Duncan's Blog

If you lived in New York in the 60s you might remember that phrase. It's the Spanish translation for "Cross at the green, not in-between". When the WALK/DON'T WALK traffic lights started coming out, there was a whole host of commercials in different languages that translated that phrase. A child would step onto the curb and the adult would pull him or her back. The adult would then say something in Spanish, Italian, Yiddish, Japanese or Yiddish. The child would then look in the camera and say, "That's (Spanish, Italian, Yiddish, Japanese or Yiddish) for cross at the green, not in-between.
Every now and again I flash upon things from my childhood. I was in touch with a former co-worker of mine (an 81 year old woman from NYC) who asked me if I remembered where I used to bank in New York. I thought about it for a few seconds and was surprised to tell her that I remembered the bank and branch. Apparently the financial institution is still alive and well. It's called Emigrant Bank. They also had a stupid catchy ad, "Only you can make it happen. Emigrant wants to help." They also had Eli Wallach as their spokesman so who could say no to him?
I'm amazed lots of times when I think back on stars who endorsed products that people have since long forgotten: William Shatner for PROMISE Margarine, or Patricia Neal and her instant freeze dried MAXIM Coffee
http://www.loudfrog.com/itemdetail.aspx?detailID=76389
Well that's my 2c worth of nostalgia for the day. I've got to feed the hens.

My viewing may be considered shallow. I don't watch films or television programs that romanticize the Great Depression or the MAFIA. This includes such favorites as SCARFACE, THE SOPRANOS, THE G*DFATHER, etc.
The exception to this hard-and-fast rule is--of course--THE WALTONS. Don't know why, but the show was a real gem. Maybe 'cause grandpa turned out to be gay.
Today I was watching a patient in bed and the television was turned on to the St Valentine's Day Massacre

http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0062301/

As they say in my hometown, "P.S. a HORROR!"

http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/19339508/

I am no fan of Paris Hilton. I didn't know who she was up until the jail incident. I had, of course, heard the name and thought to myself, "What type of idiot parents name their child after a hotel?" Maybe I should change my name to Ritz Carlton, Sir Francis Drake or Sherry Netherland.
The prosecutor, it seems, has a wife who also had a warrant out for her arrest for similar criminal activity.
We are living in times where people are so desperate to make a name for themselves that they will create high profile events that draw attention to them. Frivolous complaints waist time and money... my taxpayer dollars!
G*d do I sound like a conservative.

It's been ages since I've been out with the girls. In fact, it's been so long that I don't really think about it as a noteworthy event but rather as a peculiar turn or twist of events. A friend of mine does a public television access show at Time Warner in Santa Monica. She called upon her friends to be her live audience. Afterwards we took off for dinner at an old diner in West Los Angeles. http://www.yelp.com/biz/Hw6iPiKiUAZqOzl8g6Sy5w
Not exactly the kind of place you'd want to take mama for Mother's Day, but the food is clean. I had a chili size (something I never order because, well, I'm no big fan of chili). It's now some eight hours hence and I still smell the chili spice on my breath with every expulsion of burped gas.
I suppose we should count our blessings that it is only this and neither flatulence nor flatus that follows us around.
Yesterday I worked in a nursing home and suffered from the above-mentioned malaise. It's probably the only time that you count your blessings for being there. If someone comments on the smell of expelled gas, you simply say, "Yeah, I don't know what these residents eat, but some of them could peel the paper off the wall!"
There is none so guilty as he who will not admit to having farted in public.

Two of my 25 chicks have died on the same night. I suspect they were suffering from constipation. If I were more vigilant I might have made sure from the early moments that they were getting mineral oil or some other lubricant. While I handle death of baby chicks in a rather matter-of-fact manner, I still feel a little saddened that their life was cut so short.
It reminds me of survival of the fittest and it puts my mammal existence into another perspective. Some lives are just a bit more fragile than others and we need to accommodate things accordingly. Chicks--while viewed as cute and sweet and pretty and adorable--can be downright vicious. If they want a space they will squeeze others out of the way... or they will peck... or they will simple trample upon them. The only reason they huddle together and give the appearance of having a warm and bonding love for each other is to conserve body heat.
However, I do like watchig them stretch and drink water and fight over food.