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...
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