Friday, September 29, 2006

you blessed googlesearchers always teach me so much about myself

However, ironically, now that you mention it I don't recall having ever seeing a dwarf in a necktie. I'm sure I have, but it's not one of those things that always gets filed away in the more accessible of the memory banks.
UPDATE: Well, I've had the day to think about it and I've concluded that bowties really make more sense for those of limited stature. Indeed.

Wednesday, September 27, 2006

meet oliver gilmore

This was certainly an odd, though foreseeable turn of events from last night's season premier of Gilmore Girls.
Did Cousin Oliver's racquetball hyjinx earn him the love of the television public?
racquetball with oliver
Only time will tell.

Tuesday, September 26, 2006

because breakfast at tiffany's is on and i'm tired of wondering why audrey hepburn never made a guest appearance on the a-team

But seriously. I mean, she was doing all that UNICEF work back in the eighties while the A-Team was traveling around the world fighting second rate drug lords or corrupt sheriffs and their assorted henchmen--who, as you may have noticed, invariably played the same drug lord or sheriff and henchmen with the same wardrobe but different names the following week on Magnum, P.I. or Simon and Simon or Hunter or the short-lived Riptide and then maybe MacGuyver. It would have been so easy to have these second rate drug lords or corrupt sheriffs in some way interfere with UNICEF doing whatever it is that UNICEF does. Both side would win, and I'm sure that it would have made George Peppard very happy.
A missed opportunity like that really sticks in my craw, and I am a man who cannot abide a cluttered craw.
Anyway, they're both gone now, and thinking about this can do no good.
However, my question from this particular viewing is this: What exactly is a "huckleberry friend"?

Sunday, September 24, 2006

open letter to mothers who nervously clench their strollers more tightly when they pass an unshowered rex innocently walking his dog on the greenway

I don’t want your kids. Seriously. Frankly, I’m afraid of most children and avoid them whenever possible. In fact, I dare say that I am more afraid of your children than you are of me, and the same goes for Carl Weathers. He doesn’t slip behind me as we pass because he is well trained--rather, he stays away from them of his own accord, as they tend to poke him and prod him and sometimes even pull on his silky ears. Believe me, he will not eat you children. He may not be well trained, but that dog is keen enough to know that children these days are composed of more fat than meat and therefore not worth taking down.

Anyway, I can see how frequent elementary school performances of my critically ignored puppet show The Smoking Monkey That Could But Didn’t might lead you to believe that I have an interest in the next generation. I do not. It is simply that most local judiciaries have been kind enough to classify these performances as “community service”.

So, as you can see, you have nothing to worry about, especially those of you with babies. The only thing more uninteresting than children are baby children, and I can assure you that I have no desire whatsoever to relieve you of them.

Anyway, all I ask is that you try to avoid giving me that look of fear that is only allowable in those who have gotten to know and legitimately fear me for valid reasons.

Let us not forget that we are living in a society, ladies.


Wednesday, September 20, 2006

the r.l.camino random admission of the day

Sometimes, if the house is empty and I find myself standing on the hardwood floors in dressy shoes, I begin a seemingly spontaneous fit of tapdancing for no other reason than to watch the dog wag his tail.
However, I'm fairly certain that he wags out of fear rather than happiness.

Tuesday, September 19, 2006

the r.l.camino random question of the day

Was Anthony Bourdain in Sha Na Na?

Monday, September 18, 2006

a little ditty about rex and diane

Why does Diane Sawyer talk to me like I’m “special”? I mean, I know I have the appearance, mannerisms, conversation and college transcript of one who is seemingly slow-witted, but I don’t think I deserve to have a morning television personality read me headlines of celebrity gossip and the latest household dangers in a voice better suited to interpret The Little Engine That Could in the short time it takes me to locate the remote and change to Univision. I may not understand the news in Spanish, but at least the ladies there aren’t quite as condescending…I don’t think.

Also, they're usually hot. I think it’s the black blood.
Perhaps it is, Captain Howdy. All I know is that the affairs of the world are less troubling when you aren’t quite sure what’s going on and when there is a good chance that the newscasters will erupt into seemingly spontaneous salsa dancing at any given moment.

Friday, September 15, 2006

just a reminder

I may not have Bob Corker's money or Harold Ford, Jr.'s unshakable religious faith, but you can still write in Camino for Senate.

Wednesday, September 13, 2006

life is all about meeting and then surpassing your goals

I don't mean to gloat, people, but I have now worn the same pair of shorts every day for over two weeks straight without incurring any significant stains.

Monday, September 11, 2006

random thoughts of a disgruntled NFL fan, week 1

I don't know if you were aware of this, but Kerry Collins is one of the few NFL quarterbacks not sired by Archie Manning.
Archie is a smart man. He knew that giving them all the surname of Manning would quickly lead to a "Manning fatigue" and therefore chose names like Grossman, Roethlisberger, and Leftwich for some of them.
Only time will tell if Peyton will surpass Dan Marino as the greatest QB to never win a superbowl, but he's certainly already giving the former Dolphins QB a run for his money in the area of selling crap on TV. However, I have no doubt that Archie, like any good father, will still love them both when it is over.
Methinks the Titans would do well to play in Ravens uniforms the rest of the year.
To be honest, I stopped watching the Titans game around the time someone got word to the sideline that yesterday's contest was not a preseason game. It was a rather embarrassing mistake, though it does explain why they were only going half-speed and avoided breaking a sweat for three quarters.
Has anyone ever studied the effect of hair transplants on coaching decisions?

Friday, September 08, 2006


I've noticed in my recent late night flippings about that one of the cable channels is replaying episodes of the original Extreme Makeover in which ordinary people born with large noses and very little in the chin department would undergo surgeries to have part of their nose taken to construct a new chin...or something to that effect. I've never actually sat through an entire episode and am not even sure if the program is still on.
Anyway, I recall that they would sometimes take a couple who thought themselves goofy looking and reconstruct each and then have a big tearful reuniting in front of friends and family. They had literally put all that ugliness behind them and were set to venture together into a happy and rather average looking future.
However, the thing that was never addressed on the show was the fact that the young couple still had chinless and nose heavy genes to pass onto their children, and those traits they had so happily put behind them would only be compounded in their offspring.
There must be another spin-off in that somewhere.

Wednesday, September 06, 2006

it happened

Sorry for the infrequent posting as of late, but my arm, as feared, fell off at an inopportune moment early last week.

August the 28th started off like any other Monday. I awoke, breakfasted, guzzled half a pot of coffee while perusing the blogs, scribbled out a short an uninteresting post of my own, touched up a small graphic design project, played the bull fiddle a while, walked Carl Weathers, landscaped about Casa Camino until it was semi-presentable, showered, shaved, luncheoned while checking in on my Spanish language soap operas, and then headed out. I ran a few errands and perused out the used sections of a couple of guitar stores before making it the square. I browsed the library first and then dropped off my watch at a jeweler’s to repair some damage sustained when I rather stupidly kept it on while kayaking on Center Hill Lake the previous Saturday. I then thought about getting my monthly headbuzzing a week early at my barbershop across the square, but it, like any respectable barbershop is closed on Mondays. No problem. Liquid Smoke was open and a beer and cigarette while trying to finish Brideshead Revisited seemed like a good way to wait out an impending afternoon thunderstorm.

I should mention two things here.

First, I’m more of a social smoker. It is rare to find me smoking either during the day or while sitting alone, but it is good to know that there are some public places that allow one to give one’s lungs a warm hug in a comfortable indoor setting when in the mood. Smoking, despite the numerous examples of cold and shivering smokers standing demeaningly outside office buildings, is cool. I can understand how it falls into the category of things we must lie to children about, but it, if done correctly, can be a rewarding hobby that lasts a lifetime. Moderation is the key, kids. Also, never buy those generic cigarettes that taste like cardboard. If you’re going to do something, do it correctly.

Secondly, I highly recommend the novels of Evelyn Waugh to anyone in the need of some reading material, though I won’t put the seal of approval on Brideshead. It was quite un-Waugh-like and a bit too soap opera-esque for my tastes. Check out Decline and Fall and you will not be disappointed.

Get on with it, damn you!

Patience, Captain Howdy. Patience.

I emerged refreshed from Liquid Smoke an hour later, rummaged through the record shops and the square’s used book store for over another hour without buying anything, and then settled into a corner table at a coffee shop to wait out the afternoon’s second wave of semi-thunderstorms with some green tea. Once that had passed I began the trek back to the Caminomobile, as the hour was getting late and I still needed to swing by the new Indian grocery store down the road from Casa Camino and find something adventurous to have waiting on the table by the time Mrs. Camino got home from work.

Then, as so often happens on my saunterings around the square, a carload of visitors pulled up beside me to ask for directions. This turned out to be a group of Honduran cedar bucket enthusiasts nearing the disappointing end of a pilgrimage that would only lead to a slab of charred concrete. I hadn’t the heart to tell them the fate of the bucket and instead attempted a conversation comprised mostly of phrases I had picked up from watching Spanish language soap operas. However, I don’t really understand Spanish myself, and a later consultation with a Spanish dictionary validated the troubling looks I received when I told them I was carrying Pedro’s baby. At the time I only knew that the conversation was wearing thin and that I should probably send them on to the former site of the world’s largest cedar bucket. So I smiled politely, pointed them in the right direction, and then listened to the terrified reaction elicited by having my arm fall into their rented convertible.

By the way, the Spanish word for leprosy is lepra, while a leper would be called a leproso. It certainly seems that the two should be reversed, though it didn’t matter much at the time.

Anyway, I was going to try and play it off—you know, casually pick up my arm, wave goodbye (perhaps even with the severed arm, as if that sort of things was a common American occurrence), and then continue about my sauntering. However, their quickly driving off prevented this and created a rather embarrassing scenario in which I had to chase them across the greater downtown portion of Church Street before I was able to leap into the car and retrieve an arm that was rightfully mine.

I spent that evening attempting to save money by festooning the arm back onto my person myself, but it was no use. So it was that I sought the assistance of a licensed medical professional and spent the last week in a rehabilitation that consisted primarily of my conversing with multiple handpuppets for the better part of the day.
Anyway, that’s where I’ve been.