Chance Meeting In Aisle Eight

I ran into an old friend at Walgreens the other day. It was while contemplating a cornucopia of stuff in the toothpaste aisle that my gaze fell on the bottom shelf.  There, looking forlorn and somewhat out of place, sat a tube of Pepsodent toothpaste.

"Wow, where have YOU been all these years?" And how had such an icon of past consumer products been relegated to the bottom shelf. Along with millions of Americans in the 1950's, I wondered where the yellow went when I brushed my teeth with Pepsodent.

Then I saw the price of a dollar and understood completely my old friend's fall from marketing grace. Very popular before the mid 1950's, Pepsodent was slow to add flouride to its formula and sales fell behind highly promoted Crest and Gleem. Today Pepsodent is sold as a "value brand", often half the price of similar sizes of Crest and Colgate.

Because of the price, I wondered that my dental buddy may no longer be up to the cleaning task. It was worth a try and I've since discovered Pepsodent is as good as ever even though it now too has flouride.

On my subsequent trips to drugstores, I've engaged in a homegrown form of marketing sedition. If no one is looking, I place the Pepsodent where it belongs, on the top shelf.

Ram Dog

Ram Dog

He always knew he was different

Last to be fed or let out

He perused magazines left on the sofa

Shunned at dog parks

He learned to appreciate small flowers

 Lost near a farm

He saw animals with horns

Animals like him came close

Barked and turned away

He felt a connection to them

Wanted to speak

But a dusty van pulled up

Door opened and he jumped in

Glad to be different

Glad to be going home

1, 2, 3, Blink

Facebook Vice-President of Operations Benji Gopal announced yesterday that tech support has finally discovered why CEO Mark Zuckerberg never blinks.

"It appears Mark has a corrupt visual cortex on his hard drive," said Gopal in a news conference at Facebook headquarters in Palo Alto, California.

Zuckerberg's inability to blink has caused many outside of Facebook to wonder if he is really human.

"I'm sure I saw a USB port behind his right ear," said CSN reporter Clive Durkin.

"That's ridiculous!" said Gopal. "Mark is as human as you or I. He will be fine once we reconfigure his autonomic nervous system and reboot."

Sad News

Please join me in remembering a great icon of the entertainment community. The Pillsbury Doughboy died yesterday of a yeast infection and trauma complications from repeated pokes in the belly. He was 71.

Doughboy was buried in a lightly greased coffin. Dozens of celebrities turned out to pay their respects, including Mrs. Butterworth, Hungry Jack, the California Raisins, Betty Crocker, the Hostess Twinkies, and Captain Crunch. The grave site was piled high with flours.

Aunt Jemima delivered the eulogy and lovingly described Doughboy as a man who never knew how much he was kneaded. Doughboy rose quickly in show business, but his later life was filled with turnovers. He was considered a very smart cookie, but wasted much of his dough on half-baked schemes. Despite being a little flaky at times, he still was a crusty old man and was considered a positive roll model for millions.

Doughboy is survived by his wife Play Dough, and three children: John Dough, Jane Dough and Dosey Dough, plus they had one in the oven. He is also survived by his elderly father, Pop Tart.

The funeral was held at 3:50 for about 20 minutes.

The Enchanted Rock

An RAF pilot crash lands into a remote northern forest. Deep in the forest, he stumbles across a strange boulder. Exhausted, he falls asleep, and wakes surrounded by a dazzling blue light. He realizes the light is coming from the rock. Finally rescued, the pilot tells about the rock, but no one believes him.

Years later, developers build a resort on the forest’s edge. One night, hikers get lost and rediscover the glowing rock. Word gets out and people stream into the forest to see it. The rock becomes so famous the forest service builds a road.

Businesses spring up catering to visitors. Tract houses are built along the forest’s edge. Pollution fouls the air and an unexplained fire destroys more forest. The enchanted rock sits exposed to the elements. Its light gets dimmer and dimmer, and finally goes out.

Later, the new town of Rochelle builds a shopping center. No one knows what to do about the ugly rock. A demolition company agrees to haul it away. The rock is loaded onto a flatbed truck and hauled to a distant railroad. There, it is hoisted onto a rail car.

Days later, the train arrives at a sea-port and the rock is loaded into a ship. The vessel sails into the vast ocean, and drops the great rock into the water. The boulder quickly sinks into the murky deep, coming to rest on the ocean floor. Now in complete darkness, an odd thing happens. The enchanted rock once again begins its beautiful blue glow.

Fighting Continues In The EU Cheese War

The stinking Cheese War in the breakaway Republic of Cheddarstan is now entering its fifth year, with no end in sight. A tribe of indigenous goat farmers called the Feta Fighters is waging a holey war on their next-door neighbors, the Swissies. This is not Gouda.

Reasons for the violence are unclear, but many suspect bad feelings between Fetas and Swissies started with the formation of the European Union. EU bureaucrats immediately set about standardizing weights and measures, starting with milk products.

In a bold move at cost cutting, the EU announced that Swiss cheese must henceforth have at least twelve per-cent more holes. This, of course, infuriated the Swissies, who insisted their cheese would then be no better than goat droppings. The Fetas, historically no friends of the Swissies, took this as an insult, and the War was on.

Later, in the Treaty of Briebourg, EU president Herman Munster urged both sides to set aside bad feelings and put their curds on the table. The shaky ceasefire lasted barely six weeks.

One night a radical cheese head named Russ Limburger sneaked across the border and set fire to a Swissie cheese barn. The resulting Battle of Fondue Field broke the ceasefire and the Cheese War today continues to rage out of control.

A Shout Out With Ashley Bryan

"It's not that every artist is a special kind of person; it's that every person is a special kind of artist. Each of us experiences the aesthetic, and possesses the creative". -Ashley Bryan-

Last evening, Dunedin Fine Art Center hosted master storyteller, teacher and artist Ashley Bryan. Described as a “force of nature,” Bryan is the illustrator of 30 children’s books and winner of numerous awards, including the 2005 Coretta Scott King Award and Laura Ingalls Wilder Medal for achievement in children’s literature.

Surrounded by an exhibition of his colorful illustrations and puppets, Mr. Bryan quickly demonstrated why he is in such demand as a speaker. Within minutes this quiet and humble man had his audience shouting and clapping along, as they repeated after him several African-American poems and folk tales.

Each of us immediately sensed his joyful commitment to writing and the spoken word. Later, after most people had left, Ashley Bryan stayed on, amazing us with his energy and willingness to share.