopping for one wouldn’t even be on my radar.
It actually shocks me that Morsch has never tried to blend two hot dogs together to make some kind of super-dog.
But if I were asked to go looking for a new frozen concoction maker, I’d run out and get in the car even without being sure what it was, anxious nevertheless to have the following conversation with a sales associate:
I am so excited to see what "hilarious" interaction he's cooked up.
“Good afternoon sir. What brings you into the store today?
No end quotation marks. Another victory for the executive editor.
“I’m looking for a new frozen concoction maker. How many different models do you carry and what type of mpg (margaritas per gallon) does each get?”
And that's it. If you were wondering how the sales associate would react, you're out of luck. I guess the "mpg" thing is what we're supposed to laugh at.
Further research indicates that well, maybe the frozen concoction maker is only just a blender used for making frozen drinks. But boy, it’s a blender on steroids, a manly blender, if there is such a thing.
Hot on the heels of his "manly grill" ramblings, this seems rather unoriginal.
I was not surprised to learn that anything with the trademarked name “Margaritaville” is attached to singer Jimmy Buffet. In fact, the Big Parrothead has developed an entire “Margaritaville” brand, and among the many product lines are these frozen concoction makers.
This isn't really "humor." The Morsch Forumla (Pun in Title + Funny First Paragraph + Informative Middle Paragraphs + Title Pun Repeated in last Paragraph) doesn't seem tailor-made for guffaws... but that's obvious.
There are five models of the concoction makers: Bahamas, Key West, Figi, Tahiti and the Explorer. Essentially, the machines automatically shave and blend the necessary ingredients to make a frozen adult beverage.
That's what blenders usually do.
They range in price from the Bahamas at $199 up to the Tahiti at $499.
Prices are FUNNY!
The Tahiti is the super-mega-jumbo concoction maker, which features three 24-ounce blending jars and a rotating ice chute. For that kind of money, the blender ought to be able to not only shave the ice but shave me while I’m waiting for my drink, killing time by nibbling on sponge cake and watching the sun bake all those tourists covered with oil.
Morsch made a nearly identical joke in the Devon Horse Show article, where he suggested that an expensive hat should be able to put itself on, take itself off, etc. He also employs his oft-repeated strategy of clumsily slipping song lyrics into sentences.
In addition, I think a rotating ice chute is such a cool idea that it should be standard on every automobile, bicycle and cell phone.
An ice chute on a CELL PHONE??? This guy is from Planet Zany!
But there is more. For an additional fee, one can purchase a salt and lime tray, which includes a cutting board for cutting limes, a tray for holding lime wedges, a tray for rimming the glass with salt and a 1-ounce shot glass. A perfect accessory that it appears would eliminate the hassle of searching for one’s lost shaker of salt.
Ooooh another clever song reference, there. Question: is it funny to just list the features of an item? My keyboard features an "End" button so you don't have to slide the cursor all the way to the end of the line. Is that funny?
And since frozen drinks taste better when served at the beach, one can also purchase the handy frozen concoction maker travel bag — a padded, double-stitched canvas bag that has a convenient accessory pocket for the salt and lime tray — perfect for transporting the concoction maker to the more desirable beaches, those where one will not blow out one’s flip flops or step on pop tops.
Oh, I've figured out what makes it funny - inserting a Jimmy Buffet song lyric at the end of each paragraph!
I like frozen drinks as much as the next person. And through an effective marketing strategy, the frozen concoction maker has not only gotten me to think about blenders for the first time in my life, but it also has given me a greater appreciation for the potential role that the blender could play in other aspects of life.
Morsch always wimps out. Heaven forbid he actually come right out and say something is stupid. Even in the title he says it's "cool." It would be like if Jerry Seinfeld wraps up his "airline peanut bag" bit with, "But in all honesty folks, I'm sure they have their reasons for making them so hard to open, and really, they're delicious peanuts. God bless."
In fact, the next time I’m due for an updated cell phone, you can bet that I’m going to shop around for the one that has the best rotating ice chute.
Ugh.
When it comes to my newfound interest in the frozen concoction maker, some people claim that there’s a marketing professional to blame. But I know it’s my own dang fault.
Exerpt from Morsch's Outta Leftfield idea book:
Funny Ideas
Blender Commercial - quote Jimmy Buffet songs
Devon Horse Show - use lots of phrases with the word "horse"
Anything Else - reference baseball
I couldn’t resist getting wasted away again on all of the tomfoolery.
"Getting wasted away again" isn't even the correct lyric. Just like the "horsing around at the horse show" pun, I'm not really clear on where all the tomfoolery is. You know why I love doing this? There is never a disappointment. MM comes through for us every single time.
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
The Hat Trick
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
Skynyrd drummer's art rocks
This is the best day ever. THREE blog posts in one day, and this one is sure to feature Morsch drooling over a washed-up pseudo-celebrity.
Michael Cartellone is a class act. The drummer for the legendary southern rock band Lynyrd Skynyrd for the past 11 years,
This cracks me up. It's not like this guy did the recordings for Free Bird or Sweet Home Alabama or anything. He joined up with them in 1999 - far, far removed from the band's "legendary" years in the mid 70's.
he’s been painting since he was 4 years old. Many of those paintings, a lot of them with a rock theme of course, were on display Sunday at Wentworth Gallery in the King of Prussia mall.
You know those actors who put out music albums? This guy's paintings are of about the same quality. It looks like Cartellone did most of these paintings when he actually was four years old.
I had the pleasure of interviewing Cartellone for a preview story on the event, which appeared in the Ticket entertainment section of Montgomery Newspapers a few weeks ago.
Oh, oh, the plllllleeeeeaaasssssuuurreeee of interviewing him. The absolute ppplllleeaaassuuureee.
Cartellone was just as pleasant and accommodating in person as he was on the phone during the interview.
Well, duh. Would anyone say something like this: "Cartellone was a total son-of-a-bitch bastard on the phone. Nice guy in person, though."
He had a lot of family and friends at the exhibition with him, including his parents, and spent a lot of time talking with fans of his music and art during the three-hour event.
Is anyone else here reminded of the audience at a 9th-grade play? Family, friends, parents. It would also surprise - nay, ASTOUND - me if he didn't talk to fans about his art at, you know, his art exhibition.
One of Cartellone’s pieces, titled “New York,” features a likeness of his father, Joseph. The fan that purchased the piece at Wentworth on Sunday got both the artist and his father to sign the artwork, creating a uniquely one-of-a-kind aspect to the painting.
Did you know that "unique" means "one of a kind"? So Mr. Morsch has bestowed a high compliment on this painting: it is one-of-a-kind-ly one of a kind. He forgot to say that it was interestingly fascinating and awesomely cool.
Wentworth has in the past hosted exhibits by Paul Stanley, lead singer of KISS, and actress Jane Seymour. Gallery director Tom Curley always hosts a nice event for local fans and art aficionados and makes sure they get some face time with the artists when they purchase a piece of art.
Three uses of "art" in the same sentence: beautiful. I hope these "artists" don't think they're actually talented because people want to buy their crappy paintings. You think Michael Cartellone, Paralegal would sell as many paintings as Michael Cartellone, Musician? Hardly.
On that particular Sunday afternoon in June, Cartellone plus Curley equaled . . . cool.
What? Explain that equation to me, please.
Labels: Lynyrd Skynyrd, Michael Cartellone, Mike Morsch, Montgomery Newspapers, Outta Leftfield, Wentworth Gallery
I also want to share this, posted a while ago on Twitter:
Werth is missing pitches that he should be pooping all over. Jeez.
about 17 hours ago via web
I would pay real money for announcers to start using "pooping all over" as a synonym for "hitting well."
It's a hot day in mid-June. Tom McCarthy and Chris Wheeler call a Phils game as Jayson Werth struggles at the plate.
T-Mac: Oh, caught looking at a curveball, and Werth is rung up.
Wheels: And right there was a pitch that Werth should just be pooping all over.
T-Mac: What?
Wheels: Pooping all over. Jayson Werth should just be pulling down his pants and pooping all over that pitch. Jeez!
T-Mac: Well pooping all over those pitches is what hitting coach Milt Thompson has addressed several times with Werth...
Skynyrd drummer's art rocks
This is the best day ever. THREE blog posts in one day, and this one is sure to feature Morsch drooling over a washed-up pseudo-celebrity.
Michael Cartellone is a class act. The drummer for the legendary southern rock band Lynyrd Skynyrd for the past 11 years,
This cracks me up. It's not like this guy did the recordings for Free Bird or Sweet Home Alabama or anything. He joined up with them in 1999 - far, far removed from the band's "legendary" years in the mid 70's.
he’s been painting since he was 4 years old. Many of those paintings, a lot of them with a rock theme of course, were on display Sunday at Wentworth Gallery in the King of Prussia mall.
You know those actors who put out music albums? This guy's paintings are of about the same quality. It looks like Cartellone did most of these paintings when he actually was four years old.
I had the pleasure of interviewing Cartellone for a preview story on the event, which appeared in the Ticket entertainment section of Montgomery Newspapers a few weeks ago.
Oh, oh, the plllllleeeeeaaasssssuuurreeee of interviewing him. The absolute ppplllleeaaassuuureee.
Cartellone was just as pleasant and accommodating in person as he was on the phone during the interview.
Well, duh. Would anyone say something like this: "Cartellone was a total son-of-a-bitch bastard on the phone. Nice guy in person, though."
He had a lot of family and friends at the exhibition with him, including his parents, and spent a lot of time talking with fans of his music and art during the three-hour event.
Is anyone else here reminded of the audience at a 9th-grade play? Family, friends, parents. It would also surprise - nay, ASTOUND - me if he didn't talk to fans about his art at, you know, his art exhibition.
One of Cartellone’s pieces, titled “New York,” features a likeness of his father, Joseph. The fan that purchased the piece at Wentworth on Sunday got both the artist and his father to sign the artwork, creating a uniquely one-of-a-kind aspect to the painting.
Did you know that "unique" means "one of a kind"? So Mr. Morsch has bestowed a high compliment on this painting: it is one-of-a-kind-ly one of a kind. He forgot to say that it was interestingly fascinating and awesomely cool.
Wentworth has in the past hosted exhibits by Paul Stanley, lead singer of KISS, and actress Jane Seymour. Gallery director Tom Curley always hosts a nice event for local fans and art aficionados and makes sure they get some face time with the artists when they purchase a piece of art.
Three uses of "art" in the same sentence: beautiful. I hope these "artists" don't think they're actually talented because people want to buy their crappy paintings. You think Michael Cartellone, Paralegal would sell as many paintings as Michael Cartellone, Musician? Hardly.
On that particular Sunday afternoon in June, Cartellone plus Curley equaled . . . cool.
What? Explain that equation to me, please.
Labels: Lynyrd Skynyrd, Michael Cartellone, Mike Morsch, Montgomery Newspapers, Outta Leftfield, Wentworth Gallery
I also want to share this, posted a while ago on Twitter:
Werth is missing pitches that he should be pooping all over. Jeez.
about 17 hours ago via web
I would pay real money for announcers to start using "pooping all over" as a synonym for "hitting well."
It's a hot day in mid-June. Tom McCarthy and Chris Wheeler call a Phils game as Jayson Werth struggles at the plate.
T-Mac: Oh, caught looking at a curveball, and Werth is rung up.
Wheels: And right there was a pitch that Werth should just be pooping all over.
T-Mac: What?
Wheels: Pooping all over. Jayson Werth should just be pulling down his pants and pooping all over that pitch. Jeez!
T-Mac: Well pooping all over those pitches is what hitting coach Milt Thompson has addressed several times with Werth...
A Rare Two-fer
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
Meat and music in Perkasie
There's nothing that brightens up a Tuesday morning like a fresh Outta Leftfield blog post, especially when it has a title like this one. "Meat and Music in Perkasie" harkens back to the classic "A Night Out in Ambler" post - meaning the exciting tale of Morsch going somewhere (and doing something) totally mundane.
Got a chance to go to Perkasie Olde Towne’s “Hot Ribs, Cool Music” event Saturday. Unfortunately, we got there too late to sample the ribs or the pies. Frankly, given my fondness for both ribs and pie, that’s bad weekend planning on our part and an adjustment will have to be made to rectify that before next year’s event.
An adjustment... like getting there earlier?
The festival is built around two favorite pastimes: music and food.
You just said that.
It features ribs-grilling and pie-baking competitions,
You basically just said that, too.
a pie-eating contest and several music performers, including Zydeco-A-Go-Go, Dirk Quinn, Mike Greer & Co. and the Pennridge High School and South Middle School Jazz bands.
Wow, middle school jazz bands! Truly the peak of musical excellence. After stating the name of the event as "Hot Ribs, Cool Music," Morsch has now told us three times that the event features ribs and music.
Despite the steaminess of the day, there was a bit of a cool breeze blowing through the big tent as we enjoyed the music of Zydeco-A-Go-Go.
What does this even mean? "Despite the fact that it was hot, it was pretty cool."
I like any band that features a squeezebox and a guy who plays a metal washboard strapped to his chest with spoons, and Zydeco-A-Go-Go has both.
Was there a guy playing the gutbucket? Or a guy blowing on a jug of moonshine whiskey?
If there was a consolation to missing the ribs and pies, it’s that I didn’t spill any ribs or pie on my shirt. Next year, I’ll plan better and take another shirt along.
Hey, you know what never gets old? That hilarious "I spill things on myself" bit!
Labels: " Outta Leftfield, Mike Morsch, Montomgery Newspapers, Perkasie Olde Towne
So we label "Perkasie Olde Towne"... but not any of the bands and not "Hot Ribs, Cool Music."
Topps promotion is top-notch
And just for good measure - probably since the first post was like 50 words long - we get a second entry! Does everybody remember Morsch's absolutely loathesome "memories of baseball cards" article? Check the March Inta Rightfield archives, under "Morsch Tells Vague Story(ies)".
The Topps Company, longtime maker of baseball cards, has decided to feature one of my past columns in its “Topps Million Card Giveaway” promotion. I am both humbled and honored.
Don't be too honored - this only means that someone at Topps is a total dumbass. And don't be humbled - you're not nearly talented enough.
The column was from earlier this year and centered on a father-son-baseball-baseball cards theme.
Did it? As I remember it was unfocused, rambling, and contained two separate stories without any clarification on which one was the "special memory" the column was supposed to be about. And how sloppy does "father-son-baseball-baseball cards" look? This man writes for a living. Does that seem right to you?
The piece included some very personal and wonderful memories about my father and the collecting of baseball cards when I was a kid.
It also included some meaningless story about the local baseball team and where they went for drinks after a game.
Topps figured out a way to bring baseball-card collecting into the digital world with this promotion. It has reinvigorated my interest in baseball cards — something I never really lost through the years anyway
I call a foul on this. How can it "reinvigorate" something you "never lost"? He is also very mysterious about the nature of the promotion... for once, a little more detail would actually help.
— and I now get to share the hobby with my stepson. It’s heartening to watch the joy he gets from collecting and trading his cards.
I "collected" baseball cards for like a year, before I realized they were just little squares of cheap cardboard that you couldn't play with.
You can read the column here: http://bit.ly/aaazFf
Don't read it. Trust me.
Labels: Mike Morsch, Montgomery Newspapers, Outta Leftfield, Topps Company
Meat and music in Perkasie
There's nothing that brightens up a Tuesday morning like a fresh Outta Leftfield blog post, especially when it has a title like this one. "Meat and Music in Perkasie" harkens back to the classic "A Night Out in Ambler" post - meaning the exciting tale of Morsch going somewhere (and doing something) totally mundane.
Got a chance to go to Perkasie Olde Towne’s “Hot Ribs, Cool Music” event Saturday. Unfortunately, we got there too late to sample the ribs or the pies. Frankly, given my fondness for both ribs and pie, that’s bad weekend planning on our part and an adjustment will have to be made to rectify that before next year’s event.
An adjustment... like getting there earlier?
The festival is built around two favorite pastimes: music and food.
You just said that.
It features ribs-grilling and pie-baking competitions,
You basically just said that, too.
a pie-eating contest and several music performers, including Zydeco-A-Go-Go, Dirk Quinn, Mike Greer & Co. and the Pennridge High School and South Middle School Jazz bands.
Wow, middle school jazz bands! Truly the peak of musical excellence. After stating the name of the event as "Hot Ribs, Cool Music," Morsch has now told us three times that the event features ribs and music.
Despite the steaminess of the day, there was a bit of a cool breeze blowing through the big tent as we enjoyed the music of Zydeco-A-Go-Go.
What does this even mean? "Despite the fact that it was hot, it was pretty cool."
I like any band that features a squeezebox and a guy who plays a metal washboard strapped to his chest with spoons, and Zydeco-A-Go-Go has both.
Was there a guy playing the gutbucket? Or a guy blowing on a jug of moonshine whiskey?
If there was a consolation to missing the ribs and pies, it’s that I didn’t spill any ribs or pie on my shirt. Next year, I’ll plan better and take another shirt along.
Hey, you know what never gets old? That hilarious "I spill things on myself" bit!
Labels: " Outta Leftfield, Mike Morsch, Montomgery Newspapers, Perkasie Olde Towne
So we label "Perkasie Olde Towne"... but not any of the bands and not "Hot Ribs, Cool Music."
Topps promotion is top-notch
And just for good measure - probably since the first post was like 50 words long - we get a second entry! Does everybody remember Morsch's absolutely loathesome "memories of baseball cards" article? Check the March Inta Rightfield archives, under "Morsch Tells Vague Story(ies)".
The Topps Company, longtime maker of baseball cards, has decided to feature one of my past columns in its “Topps Million Card Giveaway” promotion. I am both humbled and honored.
Don't be too honored - this only means that someone at Topps is a total dumbass. And don't be humbled - you're not nearly talented enough.
The column was from earlier this year and centered on a father-son-baseball-baseball cards theme.
Did it? As I remember it was unfocused, rambling, and contained two separate stories without any clarification on which one was the "special memory" the column was supposed to be about. And how sloppy does "father-son-baseball-baseball cards" look? This man writes for a living. Does that seem right to you?
The piece included some very personal and wonderful memories about my father and the collecting of baseball cards when I was a kid.
It also included some meaningless story about the local baseball team and where they went for drinks after a game.
Topps figured out a way to bring baseball-card collecting into the digital world with this promotion. It has reinvigorated my interest in baseball cards — something I never really lost through the years anyway
I call a foul on this. How can it "reinvigorate" something you "never lost"? He is also very mysterious about the nature of the promotion... for once, a little more detail would actually help.
— and I now get to share the hobby with my stepson. It’s heartening to watch the joy he gets from collecting and trading his cards.
I "collected" baseball cards for like a year, before I realized they were just little squares of cheap cardboard that you couldn't play with.
You can read the column here: http://bit.ly/aaazFf
Don't read it. Trust me.
Labels: Mike Morsch, Montgomery Newspapers, Outta Leftfield, Topps Company
Monday, June 7, 2010
Terrorists are Funny
Quoth Mr. Morsch:
These two jamoke wannabe NJ terrorists pinched at JFK yesterday are really . . . jamokes.
about 5 hours ago via web
Two guys were apparently arrested trying to board planes for Somalia to join a terrorist group called Al-Shabaab and "wage jihad against Americans abroad, attacking U.S. troops in Afghanistan." Their names are (unsurprisingly) Mohamed Mahmoud Alessa and Carlos Eduardo Almonte.
Urban Dictionary defines "jamoke" as "a clumsy loser who is incapable of doing normal human tasks." Now, far be it from me to make a mountain out of a mole-hill... but I can't really scoff at the idea of potential or actual terrorists boarding planes. I seem to remember a bunch of similar "jamokes" doing that not too terribly long ago, and we didn't catch them that time. We can't afford to paint these people as bungling fools - the danger is just too great.
These two jamoke wannabe NJ terrorists pinched at JFK yesterday are really . . . jamokes.
about 5 hours ago via web
Two guys were apparently arrested trying to board planes for Somalia to join a terrorist group called Al-Shabaab and "wage jihad against Americans abroad, attacking U.S. troops in Afghanistan." Their names are (unsurprisingly) Mohamed Mahmoud Alessa and Carlos Eduardo Almonte.
Urban Dictionary defines "jamoke" as "a clumsy loser who is incapable of doing normal human tasks." Now, far be it from me to make a mountain out of a mole-hill... but I can't really scoff at the idea of potential or actual terrorists boarding planes. I seem to remember a bunch of similar "jamokes" doing that not too terribly long ago, and we didn't catch them that time. We can't afford to paint these people as bungling fools - the danger is just too great.
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
Oddly Without Focus
Outta Leftfield
Published: Wednesday, June 02, 2010
By Mike Morsch
Executive Editor
Devon Horse Show a great place for a little horsing around
That pun looks like it took all of one second to think up. Either that, or he spent HOURS thinking it up.
Hey, when did the price of straw go through the roof?
See, I worry about a lot of things when it comes to finances, but it never occurred to me that I’d have to worry about straw prices until The Blonde Accountant — an avowed non-hat wearer — decided she needed a straw hat to protect herself from the sun.
My guess: the price of straw has virtually nothing to do with the price of the hat.
The issue was brought to the forefront over a holiday weekend that was awash in sunshine, when we decided to take in the Devon Horse Show and Country Fair, which its website describes as “the oldest and largest outdoor multi-breed competition in the United States.”
I'm going to make another guess here... Morsch has two topics: horse show and straw hat. He will try to add "humor" to his boring description of the horse show by complaining about how much the hat costs. He will also include a fictional exchange between himself and his wife, illustrating how he just doesn't understand things.
When we were deciding on holiday family activities and the horse show was mentioned as a possibility, I was onboard from the start, even though I had never been to an official horse show. Why, what better venue is there for some good-natured horsing around than a horse show? Count me in.
First of all, I don't see how a horse show necessarily lends itself to "horsing around." Second, he's used the same painfully lame pun twice now. Dare I say that he's beating a dead... horse?
The Devon Horse Show has been around since 1896 and draws top competitors from around the world. My first impression upon entering the show grounds was that it had a Kentucky Derby feel about it. And just like at the derby, it appears that lots of horse people like to wear hats, especially the women.
Some classic Morsch Boring Facts to lead off, complemented by a mention of the hats. My guesses are on track so far.
As such, there were several vendors selling a variety of straw hats and since we were in the market for a straw hat, we seemed to be in the right place.
"As such" doesn't make sense here. This is such a wasted paragraph. "People wore straw hats. People were selling straw hats. We wanted to buy a straw hat."
One can get a straw hat down the shore for as little as $15,
"Down the shore"? Either that's some kind of annoying local Philly phrase, or he forgot "at."
but right out of the chute, the first hat The Blonde Accountant picked up at the horse show had a price tag of $200. When it comes to straw hats, that price tag is indeed a horse of a different color (green, apparently).
You don't really need to say "at the horse show." We know you're at the horse show already. I can also get a Phillies shirt for $10 at Wal-Mart, but would have to pay $80 for it at the stadium. I'm really surprised Morsch didn't make a similar connection.
Unfortunately, financing was not available on that particular hat, so we had to pass on it. For that kind of scratch, the hat should hop on and off one’s head by itself and should do so without leaving a trace of hat head.
"Scratch"? Are we in a 1950's gangster film all of a sudden?
It took some shopping around, but The Blonde Accountant avoided putting the cart before the horse and eventually found a reasonably priced hat. With the 90 days same as cash deal, we should be able to pay it off without incurring the interest charges.
How exactly does the phrase "cart before the horse" fit here? And how many phrases involving the word "horse" can Morsch work into this column?
With the blonde noggin sufficiently protected from the sun, it was on to horse show-viewing activities, which included a demonstration by Stacy Westfall, billed as a “bridleless reining sensation,” who controls her horses without the aid of a saddle (although for the particular demonstration we saw, she did ride in a saddle) or a bridle, using only her legs; and a horse-drawn carriage competition, featuring participants dressed in period costumes.
This has to be the longest sentence in Outta Leftfield history. I like how he specifies that, for their show, she rode in a saddle - like some avid reader who was also at the horse show will call him out on it.
It turns out that the weeklong event could have been billed as the “Horses, Hats and Dogs Show.”
Hey, I recently went to Dorney Park and Wildwater Kingdom. Turns it it should actually be called "Dorney, a Park with Roller Coasters, Thrill Rides, Concessions and a Kids' Section, and Wildwater Kindom."
In addition to the horse-related events, the show featured the annual Devon Hat Parade, where entrants compete in categories such as best botanical, best vintage and “Devon Diva.” The winners in each category got to enjoy a Cartier champagne reception high atop the grandstands with hat judge and fashion expert Carson Kressley, that dude from the former cable TV show “Queer Eye for the Straight Guy.”
Fascinating. Really.
Try as I might, I could not get The Blonde Accountant to return to the horse show on the day of the hat competition and enter with her new lid. I believe the title of “Devon Diva” would have been a fun one for her to have. And besides, just how many opportunities does one get to drink champagne at a horse show with the “Queer Eye” guy?
I really want to fault Morsch for describing Mr. Kressley as "that dude" from a show featuring five prententiously named gay guys... but really, how else could one describe him?
I just about swiped her chapeau and entered the contest myself, but I was informed that I should just hold my horses on that idea.
So... slow down and wait until later to enter the contest?
In addition, new this year was the Devon Doggie Parade, where the pooches showed off in lookalike, style and fashionista categories. Further scouring of the parade rulebook yielded no definitive information on whether the horses and dogs were required to wear expensive straw hats during any of the competitions or be fans of “Queer Eye.”
This is an idea SO ridiculous it just HAS to be funny!
Crickets chirping
For non-horse show people, we came away with a day that was filled with unique experiences. The kids, of course, were bored out of their skulls, but as you know, you can lead a horse to water …
A report on "My Day at the Horse Show" written by either of the kids is bound to be more informative, funnier and more interesting than this column.
However, there is no denying the grace and beauty of the horses. They are wonderful animals to observe, with or without their hats, and the Devon Horse Show is a great place to experience and learn about the equestrian lifestyle.
Again, "however" doesn't work in this context. This also may be a first for Morsch - instead of praising the organizers of the horse show, he heaps flattery upon the horses.
Those observations, of course, are straight from the horse’s mouth.
Alright, so he didn't do a "humorous" made-up conversation. But he did use the hats as his way to inject some much-needed fun (read: "fun") into his blow-by-blow account of the horse show. Also, did I miss when all the "horsing around" took place?
The use of all the horse puns makes me question the nature of the column itself. Could it be that Morsch doesn't actually think this is funny? Could it be that this column is just one more duty heaped upon him at the newspaper, and he's just phoning it in each week and hoping that someone will chuckle? Could it be that he's just a tired old cynical hack who couldn't care less?
No. He really thinks it's funny.
Published: Wednesday, June 02, 2010
By Mike Morsch
Executive Editor
Devon Horse Show a great place for a little horsing around
That pun looks like it took all of one second to think up. Either that, or he spent HOURS thinking it up.
Hey, when did the price of straw go through the roof?
See, I worry about a lot of things when it comes to finances, but it never occurred to me that I’d have to worry about straw prices until The Blonde Accountant — an avowed non-hat wearer — decided she needed a straw hat to protect herself from the sun.
My guess: the price of straw has virtually nothing to do with the price of the hat.
The issue was brought to the forefront over a holiday weekend that was awash in sunshine, when we decided to take in the Devon Horse Show and Country Fair, which its website describes as “the oldest and largest outdoor multi-breed competition in the United States.”
I'm going to make another guess here... Morsch has two topics: horse show and straw hat. He will try to add "humor" to his boring description of the horse show by complaining about how much the hat costs. He will also include a fictional exchange between himself and his wife, illustrating how he just doesn't understand things.
When we were deciding on holiday family activities and the horse show was mentioned as a possibility, I was onboard from the start, even though I had never been to an official horse show. Why, what better venue is there for some good-natured horsing around than a horse show? Count me in.
First of all, I don't see how a horse show necessarily lends itself to "horsing around." Second, he's used the same painfully lame pun twice now. Dare I say that he's beating a dead... horse?
The Devon Horse Show has been around since 1896 and draws top competitors from around the world. My first impression upon entering the show grounds was that it had a Kentucky Derby feel about it. And just like at the derby, it appears that lots of horse people like to wear hats, especially the women.
Some classic Morsch Boring Facts to lead off, complemented by a mention of the hats. My guesses are on track so far.
As such, there were several vendors selling a variety of straw hats and since we were in the market for a straw hat, we seemed to be in the right place.
"As such" doesn't make sense here. This is such a wasted paragraph. "People wore straw hats. People were selling straw hats. We wanted to buy a straw hat."
One can get a straw hat down the shore for as little as $15,
"Down the shore"? Either that's some kind of annoying local Philly phrase, or he forgot "at."
but right out of the chute, the first hat The Blonde Accountant picked up at the horse show had a price tag of $200. When it comes to straw hats, that price tag is indeed a horse of a different color (green, apparently).
You don't really need to say "at the horse show." We know you're at the horse show already. I can also get a Phillies shirt for $10 at Wal-Mart, but would have to pay $80 for it at the stadium. I'm really surprised Morsch didn't make a similar connection.
Unfortunately, financing was not available on that particular hat, so we had to pass on it. For that kind of scratch, the hat should hop on and off one’s head by itself and should do so without leaving a trace of hat head.
"Scratch"? Are we in a 1950's gangster film all of a sudden?
It took some shopping around, but The Blonde Accountant avoided putting the cart before the horse and eventually found a reasonably priced hat. With the 90 days same as cash deal, we should be able to pay it off without incurring the interest charges.
How exactly does the phrase "cart before the horse" fit here? And how many phrases involving the word "horse" can Morsch work into this column?
With the blonde noggin sufficiently protected from the sun, it was on to horse show-viewing activities, which included a demonstration by Stacy Westfall, billed as a “bridleless reining sensation,” who controls her horses without the aid of a saddle (although for the particular demonstration we saw, she did ride in a saddle) or a bridle, using only her legs; and a horse-drawn carriage competition, featuring participants dressed in period costumes.
This has to be the longest sentence in Outta Leftfield history. I like how he specifies that, for their show, she rode in a saddle - like some avid reader who was also at the horse show will call him out on it.
It turns out that the weeklong event could have been billed as the “Horses, Hats and Dogs Show.”
Hey, I recently went to Dorney Park and Wildwater Kingdom. Turns it it should actually be called "Dorney, a Park with Roller Coasters, Thrill Rides, Concessions and a Kids' Section, and Wildwater Kindom."
In addition to the horse-related events, the show featured the annual Devon Hat Parade, where entrants compete in categories such as best botanical, best vintage and “Devon Diva.” The winners in each category got to enjoy a Cartier champagne reception high atop the grandstands with hat judge and fashion expert Carson Kressley, that dude from the former cable TV show “Queer Eye for the Straight Guy.”
Fascinating. Really.
Try as I might, I could not get The Blonde Accountant to return to the horse show on the day of the hat competition and enter with her new lid. I believe the title of “Devon Diva” would have been a fun one for her to have. And besides, just how many opportunities does one get to drink champagne at a horse show with the “Queer Eye” guy?
I really want to fault Morsch for describing Mr. Kressley as "that dude" from a show featuring five prententiously named gay guys... but really, how else could one describe him?
I just about swiped her chapeau and entered the contest myself, but I was informed that I should just hold my horses on that idea.
So... slow down and wait until later to enter the contest?
In addition, new this year was the Devon Doggie Parade, where the pooches showed off in lookalike, style and fashionista categories. Further scouring of the parade rulebook yielded no definitive information on whether the horses and dogs were required to wear expensive straw hats during any of the competitions or be fans of “Queer Eye.”
This is an idea SO ridiculous it just HAS to be funny!
Crickets chirping
For non-horse show people, we came away with a day that was filled with unique experiences. The kids, of course, were bored out of their skulls, but as you know, you can lead a horse to water …
A report on "My Day at the Horse Show" written by either of the kids is bound to be more informative, funnier and more interesting than this column.
However, there is no denying the grace and beauty of the horses. They are wonderful animals to observe, with or without their hats, and the Devon Horse Show is a great place to experience and learn about the equestrian lifestyle.
Again, "however" doesn't work in this context. This also may be a first for Morsch - instead of praising the organizers of the horse show, he heaps flattery upon the horses.
Those observations, of course, are straight from the horse’s mouth.
Alright, so he didn't do a "humorous" made-up conversation. But he did use the hats as his way to inject some much-needed fun (read: "fun") into his blow-by-blow account of the horse show. Also, did I miss when all the "horsing around" took place?
The use of all the horse puns makes me question the nature of the column itself. Could it be that Morsch doesn't actually think this is funny? Could it be that this column is just one more duty heaped upon him at the newspaper, and he's just phoning it in each week and hoping that someone will chuckle? Could it be that he's just a tired old cynical hack who couldn't care less?
No. He really thinks it's funny.
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
Happily Wasting my Time
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
A manly man of an outdoor grill
It's a bold choice to try and milk the same withered old cow two weeks in a row. But then again, Morsch is a bold man. After we were treated to the story of how he ALMOST purchased a grill in last week's column, can we dare hope to get Morsch's thoughts on a grill that he ACTUALLY purchased?
The new outdoor grill has been secured and the first round of meat was successfully charred over the holiday weekend. But I must admit the cleanup has been a little more complicated than I anticipated.
Ah, the meat was "charred" - because he's a MAN, and men can't do the wash and they burn the meat and leave the toilet seat up.
We had purchased the Char-Broil brand, commercial series model, which is a manly man of an outdoor grill.
Thank you for proving my point exactly.
In fact, when the guy at the big home improvement store wheeled it out from the back already assembled (my inadequacy at putting things together is well documented),
Ah, men! They can't put things together, either. Again, I note how Morsch is coy about the actual name of "the big home improvement store" after he spent an entire column praising restaurants in Ambler by name. What's the deal here?
I felt the urge to do The Stupid Man Dance, which includes jumping around, chest-bumping and high-fiving with other guys in the store while shouting “Woof-woof-woof!”
Ah, men! They're rowdy and crude and socially clueless. Sometimes I wonder if Morsch is an alien, and his sole knowledge of human culture comes from watching episodes "Home Improvement."
Gentlemen, go ahead and perform the dance in front of your wives and female companions. They will be so impressed and will want to go shopping with you more often.
Well, okay, if you say so - heeeeeeeey, wait a minute! They won't be impressed at all!
The one thing we needed to be aware of with this grill, though, was how it was cleaned. The grates are made of cast-iron (a manly metal) with a porcelain coating (a manly coating).
The "manly coating" bit? Actually sorta witty. I'm sure he lifted that from someone else's column.
But the usual grill-cleaning tool, a wire brush, could wreck the porcelain finish. So we took the guy’s recommendation and bought what we thought was the right soft brush for the job.
Prediction: Morsch won't be able to figure out how to use the soft brush properly. Or he'll ruin the porcelain anyway.
Personally, if mankind can invent a self-cleaning oven, then I think it should be able to invent a self-cleaning grill. Failing that, we should at least be able to remove the grill’s grates and place them in a self-cleaning oven and let the oven do the work.
Morsch's Twitter profile describes him as a "humor columnist dealing with life's little stupidities." Do observations like these really qualify him for that task? The level of observation and insight found in his writings is so low it's probably merged with the Earth's molten core. He has no fresh perspective to offer, no unique view of human nature that makes you nod and say, "Why didn't I think of that?"
By the way, I went to Google and typed in "self-cleaning grill." The second result describes how you can indeed put your grill parts into your self-cleaning oven. It was from 2006. Well done, Mr. Morsch.
After the first round of grilling, I was using the soft brush to clean and ended up just shredding the thing. It was not the appropriate tool for the job.
Bingo.
So back to the big home improvement store I went, where another guy explained to be that I needed a brass-wired brush and a squirt bottle. He instructed me to heat the grill, squirt the grate with water to create steam, and then use the brass-wired brush to clean away the grime.
Has he never owned a grill before? I can only imagine the layers of grease and hamburger chunks that coated his old one.
That worked, and it appears the porcelain coating has remained undamaged after the initial cleanings.
Five cleanings from now, and the porcelain coating will have crumbled into dust. I like how he probably intentionally got a different guy than before, scared that he'd look like a fool in front of the first guy.
Now that the worry over cleaning the grill has been solved, I can go back to burning meat for the rest of the summer. Woof-woof-woof!
A recent reader named Anonymous (sort of like Hieronymus Bosch) asked why I "waste my time" reading this column if I hate it so much. Truth is, I find it fascinating that someone is paid to produce this slop. Think about it - if this is what MM writes himself, what kind of garbage is he "editing" and publishing in the newspaper? In a way, it's a perfect reflection on modern media, what passes for modern "humor," and the declining suburban newspaper. Morsch stands as the prefect crumbling monument to all of them, and as long as he keeps on writing, I'll keep on shaking my head in wonder.
Labels: Mike Morsch, Montgomery Newspapers, Outta Leftfield
What, not "Grilling" or "Grills" or "big home improvement store" or anything?
A manly man of an outdoor grill
It's a bold choice to try and milk the same withered old cow two weeks in a row. But then again, Morsch is a bold man. After we were treated to the story of how he ALMOST purchased a grill in last week's column, can we dare hope to get Morsch's thoughts on a grill that he ACTUALLY purchased?
The new outdoor grill has been secured and the first round of meat was successfully charred over the holiday weekend. But I must admit the cleanup has been a little more complicated than I anticipated.
Ah, the meat was "charred" - because he's a MAN, and men can't do the wash and they burn the meat and leave the toilet seat up.
We had purchased the Char-Broil brand, commercial series model, which is a manly man of an outdoor grill.
Thank you for proving my point exactly.
In fact, when the guy at the big home improvement store wheeled it out from the back already assembled (my inadequacy at putting things together is well documented),
Ah, men! They can't put things together, either. Again, I note how Morsch is coy about the actual name of "the big home improvement store" after he spent an entire column praising restaurants in Ambler by name. What's the deal here?
I felt the urge to do The Stupid Man Dance, which includes jumping around, chest-bumping and high-fiving with other guys in the store while shouting “Woof-woof-woof!”
Ah, men! They're rowdy and crude and socially clueless. Sometimes I wonder if Morsch is an alien, and his sole knowledge of human culture comes from watching episodes "Home Improvement."
Gentlemen, go ahead and perform the dance in front of your wives and female companions. They will be so impressed and will want to go shopping with you more often.
Well, okay, if you say so - heeeeeeeey, wait a minute! They won't be impressed at all!
The one thing we needed to be aware of with this grill, though, was how it was cleaned. The grates are made of cast-iron (a manly metal) with a porcelain coating (a manly coating).
The "manly coating" bit? Actually sorta witty. I'm sure he lifted that from someone else's column.
But the usual grill-cleaning tool, a wire brush, could wreck the porcelain finish. So we took the guy’s recommendation and bought what we thought was the right soft brush for the job.
Prediction: Morsch won't be able to figure out how to use the soft brush properly. Or he'll ruin the porcelain anyway.
Personally, if mankind can invent a self-cleaning oven, then I think it should be able to invent a self-cleaning grill. Failing that, we should at least be able to remove the grill’s grates and place them in a self-cleaning oven and let the oven do the work.
Morsch's Twitter profile describes him as a "humor columnist dealing with life's little stupidities." Do observations like these really qualify him for that task? The level of observation and insight found in his writings is so low it's probably merged with the Earth's molten core. He has no fresh perspective to offer, no unique view of human nature that makes you nod and say, "Why didn't I think of that?"
By the way, I went to Google and typed in "self-cleaning grill." The second result describes how you can indeed put your grill parts into your self-cleaning oven. It was from 2006. Well done, Mr. Morsch.
After the first round of grilling, I was using the soft brush to clean and ended up just shredding the thing. It was not the appropriate tool for the job.
Bingo.
So back to the big home improvement store I went, where another guy explained to be that I needed a brass-wired brush and a squirt bottle. He instructed me to heat the grill, squirt the grate with water to create steam, and then use the brass-wired brush to clean away the grime.
Has he never owned a grill before? I can only imagine the layers of grease and hamburger chunks that coated his old one.
That worked, and it appears the porcelain coating has remained undamaged after the initial cleanings.
Five cleanings from now, and the porcelain coating will have crumbled into dust. I like how he probably intentionally got a different guy than before, scared that he'd look like a fool in front of the first guy.
Now that the worry over cleaning the grill has been solved, I can go back to burning meat for the rest of the summer. Woof-woof-woof!
A recent reader named Anonymous (sort of like Hieronymus Bosch) asked why I "waste my time" reading this column if I hate it so much. Truth is, I find it fascinating that someone is paid to produce this slop. Think about it - if this is what MM writes himself, what kind of garbage is he "editing" and publishing in the newspaper? In a way, it's a perfect reflection on modern media, what passes for modern "humor," and the declining suburban newspaper. Morsch stands as the prefect crumbling monument to all of them, and as long as he keeps on writing, I'll keep on shaking my head in wonder.
Labels: Mike Morsch, Montgomery Newspapers, Outta Leftfield
What, not "Grilling" or "Grills" or "big home improvement store" or anything?
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