Saturday, December 13, 2014

Don't You Hate Blog Posts That Are Just a Bunch of Random Thoughts?

1. Science is to engineering as statistics and rulebooks are to baseball. I always follow the stats, but they're meaningless in and of themselves.

2. I bought a jar of pickles today and the label had the Twentieth Century typeface on it, one of my favorites. Even though it was designed in 1937, to me it always conjures up the nineteen seventies. It was in the school readers they used in my grade school -- the very early ones where there are only a few big words on each page.

3. I'm reading the memoir of my favorite sportswriter, Frank Deford, and boy did he not like Rodney Dangerfield.

4. Had to buy a bottle of prune juice today because my digestive system is nearly 46 years old. I forgot how bad it tastes; haven't had any since I was a little kid reading books set in Twentieth Century typeface. But if you add a little prune juice to Coke, it'll taste like Dr. Pepper, even though the Dr. Pepper people insist it doesn't have any prune juice in it. Too bad they don't make a caffeine-free version of Dr. Pepper. I can't take caffeine and I love genealogy, so can it be long before I turn Mormon?

5. My dad should have been a sportswriter -- he wrote, and wrote well, for his high-school newspaper -- but for some reason it just never happened. I started thinking about my dad this morning when I had to go into an auto-parts store and I saw all the clamps and little lengths of pipe they sell for DIY exhaust system repairs. Dad and I spent many a Saturday afternoon under his cars, patching together the awful, rusted-out exhaust systems of the 1970s. Later on, I designed exhaust systems and was there when Honda made the momentous switch to stainless steel. They were the last ones to make the switch. This is why exhaust pipes now last more than two years.

6. Carrying on the tradition of father and son auto maintenance, I had my boy pump gas and fill the tires today at the gas station. He whined through the whole thing because it was cold and he wasn't wearing gloves, but afterward, he said with as much pride as a thirteen-year-old will admit to, "Well, I guess I know how to pump gas now." Mission accomplished.

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