We encounter a lot of nature in our travels, and that's no bull. Well, technically, that IS a bull, but you know what I mean...
All of the livestock in this article came from some farm on Old Sandwich Road in Plymouth.
"Go; behold, I send you out as lambs in the midst of wolves."
That is either a buffalo, a bison or a shaggy cow... Old McDonald, I am not.
If you catch the cow as it walks in front of the bull, the cow looks like it has a big curved Unicorn horn on her snout.
Alpacas are pretty friendly, as it turns out. I swear that the alpaca in the top shot of this article was way across the field from me, beyond the range of my shoddy phone. I simply had to go "Hey, you, a little closer, please," and he came running over just like this and posed for the top shot.
"You don't work here, and I'm going to greatly resent it if you grab my udders."
Hey! Back in the turkey article with you!
There are several foxes in my neighborhood, to the point where I have named them. This is Samantha Fox, her sisters and brothers are named Alicia, Vivica, Meghan, 20th Century and Redd. Redd is the patriarch, his wife Elizabeth has passed on.
Every coyote in my neighborhood, regardless of gender, is named "Wild E."
We're just stopping in to wish you and your family the happiest of holiday seasons.
Doing a lonely 12 hour shift Christmas at the hotel, but I have my tree for company. No, I don't know why we have both a star and an angel. My guess is that we had not one but two tree topping ornaments, we let them fight it out, and the angel won. The angel's victory may have involved Divine Might, but it also my have been influenced by how much cord we had for the star.
I seem to recall the angel standing alone, perhaps on my desk, last year. It just goes to show you that, even if you ride the bench or sing in the chorus, circumstances might put you up on top of the tree someday. I'd say that it's sort of like A Star Is Born, but that might offend the actual star in the photo. It's also sort of like Rudolph's story, but Rudolph doesn't fare too well in today's column (see below), so we'll just move on to the next tangent.
The housekeepers (from India) sense that I may be a bit sad about spending Christmas alone in an empty hotel like Jack Torrance, so they have been trying to cheer me up without speaking English by showing me pictures of the mango farm they own back home.
While we don't like to throw our weight around, we do feel an obligation to let you know that Santa saw fit to give drone strike capacity to Cranberry County Magazine. It's, like, in the back of the bag.
Belmont Circle rotary, Buzzards Bay.... Bourne likes blue nights at night, I like blue lights at night, but my camera has no love at all for blue lights at night.
Somebody in Marsh Vegas is getting coal in their stocking this year.
When you hang Rudolph in effigy, especially when you do so after slitting Rudolph's throat so that the blood doesn't spoil the meat, it moves you right up the Naughty List in Spring-Heel Jack style leapfrog bounds.. This dude is getting nothing for Christmas this year, but that matters little to a well-motivated man with a rifle and 250 pounds of fresh, infmaous venison. Is he vomiting up Hot Tamales? That's kind of cool, actually.
Still, ain't no one tryin' to see that on Christmas...
OK, almost no one... Bumbles went out like a sucker in his only TV appearance, and isn't above holding a grudge. There may be blood on those paws for all we know, and a stench that all of the perfumes of Arabia couldn't, uhm, de-stench.
This is a personal grudge of mine, and I may be on an island here.... but does anyone merit his own spinoff Christmas special more than Bumbles does? The friggin' Little Drummer Boy has a special, as does Dominick the Italian Christmas Donkey. Bumbles is suffering mad holiday disrespeck!
I could write a Bumbles holiday special in 45 minutes if there was a check waiting and I had access to high-grade marijuana. I'd have him rampaging through the Yukon, swallowing Eskimo children whole, before getting the Christmas spirit and switching teams at the coda. It'd be like A Christmas Carol , but with major plot elements lifted from both War Of The Gargantuas and 30 Days Of Night.
We're just sending out a quick reminder that the Salvation Army is out in your town, collecting money to help less fortunate souls during the holiday season.
You can help out by pitching in to their kettles, which are located all over the area. You'll have trouble getting into a supermarket without crossing one of our people. The kettles will be out until early afternoon, Christmas Eve.
The Salvation Army was founded in London's East End in 1865 by former Methodist minister William Booth. It is a church, of the Christian Protestant variety. They ministered unto the poor of London's worst slums, slowly growing in numbers and abilities.
Booth soon had a lot of volunteers helping him, to the extent that he joked of it in a memo as a "volunteer army." Somebody with a good sense of marketing crossed out "volunteer" and drew in "Salvation." Voila! What would grow into one of the world's most powerful charities had a name.
Deciding that there were too many slogans on the sign, one Kettle Master made it more subtle by adding Trump-like levels of gold tinsel and some nice Made In China battery-powered colored lighting.
If you get into it deep enough, you are assigned a military rank. You have to be ordained, which means that I don't have a rank and am technically a Salvationist. I consider myself to be like a Blackwater operative (or, if you prefer something less sinister, a USO volunteer) in this Army.
The Salvation Army started off ministering to undesirables like addicts, drunks and prostitutes. They soon grew beyond that, and are now a common helping hand to any sort of person or family in need.
They crossed the pond to the US soon enough, and their reputation was helped along by their tireless efforts here during the Galveston Hurricane, the San Francisco Earthquake and both World Wars.
The Army has 25,000 volunteers working in the US, many of whom are ringing bells and standing by their kettles. They have operating costs of about $2 billion a year, and serve 32 million people in the USA alone. They are the second largest charity in the US, and hold rankings ranging from A to A- in various charity watchdog groups. They famously had a CEO with a salary of $13,500 for quite some time, while people at other prominent charities were taking home millions per year.
My kettle, which rocks hard like heavy metal...
I work for the Hyannis Corps, which serves all of Cape Cod. The highest ranks that I know there are a Lieutenant and a Major. I offered to accept a rank of Admiral and annex Cape Cod Bay for them, but that whole Ordination thing came up and it was decided in a High Council meeting that I was best left on the kettle in my Blackwater role... Santa's bag man, God's collection agent.
I love the work, even on the coldest nights. I spend most of the year up to no good, so it's nice to be doing God's work (albeit often with Satan's methods) for 6 weeks a year. It never hurts to inch your way up the Nice list in the month before Santa heads out with the goods. I'm not wealthy enough to donate Wealth to charity, so I instead donate my Health.
Most importantly, it means that I'm sort of on Santa's team. I serve in the lowest position that he offers, and only know Saint Nick on a nodding basis. I can get word to him if need be, a fact that I sometimes share with children who donate to my kettle.
I worked in Sagamore at the Christmas Tree Shop for 4 years before the CTS stopped allowing the Army access to their various storefronts. Since then, I have locked down the Stop & Shop on Route 132 in Hyannis. The Army likes to get one person in the same spot over the years, so S&S is my turf.
I'm a very aggressive greeter, and try to wish every single person well. If you've gone there this Christmas season, I have probably said Hello to you. As you can see in my pictures, no expense was spared in decorating my kettle. Many people have told me that they were about to go see the lights of Paris, but the vague Eiffel Tower shape of my garishly-lit kettle stand made that expensive voyage wholly unnecessary. (Editor's Note: No one said that).
I work in any weather. I did that freezing day last week, for instance. I'm not like someone else who works out in the cold, like a roofer, busting his/her ass and working up a sweat. I literally just stand there, unless some funk is on the radio and I'm doing the Twist or the Smurf or the Robot or the Watusi or the Time Warp or the Crank Dat or the Crip Walk... all of which look the same when I do them.
I have also developed an almost preternatural ability to flip my bell in the air, have it rotate at a high speed 10-20 times, and catch it by the handle. This ability is useless in any other position than Kettle Lord, but I swear that I'm like a f***ing samurai with that bell. It helps to keep me from freezing.
The key to withstanding cold like that is to dress in layers. I start off in clothes that fit me snugly, then continue to buy up several sizes that fit over the previous layers. I end up looking like a very cold and bulky defensive tackle.
Here's what I was wearing last Thursday. I had to spread it out on the floor to get the proper perspective.
I wasn't nude when that picture was taken, either, so the total (for those of you keeping score at home) is two hoodies (bonus: the UMASS one has Belichick-style cutoff sleeves), two t-shirts, a turtleneck, a Bruins sweater, a ski vest, a ski jacket, a knockoff Cah-hahhhhht jacket, duck boots, thermal socks, two pairs of sweatpants and two pairs of wind pants. I was also rocking the only Infinity Scarf owned and worn by a heterosexual man, although a teenage girl passing by my kettle had to show me how to put it on properly, before there was a David Carradine-style asphyxiation incident.
I had gloves, too. I gave them to some homeless dude when I was leaving the kettle for the night. I'd have given him my jacket, too, but it is very difficult finding 4XL in stores.
The Hyannis Corps has me at the Stop & Shop. If you fear that I may be too handsome, you can also donate at the AC Moore, Shaw's, Star and the Cape Cod Mall Food Court.... all in Hyannis.
Let's end with something cute.... here's Dallas Cowboys running back Ezekiel Elliott celebrating a touchdown by leaping into a Salvation Army kettle. They say that donations are up 60% since he did that.
Marijuana becomes legal in Massachusetts at 12:00 AM on December 15th. The persecution is (almost) over.
The legalization of marijuana in Massachusetts is a wonderful thing. In one vote, we opened up a powerful new revenue stream, dealt a death blow to the black market, decriminalized hundreds of thousands of our citizens, found a lucrative new use for every town with an empty storefront in their business districts and freed police up to pursue actual dangerous criminal activity.
We can kick all that around some other time. What we are here to discuss today is the Great Massachusetts Smoke Show.
The Great Massachusetts Smoke Show (aka The Great Massachusetts Smokeout) is an underground, grassroots celebration of marijuana legalization in Massachusetts. As important as it is, it should hardly be something anyone would notice. It should hurt no one at all, and should have zero in-your-face mean spirit to it.
The basics are that, at 4:20 PM, any marijuana smoker in Massachusetts should drop whatever they're doing and have a nice, legal smoke.
It's a distant cousin of the Boston Tea Party, but it is much more of an end zone dance than an act of somewhat civil disobedience. 4:20 PM smokes on December 15th may also become an annual celebration among the Blessed.
"4:20 PM" and "4/20" are sweeping terms used to describe marijuana activity, based on some California school where the kids would meet at 4:20 PM (after afternoon classes) and have a smoke. The use of the term is now prominent enough that there was no runner-up when a start time for the Great Massachusetts Smoke Show was being discussed.
The time may not work for everyone. I don't expect that a surgeon in the middle of a surgery should stop, say "Hold this vein shut, Nurse," and then go outside to get high at 4:20 PM. A teacher in a class or a preacher in a mass would also e good examples of people who can't observe the ceremony because of job-related reasons.
Other than that, you have no excuse. The late afternoon kickoff time means that someone with no weed has sufficient enough time to get somewhere Kind for the ceremony.
We ask you to remember that smoking marijuana in public is still illegal, and doing so- even at 4:20 PM on December 15th- gives any policeman who may not agree with the decision to legalize an opportunity to teach some stoner a little lesson in Applicable Law.
There are rumors that NASA are aiming some satellites at Massachusetts for a 4:20 PM flyover, and expect to get pictures of pot smoke rising from Massachusetts akin to those seen when Quebec is having a forest fire.
Employers are expected to deal with the GMSS on a business-by-business basis.
The hashtag #GreatMassachusettsSmokeShow is trending.
Well, we get our first accumulating snow of the year. I saw flakes a few times earlier this season, but this is the first snow to stick south/east of Plymouth. I include mainland Bourne and mainland Sandwich in my Cape Cod first snowfall geography, as I consider these regions to be a Latvia sort of buffer zone between Cape Cod and the real world. Snowfall is 35% of the joke in any White Florida references you see aimed at Cape Cod. These pics were taken from Capeside Bourne, where the Trowbridge Tavern is.
My car, cold-chillin'. This snow should change to rain on Cape Cod, and temperatures will actually crack 50 today for most of the area. This is good, because I have 9 hours of Salvation Army bellringing today in Hyannis, and was none-too-pleased with that 27 degree, 35 mph gusts nonsense I stood outside in on Saturday.
In case you're wondering, the first snow of 2015 for Cape Cod was December 29th, and the first snow of 2014 for Cape Cod was November 2nd. For years before that, we'd need the Cape Cod TODAY archives, and that's someone else's problem, player.
The South Coast is the next domino to fall in the world conquest plan of Marylou's Coffee.
Marylou's Coffee, a cultural icon of the South Shore, has almost 40 locations around Massachusetts and Rhode Island. Most of them lie within a stretch of the Irish Riviera running from Weymouth to Plymouth.
Marylou's has made inroads on Cape Cod (Sagamore, Sandwich, Hyannis), interior Plymouth County (Raynham Brockton, etc...) and Rhode Island (Greenwich, Cumberland, Providence). They have a huge gap on the South Coast, where Dunkin Donuts and Honey Dew Donuts still hold sway.
Marylou made a move to address that problem Sunday, opening a new spot in Rochester, right on the Wareham line. The South Coast is now bracketed, with Marylou pushing west from Rhodey, east from Cape Cod/Plymouth, and south from Taunton and Lakeville.
The location in Rochester is based in the new Seasons convenience store plaza. They celebrated n force last Sunday, with the little Marylou girls out greeting the cars.
Marylou's is known for their comely staff (although rumors of Marylou's as the Hooters of coffee have been debunked by numerous plus-sized and male employees) and their spectacular flavored coffee. Once you have one, you will never wait in ten-car line at Dunkin again.
I can't even get on this computer and libel someone until I have taken a large Funky Fanabla to the head. I can't pronounce "Fanabla," and taught in urban high schools long enough that I pronounce "funky" as "fonkee," sort of along the lines of how the bear on the Muppets pronounces his name. The girls at Cedarville mostly have it down by now, and I tip well.
Go on in and say hi to the new Marylou's girls. Tell them that Cranberry County Magazine sent you, and they'll give you no discount whatsoever.
Saturday is when we settle the Who Is The Best Football Team questions for like 8 different arguments. We get some cross-state fights.... I can almost guarantee that no one from Shrewsbury or Wachonah has ever spent much time worrying about how life is in Duxbury or Mashpee, and vice versa. Their views will change after they have beaten or been beaten by the other in front of their townmates, parents and cheerleaders.
