We're #2!

We did it! We made it to #2 on a Google search for "panablog"! Obviously, panablog is #1, as it should be. Nothing can stop us now!!! HAHAHAHA!

So many people to thank: The Panablogs, the panamaniacs, the panabuddies, Panama, Teddy Roosevelt, David Lee Roth ... I feel like I'm forgetting someone. Oh, who cares, WE'RE #2!

Well, I'll let you all get to celebrating, but please do be responsible. Remember, there's no Fanablog without panablog, and there's no panablog without you.

God Awful

I don't like blogging. I may get back into it. I may not. Hard to say. Anydoodle, here's a video to enjoy while I decide. There's a lot I could say about this, but I don't want to, which is part of the reason I don't like blogging. It's from GodTube.com, which is like YouTube, but a bit preachier.

Sweetie, your husband’s been dead for 10 years...

"A Discussion on the Etiology, Treatment, and Social Impacts of Alzheimer’s"
—hosted by Carla, Director of the Lone Jack Institute on Aging, and cleaning lady at my office

Carla: I shouldn’t complain...My cousin’s out there in Lone Jack with my aunt. She’s got the Old Timer’s disease. We think she got it from the pesticides. It’s just terrible.

Mabel: I’m not sure, but I think it’s actually pronounced Alzheimer’s.

Carla: Oh, that’s right. It’s the Latin or somethin’.

Mabel: Um...actually, I think it’s the name of the doctor. Dr. Alzheimer.

Carla: What? He invent it or somethin’?

Mabel: Once again, I’m not a 100% on this, but I think he may have been the first to recognize the symptoms as part of a disease.

Carla: Ahhh...So did it use to be called Old Timer’s?

Mabel: I don’t think so, but I guess it’s possible.

Carla: Well, whatever it’s called, it’s not good. They’ve got her on some medications that make her pee a lot. And they want her to do these mental exercises—crosswords, jumbles, and what not. But I’ll be honest with ya, she wasn’t all that good with words before she got it. I don’t know that it’s gonna do her any good now.

Mabel: You’re probably right.

For more information on Alzheimer’s, visit www.alz.org. For more information on the history of Old Timer’s, catch Carla on one of her smoke breaks (on the 8s of every hour).

Happy Victoria Day (Canada)!

A hastily composed, ill-informed, and kind-of-ethnocentric history lesson from Mabel, PhD:

Victoria Day falls on Monday, May 21, each and every year, without exception. It celebrates the anniversary of the Kennedy assassination and, more recently, both Christmas and Easter (Candians love candy and presents, but are not so big on JC). On Victoria Day, Canadian boys and girls are let out of school to roam the streets and beat the homeless. Adults flock to department stores to smoke crack, eat bacon, and reflect on the comedic relevance of Dana Carvey. And e-v-e-r-y-o-n-e...t-a-l-k-s...l-i-k-e...t-h-i-s. For more information, contact a Canadian.

World's largest bull's-eye to open in Baghdad

U.S. Embassy in Iraq to be biggest ever

...The Bush administration designed the 104-acre compound — set to open in September in what today is a war zone — to be an ultra-secure enclave. Yet it also hoped that downtown Baghdad would cease being a battleground when diplomats moved in...

Yes, and I'm hoping that my wife's gonna let me buy one of them Japanese robots, but that's not going to happen either.

I like pretty colors!

$73 mln Rothko sets postwar art record at Sotheby's

I don't knows much about art...but I KNOWS WHAT I LIKES! And I really likes this $73,000,000 Marky Mark Rothko painting, poignantly titled 'White Center (Yellow, Pink and Lavender on Rose)' . I'm no art critic, but this painting speaks to me. And it says, "Yellow and pink and lavender are pretty colors. And so is white. I like rectangles." Powerful stuff. And for just $73 mil...wow. Sure, it's no toilet filled with Jell-O, or a 1989 Chevy AstroVan with the word "Slut" spray-painted on the hood, but that seems like a hell of a deal. It also makes me wonder what my masterpiece would be worth on the open market. Allow me to present: "Random Carpet Square Found in My Desk Next to a Box of Purple Surgical Gloves, #2."

Shall I start the bidding?

Some individuals enjoy sandwiches with meat or jelly-like fillings

Some people love Jesus. Some love Buddha. Some people love their spouses. Others, money and tasty li’l sluts. But more than anything (except for my wife, dog, and 11% of the people I know), I love the peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

It is a thing of beauty, a nearly perfect food. It is filling. It is sweet AND savory. It can serve as breakfast, lunch, and/or dinner. A dessert or a late-night snack. And while it is not particularly “healthy,” it is somewhat wholesome.

Now, you know that I’m not one to hyperbolize…but I believe that the peanut butter and jelly sandwich is the greatest single thing in the history of the world, ever. That said, peanut butter, jelly, and bread a perfect sandwich do not always make. And I am quite particular about the ingredients in and construction of my PB&J. If you don't mind, I shall explain...

I start with robust wheat bread (something with no fewer than 4 grains and no more than 23). Ideally the bread will be at room temperature, providing a soft, but not too soft, palette for the robust innards. If, however, the bread has been refrigerated, I will put it in the toaster for 10 seconds, no longer. I do not want toasted bread. I cannot stress that enough. Toasted bread is not what I'm looking for here. After the bread has reached the desired temperature (70-72 Fahrenheit), I begin by applying the peanut butter evenly on one slice of the bread. This seems an appropriate time to explain that I buy only all-natural 100% free-range peanut butter--chunky. Sure, ‘tis a tad more expensive, but it delivers the most peanutty flavor possible, and I can feel good knowing that the peanuts were buttered humanely. On the other slice I apply in exact ratio a layer of strawberry preserves. It must be strawberry preserves. Once again, I cannot stress this enough. For ease of conversation I say “jelly,” but what I actually mean is "preserves." And don’t even get me started on grape jelly. It has no place in this equation. I'd rather have my dog take a runny dump on a loaf of white bread than put grape jelly on my PB&J. Anydoodle, next I place the peanut butter slice on top of the jelly slice. Now, I understand that some of you still eat like you're 5 years old. And this would be the point at which you could cut off the crust. I, however, like the crust. Gives the sandwich character.

(Tenuous segue alert!) But apparently there is a large market for people who desire crustless sandwiches but do not have the technical knife skills to perform such a culinary maneuver. So, in 1999 the good people at Smuckers (I only assume that people who make "jelly" for a living are inherently good) patented the method for creating a crustless peanut butter and jelly sandwich (patent no. 6004596). It has been a very controversial patent, and since that time the patent has been appealed and overturned. I recently stumbled across the official patent documentation (during my pursuit to read the US Patent registry straight through) and thought that the following passages could prove useful for my fellow PB&J-ophiles. A greater explication and defense of crustless sandwiches the world has nary seen (I have highlighted in blue my favorite portions):

SUMMARY OF THE INVENTION

A primary object of the present invention is to provide a sealed crustless sandwich that will overcome the shortcomings of the prior art devices.

Another object is to provide a sealed crustless sandwich that does not have any crust.

BACKGROUND OF THE INVENTION

Many individuals enjoy sandwiches with meat or jelly like fillings between two conventional slices of bread. However, some individuals do not enjoy the outer crust associated with the conventional slices of bread and therefore take the time to tear away the outer crust from the desired soft inner portions of the bread. This outer crust portion is then thrown away and wasted. There is currently no method or device for baking bread without having an outer crust. Hence, there is a need for a convenient sandwich which does not have an outer crust and which is not prone to waste of the edible outer crust portions. The present invention provides a method of making a sealed crustless sandwich which (sic) can be stored for extended periods of time without an inner filling from seeping into the bread portion.

A sealed crustless sandwich for providing a convenient sandwich without an outer crust which can be stored for long periods of time without a central filling from leaking outwardly. The sandwich includes a lower bread portion, an upper bread portion, an upper filling and a lower filling between the lower and upper bread portions, a center filling sealed between the upper and lower fillings, and a crimped edge along an outer perimeter of the bread portions for sealing the fillings therebetween. The upper and lower fillings are preferably comprised of peanut butter and the center filling is comprised of at least jelly. The center filling is prevented from radiating outwardly into and through the bread portions from the surrounding peanut butter.

For a look (through the lens of Smucker’s Corporate Marketing) at the history of the peanut butter and jelly sandwich, click here. And as usual, please post any of your thoughts, feelings, or PB&J preferences/recipes. Crust? Crustless? Strawberry? Grape? Apricot? Chunky? Smooth? Better than Jesus?

Hey Spaceman, are there Muppets in 1607?

Those of you that blog (and I believe that would be just two of you) know that reemerging from a posting hiatus is challenging, to say the least. And it's usually a little awkward when you do. Sort of like waking up from a Sunday afternoon nap, which I just did. You stumble into the kitchen, open the fridge, blankly stare at the contents for a minute, close the door, open the pantry, blankly stare, close the door, open the freezer, so on, so forth. In the end, you satiate your ravenous post-nap hunger by squirting chocolate syrup straight into your mouth.

Wait...how is that like blogging? I don't remember, I just woke up from a nap. Anyways, it's always good to take these things slow--pen a cranky rant about a poor, undereducated, well-intentioned cleaning lady. Or post a video (see Lucubrations). Or find a picture of Bushy Poo and hold the first-ever Mabel photo caption contest, which is what I'm presenting now. The above photo (from the 400th anniversary of the colonization of Jamestown) should lend itself to many, many winners. I shall not post again until five entries have I received.

While we're on the subject of Bushy...Let me just say that I'm not the biggest fan. But pretend for a minute that I'm an objective commentator...Just pretend. Does he have to compare every single thing to Iraq? Talking at Jamestown this weekend, he said, "From our own history, we know the path to democracy is long and it's hard...There are many challenges, and there are setbacks along the way. Yet we can have confidence in the outcome because we've seen freedom's power to transform societies."

Yeah, that's all true. Democracy is fuckin' hard. Democracy is fuckin' tough. But you know what, not everything is a direct parallel for that pesky Iraq situation. For example, there is Jamestown--not at all like Iraq. Unless you're talking about going to a foreign land and kind of fucking it up for the natives. Wait...I'm sorry. I'm getting political. And I'm not even really sure what my point was, or if I even had one. I think I napped 30 minutes too long. There's such a fine line when it comes to napping. Andoodle, I just imagine Bushy going through daily life and finding a way to compare everything to the war in Iraq. I imagine him saying something like this to Laura as they sit on the couch and watch American Gladiators:

"I tell you, Laura, I had a very productive and meaningful lunch today. It was a little before noon--just five and a half years after 9/11. And I knew I was hungry. I absolutely knew it. All intelligence was pointing to my midday hunger. My stomach was grumbling. All I could think was turkey sandwich. So I prayed, and God confirmed it: it was lunchtime. So I ordered a turkey sandwich from the kitchen, and everything started off great, really great. I ate the sandwich. And it was so good I wanted another. And so I ate another. Wheat bread, turkey, and mayo--an axis of deliciousness. And as I finished the second sandwich I thought: 'Mission Accomplished: Hunger Conquered!' I even had a banner printed. It's in the game room. But I'll tell ya', Laura, I did not anticipate what would come next. No one could have anticipated it. No one. That second sandwich made my stomach feel kind of funny. It crept out of nowhere and really blasted my insides. But I stuck it out. I wasn't about to let the turkey sandwich win. And that's when I took an antacid and went to sleep for three hours. And when I woke up, my tummy felt all better...It's just like our situation in Iraq. Iraq is just like the second turkey sandwich. And the nap is like us. Or maybe we're the antacid. Actually, the turkey sandwich was good, and so are we. Heck, all I know is that you're either with the turkey sandwich or against it."

Well, thanks for enduring my blank stare into the post-nap refrigerator of posting. This fit of banal and facile political satire has lifted my spirits and made me very hungry. I best be moving on. But please do send your caption submissions. And if you do, I shall promise to try to attempt get myself back to a more consistent schedule of inconsistent posting.

We got some rain out in Lone Jack

I'm sick and tired and cranky. I can't work. I can't sleep. I'm hungry but my throat is swollen and I can' t taste. I just watched Harry and the Hendersons for Jebus' sake. I don't really want to post, but have nothing else to distract me. So I'm going to rant with the hope that it'll exhaust me. It's been awhile, so bear with me. Or go fuck yourself. Either way.

Let's start with the cleaning lady at my office. I hate her. Now, I'm probably going to feel pretty bad about this tomorrow, but...I really do hate everything about her. I hate her stupid Disney sweatshirts. I hate that she takes a smoke break every twenty minutes. I hate that she is always coughing and is seemingly stupefied by the fact that she "just can't shake this cold." I really hate that she's always counting down the hours to the end of the day or the days to the end of the week. Or even worse, lamenting the brevity of the weekend, even though she only works four days a week. I hate that she lives in a place called Lone Jack. I hate that I know where her sister lives, not to mention that it's in a place called Buckner. I hate that the first thing I hear every morning when I get to the office is her vacuum cleaner and the last thing I hear is the squeaky belt on her rusted-out Pontiac Bonneville (and don't even get me started on Pontiacs) , which has a personalized plate that I can't figure out (THRM8S). I hate that she empties my trash every day at 2:45, even if the only thing in the trash is a gum wrapper and a couple sheets of paper. I hate that while she's changing the lining to my trash can she'll look out the window and say something like, "It's always something new." I don't even know what that means. Is it always something new? You're a cleaning lady. You vacuum the same carpet at the same time every day. You measure your days in cigarettes. You wear a Donald Duck sweatshirt every Thursday. Jebus, that pisses me off. I hate that she laughs at anything anyone says, even when it's not a joke.

On the other hand, I guess she's fairly harmless. She always says hello. She pre-makes coffee for us. Now I'm starting to feel kind of bad about hating her. Which is, in turn, making me kind of sleepy. On that note, I'm going to take another nap to ensure that I can't sleep again tonight, which very well might lead to another angry rant tomorrow. Toodles.

It's been such a long time

I think I should be blogging...yeeaahhhh! Time doesn't wait for me, it keeps on rolling. Hey, buddies. Mabel's leave has been longer than expected, though we shall return shortly. In the cruel time, I hope this photo sustains your interest. I've got more than a feeling it might.