Shana Tova!

 


    To those of the Jewish faith or those who live with someone of the Jewish faith or to those who just want any excuse to celebrate a holiday, Happy New Year as we bid farewell to the lunar year of 5785 and sashay (or mosey.  I won't judge) our merry way into the year 5786.

   I know, right?  Seems like only yesterday it was 5756.  My, how time flies!

  Rosh Hashanah is a solemn way to remember the years past and hope to build upon them for a better tomorrow.  Not for nothin', we could use all the good thoughts that come our way.  Things have really sucked lately.

    The new year involves prayer, apples, honey, and the blowing of the shofar.

And, frankly, is Herschel Shofar's favorite day of the year

    Much love and hope to you all.

    Just remember to get back to work tomorrow.

Dark Shadows

     True to my word (no, seriously), the following is what I hope is a lighthearted post with, really, no redeeming social values.  If you’re more inclined to topics of a much more sober (as opposed to drunk) nature, by all means visit Nobody Asked Me But... https://seriousal.blogspot.com.  Not that you’ll find any redeeming social values there, you understand.  It’s just a little more serious than this nonsense.

Thank you for your attention in this matter.

********

    I realize most of you in the audience are younger than I am.  In fact, since I've reached my own personal "sell-by" date, I can't imagine there's many of you who are older.  So, you may not remember the topic of this post. 

    I’ve recently taken to watching reruns of a television show on Tubi, which is a channel on my Smart TV that I found while surfing for porn cat videos.  That show is Dark Shadows (you may have guessed it, you clever boots) and, despite its horrible acting, laughable special effects, and numerous gaffes, I was entranced by it when I was eight years old.

    I first starting watching this first-of-its-kind Gothic soap opera upon the recommendation of my mother.

    Personal Observation:  Interesting that my mom was only twenty-seven years old at the time.  She obviously seemed like an old lady to me, but, oh to be only 27 now! (Remember that “sell-by” crack?  Yeah).

    Anyway, I thought this show was the coolest thing on TV (apart from Batman) and was mesmerized by its cast of supernatural creatures from ghosts to vampires to werewolves.  

And whatever TF this weird shit was. 

    I rushed home immediately from school, stopped in at the Thompson Food Market, bought myself a bag of pretzel nuggets and a Coke, and plopped in front of our console TV to watch the goings-on in Collinsport, Maine.

You'd think I would have spent more time chasing girls. 
Clearly, I was a hottie.

 Yet Another Personal Observation:  The fact that it was set in Maine seemed super-exotic to me, too.  Little did I know that the Navy would eventually transfer me there.  Yeah, not so exotic.  Lotta moose, though.

"Outta my way.  Gotta catch Dark Shadows."

    Broadcast on ABC from 1966-1971, Dark Shadows became a cult classic, especially for the younger crowd.  Sex symbols such as Jonathan Frid and David Selby as Barnabus and Quentin Collins titillated young girls.  And probably my mom.

Hee...hee...hee...I said 'titillated.'

    Or Boys.  I won’t judge.

Not that there's anything wrong with that.

    Oh, don’t worry.  We boys, or girls (once again, I won’t judge) had Kathryn Leigh Scott and Lara Parker as Maggie and Angelique.

I mean, even with the dental work, hubba hubba

    I was most distraught when it was cancelled and held its replacement, Password, personally responsible.

Effin' Allen Ludden

    Oh sure, there were movies in 1970, House of Dark Shadows, and 1971, the dreadful Night of Dark Shadows, but they were...meh.

    I remember how excited I was when the series came back in 1991 as a remake, starring Ben Cross as Barnabus Collins.  But, it was criminally short-lived.  It was entertaining, but it really wasn’t the same.

Ironically, I was living in Maine when this came out. 
Still a lotta moose.

Ben Cross would go on to play another out-of-this-world character as the Vulcan, Sarek. 
And then he died. 
Coincidence?

    And don’t get me started on that Johnny Depp adaptation of Dark Shadows.

    So, when I rediscovered the original Dark Shadows in all its cheesy glory, I felt like I was transported back to my childhood.  Except I was no longer a chubby eight-year old munching on pretzels and swilling soda.

    I was a chubby sixty-seven year old.    

Where Were You?

Okay, this is a repost of a repost of a...let's put it this way:  I've reprinted this a LOT since that terrible day.  But, I feel compelled to do so lest we forget that nearly 3,000 people were murdered on a beautiful September day.  

 

     The following, tragically, is a true story...      

            It was just before one o’clock in the afternoon on September 11th (a sad commentary: we don’t even need to identify the year anymore) when my maintenance supervisor stuck his head into my room to wake me.

            “Sir, someone just flew a plane into the World Trade Center.”

            Minutes later, I watched, horrified, as a second plane struck the South tower.  And then, as both of the monstrously huge structures tumbled to the ground as if kicked by a petulant child.

            My unit and I were participating in a multi-nation exercise at the Naval Air Station in Keflavik, Iceland (this explains why it was the afternoon).  A round-the-clock operation, the Keflavik Tactical Exchange gave us a unique chance to evaluate each other’s capabilities should we ever needed to flex our respective militaries.  Little did we know that we were preparing for a type of war which belonged to the past.

            Because the 21st Century came roaring into each of our lives on that late summer day.

            Naturally, the exercise was immediately cancelled.  Foreign aircrews (funny that I call them “foreign’” since we were actually foreigners, too) beat hasty returns to their home bases.  We were told that American airspace was closed indefinitely.

            Station security forces went into their highest readiness posture.  Watch teams at the main gate beefed up, rings of barbed wire cordoned off perceived sensitive areas, and armed patrols roamed the perimeter.

            My watch teams and I, on the other hand, remained at our billeting.  Only in Iceland for the exercise, we were considered non-essential personnel who’d only get in the way.

            And so we spent the next few days.

            I received a worried phone call from my wife during this time.  She fretted over my safety.  I assured her that I was fine but omitted the fact that I was more concerned for her and the kids.

            You see, my family lived only a couple hours from New York and only a few from Washington.

            The ensuing days involved frantic searches for whatever updates we could glean from the news and how in the world we’d get ourselves and thousands of pounds of equipment back home.

            Most importantly, we desperately wanted to know how we could get into the fight.  Whatever the fight was.

            Four days later, U.S. airspace was opened to military traffic.  As I glanced through the window of the Navy patrol plane which took us home, I was struck at how empty the sky was-with the exception of the one plane which approached us as we crossed into the United States.  It came no closer than a few miles before it disappeared.

            I think it was a fighter aircraft.

            What’s more, the radio circuits, normally full of the cacophony of countless air traffic controllers, were eerily silent.  The only ones “on the air” were the handful which guided us home.  All else were hushed into silence.

            Our route of flight took us just south of Manhattan, well out of sight of land.  At that distance, even at the altitude at which we were flying, it was impossible to see any of the city skyline.

            But, we did see a huge pall of gray-brown smoke lingering in the air like the death shroud that it was.

            As we touched ground at the Willow Grove naval air station, there was nobody to greet us.  There really wasn't much of anything by way of an acknowledgment that we were back.  Somehow, it seemed fitting.

            After all, we all had something much more important to do.

            Go home to our families.

 

In memory of:

Commander Bill Donovan, USN

AW2 (NAC/AW) Joseph Pycior, USN

and the thousands whose only crime was going to work that day. 

 

Just a Little Bit O' Silly

 



Brush With Death

Planted some Autumn Bulbs


Elizabeth Warren Holds a Town Hall With Her Peeps



I Don't Miss the Circus

     “When I Left My Home and My Family

    I Was No More Than a Boy.

    In the Company of Strangers

    In the Quiet of a Railway Station.

    Running Scared.”

    -The Boxer

 
"You better not claim you made that up!"

    This is one of my favorite Simon and Gar, the Funkel Brothers, songs.  Not because of boxing, you understand.  But, they do mention whores on Seventh Avenue.  So there is that.

"Which is nice."

    No, I like it because it neatly sums up when I left my home so many years ago.

   You see, today is the 49th anniversary of the day I left Connecticut for Navy boot camp.  And, with the exception of August to December, 1985, I’ve never looked back.

    For those of you who say that I should wait until next year because the FIFTIETH anniversary would be so much more significant, I will agree with you.  It would be.

But, after all, I am 67.

    Meaning, there’s no guarantee I’ll see Labor Day.  So, forty-nine it shall be.

    As the song says, I did leave my home and my family.  In fact, I’ll never forget the sight of my brothers and sister saluting me as my parents backed out of the driveway.  Before they went back in to watch cartoons.  After all, they had almost a week before school started.  It was still summer, dammit!

    I was originally supposed to leave on the 31st, but the recruiter called me and said I would be bumped up a day earlier.  I was distraught.  You see, I was having the time of my life in the summer after I left high school.  More importantly, I didn’t want to leave the girl I had just started dating in June.

    NOTE:  That girl would break my heart two years later.  But, another story for another day.

   

If you're curious, or a glutton for punishment, this goes into the whole process.
In excruciating detail.
.
    However, in the time since, one day is frankly meaningless.  What didn’t occur to me at the time...enlisting one day earlier meant I would be able to leave the Navy one day earlier.

    NOTE:  That day wouldn’t happen for more than thirty years, not in 1980.  Once again, another story.  For another time.

It truly was.

But wait!  There's more!

   “In the quiet of a railway station.”  Despite the invention of air travel, we did take a train to Illinois.  I wondered why.  Until I realized that the end of August is also close to the end of the fiscal year.  So, taking the train was cheaper, I suppose.

    “Running scared.”  I wasn’t scared, really.  Depressed, sure, especially since I would be leaving home.  Perhaps I was nervous about a future which held a great many unknowns.  I guess we can call that “scared.”

     In any event, after all this time, I’ve never regretted that I did what I did.  I traveled the world, saw a lot of wonderful things, and never did the same thing twice (some people would call that “not making up my mind.”).

    Was there a LOT of nonsense?  Sure, there was.  To be honest, today’s Sailors probably have to endure more.  So, yeah, I don’t miss that.  But, do I miss the adventures with a group of friends who will remain so until the day I die?

Absolutely

    I would so do it all over again.  And not just because I'd have my brown hair back

And everything still worked.
Everything.

    So, happy anniversary to me.  I wouldn't have done anything differently.

    Except fall asleep in my pillowcase the night I discovered ouzo.

    I heard a great expression a little while back which totally sums up my time in the Navy:

     I don’t miss the circus, but I sure miss the clowns.

And that's better than any song.
       

Stat's the Name of the Game

 


    It’s raining a little outside as Hurricane Erin’s effects are felt this afternoon in Southeast Virginia.

    NOTE:  Since it’s well off the coast, the storm’s full force isn’t felt that much here.  This is a good thing, because Virginia drivers are bad enough as it is.  Especially since hurricanes blow.

    Anyway, since I can’t work outside and don’t feel like doing anything constructive inside (I’ve already mastu...washed the dishes), I thought this would be a great opportunity to take a look at the stats for my blogs, Penwasser Place and Nobody Asked Me But...

    Not a lot of traffic on my recent, “serious,” blog, but that is pretty much what I expected.  Like I warned informed everyone, Nobody Asked Me But... is meant to give me a chance to wax soberly (as opposed to intoxicated) on current events.  It lets me voice my opinions on all things great, small, and Trump.

Actually, not all that much different from this.

    Still, that blog has a couple (and by “couple,” I mean two) followers, one of whom, Tanza Erlambang from the Tanza Erlambang Update, has even commented twice (“twice,” meaning...uh...twice.  Hmm, guess that figures).  In any case, thank you, Tanza!

    NOTE:  Tanza also visits, and comments here.  Tanza is what we call a “glutton for punishment.”

    So, I thought I’d concentrate on my “Flagship” blog, Penwasser Place,

"Wow, someone if full of himself."

since it has more followers and generates more comments.

    Incidentally, I attach this blog to Facebook so some of my followers there can be punished enjoy what I have to say.  Still, it’s usually my Blogger followers to whom I turn.

    Most views come from, not surprisingly, the United States at 221.  If you’re reading this, you know who you are.  I thank you.

    The balance of the other views come from nations which really are to be expected.  Great Britain, France, Germany and even a handful from Canada.  For that, you have my gratitude, Birgit!

    I have to admit to being a little surprised that no views are from Australia, even though Joanne from the Jo-Anne's Ramblings is a follower who I’ve added to my Reading List.  Please forgive me for any transgressions I’ve done, Joanne.

    A couple nations who monitor Penwasser Place gave me some pause, though.  While not identified as China, per se, some viewers from Hong Kong have visited a staggering 189 times, second only to the United States. 

    Now, maybe the Chinese share my often-twisted sense of humor, but I kinda doubt all of them do.  No one from the former British colony has left a comment, so I have some unease.    

"That picture of man humping fish is laugh riot.  Penwasser rocks!"

    Still, who knows?  Maybe they do.

    Probably bots or some sort of data mining, though.

    What is most disturbing is that 37 views have come from Iraq.  Iraq.  I didn’t think computers were very common in that particular corner of the world.

    To be safe, maybe I should self-censor my comments when it comes to that particular region...?

"Okay, I'm not Iraqi, but I speak their kind of crazy! 
Infidel."

    In any case, it could be worse.  No views have come from Ukraine or the White House.

"Frankly, I think we should."

    So, I have that going for me. 

"Which is nice."

 
   Okay, since Chairman Xi Jinping likes it...

 


So?

End of the World?


        While perusing Instagram...or X...or Threads...or Facebook...whatever (I can't remember), I came across the above.  It's a quick little blurb about how the world ended in 2012 and, even though there have been some hiccups (e.g., Mandela Effect), we haven't really noticed.

    Of course, that dreadful John Cusack documentary, 2012, showed a "traditional" End-of-the-World.  It came complete with explosions, disasters, fires, Door Dash effing up your order but still expecting a tip, pretty much what you'd expect.

We would also accept, "New York City after Mamdani."

    And...SPOILER!..the world really did end.  Shouldn't come as much of a surprise.  No coming back from that, I suppose.  Even if we had Batman on our side.  

Especially the sucky one

    Some humans did escape on some sort of rocket ship to another planet, though.  I think.  I really can't remember.  Like I wrote, dreadful. 

    I think John Cusack survived, though.

    Anyway, the video above (trust me, I get your reluctance to just click on something willy-nilly or namby-pamby) is legit.  The presenter describes a scenario where the world really did come to an end in 2012, as per the Mayan prediction.

"Okay, let's go back to work on our predictions."
"Where?"
"Up there."
"What the f...up all those frikkin' steps????"
"Well, yeah, we're not done yet."
"How far have we gotten?"
"Well, we're up to 2012."
"Seriously, isn't that good enough?"
"I suppppose...."
"I want to go rip some hearts out."
"I guess you're right."


"You know there's no proof that the Mayans ripped anyone's heart out."
"How 'bout I rip your heart out?  Would that make you feel better, Art?"

      Only we didn't notice (except for that Door Dash thing).  For all we know, life continued on as normal.

     Except for men in women's sports, that is.

And this.  Dear Lord.  This.

    This makes me think of a story (what doesn't).....

    Years ago in a galaxy far away, when I was a crewmember on the aircraft carrier USS America, we were returning from a relatively brief at-sea period off the East Coast.

For those who received a public-school education,
this is an aircraft carrier.

    A shipmate and I were watching our ship tie up to the pier in Norfolk, Virginia from the flight deck.

  The following is our word for word conversation (as "word for word" as I can remember-this was 47 years ago, after all.  Get off my ass).

And, it should go without saying, my lawn.
   
He: "See all those friends and family members on the pier?"
Me: "Yep, there's a bunch. Guess they missed us."
"You know where we've been the past couple of weeks?"
"At sea?"
"Yes, but where?"
"Off the coast?"
"Yes, but specifically the Bermuda Triangle."
"Ok. So?"
"So what if we went into another dimension?"
"Ok. So?"
"What if they aren't real but creatures from another dimension?"
"Would I know the difference?"
"No."
"Then, I don't care."

Anyway, my point is, if the world ended in 2012, but we didn't know...

    Why would I care?

    Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to give Uber Eats a call.

"If I promise not to spit in your cheeseburger, would you reconsider?"


Politically Correct Christmas

Shana Tova!

      To those of the Jewish faith or those who live with someone of the Jewish faith or to those who just want any excuse to celebrate a ho...