Roger O Green

Let’s Talk About Sex

A couple guys at the gym were talking about a recent Oprah show featuring Doctor Oz, who promotes living longer, and feeling younger through a variety of some familiar ideas, and some not so common ones.

From Oprah’s website:
Question 10: According to Dr. Oz, how often should you have sex?
A) Once a week
B) Twice a week
C) 10 times a month
D) 200 times a year or more

My compatriots were pleased to discover that the correct answer is D.

“If you have more than 200 orgasms a year, you can reduce your physiologic age by six years,” Dr. Oz says. He bases the number on a study done at Duke University that surveyed people on the amount and quality of sex they had. “They looked at what happened to folks that are having a lot of intercourse over time, and the fact is, it correlated.” For you math-deprived folks, that’s four times a week.

Among the benefits of having sex often, Dr. Oz says, is that it can prove that your body is functioning as it is supposed to. “But in addition, having sex with someone that you care for deeply is one of the ways we achieve that Zen experience that we all crave as human beings,” he says. “It’s really a spiritual event for folks when they’re with someone they love and they can consummate it with sexual activity … seems to offer some survival benefit.”

So, it’s not the act of sex as exercise that will help one lose weight – one only expends an average of 25 calories. It is that satisfying one appetite center of your brain (desire for sex) can help satisfy another (desire for food).

I wonder if any of my buddies made a point to mention this when they got home?
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I come across all sorts of things that I consider for my blog here. But then the internal censor kicks in, and I don’t use them, not because it offends me, but because I wonder if it might offend you.

For instance, I came across this story some time ago about a condom fashion show in China, designed to get more Chinese to use prophylactics. I wasn’t sure it was even real until I saw stories such as the one here. Still, I let it go until I read stories posted by Rose, a good, respectable blogger, about velvet vulva purses and Japan’s penis festival, the latter an ancient tradition which currently raises money for AIDS education.
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Speaking of condoms, the magazine Ad Age has been chastising television the past couple weeks. For while there are more sexual acts on TV, there are still major restrictions on advertising condoms. One of the articles can be found here.
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At the website/podcast Quick and Dirty Tips for a More Lawful Life, Legal Lad(TM) discusses all sorts of useful information, including Plea Withdrawal (see Larry Craig) and Nudity in Public Places.
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I came across the ill-named Hornitos. Somebody was paid good money to come up with that brand name?

ROG

The Snowstorm of October 4, 1987

SOME FLAKY TALES ABOUT A REALLY FLAKY TIME
Times Union, The (Albany, NY)
October 4, 1997
Author: MARK McGUIRE Staff writer

It was more than a storm; it was a touchstone. The Capital Region has endured its share of severe weather, from blizzards to severe windstorms to even the occasional tornado and hurricane. This one wasn’t even the worst.

Certainly more snow has fallen at one time than the 6 inches that came down on Albany on Oct. 4, 1987. But the damage it caused, and its totally unexpected fall arrival, left a mark on the region and its psyche.

But we don’t have to tell you: You told us.

The Times Union solicited readers to send in their stories from the storm. And you did, in the form of hundreds of e-mails, a likewise number of calls, a letter from prison, even a drawing from a then-5-year-old.

The stories are uniform and unique, of weddings canceled, cars destroyed, days without power, food spoiled, babies born and camping in living rooms. These tales almost invariably start with disbelief, then spiral into different recollections of perseverance and hardship and compassion and humor.

“The snowstorm was one of those events, not unlike one of those national tragedies (JFK assassination, Challenger disaster) in that, if you were there, you remember,” Roger Green of Albany wrote. “I’ve been to many parties where people compare their snowstorm stories.”

Everybody does have a story. Here are but a few:

Here’s mine – I was living in the West Hill section of Albany, on Second Street, between Ontario and Quail Streets. Since I was home on that Sunday morning, watching CBS Sunday Morning, I must have been having one of my periodic spats with the pastor [who is NO LONGER THERE]. Suddenly, the power went out, and immediately after I got outside, I could tell why. A branch on a tree landed on the power wire leading to my house was pulled out, fortunately along the side of the house so I wouldn’t accidentally get electrocuted.

Later that day, I walked to work at FantaCo, which, a dozen blocks away, never lost power. The weird thing about that storm is that lots of people never lost electricity at all, or only for a few minutes, while some people were without it for days, or even a couple weeks.

Sunday night, I stayed at a friend’s house.

Monday, walking to the store, there was this beautiful disconnect. Sunny weather, this foreign white stuff on the leafy trees. And steam – lots of steam. I remember thinking at the time that it had what I imagined was rather post-apocalyptic. I wish I had taken pictures, for I found it eerily beautiful.

I bought the local newspaper, which looked…different. The Times Union building on Wolf Road lost power because of the wet heavy snow, so the TU and sister paper The Knickerbocker News put out a joint newspaper out of the Troy offices of their rival, the Times Record (now the Record). It was in the Times Record fonts. I still have that newspaper, somewhere in the attic.

Monday night, I stayed at home. By then, I had put my perishable food in the snow outside, and fortunately, the gas stove was working, so I ate some of the food I had purchased only the day before the storm. I listened to TV via my battery-powered radio by candlelight. One revelation: the TV show Cagney and Lacey depend on visuals, as well as dialogue.

Tuesday, after work, I stayed with another friend, and Wednesday, after work, with the first friend.

Thursday after work, I was increasingly excited to see that the light at Central and Quail was finally working, and Clinton and Quail, and Second and Quail. YES! Power was restored to my house! My perishable food was ruined, since it had reached 70 degrees outside, but at least I could safely buy more.

The strange thing about this storm was that it was highly localized. Some of the surrounding area had more than a foot of snow and a federal disaster declaration was issued. Ask people in Syracuse or New York City about this storm and they have no idea. It was more like the Buffalo snowstorm of 2006.

ROG

Ron Miller

If you Google Ron Miller, the one I was looking for doesn’t show up until record #70-something. That’s a shame.

Ron Miller was a songwriter for Motown. He wrote a number of tunes, many for Stevie Wonder, including “For Once In My Life,” “Heaven Help Us All,” and “Yester-me, Yester-you, Yesterday”. “For Once in My Life” won a Grammy this year when Wonder and Tony Bennett redid the tune. Stevie’s Christmas album from the 1960s is filled with Ron Miller tunes. He also penned that Diana Ross hit, “Touch Me In The Morning.”

As Fred Hembeck noted a ways back, Ron even wrote and produced songs for that legendary Motown artist, Soupy Sales.

Strange thing. I can’t any reference to his birthdate in 1933. He died back on July 23, 2007, when I was traveling a lot, and pretty much missed the news.

But I wanted to note that, unfortunately, he also wrote one of my all-time least favorite songs, I’ve Never Been To Me, a tune the thought of which makes my teeth rot. Go here to hear the 2004 Dance Remix by Charlene, who had the delayed hit, and by Miller himself.

(Pic from Taxi.com)

ROG

Sputnik and Little Rock

I just discovered that two things that happened when I was 4 1/2, external to my immediate surroundings, but with long-lasting effect on me, both took place within a two-week span.

September 25, 1957: Nine black students safely entered Central High School in Little Rock, Arkansas, after President Eisenhower sent in federal troops to deal with a mob that interfered with a federal court order for the school to integrate. At the beginning of the school year, Arkansas Governor Orval Faubus had ordered the state’s National Guard to stop any black students from entering the school, a decision that was countermanded by the federal judge in the case. The story is well told in a son made popular by Pete Seeger, and performed for a time by my father, State of Arkansas; the third verse I especially remembered without assistance:
“Three hundred National Guard were there
Dressed up to fight a war.”

Even at that age, I knew that race mattered. I was also vaguely aware that the federal government was doing an extraordinary thing that was not universally popular. This led me to believe in the innate goodness of the federal government, a notion that has been dashed time and time again in the intervening years.

October 4, 1957: Sputnik was launched, beginning the space race, which was seen, in part, as an extension of the arms race.

As writer John Noble Wilford put it: “Sputnik changed everything – history, geopolitics, the scientific world.” Certainly, the headway made by the “Commie Ruskies” colored my entire time in school. It fueled competitiveness to learn, but also exacerbated a Cold War paranoia that we’d all die by some entity, unseen until it was too late. I used to do these “Duck and Cover” exercises:

My wife was listening to the “duck and cover” drill that I played, and it was scary to her.
I’ve complained that current politicians like to deal in fear mongering, but on reflection, I grew up learning to be afraid of the Commies. It may be that the “counter culture” of the late 1960s was as much a reaction to that paranoia of the 1950s and early 1960s as it was to the promotion of civil rights and opposition to the Viet Nam war.

These two events, one of civil rights and the other a specter of war, taking place before I was in kindergarten, had a huge, and continuing effect on me that I hadn’t fully appreciated until now.

Rooting interest

I have to have a rooting interest in every round of the baseball playoffs, now that the Mets went 5 of their last 17 to join the 1964 Phillies, ironically, as team providing one of the most mortifying collapses in baseball.

Cubs – because they’re the Cubs
Padres – because my sister lives there
Yankees – because they are a NY team
Phillies – because they deserved to get to the playoffs
Red Sox – 1 WS in 90 years isn’t exactly a dynasty
Angels – possibly the best team
Rockies – mostly because I know little about them except that their stadium (and altitude) produces good hitting
Indians – mostly because, when I went to Cleveland in 1998, I couldn’t get in
Diamondbacks – they play in the desert.
ROG

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