Greetings From the Grand Canyon (below the cliff) State

Here’s to the

Fiscal Cliff

A Happier New Year

to you and yours!

My Holiday Disposition

Remember "Joe, The Plumber?"  He was the guy in 2008 who claimed to be on the verge of purchasing the plumbing company he worked for, but was afraid that Obama was going to go Don Quixote on small businesses and tax them all into bankruptcy.  It turns out, Joe wasn't a plumber at all and was no closer to buying the company than Lindsay Lohan. But Sarah Palin and John McCain dismissed those misrepresentations as inconvenient immaterial and crowned him the Average-American Icon of their campaign.  We all know how that went.   Joe unsuccessfully ran for the Ohio state legislature last month.  Apparently he has milked the last of his fifteen minutes.

www.bigjplumbing.com

Which brings me to Jay, the Plumber.  Big Jay of Big J Plumbing to be precise (he is an actual plumber).  Before he could get to work on our leaky kitchen sink, I waylaid him with the story of a well-known neurosurgeon who had a dripping faucet in his home which was driving him crazy (bad for his image).  Mrs. Neuro called a plumber who showed up early the next morning, replaced a rubber washer in seconds, and presented the brain-doc with a bill for $150. 

The doc looked at it and said, "I am one of the highest paid neurosurgeons in the world and I can't charge that kind of money for my services."

The plumber responded, "I couldn't charge that kind of money when I was a neurosurgeon, either."

Big Jay smiled knowingly, which made me wonder whether I should have kept that little anecdote to myself.  Like a neurosurgeon, he examined my cracked plastic garbage disposal and determined a transplant was in order.  He excised the broken disposal and replaced it with a steel model which is guaranteed for 8 years and will act as a wood chipper in a pinch.  Unlike a neurosurgeon (or an IRS agent, or a Chase Field concession stand worker), Big Jay presented me with a perfectly reasonable bill.  I'll be able to afford groceries to put down my new disposal. 

Being the friend-of-earth that I am, I asked Big Jay how to dispose of a disposal.  He suggested turning it into a piece of art.  I pondered that, thinking of a possible Christmas gift for my fellow Scottsdale resident, Sarah Palin.  Not sure she would appreciate my asthetics.

I Googled "how to dispose of a disposal" and came across helpful advice like, turn it on and drop it into itself. 

Big Jay solved my dilemma by offering to deliver it to Broken-Plastic-Garbage-Disposal Heaven. 

A plumber and a hero. 



 

Pressure and PSAs

LOW TIRE PRESSURE, HIGH BLOOD PRESSURE

 

I survived 12-12-12, although the date holds no particular significance to me.  I suppose those born on this date will read something special into it.  I was actually more focused on 12-13-12 aka Thursday, the thirteenth (glad it wasn’t Friday).  I had my quarterly PSA check to find out if I would live long enough to swan dive over the fiscal cliff or to be wiped out by whatever the Mayans have planned.   In this case, PSA is not Pacific Southwest Airlines or a Public Service Announcement.   My PSA is the level of Prostate-Specific Antigens in my system I take to identify any recurrence of prostate cancer.  I’m relieved to say, my PSA level is currently undetectable.  Now I can concentrate on worrying about Boehner and those Mayans.  Not sure who’s scarier.

On my way home from the doctor’s office, a little tire-icon light came on the dash of my car.  I stopped by my nearest Discount Tire, where there were more vehicles backed up than on the 101 at rush hour  (apparently everybody’s tire light was on).  As I maneuvered into the waiting line, I recalled being told by a tire guy that when the temperature makes a drastic change, tires lose pressure.  It turned out that all four of my relatively new tires were about 13lbs under the 35lbs recommended. 

I tell you all this to remind you to;

·         Get Your Tire Pressure Checked

·         Get Your Blood Pressure Checked

·         Get A PSA Test

Hug somebody you love

- and remember to count your blessings

 

 

A Lot of "F"s (and I'm not even ranting about AZ sports teams OR politricks)

Flo's Fresh, Filling, Fabulous Food with Friend Felix (plus Freakish Fortunes)

I have read an awful lot of bad restaurant reviews lately ... or maybe there are a lot of bad restaurants reviewed lately.  Whatever ... I've decided to lay off the Cardinals and the Suns (briefly) and give all you faithful FLOG-olites the skinny on the best restaurant in Scottsdale. 

12-12-12.  Only happens once a century and is worth a celebratory meal.  Although I don't need much of a reason to go to Flo's Asian Kitchen - any occurance that has a title ending in day, i.e., Thursday, Monday, Groundhog Day, etc. 

I met my amigo-extraordinaire, Sid Felix, at Flo's for another stellar lunch (shu mai dumplings and beef with snow peas).  A feast worthy of 12-12-12.   As always, at the end of the meal we were presented with fortune cookies, which I had previously thought were custom scripted for each customer.  On this day though, mine read, discontent is the first step in the progress of a man or a nation.  Hmmm.  I nervously wondered if this was a warning that an angry FLOG subject or subjects is/are going to descend on me.  Sid, who is navigating his   90th year, got a missive that, a thrilling time is in your immediate future.  Again, hmmm.  Hopefully, the thrilling time does not involve dodging a berserk mall Santa or a runaway dump truck.   We both prefer prophecies like, under the happiest of circumstances, you will dine again soon at an Asian restaurant you really like.

Many years ago, when I lived in Seattle where there are more Asian restaurants than Starbucks (and there are a lot of Starbucks), I once recommended to a forlorn non-Asian restaurant that they have an Unhappy Hour and give out un-fortune cookies.  Mean Eileen Editing Queen insisted they should be called misfortune cookies, but Miss Fortune Cookies sounds too much like a Chinese beauty pageant.  The restaurant did not take my advice but they did wish me fortune of the "un" and "mis" variety - only more colorfully stated.  But I digress.

When Margaret and I came to Scottsdale on reconnaissance in 1991, we flunked due-diligence in thoroughly scoping out the Asian restaurants.  The bordering-on-tragic options might have dissuaded us from choosing Arizona for a second home.  For the first three years we lived here, we were chow-mein deprived and then, mercifully, came Flo's Asian Kitchen. 

Our first time in, we had to wait an hour for a table.  While we bided our time, I told Margaret I was going to mingle with the other waiting patrons to try to convince them to dine at the Italian place a few doors down (in order to move our name to the top of the list faster).  I figured Margaret would admonish me, but she suggested I tell people the Italian restaurant was giving away free cocktails.

Hong Kong born Flo came to Scottsdale via Memphis, Tennessee where she had gone to school.  Coincidentally, Margaret was born and raised in Memphis, and we saw the connection as a good omen.    The food definitely worth wait - we made a point of introducing ourselves to Flo and have enjoyed many fantastic meals since.  I could detail the virtues of each dish, but you really just have to try it for yourself - you won't be disappointed.  In 1998, Flo told me she was going to open her second location in the Scottsdale Promenade and said it would simply be called, "Flo's."   

"Not good," I told her.  "It should be called Over-Flo's."

 

The Pope is All A-Twitter ... wonder what he'll do next with that tablet

Have a Bad Ass Hannukah and An Explosively Merry Christmas

 

Last year before Hannukah, I found a stunning pair of brass knuckles, that look a little like these, and envisioned them with candles in the eight finger holes. Before putting them together for this years celebration of the candle that burnt for eight days, I received an email from my surrogate daughter, Lisa, taking me to … 25 Hilariously Wrong Menorahs.

After looking at the 25 and sharing them with my associate, Mean Eileen Editing Queen, I decided to look at “weird Christmas ornaments and found this: The Swedish Army Museum in Stockholm is coming under fire for selling tree ornaments shaped like this.

Is this offensive or defensive?

Happy Holidays, however you celebrate

Instead of Taking A Knee, Take Two (and pray really hard while you're down there)

 

Cardinals Hire New Coach
Promise BIG Changes
 

PROPHETIC, PATHETIC OR POETIC?  Profthetic?

First, let’s bid farewell to Bill Bidwill and all the little Bidwills. Don’t blame the coach. Don’t blame the quarterback.  The buck stops with Bidwill (exactly where it started - Bill is still clutching tight).  

 

Maybe those mega-lottery winners will become philanthropists and charitably donate funds to buy an offense. 

Ken Whisenhunt was recruited from the Pittsburg Stealers by the Bidwells in 2007 and took Arizona to a Super Bowl in his second season. After following with a division title in 2009, he was rewarded with a raise and extension before this season. But a 58 to nothing loss to the Seattle Seahawks may have been the end of an era. KEN WHISENHUNT… HIRED, TIRED, FIRED!

Maybe Ken is sick and tired and praying to be fired. But don’t cry for him. He’ll probably be glad to take his $17-million-plus and go home. And he’ll most certainly get another job (he's a natural for the Bayer Aspirin commercials as the guy in obvious pain, clutching the bridge of his nose between his squeezed-shut eyes). 

His replacement?  Who could coach Cardinals better than a Pope?

We’ll have a new team name THE PHOENIX POPE and a new slogan

… "THE PHOENIX POPE ... PRAY & HOPE"

Since this new team is non-denominational, we’ll rename the stadium …

University of Phoenix Synagogue.

Three hours before gametime we’ll have a Mass and then kick ass




New Cardinal Offensive Coordinator

 

Taking a modified page from the Suns' Fun Guarantee against the Dallas Mavericks …

IF YOU DON’T HAVE FUN AT THE POPE'S GAME, WE’LL GIVE YOU A

QUARTER-BACK.

(Maybe I’ll get sacked for being sack-religious, but since the Cardinals' offense hasn't grasped the concept, I might as well).