BRAINPAN LEAKAGE

Well, I suppose that as far as the Chinese food goes it is really about as Chinese as La Choy beef Chow Mein in a can. You know, the Chow Mein you serve with the deep fried noodle things that everyone ends up dipping in chocolate and calling them cookies around the holidays. Yeah, that La Choy. As a matter of fact, I seem to recall their old commercial jingle saying, “La Choy makes Chinese food, swing American!” That was back in the 60’s and 70’s… Yeah, I’m kinda middle aged, don’t remind me. At any rate, with a catch phrase like that, it doesn’t sound all that Chinese I don’t guess. Kinda more Ameri-Asian fusion cuisine. “If you can call Chow Mein from a can cuisine,” I can hear EK saying even as I type. You see, she doesn’t really care for La Choy Chow Mein or any of their other canned meals for that matter. I think it has something to do with having it too often as a child or something. She’s never been very specific about that. She just sort of glazes over and makes her “bleh” face, so I kinda just don’t press the subject.

Me, on the other hand, I happen to like the stuff. Not as a regular diet sort of thing, but every now and then I like to grab a can just for the sake of nostalgia. Kinda like the peanut butter ‘n jelly sammich thing, or egg nog, or even my own personal version of the Saint Paul Sandwich…

But, then, I’m not here to talk to you about La Choy, or any of their products. Funny how I can sometimes digress before I even get started. I should probably see someone about that. Or not.

Anyway, let’s get down to brass tacks. Or “Forever Stamps”, or Postal Workers, or whatever…

You see, I received some snail mail yesterday. I know, seems somewhat antiquated doesn’t it? (Don’t tell my neighbor I said that. He’s a Postal Carrier)… But, even I have to admit, there are still things snail mail is good for. Christmas Cards for one. Checks for another. Well… Checks are pretty much the most important one when you get right down to it, but either way, let’s not get off track yet again. The long and short of it was that I went to the mailbox and there was a number 10 envelope, addressed quite simply to “Sellars”.

Not Murv Sellars. Not Mr. Sellars. Not M. R. Sellars. Not even to Rusty Sellars (long story – since my middle name is Russell and I am a Jr., when I was a kid my dad was Russell and I was Rusty. My name “changed” to Murv when I came into my “own” identity when I hit my early teens, just like every other adolescent child does at that age.)

No, this bit of snail mail was addressed to no one other than simply, “Sellars”.

Some of you may think this odd. Then again, maybe you don’t. I’m not there with you to look inside your ear and see what the gears and cogs are doing. But, suffice it to say, I didn’t find it all that peculiar myself. You see, there are a pretty healthy number of people on the planet who refer to me simply as “Sellars”… In fact, I believe some of you blog readers are among them. I blame Morrison for that, but as I tend to say often, that’s another blog…

However, as far as snail mail goes, there is but one individual (thus far) who sends anything to my house addressed simply to “Sellars”. Even Morrison herself addresses things to M. R. Sellars. Therefore, I didn’t even have to look at the return address to know that I had just received something from Dorothy Morrison’s husband, Mark.

Now, Mark and I are friends. He’s a hell of a guy. Funny, intelligent, not to mention that he’s married to my best friend. I’ve downed several drinks with him, watched Presidential debates with him, and generally just hung out. I love the guy dearly. But, we aren’t exactly what you would call pen pals. If he has something to tell me, he drops me an email. So, if I receive something in the SNAIL mail from him, even though it is addressed to “Sellars”, I know that it isn’t actually for me. It’s for my daughter.

Having a bit of trouble following that one? Well, let me see if I can explain.

You see, like many grammar school children across the United States, my daughter collects “Boxtops For Education” and takes them to school. Now, I’ll admit that I don’t always cook from scratch. I actually do buy a few boxes of burger helper now and again, and the munchkin also likes “Lucky Charms”, which is a General Mills product (creators and purveyors of the Boxtops for Edu program)… So, we do manage to collect our share of these School Funding Gems. But, not a ton of them. (I know, I know, get to the point…) Well, you see, I happened to mention this in passing when Morrison and I were on tour a couple of years back, because we do try to nab boxtops from folks we know who might be unaware and simply throwing them away. And, as it happens, Mark took this to heart. He began collecting boxtops for our munchkin’. In fact, not only does he collect them, he doesn’t even wait for the package of whatever foodstuff to be used first. He goes through with a razor blade and pre-emptively removes the Boxtops for Education seal so that it won’t accidentally end up in the trash. Then, once his “boxtops dish” on the counter is full he pours them into an envelope and mails them to, “Sellars”.

Now, there was once this faux pas where when he poured the boxtops into the envelope the razor blade – still ensconced in its little cardboard sheath – unknowingly made it into the envelope as well. We’ve had plenty of fun with that one. In fact, I still have it sitting here on my desk. Maybe I’ll have it bronzed for him and put it on a plaque… anyone know what it would cost to have a single edge razor blade bronzed and mounted? (Yeah, there I go digressing again…)

So, back to the story. What it comes down to is that once again, Mark came through with a load of Boxtops for Education. Not only is this good for the school because they turn them in to General Mills for money, which in turn helps them do things like build a new Gymnasium, or get more books, and what have you, but it is also good for the kids. Why? Because they benefit from the books, new Gym, etc, obviously. But, it is also great for my kid on yet another front. Not only does she reap the educational benefit, but since they run a bit of a Boxtops for Education contest at her school, it helps her numbers. In fact, last year she turned in so many boxtops that she won this Gi-Hugic blue dolphin stuffed animal (the school mascot)…

BTW, if you don’t have kids, or don’t happen to know any kids who need Boxtops for Education, and you are merely tossing them in the trash, I’ll gladly give you my PO Box address and you can send them to “Sellars” just like Mark does. (Please DO NOT send razor blades…) Just think, the munchkin might win another blue dolphin. If she keeps it up, she might end up with a whole pod…

So…That pretty much covers snail mail and boxtops. I’m sure you are now thinking, “Yeah, okay, so what about the Chinese food, because you said you weren’t here to talk about La Choy…”

Well… You’re right about that. La Choy isn’t the Chinese food you’re looking for… Move along… (sorry, Obi-wan… Just couldn’t help myself…)

Anyway, I suppose I should explain the Chinese food reference in the blog title. You see, it has to do with Spam™…

Okay, so did anyone hurt his or her neck with the whole snapping back of the head in a major WTF moment? I hope not, because I don’t have insurance on this blog…

Yeah. Spam™… You see, I’ve never made a secret of my love for Spam™…and it’s equally tasty and much less expensive twin, Treet™. In fact, ever since my Spam™/Treet™ blog some time ago, I have been treated (pun most certainly intended) to fried Spam™ for breakfasts at various events and bookstores where I have been booked for a signing. I’ve had Spam™ sandwiches for lunch. Spam™ in salads. I mean, it’s been downright wonderful, because yes, I really do like Spam™. But, as you can imagine, (as you might be one of these folks of whom I speak) many people find this little culinary quirk of mine endlessly amusing. In fact, some of the times I have been served Spam™ at events it has been as a joke. Well, I have to tell you, that’s my kind of joke so keep on joking and laughing folks. I’m all about it… (Grin)

Anyway, among the folks who find this amusing are Morrison and her husband Mark.

“But, Sellars, just what in the holy hell does this have to do with Chinese food,” you ask, with a befuddled and somewhat annoyed expression creasing your features.

So glad you asked…

You see, this time, instead of just Boxtops arriving in the mail for my daughter, there actually WAS something in the envelope for me. No, it wasn’t another razor blade… Actually it was a recipe, clipped from the newspaper.

A recipe for Spam™ Fried Rice.

Really. I kid you not.

And, just in case you think I am making this up, here is a picture of the actual and very real newspaper clipping…

Thanks, Mark. I can’t wait to try it out… In fact, I have a can of Treet™ sitting in the cupboard right now, and I’m sure the author of the recipe won’t mind the substitution since those tasty, rectangular can shaped blocks of chicken and pork leavin’s are completely interchangeable.

And, you know…just for nostalgia’s sake, I think I’ll use La Choy soy sauce…

More to come…

Murv

Whoever has it, stick the damn thing in and let’s get this holiday stuff over with…

Yeah, I’m obviously a bit of a curmudgeon about this whole festive holiday season thing. Those of you who know me, or have been following my blogs for several years know that I haven’t always been this way. But, without going into a  long explanation, losing your parents near the holidays – too early in life and at separate times – doesn’t really endear you to Christmas, et. al.

It actually has a bit of a damping effect. But, like I said, I’m not going to go into that realm of loss, S.A.D., and all that other stuff. I’ve had my joyous and warm fun with friends and family for this season.

It’s time to move on, so I’m still looking for the gorram fork.

Of course, I am sure you are wondering what prompted me to look for the sharp tined instrument at this particular moment… Well, you see, it’s like this – I have been wracking my brain to figure out why it is we, as a society, find “comfort” in watching back to back sappy, horribly written and acted, Hallmark™  movies during the holidays…

You see, they all pretty much start out the same way. Someone is DEAD. Usually, it is a parent – mom or dad, flip a coin – but on rare occasion it is an offspring who went off to fight in Desert Storm or whatever conflict is happening at the time of the writing  – Speaking of writing, given the poor dialogue offered up in these flicks, I am thinking that writing might be too kind a word for it. But, describing it as writing sounds better than the more accurate “vomiting”.

At any rate, we always start with someone being dead. They either died last week, or 5 years ago. Span of time isn’t really important, because no matter when it was they croaked the holidays have arrived and the pain of loss has resurfaced. (I will make a concession here – This is probably the only accurate part of the movies because I can certainly relate to it)… However, from this point the rest of the overused formula kicks in, and it ain’t E=mc²…

It susses out more like this (please excuse the lack of proper notation… this blog interface is severely lacking in symbols):

Person(dead) / grief (x * y)² {[runaway] – (ghost) – {hospital} – (prison/jail)} / (love at first sight + implied sex / argument) * make up kiss / k(k²) + [food] = z

Solve for z, where x and y equal assorted male and female characters in unrequited love, self-imposed celibacy of mourning scenarios and k equals children, usually on one side of the impending relationship, but sometimes on both (hence k²)…

Well, I won’t make you get out a pencil and paper. Z always equals a happy ending. The male and female characters end up in an instant relationship – one which it is implied will stand the test of time because obviously they were meant to be together even though they had sworn an oath that they would dry up and blow away since their respective significant others met their demise via A) a car wreck B) cancer C) plane crash D) war E) all of the above.

On top of that we always have the fact that someone miraculously survives something (disease, accident, mishap), is miraculously cleared of charges for something they didn’t do, a runaway is found, or in some events the dead person comes back as a ghost for a short period of time to provide closure. Along with this the children involved are all about the new significant others, and in most cases were working behind the scenes to bring them together in the first place.

And, in the end, there is money to pay the mortgage that could never be paid, a turkey/ham on the table, gifts under the tree, implied sex, candy canes, lingerie, trips to Cancun, toys, more kids on the way, a new lease for the orphanage, a job offer, marriage, general happiness, the “bad guy” grows a heart ala “A Christmas Carol” and all manner of  sickly sweet, sugar infused woodja, woodja, woodja ad nauseum…

But, the best part is…wait for it… wait for it…It all comes together on Christmas Eve/Day…

I won’t even begin to go into the lack of research which creates glaring continuity errors, procedural errors, suspension of disbelief errors ( I mean, if you are going to ask me to suspend disbelief – which ALL of these flicks do – then make me believe enough of it that when you jump the shark I can say, “Okay, self, I’m willing to buy that in the context of this movie…)

But, you know, even though I have rambled on about the sheer stupidity of these formulaic wastes of celluloid/airwaves/cable bandwidth, we have to return to the original question – Why do we take comfort in watching these things back to back during the holidays? Yes, they show non-holiday versions at other times of the year, but when the Christmas season arrives they become constant… And, we sit in front of the tube, sipping Bailey’s ™, and watching this drivel like some kind of emotionally bankrupt zombies looking for a charge of said emotions…

Well… I have a theory.

These are the equivalent of a 50 cent roller coaster ride. We start out on a downer, climb to a high point, fear for the cardboard characters, then end in a crescendo of euphoria. Why? Because the cardboard cutouts started out in worse shape than us, then dealt with even more crap, but in the end, it all came together. Magically. Without the aid of epoxy, duct tape, or staples. It just all worked out, and after all, isn’t that what we each want? It’s not the greatest roller coaster around, but it fits in our living room and we can ride it over and over again for effect…

So, what do you think? Decent enough theory?

Of course, my other working hypothesis is that they are all just a big conspiracy by the facial/nose tissue conglomerates to make us buy more Kleenex.

More to come…

Murv