Wednesday, April 25, 2007

Cooking Lame - New Toxic Fumes

The new Hellbender is out, and I heartily recommend picking up a hard copy to read all the actual news and stuff. Meanwhile, here's another "Toxic Fumes."


Cooking Lame

by Scott McNutt

 Hi, and welcome to Cooking Lame, the show where even the most incompetent celebrities can cook. I’m your host, Unca Shuss, and our guests this week are the most challenging bunch of incompetents we’ve had on the show yet. Please welcome the newly appointed Knox County Commissioners and their chief chefs, Scoobie Moore and Lumpy Lambert, plus the only independent-minded commissioner, Mark Harmon.

 This week's theme dish is: Environmentally Friendly Chicken Soup for the Soul of Your Constituents. So let's start Cooking Lame with the Knox County Commissioners, beginning with one of the most flamboyant, Commissioner Greg “Lumpy” Lambert. Commissioner Lambert, what are you working on?

 Lumpy: Well, Ah'm offering free guns to the studio audience, so they kin go out and shoot thar own chickens and avoid all them charges 'bout aminal cruelty those peepee people are always goin’ on about.

 Peepee? You mean PETA?

 Lumpy: Don't make fun of the way Ah talk, boy. Ah'm armed and dangerous!

 And anybody who crosses you will have the lumps to show for it?

 Lumpy: 'At’s about th’ size of it, boy.

 All right then, Lumpy, just try to keep the lumps out of your soup, OK? Your constituents might want to know what your ingredients are.

 Lumpy: They only need to know what Ah tell 'em.

 At least you communicate that point clearly. Let’s now go to- Ah, young Commissioner Jordan. I see you have a live chicken and some eggs?

 Jordan: Yeah, this will be chicken or egg-drop soup. I saw my mom do it many, many times. The thing of it is, I was never really paying attention, so I don't know where to start.

 You don't know which comes first?

 Jordan: That's right. But I'll work it out.

 It's sort of like the dilemma you must have between serving the interests of your constituents versus loyalty to your family interests. Which comes first, eh?

 Jordan: Huh?

 Y'know, not knowing which comes first, the chicken or the egg, constituents or family? It's an analogy, an allusion to an old philosophical issue.

 Jordan: I got no issues with allergies or illusions. If I can't work it, my mom'll tell me what to do.

 That’s OK, it was a bad analogy anyway.

 Jordan: You can’t say I’m a bad allergy!

 I wasn’t actually talking about you, per se...

 Jordan: I’m a County Commissioner!

 And your mother must be very proud of that achievement.

 Jordan: You bet she is.

 We'll leave you to drop those eggs then. Just don't have them all in one basket when you do. Moving on, we come to Commissioner Richard Cate, who’s not doing anything. He seems to be at an impasse. Commissioner Cate?

 Cate: I did not sexually harass that chicken! You can’t file suit against me!

 Nobody’s alleged anything of the sort, Commissioner.

 Cate: They haven’t?

 No. Why would you think they had?

 Cate: Never mind.

 All right. Carry on. Now we come to…Say, it’s Commissioners Tim Greene and Jack Huddleston, collaborating openly on their recipes! This is a pleasant sight to see. Now, Commissioner Huddleston, what’s that you’re using to cook with?

 Huddleston: Old tires.

 You’ve really set a fire under that pot, even if the stench is almost unbearable. Why old tires?

 Huddleston: Fires and tires is all I know. Same reason Tim here’s making the soup with flowers. It’s what he knows.

 And I’m sure your shared experience will be a credit to the Commission. Next up, Commissioner Charles Bolus. Why Commissioner, you seem to have a dish ready? That soup looks...interesting. Mind if I taste it?

 Bolus: Not at all, be my guest, I'm very pleased and proud to serve it.

 Hmmmm. Very thin. It seems to be...water?

 Bolus: That's right. I’m carrying this water for Scoobie and Lumpy. I'm waiting for them to tell me what ingredients to put in. I follow directions very well. That’s why I’m in education.

 Well, be careful. You know what they say about cooks and broth. Hello, Commissioner Cawood. Let's see, you seem to be working with a gander?

 Cawood: Yes, this is my what's-good-for-the-goose-is-good-for-the-gander chicken soup for the soul. After all, if my husband served on commission, why shouldn’t I? Why are all these people opposed to my serving? Is it because I’m a woman?

 Could it be because you weren’t elected, and appointing you just because your husband recommended you, regardless of how well qualified or well intentioned you might be, stinks of nepotism? Sort of like your soup.

 Cawood: My soup doesn’t stink.

 Well, let’s just say the whole thing smells fishy. But it certainly spices up the conversation, eh? Speaking of which, let’s move on to Commissioner Frank Leuthold, the only appointee with previous Commission experience. What’s cooking, old timer? Or, should I say, what isn’t cooking, since it appears you haven’t started?

 Leuthold: That’s right, lad. I’m calculating the caloric output required to prepare an environmentally friendly chicken soup that’s good for the soul of my constituents. Before you set out to do something, you need to know what expenditures are going to be required to decide if the project is worthwhile.

 That’s commendable, Commissioner. What do your calculations show?

 Leuthold: That the county budget’s goose is cooked.

 Hmmm, sounds like we should consult Commissioner Cawood, then?

 Leuthold: Good idea. I understand she has some experience with this sort of thing. Excuse me, Mrs. Cawood, are you ready for a bathroom break?

 It’s all right, Commissioner Leuthold. You can talk here.

 Leuthold: Nope, bathroom breaks are a tradition. Besides, someone might steal the recipe.

 OK, while they’re doing that, we’ll move on to Commissioner Lee Tramel. Whoops, apparently Commissioner Tramel caught wind that it was bathroom time and has already left the set. He did take the time to handcuff his chicken before leaving. Thoughtful.

 Well, that leaves Commissioner Mark Harmon. You don’t seem to have started work on your soup, either, Commissioner. You're lighting a match, holding it in the air, and letting it burn until it goes out. What's up?

 Harmon: What I'm doing is symbolically lighting a candle against the darkness, hoping it will catch someone's attention and perhaps ignite a conflagration of protest against what's being done here today. It’s good for my soul.

 I see the light. Well, good luck with that burning issue, Commissioner Mark Harmon. And finally we come to the master of ceremonies, the orchestrator of all that commission accomplishes, Commissioner Scott “Scoobie” Moore, who’s just returned from his own bathroom break with a…Is that a dead duck?

 Scoobie: Yeah, it’ll do Mike Ragsdale’s soul good. I’m pleased to announce that I have a resolution to the chicken-soul recipe problem. Now, I just want to say here, I ain’t curryin’ favor for nobody, ain’t talked to a soul ’bout nothing while I was on break, and yew cain’t prove I did nothin’ wrong anyways. Mah momma didn’t raise no fool, yew know.

 I think the jury’s still out on that one, Commissioner.

 Scoobie: Jury? Didn’t I tell you, you cain’t prove nothin’? Nothin’, I tell you, is all Commissioners Leuthold, Cawood, Tramel and me talked ’bout in the bathroom. Nothin’, nothin’, nuttin’, you catch mah drift, boy?

 I believe I do. Nothing is what you say.

 Scoobie: Tha’s right, and don’t yew ferget it!

 Those seem appropriate words to close the program with. Remember viewers, it’s up to you to decide whether these commissioners return to the program next season. Tune in next week, when Cooking Lame hosts County Mayor Mike Ragsdale, former County employee Tyler “Firewall” Harber, and District Attorney Randy Nichols as they try to bring a pot to boil without landing in hot water.

 

Sunday, April 22, 2007

Dress Decoding -- Old Yikes!

This piece was written after the Columbine shootings. Not entirely applicable to current events, but tangentially of interest, perhaps.

 

Dress Decoding

The deconstruction of kid's clothes

by Scott McNutt

In the aftermath of the tragic events at Columbine High School, it is indeed inspiring to observe our civic leaders-from President Clinton down to local school boards-pool their intellectual resources and trace the shootings to the evil influence of the children's clothing department at Sears. "Guns don't kill people," they seem to be saying, "trench coats do." Their reasoning appears to be that if only we can force kids to wear uniforms, they will be so preoccupied with embarrassment that they will forget to tuck a sawed-off shotgun into the leg of their khakis when they head off to school.

Mind you, kids killing kids is a bad thing and I'm against it. But this latest dress code hullabaloo bothers me because it doesn't address the real issues. The reasons those Littleton kids went haywire are complex, beyond the power of a one-size-fits-all solution like dress codes to fix. I don't have the answer either, although I suspect it has more to do with parents and society instilling in children a sense of self-worth, from which value springs esteem for others.

But I digress, because this column is not meant to heal the ills of society -- that would take at least two columns. No, the point of this column is to mock people who, to forward their own petty agendas, promote the idea that dress codes are the patch needed to mend the gaping tear in the fabric of our culture.

Dress codes are always chic to a certain type of adult: those adults who resent being adults and get really annoyed at kids for being kids. And whenever such adults see an opportunity to impose the dull, gray uniform of conformity on kids, they carpe diem it. These adults cloak their mean streaks behind dire descriptions of the decline of the character, morals, bathing habits, etc., of society's youth.

Consider this: "Our children now love luxury. They have bad manners, contempt for Authority…[and] disrespect for their elders; they contradict their parents…and tyrannize their teachers."

That's from Socrates in the 5th Century, BC. Every generation since has had a spokesperson voting their youth Most Likely to Succeed in Destroying Civilization. But if you accept that view, how could the world ever have gotten started in the first place? After all, God had a Son, didn't He? If each generation's youth is inevitably awful, then the minute God finished putting the carburetors into the Earth and went into the house to wash up, Jesus would have sneaked the globe out of the garage and totaled it while joyriding with some of his pot-smoking angel buddies.

If you study history (and you would if you'd been the good kid you were supposed to be), you'll find that few civilizations have fallen because the younger generation started wearing "Underachiever and Proud of It" togas. Of course, parents not liking what their kids are into is nothing new. Every generation of parents dislikes the music their kids listen to, or that they wear their hats backward, or the way they tie their shoes, eat their peas, breathe, etc.

Just look at previous generations in this country: Parents in the '50s didn't like their kids wearing jeans and T-shirts, parents in the '60s didn't like their boys wearing their hair like girls, and parents in the '70s just didn't like their kids, period. So, yes, lots of us old folks don't care for the next generation. But what purpose will inflicting dress codes on them serve?

After all, if being forced to wear uniforms made people less violent, we'd have nothing to fear from postal workers. But we all know about the uniform-wearing postal types that neither rain nor sleet nor snow can prevent from completing their appointed rounds, then delivering a little package of rampage at the main office. "Service with a shotgun," that's their motto.

Around Christmas time, one or two of them always pop up and pop off, so to speak. They've become as seasonal as Santa Claus. What an inspiration for dress-code-burdened kids when considering their career options! Bah, humbug! This latest scheme to make dress codes fashionable is much adoo-doo about nothing.

Why not let kids dress how they want to? To evaluate the viability of this proposal, let's compare two families, one with the child in a dress code system, the other with the child exercising his constitutionally guaranteed personal freedom to look as ridiculous as he wants. First, here's the personal-freedom family, as little Junior comes home from wherever it is he goes:

"Hey, I'm home," announces Junior. "AAAAHHH! My, my BAAA-ABY!" Mom comments.

"If you think you're going to look like that and live under this roof, you've got another thing coming, buster," suggests Pop.

"Huh? Wuzzup with you guys anyway?" inquires little Junior.

"I'll give you 'wazzup' on your heinie," explains Pop.

"Hey, Whut? Wuzzamatter? Ow! Ow! Ow!" concludes Junior.

Now let's look at the dress-code family: "Hi Mother! Hi Father!" Junior sings out gaily.

"Hello, honey," says Mother sweetly.

"Would you like some cookies and milk?"

"I better not. A snack will just spoil my appetite," replies Junior.

"Well then, pal, want to go out and shoot some hoops?" says Father, giving his son an affectionate punch on the shoulder.

"No, I need to go right upstairs and study, so I can grow up to be president," concludes Junior.

This sentiment may appear harmless, even noble. But think about it: The current president has already suffered several major fashion faux pas, such as not being able to keep his pants on. Allow this dress code vogue to go unchecked, and EVERY kid is going to want to go pants-less. Probably with trench coats to complete the ensemble.

Sunday, April 8, 2007

another new Knoxville Voice column : Obituaries - Notable passings you might not have noticed

Got another column in Knoxville Voice. It wasn't on their web site last time I checked, so all the more reason to go out and find a hard copy. I haven't had a chance to look through the issue myself, yet, but they are doing good work, so check it out: http://www.knoxvoice.com/. Anyway, here's the column.

Obituaries

May their better days rest in peace

By Scott McNutt

With much sorrow, we report these recent passings, which may or may not have really happened.

Anna Nicole Smith

Died of: Who cares? She’s dead. Dead, I tell you, dead. D-E-A-D, dead. Will you stop obsessing about her?

Survived by: Too many with too little taste and too much time on their hands.

Britney Spears

Died of: Lunacy? Idiocy? Lack of talent? All that’s known for certain is that she lost her following, her mind and her hair and passed away soon after.

Survived by: The public’s infatuation with fresher or deader celebrities.

Rosie O’Donnell

Died of: Opening her fat, flapping yap too wide and swallowing herself whole.

Survived by: Many, many misguided souls.

The Donald

Died of: Well, we can wish…

Survived by: More $$$ than you can imagine.

Simon and Paula

Died of: Bickered to death.

Survived by: The shameless, the talentless and the just plain silly.

24

Died of: Convenient coincidences, smart characters making stupid decisions, unbelievable numbers of traitors and crazies in CTU, ridiculous plot twists, plus Kiefer Sutherland’s receding hairline.

Survived by: Are you kidding? Jack Bauer leaves no survivors.

Law & Order

Died of: Eaten by that shark it was attempting to jump.

Survived by: Inferior spin-offs.

Quality TV programming

Died of: Quality.

Survived by: Too few, too few.

Martin Scorsese

Died of: Adulation and success, finally.

Survived by: His best works, The Godfather, The Godfather: Part II.

Peyton Manning

Died of: Overexposure.

Survived by: Super Bowl season videos, spots pushing Reebok, Gatorade, DirecTV, ESPN, Sprint Nextel Corp. and MasterCard, and the tape of his performance as host of Saturday Night Live.

Saturday Night Live

Died of: Geez, did it just now die? Given the stench emanating from Studio 8H in Rockefeller Center, we thought it kicked years ago.

Survived by: Too many marginal comedians making too many smelly movies.

Survivor

Died of: Surviving too long on too annoying of a premise.

Survived by: …C’mon, that’s too easy.

Reality television in general

Died of: Good taste.

Survived by: Unfortunately, lots and lots of devotees.

The Dixie Chicks

Died of: Lack of concert ticket and CD sales. Or so right-wingers report, despite the group’s recent sweepat the Grammys.

Survived by:Lots of irate right-wingers.

Elvis Presley, Jim Morrison and Kurt Cobain

Died of: Dying a long time ago and continuing to be dead.

Survived by: The gullible.

Phil Fulmer’s head coaching career

Died of: The coming season.

Survived by: Relieved Vols fans everywhere.

Peter Pan Peanut Butter’s market share

Died of: Salmonella poisoning.

Survived by: Most, but forgiven by none.

Democracy in Knox County

Died of: Nonvoting voters.

Survived by: The elite, the privileged and the monumentally stupid.

Downtown Knoxville

Died of: Isn’t it dead yet? People who never go there are always saying so…

Survived by: Restaurants, general stores, clothing stores, furniture stores, specialty shops, live music shows, business offices, condos and the tens of thousands of people who live, work and play there and walk across its decaying carcass each day.

Global warming

Died of: The "truth" as presented by its detractors, who know better than the scientists who assure the doubters of the threat’s reality.

Survived by: Higher air-conditioning bills.

"Victory" in Iraq

Died of: Stillborn.

Survived by: The delusional.

Social Security, Medicare, Medicaid, the military and the economy

Died of: The idiotic belief that you can fight as many wars as you want, fund as many government programs as you want and cut as many taxes as you want all at the same time.

Survived by: Not many.

Truth, justice and the American way

Died of: Mercy killing after a long, lingering illness.

Survived by: Deceit, inequity, and George W. Bush’s way.

Our cats

Died of: Us, if they don’t quit peeing everywhere.

Survived by: Us, for too long.

God

Died of: Embarrassment.

Survived by: Creation, but probably not for much longer.