About Me

My photo
DISCLAIMER: I don't really use a typewriter anymore. Oh, and this picture of me is, well, old. If you don't know me already, I'm happy to let you draw your conclusions from what I post here. I do, myself. As William Faulkner said, "I never know what I think about something until I read what I've written on it."

Friday, August 12, 2011

Codswallop and Mule Fritters

Software Glitch
My scanner has taken  a notion, like Bartleby, to prefer not to do the job for which it was engaged, and it is seriously cramping my inner photo-essayist's creative output.  The copying and printing functions of the machine work fine, but there seems to be no communication between the scanning part and the computer.  I suspect Software Glitches (they're kind of like house elves, only dumber).  

  Since I have a live-in computer technician, it will take slightly longer for me to get this issue addressed than it would those of you who have to call someone in.   Nostalgic blog entries involving nifty old pictures from my albums will have to wait until I can coerce sweet-talk  someone into re-loading the program.

 In the meantime, some observations of the Cranky Old Mare variety.  
   My Dad was fond of the word "codswallop".  I don't know where he heard it, but when he encountered a word he liked, he adopted it for his own.  As near as I can figure out, it means "used beer". Think about it.  If you're in Texas, get prepared to drink it.   Again.  

No one  cares about me,
no one cares about me at all
I can imagine Dad listening to the current ad campaign for brake service---Personal Pricing on Brakes.   "Tell us what you want to pay for brakes, and we'll do our best to make that happen."    Seriously?  "Let's re-do all 18 wheels for $12.95."   Uh huh.   Codswallop.   Or how about "Using Dr. Farfel's Flea & Tick Goop" shows your pet you CARE".   My pet gets a distinctly unloved look about her when any sort of grooming, administration or application seems likely to occur.  
What shows her that we care is a crunchy bit of toast, preferably peanut-buttered, or a smackerel of honey.  


People who are paid to talk ought to learn how.  If they're paid to talk "news" at us, they should, at the very least,  be able to convey whether something is happening, already has happened, or will be  happening at some time in the future.  Have you noticed how newscasters like to say "We're back right after these messages" ?  I got news for yews...you're not back until you're back.  So you can't say "we're back later".   Stop it.  And don't say "NEPA" as if it were a two-syllable word.   Acronyms shouldn't be wordified in speech.  

I have a handy "pocket" dictionary that I keep beside my reading chair in case I need to look up a word when I'm reading.  Every time I look for a word and don't find it in there, I write it on the inside of the back cover for future reference to a larger dictionary.  The list is so long now,  I think I may as well just donate the useless tome to a library book sale or something. Clearly it only contains the words I  already know how to spell and define.   And since it weighs 2 pounds and measures 7 inches by 5  inches by 2 inches, it has no business being called a "pocket" dictionary anyway.

Recently I had occasion to send a sympathy card to the family of a co-worker who had lost his father-in-law.  I thought I'd check the internet for some etiquette tips on how to address the envelope.  In the process I found this incomprehensible advice:    "If you are attending the funeral with someone who could not make it, offer to take a handwritten note from the absentee..."

Oh, and back to those pesky newscasters...I heard one tell us this morning that there is a new piece of legislation that will make it against the law to be in this country illegally.    What?    Mule fritters.   


  1. Brilliant post, all around.

    I might have laughed right out loud at good ol' Sherman Teeeeeeee Potter, there.

  2. Codswallop is a fine word. It is the genteel way to say bullcrap. I like your grumblings and share your perspective. Does that make us grumpy old women? I sure hope so.

  3. @Laura: Thanks, you.

    @Tui: No, it doesn't make us grumpy old women. It makes us cranky old mares.

  4. I love the word curmudgeon. So descriptive. And I just might have to borrow codswallop - it rolls off the tongue nicely!

  5. My anti-spam word when I posted the above comment was "meniness." Sounds like something Stephen Colbert would come up with for The Word. "Meniness = a group with a high level of testosterone."

  6. A coincidence surely: Martha has mule fritters on the menu tonight. Or maybe that's corn fritters. Maybe it's corn dogs. Which reminds me: your doggie is be-ute-i-ful.

    Tui said a dirty word, Tui said a dirty word!

    Nice post, Grump.

  7. @Terri: I love those anti-spam words when they seem to mean something. I would have thought "Meniness is next to godiness", myself.

    @Charlies: My doggie is indeed one of the most beautiful creatures there is. AND, she has perfected that expression of sheer sorrow that you see above. However, in the interest of full disclosure, I must confess that THAT is not my dog. It looks a good deal LIKE my dog, and as soon as I get my scanner fixed, I'll post a picture that really IS my dog. (Callie's blaze is much fuller. See my LT profile.)

  8. I am answering a comment ou left on my blog because I can't find your email address......

    Re my book lottery...should the reader called "anonymous" win I WILL be able to send her prize because I know who she is,,,my old pal, Ida, who has never figured out how to make Google call her Ida. Some problems can be solved.

    Love your blog.

  9. You reminded me of (one of) the things newscasters would say that drove my father clear up the wall. (He spent a lot of time up the wall.) And that is when the weatherman said "the forecast is calling for..." We'd cringe when we heard it because every SINGLE time (that's daily) he said it, Dad would pound the chair and scream "the forecast IS, it isn't CALLING FOR!" And yet, heart trouble didn't kill him.

    He'd die all over again if he heard what our local weather people are calling it. "Futurecast." Oy.

  10. New here, and love it.