I always wondered what happened to Mr. Pibb. Now I know thanks to this explanation by Coca-Cola:
Mr. Pibb was launched in Texas and quickly expanded through much of the U.S. Mr. Pibb appeals to 12-to-15 year olds who are just gaining independence from home and looking for things to call their own. Mr. Pibb enables them to have an uninhibited, fun and unconventional attitude because it has the sweet, refreshing bold taste they need to express their independence.
Ah yes, the 12-to-15 year olds certainly need a sweet, refreshing, bold taste to express their independence. And not to mention their need for zit cream and a healthy injection of self-esteem.
Will Congress blow our minds?
Is the nuclear option clearly what Democrats and Republicans want? Is there any way possible to stop this madness before it actually becomes radioactive, explosive, boom-boom?
It makes me wonder if anyone remembers the word “compromise.” You know, “com” for coming together, “pro,” for acting like professionals, and “mise,” for, uh, mice? Coming together like professional mice. Wait, isn’t that what Congress is doing right now?
I realize that everyone who reads this blog is insane. No. I’m sorry. That is no way to find your audience. Where is my audience? And why am I being stared at by six prairie dogs sitting on a fence with that sad look in their eyes?
These are questions along with many others that I will not be able to answer anytime soon. At least that is the case with finding my audience, as if my audience were like a set of car keys lost under the pickup seat, next to that stray French fry from the trip last year to Arkansas, along with exactly 12 cents in U.S. currency.
I know, for instance, that some would not understand my reference to Pope George Ringo (Pope John Paul George Ringo), the Beatles, get it? I worked with a guy in his very early 20s at my last job who admitted that until a couple of years ago he didn’t know who the Beatles were. I have no doubt this lad would likely not catch my reference to Frank Zappa in the piece I did today about Saudi Crown Prince Abdullah. The photo, for those of you who do not know and want to spoil it for everyone else (there!), is of Frank Zappa and not the Saudi prince. The late Frank and Abdullah appear at times to be separated at birth. Zappa looked frighteningly like Abdullah on the cover of his album Sheik Yer Booty, which is where Zappa’s picture originates.
So if you get stumped upon a reference that I make, just do what I do when it happens to me, cuss that $%^#@**^%*@@ writer and get on with your life. Also, if you happen to find my audience, please let me know. I like to get them rounded up and back in their pens before dark.
Crown Prince Abdullah will meet with President Bush in Crawford Monday. Will they talk about oil? Will they talk terrorism? Or will they talk about cosmic debris and the difference between a real poncho and a Sears poncho?
I read a story in The Dallas Morning News today about the strong mayor issue in Dallas. If I drive to, take the train to or drive through Dallas, I doubt whether the city is governed daily by a mayor or a city manager is going to have a huge impact on me. I can see both sides of the argument although I’m sure it would be fun to see what happens if Laura Miller becomes that strong mayor. Well, it might not be so much of a blast for city workers. Or citizens of Dallas. Okay, it would be a complete bummer. I would lock myself up in a closet somewhere. If I lived or worked in Dallas. Which I don’t.
Rather than a power grab from competing interests, being a strong mayor should really be about feats of strength. Kind of like in the made-up holiday Festivus from the Seinfeld episode. The mayor should have the ability to carry large fire hoses up six flights of stairs within three minutes, balance the city budget, rappel down the side of the building wearing a full firefighter’s turnout suit, balance the city budget, and pick up and empty forty full trash barrels into the back of a city garbage truck. And just for fun, balance the city budget.