Hear, Noise, Throat

Hear, Noise, Throat

Before I even made it in the door, I knew there’d be a long wait at the doctor’s office. How long? I asked the receptionist. About forty minutes, she responded. OK.

So I settled in with whatever magazine was available. The only one of interest appeared to be one having to do with Southern women, called, DEEP. I inhaled it lightly, in tiny sips, just like the proper Southern lady I was on my way to becoming.

In the meantime, I was surrounded not by a sleepy ol’ Southern town, but by the bustling, bilingual, bicultural, multinational metropolis that Miami has become. A lady sitting to my left turned out to be the grandmother of the little girl playing at the kiddy table, while the child’s rather corpulent father spent more than a fair share of his time on his cell phone. The girl’s mother arrived at the office, shortly thereafter. Tell me, does a patient need an entourage of three? Only in Miami: but then, again, the child turned out to be the patient.

Meanwhile, a lady sitting to the right of the reception window was screeching into her cell phone in Spanish. Not content with her performance, she continued to speak very loudly to her local audience, within range of the entire reception room. Could I concentrate on y’all come back, now dresses in Savannah boutiques? Barely.

And then a nattily dressed fellow sitting diagonally across from me began his little cell phone routine. Oh, yes, how important for us to hear all about his business. A facile communicator in both languages, he discovered a partner in kind with the loud lady. Soon we all were subjected to a discussion of these two’s ailments. Aah, the slings and arrows of outrageous tonsils.

By this time I’d had to ask the receptionist for change for the meter. Forty minutes? How about, possibly an hour longer—yikes!

Fortunately, the polite young woman to my right, with whom I’d begun to commiserate before she was called into the inner chamber, gave way to an equally polite young man with a slight, yet distinguished, accent. He turned out to be Greek, and to give me free computer advice, for which I am most grateful.

At long last, I was called in. The hydrogen peroxide had worked wonders. I could certainly hear all that noise coming out of all those throats. Y’all come back, now, you hear?

A slightly shorter version of this was published two weeks ago in the Miami New Times. Hip, hip, hooray!

Is Benson Burning?

IS BENSON BURNING?
OR, MUSINGS OF A RAINY FRIDAY AFTERNOON

BY: A FEMALE DENNIS THE MENACE

Friday, January 28, 2005: How do you spell “Clearance,” my friend asked me. I spelled it. Well, there’s a full-page ad in today’s Herald where it’s spelled, “Clarence” in big, bold red letters… twice. It’s Benson Lighting’s ad.

Benson Lighting? Similar to Farrey’s, she said. Oh. Well, Clarence reminds me of Big Cal, my histrionic three hundred pound boyfriend in DC who worked for the Nuclear Regulatory Commission. Who – at one point in time – had his finger on the pulse of nuclear monitoring for both India and Pakistan. Often red faced, on the brink of burning a hole through the pulp, he was. Just like Benson Lighting’s Clarence.

As for Benson: I immediately thought of Benson burners. Rushing to Google, I unearthed the following:

Light up the filter-less smokes and lockup your pets, Ten Benson (the UK’s best kept secret) are coming to America. That’s right. August 5th, Jetset Records unleashes Benson Burner, an all out assault on the milquetoast, corporate “rock” that continues to reign over airwaves, concert venues and mindless listeners everywhere. Busting at the crotch with raw rock and roll, (so genuine you can practically smell the blood and vomit), Ten Benson grind their way through twelve tracks on Benson Burner like a whiskey-fueled woodcutter. It’s rough and messy, but it’s the most fun you’ll ever have getting filthy. – Chad Beck, Crazewire.

Woodcutter? Kevin Bacon’s currently starring in The Woodsman, and that one ain’t too pretty, either.

Now here’s a Benson that burns into your soul:

Some but not all of guitarist George Benson’s Columbia records (plus some unreleased songs and other tunes that he recorded under organist Lonnie Smith’s name) are included on this out-of-print double LP. Fitting into the soul-jazz/hard bop idiom… The majority of the songs are basic originals by Benson or Smith, and the emphasis is on soulful swinging. Fine music. – Scott Yanow, All Music Guide.

Soulful swinging? Better not go there.

Still not satisfied: not scientific enough. Inserting some chemistry, I pulled up the following:

International Boiling Point Project
Letter of Introduction – Hamilton High East
Posted by Hope Benson on Thursday, 27 April 19100 (?), at 4:03 p.m.

Hamilton High East is located at latitude 40.227 N and longitude 74.654 W. Mrs. Benson’s first year Chemistry classes are participating in this project. Each of the four classes are boiling different amounts of water, using either a hot plate or Bunsen burner. They are all using a temperature probe linked to the PASCO computer based laboratory system. The data will be posted on April 27. We are excited about exchanging information with students around the world.

Looking some more, I discovered a number of schools – elementary through secondary – that posted their results. How exciting.

And I thought PASCO was one of the Tri-Cities near Walla Walla, Washington. Burning? There’s a nuclear plant in the area, if I recollect correctly.

Hope Benson? Benson burner? Boy, she has some nerve.

At some level, it was beginning to sink in. One more go’round, however:

John Wilson,
Benson High School – oops, now there’s a high school named after the venerable inventor?
5120 Maple St.
Omaha, NE 68104

Introduction to Scientific Observation, Safety, and Gases such as Air have Mass for Chemistry and Physics Demonstration & Laboratory Exercise with several integrated Teaching Objectives. The intended audience for this material is high school age students (something I know a little bit about)… This demonstration can be done at different parts of a science course to demonstrate several different single concepts or as a means of combining separate concepts into one system (sounds like Latin)… A soda can, heat source, a pan of water, and tongs are all that are needed (gee, is someone having a baby?)… Focus of this set is: Scientific Observation verse just looking, Air has mass, ideal gas demonstration and activity, phase changes and difference in volumes, some safety issues, contamination is a problem (sure hope these kids aren’t preparing a dirty bomb)… Demonstration: Materials: empty soda can (clean optional depending on lesson – sure not beer?), a beaker tong set or forceps (push!), small pan with water (Mrs. Smith, you’re the proud mother of a bouncing baby take-your-pick), heat source, such as Bunsen burner or hot plate…

THERE IT WAS: BUNSEN – NOT BENSON! Now who’s the bad speller?

Then again, Ten Benson and their Benson Burner may be the hottest, but they’re also the coolest. Chad Beck, you rock! Sorry, Mr. Wilson…

A politically correct postscript (not to be confused with afterthought): how about, Benson as in Robert Guillaume’s hit TV show of that name? Is Benson burning, after all?

Saturday, January 29, 2005: Speaking with my friend again, she informed me she’d almost called to let me know CLARENCE was INTENTIONAL on Benson’s part! Whipping out today’s paper, she showed me a one-quarter-page ad, in black, with a big, fat, bespectacled, intent-looking handyman with “Clarence” emblazoned across his overalls. He’s holding up the word “DAMAGED” with a screwdriver.

How clever, she and I both exclaimed. Other people must have been deceived too, she said. Yeah… like me. However, it’s not far from the truth that a big, fat, bespectacled, intent-looking handy man named Clarence tried to hold up this merchandise with a screwdriver. A tiny one it was, too.

Benson is definitely burning… with ideas. Worst of all, they beat me at my own game.
Now that I think of it, Clarence did, too, for a short while.

However, this little lamp is no longer OVERSTOCKED, DISCONTINUED, SLIGHTLY BRUISED, OR DAMAGED. She’s a UNIQUE ONE-OF-A-KIND ITEM. She’s PERFECTLY GOOD MERCHANDISE. She’s… not on CLARENCE… no more.