Gloves VS Mittens

   Somebody once told me that a great test of character is to see if people wear gloves or mittens.  It's a style vs comfort issue.  The dexterity argument is over-rated.  There's not much you can do in gloves that you can't do in mittens, except have cold hands.

   Unless you're talking examination gloves - and that leads to some unpleasant associations, so we'll leave those out of this.
   My mother wanted all her little Hausers in mittens because she wanted us to be warm.  Cool was not an issue for Mom.  For some reason she thought cuteness was a reasonable substitute for cool.

   I won't dwell on that, either.
   Not long ago, I had a discussion with a co-worker about celebrities - whether they were gloves or mitten people - or, as mitten people put it, image-obsessed or genuine characters.

 
















 Our guesses (we didn't google,) weren't too far off, though she insisted that Johnny Depp was a mitten person.

  Finger-less gloves was all I could find for him.  We were also both certain that George Clooney was a glove guy.

   A surprising number of pictures on a google search show that Clooney is neither a glove nor mitten person.  He likes to put his hands in his pockets.
   But let's go to the people we got right.

Gloves

  Kim Kardashian is a committed glove wearer.  She's not so committed to wearing other clothing, but glove?  She's all for it.

   Diane Keaton is also a big glove-lover.  Unfortunately, the gloves only conceal her hands - not her lack of talent.

  We both guessed Susan Sarandon as a glove wearer, and I guess we were right.  But they don't seem to add to her cool factor - what are those, lunch-lady gloves?

   Tom Cruise wears gloves sometimes, but they look weird.  It's not like anything else about Tom is weird.

   And, or course, the easiest guess was O.J.  But there's something about those gloves that just doesn't fit.

Mittens

   I know I've seen Al Roker in gloves, but I figure that was the official Today Show wardrobe.  Al doesn't seem to be obsessed with image.  Not only are these mittens, but they're Canadian.  That's a pretty bold statement.

   Of it would be if Oprah wasn't wearing the same mittens.  Maybe Al gave them to her.  After all, Oprah doesn't have much money.

   Anne Hathaway seems to be a fearless type.  I applaud her choice of hand-ware - especially as it's really hard to make a good clapping noise when you're wearing thick wool on your hands.

   Is there any more genuine celebrity than Santa?  If you can drive a reindeer-powered sleigh faster than the down of a thistle, then why does anyone really need gloves?

AND

   Of course, not all hand-ware consists of mittens or gloves.

   But there's something about this that creeps me out.

John Oliver and his mittens of disapproval for Jack Warner and FIFA.

Marmalade On Trial



May 9, 2013

 

It's been a hard week working with the ghost of Jim Henson on the screenplay for Dead Muppet Society Part Two, The Revenge of Fozzie, Walka Walka Walka.

By the way, Elvis says, "Hey."  He's real happy about Twinkies coming back.

I feel like a neglectful parent, but I'm going to have to give you something I wrote back in 2002.  I think I might have eaten too much fruitcake at the time...



Dangerous Intro

What, exactly is the attraction of marmalade? Pieces of orange peel floating in goo. Would plastic or metal filings become delectable if we could just find an appropriate sugary suspension?

 

Lawsuit-proof disclaimer

Personally, I’ve always been fond of Marmalade. My policy has always been to never put down a food product that not only represents such a strong tradition but also has potentially intimidating lawyers representing it. Unfortunately, not all people have a podium from which they might express their views (misguided as they might be). While I have no desire to risk the ill will (lawsuit) of the marmalade industry as a whole, I feel it incumbent upon me to represent the views of the minority. As much as I enjoy marmalade, I still recall asking my mother long ago, “what are these stringy bits?”

Actual Irresponsible Column

Years ago, that great gourmand, Andy Griffith, espoused the philosophy that anything is “good” if accompanied by the proper salted cracker. (It does make you think twice about the quality of Aunt Bea’s cooking)

It’s this sort of thinking, along with Bill Cosby’s assertion that there’s always room for cold gelatinous compounds that, in my opinion, perpetuates marmalade in our society. But how does such a thing get started?

Origins are a fuzzy thing, but I’m willing to guess it went something like this. Sir Francis Drake returns to England after another successful pirating of a Spanish galleon. Among the purloined stores was a supply of oranges. By the time they reach England the oranges have gone bad and the ship’s cook throws them out. An adventurous domestic with missing teeth and uncontrollable red hair (they always look that way in the movies) salvages them from the trash heap and takes them home. She tries one and though it’s rotting, it’s still several degrees better than any food served in England.

Recognizing that these little orange globes are the only things with “taste” she will ever encounter, she preserves every scrap in any way she can think of. Dutifully, recording her recipe (she also invented fruitcake but I think others have dealt sufficiently that treat) she foists it on succeeding generations who in the rush of nostalgia and tradition ignore its overall lack of edibility.

In the final analysis it’s all Sir Francis Drake’s fault. (I was going to blame Sir Walter Raleigh but I figured the tobacco industry has had it pretty rough lately, and he wasn’t known for taking too many Spanish galleons. As a matter of fact, he was pretty much a wimp when it came to ship to ship combat in general. He’d just sit there smoking his pipe and passing the crumpets to Pocahontas.)

Sir Francis Drake, on the other hand, was enthusiastic in arts of murder, mayhem and plunder. The kingdom of Spain pressured Queen Liz 1 to turn him over on countless occasions and to this day, he is banned from all the fashionable Iberian beaches and the Generalisimo Francisco Franco mausoleum gift-shop. Of course Sir Francis has been dead for nearly 400 years so is incapable of obtaining the perfect tan and can haunt the gift-shop whenever he wishes.

It’s just as well that Sir Francis has passed, for if he were alive today he would be subject to the capricious vagaries that is the American Civil Court System. No Dead queen with an inch and a half of cake makeup could protect him from a power so potent that it can take a murderer and make him give up his Heisman trophy.

“Sir Francis, do you know why you have been called before this court?”

“Well, I spent several years being a pirate. I killed countless Spanish sailors and quite a number of aboriginal people in the bargain. I made pirating fashionable and respectable among the lower strata of English nobility, which ushered in nearly three centuries of murder, mayhem and plunder. (It also did quite a number on the hawking and jousting industries) I also started a number of salacious rumors about Queen Elizabeth which led eventually to tabloid television.”

Gasps and cries of “tabloid television!” echo throughout the courtroom.

“We’ll discuss the tabloid television charge at a later date. You’re here to answer for marmalade.”

“What’s marmalade?”

“A breakfast spread popular with English grandparents and Paddington Bear.”

“I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

“Try some.” The bailiff, who is actually an aspiring actor, hands Sir Frances a slice of toast with marmalade. He bows to the audience watching on court TV.

“Hmm – a bit of flavor here. Like any good Englishman, I’m not used to that. I like the toasted bread idea. I do have one question though.”

“Yes, Sir Francis?”

Sir Francis appears as if he’s not certain he wants an answer. “Just what are these stringy bits?”