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Saturday, February 15, 2003 Butt-Ugly Martians Ingredients: Corn Syrup, Citric Acid, and contains 2% or less of the following: Glycerine, Sodium Benzoate and Potassium Sorbate (Preservatives), Artifical Flavor, Blue 1 and Blue 2. This is the concoction that is De-Atomized Butt-Ugly Martians Liquid Candy.  My first thought, when I saw this in the store today, was how appalling that Wrigley would introduce such a product. Are kids nowadays so lazy that they can't even chew candy or allow it to melt in their mouths? My God, what has this world come to? Then I remembered Nik-L-Nips. Oh, how I wanted these when I was small. I can remember asking my mom for them. She was not a believer in candy for kids -- "You'll have a mouthful of cavities overnight," she said. "Now, go brush your teeth." In her mind, just thinking about candy caused cavities -- it took longer than if we ate the candy, but we would get the cavities just the same. So, I would go to the bathroom and brush my teeth. With Crest, of course, the decay-preventing dentifrice -- the only toothpaste she would buy. There is an important and fundamental difference between Butt-Ugly Martians Liquid Candy and Nik-L-Nips, and it does have to do with my original thought. I am appalled. The important and fundamental difference is that once the Nik-L-Nips' liquid confection is imbibed, chewing the wax bottle is required to achieve the full effect of the candy. Before drinking a Nik-L-Nips, the top of the wax bottle has already been bitten off. That top is chewed because there is some liquid in the top. There is an alternative way to enjoy Nik-L-Nips, but I would not recommend this technique from my own personal experience (And I hope that if my mom is reading this, she doesn't think that I actually ever tried Nik-L-Nips because I haven't; and all of these descriptions come not from private and personal use, but from keen observation of those around me.). Some daring individuals pop the whole bottle into their mouths and start chewing. The all-at-once squirting, oozing is quite satisfying. In many people, girls, in particular, in my experience (and I know this happened to Cathy Bender), this particular technique can cause gagging; and that, my friends, is a butt ugly sight. Robitussin, Coricidin, and Other Delights Who needs illegal drugs to get high? Go to any store and buy a couple bottles of Robitussin, some packs of Coricidin tablets, or a couple boxes of DexAlone gelcaps. Or, hell, just boost the suckers. I'm sorry if you came here for an anecdote or some other reason -- if you don't have kids, this won't be of interest, or maybe it will. Take a trip here, if you're into chemicals, or here, if you want to read about a journey from oblivion, or here, if the 2nd Amendment is your bag, or here, if you need a dose of Hotmail Haiku. Or hang with me and read on. When our son's pipeline of coke was cut off, he turned to Robitussin and Coricidin. Ironically, websites devoted to ... fuck it ... promotion of the "safe" use of these OTC drugs warn against taking Coricidin "recreationally." Coricidin is orders of magnitude more dangerous as a source of dextromethorphan (DXM) than OTC medicines that contain only dextromethorphan. The additives can compound the effects of DXM. The side effects of DXM abuse can be devastating. Our son was tested for cognitive deficits while in drug treatment. Eight grand worth of cocaine over five weeks did not worry the drug counselors -- well, it was a worry, but we're talking brain damage here. It was the two-bottle-a-day Robitussin habit and popping 30 Coricidin pills at a time that lead them to evaluate him over a period of six weeks before they said that he miraculously escaped brain damage. The wife is sick as a dog. I guess that's what prompted this post -- I picked up Advil Cough and Sinus stuff (or whatever it's called) at CVS Friday night, and some kid was walking toward the front of the store in the same aisle near the cough syrup section. I wondered whether his parents knew where he was hanging out. "Just getting a bottle of ... Pepsi, mom." And then, when I got home, I noticed that drugstore.com is running a special on DexAlone. DexAlone (it took some brainy marketing consultants to think up that name) is pure DXM with the maximum over-the-counter dose for a cough suppressant. I'm alarmed by the ready availability of this stuff, at discounted prices, on the Internet. The manufacturer claims that: "DexAlone is an over-the-counter soft liquid gelcap formulation of dextromethorphan hydrobromide (DM), the only single-agent non-liquid formulation available in the U.S. There is no other product like it!" Yes, sir! High doses can cause neuropsychiatric symptoms (euphoria, restlessness, misperception, hallucination, schizophrenic reactions) that are similar to the effects of LSD. Although very popular, use of extremely large doses of cough syrup to get high is not new. In 1967, the group Moby Grape sang: "Robitussin make me feel so fine Robitussin and Elderberry wine." While in high school, I got invites to go to the landfill behind the school (how appetizing -- let's go get wasted at the garbage dump!) to get high on cough syrup and to drink cherry vodka so I could be part of "the" group of jocks. I didn't go -- stayed with the uncool nerds. I'm happy with the choice. As for being in "the" group of jocks, I didn't miss it -- in college, I played baseball and was a two-time All-American. Back in November, in unrelated cases, two teenagers in Ohio died from a combination of DXM, the antihistamine chlorpheniramine, and morphine. Being unrelated cases may mean that this combination of drugs is becoming widely used. What do you look for? Loss of appetite, dropping grades, conflicts at school, attitude changes, loss of friends or a change in the circle of "friends" are a few classic warning signs that something is going on. Monitor Internet usage -- the kids will check out sites that will provide information on "safe" drug use (deleted histories should raise your hackles). Many of these sites, while claiming to be anti-drug use, say: If you're going to use, use wisely. I'm sorry about the harangue -- I lost the damn jury trial, my wife is hacking and coughing, Black Hawk Down is on the tube -- I'm in a piss-poor mood. Friday, February 14, 2003 Guilty Sometimes you eat the bear; sometimes the bear eats you. The jury didn't buy into the alibi. The jury said my guy did it. Guilty as charged. We were there until quarter-to-six on Friday afternoon. I knew it was bad when the judge asked if they wanted to go home and come back Tuesday to deliberate or stay and deliberate for a while. It was 5 o'clock. They wanted to stay -- not a good sign. I can argue at sentencing that my guy did not testify because he didn't want to perjure himself and didn't deny under oath that he did it -- that ought to knock some time off the sentence. Thursday, February 13, 2003 It's on Tape! "There's no way that happened. They're lying. The guy's lyin' to cover his ass." "Okay. That's cool." "I can prove it. It's on tape. They got a tape. That shows what happened." "Okay. I'll get the tape." I got the tape. "Okay, man. Is that you coming into the store?" "Yeah. That's me. I'm goin' over to the meat counter. See, there I go. Heh-heh. See, I'm talkin' to the guy." "What are you doing there?" "Orderin' some blood tongue." "What?" "What what?" "What the fuck is blood tongue?" "It's ... well, it's ... good. You know, blood ... tongue. I don't know. My mother wanted it." "What's going on now?" "I'm goin' over to where you pay fer stuff, you know, the check-out counter." "You waiting for the, er ... blood tongue?" "Yeah. He's cuttin' it or whatever he's doin' back there. There, the phone's ringin'. See, he's pickin' it up over there. He's talkin' to someone." "What are you pickin' up off the counter there." "Two 20's and a 10." "Ooooh - kay. Now, you're walkin' out." "Yeah. Hey, what's he doin' there?" "He's seein' you leaving, and he's running to the door with the wrapped-up ... blood tongue." "Yeah. I ran around the side of the building. Ha-ha." "So, tell me ... what does the tape show?" "It just shows I took ... somethin' off the counter. It didn't have to be money. Coulda just been some coupons or somethin' like that. Ya know what?" "What?" "They lucky my mother sent me back to get the blood tongue. They woulda never got me." Wednesday, February 12, 2003 Old? I read this girl's blog the other day, and she was conflicted about going to her high school reunion. It was her 5-year class reunion. This is not a class reunion. A class reunion is where one of the greasers, who was in trouble most of high school, is married, has three kids, and is a recruiter for the Marines -- and bald. And he comes up to the guy he always was giving a hard time in high school and wants to compare notes on being bald. That's a reunion. Sometimes things just hit you in the face. Valentine's Day is Friday -- we've been married almost 29 years and known each other since September, 1970. That's like forever. I don't know why she has put up with such a jerk all these years. She's very special and loving and cool, in an intelligent, street-wise kind of way. I don't know what I would do without her in my life -- she's been my friend. I could go on, but I think I'll do that in private. In six months, our oldest son will be married. It seems like just a few weeks ago we had a parent-teacher conference with Mrs. Shanko, his first grade teacher, and she was alarmed that he was making his "g"'s backwards. I am pleased to report that it's difficult to decipher his handwriting, but last I knew, he was okay on the "g" front, just like most kids (By the way, Mrs. Shanko, he just co-authored a paper that's being presented at the IASTED International Conference on Applied Informatics (AI 2003) this week and will be published entitled, "Seismic Signal Analysis Using Correlation Dimension."). It's been quite a ride, and we're still hanging on. And our younger son -- some parents would have given up, some would have ignored the problems -- I wouldn't trade him or what we have been through for anything. I am learning a lot from him. I just hope some of it sinks in. Tonight, my wife said, "Well, we got our liberal" after reading the post on his blog. Then there's the kid who lives with us. At the beginning of our adventure together, it was difficult to figure out how to live in the same household. Yesterday, we talked about when he was coming "home," except he doesn't use quotation marks and neither do we. Valentine's Day -- I couldn't get in at our favorite restaurant, but I think it'll be okay. Monday, February 10, 2003 Bloody Orange Alert I was going to write about alert level "Orange," with which I am not all that familiar, as opposed to the "Yellow" alert, with which I am very familiar from watching Star Trek for 35 years, and the erosion of civil liberties we find with the increase in the alert level at a time when dissent in the U.S. is increasing. It seems that the Department of Homeland Security could, through orange-colored glasses, see terrorists amongst the liberal rabble-rousers, finding a reason to clamp down on legitimate dissent. Trucks entering the U.S. from Canada have been stopped 30 miles into the U.S. and searched simply because we are on "Orange" alert. Two questions : (1) Wasn't there a search at the border by U.S. Customs? and (2) What articulable reasonable suspicion required by Supreme Court interpretation of the U.S. Constitution forms the basis for a traffic stop of those same vehicles, which were searched at the border, about an hour later? But I decided not to expound on that subject and leave myself open to attack by right-wingers ... er, Conservatives (I didn't mean to insult any hockey players -- my son was a defenseman and pounded many a right winger). I once made a brief comment on one of the political blogs, not realizing that a doctoral dissertation on the history of the Bush family and Big Oil would be the response. Boy, did I learn my lesson. You'll notice, all you Conservative bastards out there, that I wrote, "I was going to write about ...", which means I decided not to write about the erosion of civil liberties that is happening before our eyes disguised as being in the name of national security, but which is really happening because of the growing dissent against the policies of aggression that are not being sanctioned by other governments, our allies, in favor of other methods, such as increased inspections, and diplomacy vis-a-vis Iraq. Anyway, I got to thinking while I was watching My Cousin Vinny tonight on one of the HBO channels -- and that could be dangerous, me thinking like that -- about how I sent query letters to a number of publishers about a novel I wrote, and I got a lot of rejection letters (I'm being very generous when I say "letters."). Oh, the book was about something I know about -- bloodsuckers -- lawyers (see, there's the connection with the movie I was watching) and vampires (and no, vampires were not in the movie), which is a nice juicy combination. So, finally, in response to a query letter -- it was probably a wise-ass query letter because you get so damned discouraged by all the rejection, you just don't give a shit and you tell them so, which might not be a good idea; but who's thinking clearly at that point -- this editor, or whatever she was, sends a letter requesting the manuscript (oooh, the manuscript -- do you know how long it took to print the sucker out at like 6 pages a minute?). How exciting! I sent her the manuscript. And I got a letter back from her. She liked it, well-written and all, but there was a problem -- it was too bloody. Now, what the hell was she expecting? Was she expecting courtroom drama? Well, there was some of that -- good court room drama. Humor? Of course. But then there's the good vs. evil conflict; and when vampires are involved, I would wager that some blood is involved, if I was betting on such a thing. And when good prevails, there's probably a lot of blood shed by the good guys and a lot more blood shed by the evil minions. I thought that she was prepared for de-gloving injuries and such, being employed by a sci-fi/horror/fantasy publisher. Alas, she was not. Then the light bulb popped on over my head, and I admit it was a dim bulb, and I wrote back to her -- not in the wise-ass kind of a way, but in the obsequious please-reconsider-after-I-make-some-changes-and-you-are-one-talented-editor-who-is-not-only-brilliant-but-beautiful kind of way -- offering to make the changes that she suggested. And lo and behold, she wrote back saying that she would like to read it after the changes. I made some changes -- cleaned up some of the blood and took out some guts -- and re-printed it and re-submitted it. But she said it was still too damn bloody; so, I gave up. That's what I got to thinking about while watching My Cousin Vinny. Sunday, February 09, 2003 It's Just a Little War -- No Big Deal I was in Starbucks this morning to pick up Sunday coffee for Sunday breakfast, which was really tasty (that wife is a pretty imaginative and good cook); and I overheard -- it was difficult not to overhear her because she was so loud and it was too early to be that loud -- this young chick (now, I would not refer to a young woman as a "chick," but she more than deserved it) says to her older, gray-haired male friend (no, not her father -- I refuse to believe that hand on her ass would be her father's public persona), and this is probably what this older guy likes about her -- the in-depth analysis that belongs on the NYT op-ed page, "It'll just be a little war -- no big deal." And he says, more for what he wants to get out of her once they get back to her place (because I'm sure that ring on his finger is not linked to her in some way and he's "out of town on business, dear") than because he means it (because he surely doesn't care about it), "You're probably right about that." And the red-haired young woman behind the counter looks over at me and rolls her eyes, and I order the two mochas.
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