Baby boomers, who exercise more than any generation before them, have been flocking to orthopedic surgeons to tend to their aching tendons and joints.
As news of the growing need for surgical intervention spread, a number of boomers have found the willpower to moderate the intensity of their workout routines.
Personal experience has also confirmed the wisdom of moderation. For example, one inveterate marathoner was shocked by the surprising perception that there were not a lot of senior citizens dashing across the finish line in the New York Marathon.
He began to wonder if at a certain age less strenuous activity might actually be, not only the better part of healthcare, but all that’s generally possible. He also began to ask himself if seniors who persisted in intense physical challenges like the marathon were absent at or near the finish line because they literally dropped by the wayside. He dismissed that possibility, because it really brought into question his hope for up-to-the-last-minute youth.
He shared the possible advisability of moderation with a fellow boomer, who happened to be his girlfriend. She agreed to take it into consideration but required proof of the astonishing comeuppance. So, while working out at her gym, she looked around and noticed, to her amazement, that there were not a lot of seniors sweating along with her, especially on the running track and in the weight room.
Most unsettling of all, she noticed that a confounded lot of the runners looked younger than she did.
She dared to break the stunning revelation to a friend, who told her boyfriend. Since hot news has a way of making it through the boomer vine, soon the bewildered generation was abuzz with the invitation to moderation.
Being serious about their health, many have researched the bone-crushing consequences of persistent over-exercise and have discovered that that they really should take it a little easy on themselves, especially since many of them are flirting with age 60. It seems that if they can persuade themselves of the wisdom at least some moderation they will go a long way toward preserving their knees, ankles, and assorted joints, tendons, and muscles. They could also save on visits to the surgeon.
As expected, however, hard-line boomers are adopting an over-exercise-until-you-drop attitude.
As one recalcitrant member of the group said, “Hey, it’s like exercising came with the genes. I can’t change my routine anymore than I can change my feet, which wake up every morning, ready to run for miles.”
This group is so determined they plan to exercise excessively, even if it means hobbling into old age due to self-inflicted hobbling. As another member of the over-exercise or you’re over-the-hill group stated, ”Look, if I’m going to need a knee replacement or two, I might as well be one of the first in my generation to get one.”
Showing posts with label humor. Show all posts
Showing posts with label humor. Show all posts
Thursday, July 7, 2011
Avant Garde Composer Creates New Piece, Called Making Popcorn
An American avant garde composer, who takes his inspiration from the most upstart composers of recent times, had a piece performed last night at Carnegie Hall, titled “Making Popcorn.”
The Boston Pops Orchestra, which commissioned the piece, left the stage to make way for the performance.
Stagehands then wheeled out a popcorn-making machine and prepared it for the performance by filling it with dry corn, butter, and salt.
When the machine was “tuned,” the composer entered to conduct his own work. Taking the podium, he raised his baton and the machine was switched on. When the first kernel popped, he gave a firm downbeat and then continued to conduct as the kernels popped away. The piece concluded when all the popcorn had contributed its sound.
In an interview prior to the concert, the composer told us, “It’s a new piece for percussion. As you know, there have been more additions to the percussion of the orchestra than to any other one. Take, for instance, the brake drum and the ratchet, which is really just a noisemaker. My hope is that the success of my new piece will make the popcorn machine a standard ingredient of the symphony orchestra.”
“Would you consider it to be a tuned or an untuned percussion instrument,” we asked, indulging the wayward simpleton.
“I’m not sure yet,” he told us. “While the individual pops do have different pitches, they’re impossible to control.”
After savoring the performance, this observer began to long for the once-scandalous composition by John Cage, called 4'33", in which, as you probably know, a pianist enters, sits down at the piano for four minutes and thirty-three seconds,, and does absolutely nothing. Then he gets up and exits.
Who would have though a concert would come when one reconsidered Cage's work an instance of generous reticence?
The Boston Pops Orchestra, which commissioned the piece, left the stage to make way for the performance.
Stagehands then wheeled out a popcorn-making machine and prepared it for the performance by filling it with dry corn, butter, and salt.
When the machine was “tuned,” the composer entered to conduct his own work. Taking the podium, he raised his baton and the machine was switched on. When the first kernel popped, he gave a firm downbeat and then continued to conduct as the kernels popped away. The piece concluded when all the popcorn had contributed its sound.
In an interview prior to the concert, the composer told us, “It’s a new piece for percussion. As you know, there have been more additions to the percussion of the orchestra than to any other one. Take, for instance, the brake drum and the ratchet, which is really just a noisemaker. My hope is that the success of my new piece will make the popcorn machine a standard ingredient of the symphony orchestra.”
“Would you consider it to be a tuned or an untuned percussion instrument,” we asked, indulging the wayward simpleton.
“I’m not sure yet,” he told us. “While the individual pops do have different pitches, they’re impossible to control.”
After savoring the performance, this observer began to long for the once-scandalous composition by John Cage, called 4'33", in which, as you probably know, a pianist enters, sits down at the piano for four minutes and thirty-three seconds,, and does absolutely nothing. Then he gets up and exits.
Who would have though a concert would come when one reconsidered Cage's work an instance of generous reticence?
Wednesday, July 6, 2011
Audit Report on Katrina Debit Cards; Some Recipients Swam In Champagne
A federal audit on the spending proclivities of people who were issued debit cards by FEMA during the Katrina disaster indicates that some of them were swimming in champagne – and good stuff, too.
Among the survival rations that were purchased, we find a $200 bottle of champagne, used as a life-saving device at the hurricane shelter known as Hooters. The establishment, upon hearing of the purchase, has nobly agreed to refund the amount to FEMA.
Other items that emergency cards were used to purchase are the following:
A flotation device of questionable effect, called diamond jewelry.
An escape route from the rising waters to a vacation in the Dominican Republic.
Salvation from a divorce lawyer by paying off a $1,000 legal bill.
Drying out at a strip club, where the recuperative process required $600.
Recuperation with $400 of “adult erotica products.”
The auditors concluded that such purchases were "not necessary to satisfy legitimate disaster needs."
Greg Kutz, a GAO forensic auditor, said one "fraudster" way up in West Virginia received a rental assistance check by using the address of a cemetery in New Orleans.
Another application, employing a vacant lot as an address, found favor in FEMA for a payment of $2,358 in rental assistance.
The relief organization also paid $8,000 and then $5,000 more, in a double-dip into rental assistance, to help a long-suffering recipient survive at a resort hotel in Honolulu.
The GAO also found that FEMA lost track of 750 debit cards, worth a total of $1.5 million.
As a result of the debit-card debacle, FEMA itself has been scheduled to receive federal disaster relief.
Among the survival rations that were purchased, we find a $200 bottle of champagne, used as a life-saving device at the hurricane shelter known as Hooters. The establishment, upon hearing of the purchase, has nobly agreed to refund the amount to FEMA.
Other items that emergency cards were used to purchase are the following:
A flotation device of questionable effect, called diamond jewelry.
An escape route from the rising waters to a vacation in the Dominican Republic.
Salvation from a divorce lawyer by paying off a $1,000 legal bill.
Drying out at a strip club, where the recuperative process required $600.
Recuperation with $400 of “adult erotica products.”
The auditors concluded that such purchases were "not necessary to satisfy legitimate disaster needs."
Greg Kutz, a GAO forensic auditor, said one "fraudster" way up in West Virginia received a rental assistance check by using the address of a cemetery in New Orleans.
Another application, employing a vacant lot as an address, found favor in FEMA for a payment of $2,358 in rental assistance.
The relief organization also paid $8,000 and then $5,000 more, in a double-dip into rental assistance, to help a long-suffering recipient survive at a resort hotel in Honolulu.
The GAO also found that FEMA lost track of 750 debit cards, worth a total of $1.5 million.
As a result of the debit-card debacle, FEMA itself has been scheduled to receive federal disaster relief.
April Fool’s trick
One of the best and funniest April Fool’s tricks was invented and played by me last year. I should say that my friend and me used to make fun of each other regularly on April Fool’s Day with varying success. That is my friend was on his guard and knew he should be ready for my dirty tricks, which made the task almost impossible to carry out.
Last year not long before April Fool’s Day Andrey returned from Canada, where he’d been on a business trip (both of us work as translators of English for one company but on different floors). On April 1st I called Andrey, having arranged beforehand that the telephone girl should interrupt our conversation in a couple of minutes and say that Mr. Andrey Polyarov has a call from Canada. After that she put him through with another telephone in our room, and I quickly answered it. I should say that to change my voice and create the effect of “long-distance call” I wrapped the blower with a sweater and made use of loud speaker instead of receiver. A lot of people were standing still around me, excited that Andrey might recognize my voice. But their fears were groundless – he had no smallest piece of suspicion!
I started speaking in English, my voice being loud and very formal:
--Is this Mr. Andrey Polyarov?
Andrey, a little anxious, replies:
--Yes, this is me? Who am I talking to?
--This is “Otrinto” company, where on March 11th you ordered two commercial vending machines of a total value of 3,141 Canadian dollars…
-But I haven’t ordered any vending machines…
-Excuse me, is this Mr. Polyarov?
-Yes, this is me, but I haven’t ordered any vending machines, and I’m not going to pay anything. – Andrey was starting to lose his patience. I went on insisting…
-I’m sorry but I have an order with your signature. By the way I remember you pretty well – you’re a Russian, stout, baldish, speaking with accent, right?
-Right! But I repeat that I haven’t ordered these fucken vending machines…
-Sir, I should warn you that in case on non-payment within a reasonable time we’ll have to bring a legal action!
Andrey finally lost his temper, started yelling that he never knew any “Otrinto” company, never ordered anything and that I could stick my vending machines up my ass…
The audience in our room couldn’t suppress a laugh, every word from underneath the sweater resulted in a burst of Homeric laughter. I was chuckling myself and couldn’t speak and play my role anymore. I tried to clear the air.
-Andrey, this is me, Denis, April Fool! – but it was vain. Andrey was shouting that he knew no Denis. He wasn’t even realizing that I was speaking Russian to him…
Of course I could go on further, providing Andrey with the details of his appearance, passport number, address… That’s what I had planned actually, but as I say it was absolutely impossible as my last words weren’t pronounced but were gurgling through the choking laughter.
Last year not long before April Fool’s Day Andrey returned from Canada, where he’d been on a business trip (both of us work as translators of English for one company but on different floors). On April 1st I called Andrey, having arranged beforehand that the telephone girl should interrupt our conversation in a couple of minutes and say that Mr. Andrey Polyarov has a call from Canada. After that she put him through with another telephone in our room, and I quickly answered it. I should say that to change my voice and create the effect of “long-distance call” I wrapped the blower with a sweater and made use of loud speaker instead of receiver. A lot of people were standing still around me, excited that Andrey might recognize my voice. But their fears were groundless – he had no smallest piece of suspicion!
I started speaking in English, my voice being loud and very formal:
--Is this Mr. Andrey Polyarov?
Andrey, a little anxious, replies:
--Yes, this is me? Who am I talking to?
--This is “Otrinto” company, where on March 11th you ordered two commercial vending machines of a total value of 3,141 Canadian dollars…
-But I haven’t ordered any vending machines…
-Excuse me, is this Mr. Polyarov?
-Yes, this is me, but I haven’t ordered any vending machines, and I’m not going to pay anything. – Andrey was starting to lose his patience. I went on insisting…
-I’m sorry but I have an order with your signature. By the way I remember you pretty well – you’re a Russian, stout, baldish, speaking with accent, right?
-Right! But I repeat that I haven’t ordered these fucken vending machines…
-Sir, I should warn you that in case on non-payment within a reasonable time we’ll have to bring a legal action!
Andrey finally lost his temper, started yelling that he never knew any “Otrinto” company, never ordered anything and that I could stick my vending machines up my ass…
The audience in our room couldn’t suppress a laugh, every word from underneath the sweater resulted in a burst of Homeric laughter. I was chuckling myself and couldn’t speak and play my role anymore. I tried to clear the air.
-Andrey, this is me, Denis, April Fool! – but it was vain. Andrey was shouting that he knew no Denis. He wasn’t even realizing that I was speaking Russian to him…
Of course I could go on further, providing Andrey with the details of his appearance, passport number, address… That’s what I had planned actually, but as I say it was absolutely impossible as my last words weren’t pronounced but were gurgling through the choking laughter.
Another Dracula, Another Flop
This week Warner Brothers joined the Walt Disney company in attempting to transform Broadway from a venue with a whisper of hope for social relevance into one that presents works that are the intellectual equivalent of Mickey Mouse caper.
If Disney could do it with, for example, The Lion King, why couldn’t Warner Brothers find a property to achieve Broadway fame and fortune with? Unfortunately, their imaginations never soared higher than redoing the Dracula legend, based on a contemporary author’s odd novelistic take on it.
In order to hew to Disney’s proven path to moronic megabucks, Warner hired the same songwriting team Disney did for The Lion King, Elton John and his comparatively invisible lyricist Bernie Taupin.
Fortunately, the show was a no-go from the start. The word of mouth was devastating and the reviews turned out to make the word of mouth sound brilliant.
The question is, why would anybody, given the entire world of properties to choose from or, on a wild bet, even to create an entirely original one, choose the exhausted and irrelevant legend of Dracula?
As we of say about trying to work with an idea that doesn’t seem to have a life of its own, you can stand up a dead body, but you can’t make it sing and dance, and, once you let go, it’s bound to fall down.
If Disney could do it with, for example, The Lion King, why couldn’t Warner Brothers find a property to achieve Broadway fame and fortune with? Unfortunately, their imaginations never soared higher than redoing the Dracula legend, based on a contemporary author’s odd novelistic take on it.
In order to hew to Disney’s proven path to moronic megabucks, Warner hired the same songwriting team Disney did for The Lion King, Elton John and his comparatively invisible lyricist Bernie Taupin.
Fortunately, the show was a no-go from the start. The word of mouth was devastating and the reviews turned out to make the word of mouth sound brilliant.
The question is, why would anybody, given the entire world of properties to choose from or, on a wild bet, even to create an entirely original one, choose the exhausted and irrelevant legend of Dracula?
As we of say about trying to work with an idea that doesn’t seem to have a life of its own, you can stand up a dead body, but you can’t make it sing and dance, and, once you let go, it’s bound to fall down.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)