Waddling Through March: The Results Are IN!

158.3 miles on 26 walks--26 days out of 31. Take that, Professor Javier Boleyn!

Waddling Through March: The Results Are IN!

158.3 miles on 26 walks--26 days out of 31. Take that, Professor Javier Boleyn!

Waddling Around Stumptown: Where Does the LARD! Go?

Many of you readers have asked, "Jack, where the hell did all the LARD! go?" Well, one of you has asked that, and I have to admit, from time to time, I wonder that myself. I mean, it's just gone. You sure-as-sugar-on-a-powdered-donut don't see posters around town like this one either!

So, I got to thinking to myself and answering me out loud down at the Radio Room one day. I was trying to remember back to something I was supposed to learn in school three or four times, back when I was studying up for my private ticket. I wondered myself into a second IPA and when Bar-Am showed up, she was carrying the asked-for pint and an unwelcome phone. "It's for you, 'Jackie-boy'." She winked and handed me the blower.



"Don't say a word, Jack. There isn't one to say. I understand that you are on your second beer and you've only waddled 7.33 miles. Jackie-boy, what can I do?" "Well, er..." "It's a rhetorical question, Jackie-boy. Rhetorical. I can cajole, but I can't, no I won't coddle. You will or you won't lose that last pail of LARD! I can only advise." "Wail!" "OK, I can do a little more than that, I can answer your reader." "How do you know a reader asked..." "Facebook page monitoring, Jack--remember Boleyn's-Eye-View (® Boleyn Enterprises) satellite surveillance system? It monitors Facebook over your shoulder, Jackie-boy." "I'm cooked." "No, but you'll be baked-by-brew if you drink anymore of that high-powered beer!"


"I continue. That LARD! you've been losing doesn't just come off in chunks and end up in a frying pan, you know. You see, you have metabolized the LARD! to provide the energy to keep that LARD!-ass body of yours functioning. By creating a calorie deficit of about 3,600 kilocalories (what you non-scientists call 'calories') from your diet, you burn a pound of LARD! creating heat, CO₂, and water. So as Bill Nighy croons to you, LARD! IS all around you. It's more complicated than that and I'm making the assumption that you are eating a balanced diet so that you are not metabolizing muscle. So far, Jackie-boy, you've created a deficit of 162,000 kCal, so give yourself a pat on the diminished, but still substantial, remaining gut. To express it a different way, Jackie-boy, you've biochemically transformed enough LARD! to bring about 16.2 kilograms of water from freezing to a rolling boil!"

© probably scienceblog.com
"How does this happen, you ask? It's not eluted by beer, I'll tell you that. It involves lipolysis, glycolosis, ß-oxidation, the Kreb's Cucle, and the Electron Transport Chain. Once inside the mitochondrial matrix, fatty acids undergo β-oxidation. During this process, two-carbon molecules, acetyl-CoA, are repeatedly cleaved from the fatty acid. Acetyl-CoA can then enter the citric acid cycle, which produces NADH and FADH₂. NADH and FADH₂ are subsequently used in the electron transport chain to produce ATP, the energy currency of the cell. Thirty-six of those babies come out for every molecule of LARD!"


"Wow, that seems impressive!" I signaled Bar-Am for another tall cold one--after all, I was sounding like a biochemical wonder. She wagged her head from side-to-side, pointed up at a small camera over the bar, and suddenly, Professor Javier Boleyn's face appeared on the TV screen over the bourbon. In High-Def! "Remember, I work for him, Jack. Sorry." The professor's voice now filled the room. "TBC--The Boleyn Channel, a new enterprise, Jack. I continue, encore. Your waddling is admirable, Jackie-boy. I've seen you, or had reports from all over town."



I know you aren't letting any moss gather on your, ah, paths. And I notice that you respect the moss of others as well." "I try. I sort of like it when the moss grows in the street names that are embossed on the curbs. Some of those are more than 100 years old. They're replacing them now, but they still put the street names in the concrete and they put the date in too--so you know when it was originally done and replaced." "Quaint, I'm sure. What else have you observed?"



"Well, I'll tell you. I think people sell our town short in terms of its ability to attract fame and fortune. I waddled by this the other day, and I'll leave it to you to figure out who, other than the R. Starr of the Fab Four would be setting the brake on a Rolls in good old Stumptown, US of A!"

Wondering Around Stumptown While Waddling Towards Fitness

I was sitting at the bar, resting my barking dogs and nursing a tall, cold one when the blower sparked. "RAY-dee-oh Room. You got Bar-Am, here. Yep. Yep. OK, JB, here he is. Jack, JB on the horn for you." "JB?" I thought. "Who is 'JB' and how would 'JB' know I'm here? Yallow, it's Jack." "Jackie-boy, you'd better get the thought of that second beer out of your mind." "Professor Boleyn? Wait, how come Bar-Am gets to call you...JB!?" "She's part of the team, Jackie-boy. A colleague. An important cog in the ever-grinding gears of Boleyn Enterprises (® Boleyn Enterprises). "She works for you?!" "Independent contractor, but a vital part of the Boleyn's-Eye-View--I'm calling it BEV, by the way-- (® Boleyn Enterprises) satellite surveillance system--ground-truthing, they call it in the remote sensing biz." "Yes, I'm familiar with the concept. What can I do you for, JB..." "A-HEM" "...I mean, Professor?" That's better, Jackie-boy. You are not part of the team. You are what we need to truth on the ground." "OK, as I asked, what can I do you for." "Cute, Jackie-boy, cute. 'Do me for...' Tell me what you did for yourself, Jack, and we can go from there."


"Well, Professor. I think you would be proud of me. It's been raining, and more was forecast, but, with your words buzzing around me like black flies in a Minnesota June, I grabbed my slicker and headed out. First up, on Overlook..." "Yes, I have a tracking record for you there..." "I saw this window in a pretty nice house with a wo-manakin dressed in a superhero costume, complete with a foundation garment over her top. Sorta made me wonder about Wonder Woman (© forever, DC Comics, I think). She's old enough to be having some memory problems..."





"What else you got for me Jackie-boy? I need more way-points to make sure the BEV Cluster (® Boleyn Enterprises) is working correctly." "Well, I've got this picture I took of a Google Map (® Google, Inc.) on my Blackberry (® Research in Motion)." "Good, good. Continue."








"After my head cleared from wondering about Wonder Woman, or her misdressed likeness, I started wondering again and this time I wondered what other wonders I might run into if I waddled far enough. So, when I got to a proverbial fork-in-the-road, which actually looked a lot more like the intersection of North Denver and Lombard, I happened to remember that the 31-foot-tall statue of Paul Bunyan, erected in 1959 to honor the then-giant timber industry AND Oregon's centennial, was in Kenton. I turned north and later, rather than sooner, I was there. While impressive, I have to say that it's not as impressive as the 49-foot-tall Paul at Trees of Mystery, California, which also features a 35-foot-tall, anatomically correct Babe the Blue Ox. Plus the checked shirt makes him look like the Manners Big Boy back in Ohio."





"OK, Jackie-boy, let's pick up the pace here. It's not like you are my only project. Plus, I've got tickets for a production of Cymbeline (© sometime around 1605, The Bard) that is set entirely in a basement studio apartment in Tuscaloosa, Alabama--I haven't got all day..." "OK, so after the wonderment of Paul, I saw this sign, which made me wonder who would actually admit that they wanted economy dentures, but then I realized that there were reasons, perhaps related to the new art of 'Sedation Denistry,' that could lead a loved one to be able to make a choice that, say, you might not make on your own..."




"Professor, by this time, as you might imagine, I was pretty hungry. So, it is with great pride that I tell you that I waddled right past the Nite Hawk, that was advertising a special DELICIOUS ROAST PORK DINNER. I did feel laser-beam-eyes focused on me, and a draining feeling inside me, as I trundled along." "Ah, yes, Jack, the BEV Appetite Tractor Beam (pat. pend. 2011 Boleyn Enterprises). It was a test of my latest system designed to aid those in need when temptation is strong. Another innovation fully described at http//:2stepduhdiet.com (© 2011 Boleyn Enterprises).





"I continued to waddle up to Alberta, and then to the Radio Room, from whence I speak to you now. So, that's the story. By the time I get home, and then waddled up to the supermarket with Dolly-girl.." "How is Fiora? Give her my regards, please." "Fine. Will do. ...to resupply with staples, you know, Finn Crisps, water, and air, I will have logged about 11.4 miles." "Good start, Jackie-boy. What's up tomorrow?" WAIL!

Beaumont-Wilshire: Where the Kids on Alberta Think We Live

As you may know, me and Dolly-girl set our brake in the part of town that is just about smack-dab on the convergence of Woodlawn, Vernon, and Concordia--let's call in Woodnoncordia. Actually, I can call it anything I want since you don't care and are just wondering where I'm going with this anyway. Well, here's were I'm going. Beaumont-Wilshire. "Hey, Dolly-girl, I'm off on my waddle. See you in a couple hours." "Give my regards to Radio Room, Jack." I headed out the door, turned right, then left then right then left, and before you know it, I'd passed the Alberta Arts district, which is a young hipsters' hang-out and was in Beaumont-Wilshire, which is not, as evidenced by the sign to the left. This is where the young hipsters who hang out in the Alberta Arts district think me and Dolly-girl live.




Woodnoncordia is close to the Alberta Arts district. That's where you see things like in the Kodaks to the left. Not things like "The Arrangement."






Beaumont-Wilshire's got themselves one of those Starbucks places that you definitely do not, and I mean DO NOT see in the Alberta Arts district, thank the Lord. I did notice that they had a couple joints like what you might of seen where Dolly-girl set the brake on her pram. And I noticed that they have a joint that is making beer and selling it too.










I turned left and waddled south from Beaumont-Wilshire past rows of neat houses with Subarus and Hondas, you know, the sort of houses and cars that the young hipsters in the Alberta Arts district think me and Dolly-girl live in and drive but which we don't. Before long, I was down the ridge and into what people in Portland call the Hollywood District, I think because there is a giant movie marquee that says "Hollywood" rather than because they make movies and have a lot of stars hanging around. Anyhoo, Hollywood is where you go if you want to find someone who knows how to plant you the old fashioned way--The Ross Hollywood Chapel, which is just another way to say Funerals and Cremations, which it says in the small print on their sign. I never realized that the two were, what would Dolly-girl call it, umm, mutually exclusive. Yes, that's what she would say.



I waddled on down Sandy Boulevard, noticing the extent of what I call "urban fragmentation" but I'm pretty sure people who study "urban fragmentation" don't. By "urban fragmentation" I mean how you can end up with a bunch of short blocks and wide streets and crossing lights that really slow a waddler down when a guy is trying to maintain a 4 mile-per-hour pace. I'm not sure what all those scholarly papers on "urban fragmentation" are about...





I saw a few more interesting things, like this guy whose job it is to dress up like the Statue of Liberty and wave a sign at people to try and get them to just stop in to have their taxes done on a whim I guess. I didn't stop. Didn't look like anyone else was either. Not a heck of a lot of resemblance between the tax-service guy and La Liberté éclairant le monde, but it made me really glad that I didn't have his job. Might have been a her, but I think it was a guy based on the fact that he put the "OPEN EARLY" sign down upside down while adjusting his rays and I think a girl would have put it down right-side-up. Just a gut feeling. Statue of Liberty photo © somebody else on Wikipedia




I waddled past Tony Starlight's, subject of a previous writing of mine, and the place where me and Dolly-girl and some others are headed on St. Paddy's Day.








Finally, I'd waddled full circle and was right back to the Alberta Arts district where the young hipsters don't think we live near to but we do. I was cruising along, headed for that pot-o-gold known as India Pale Ale at the end of the Radio Room Rainbow when my eyes spied something and my head jerked around like I'd been hit with a left hook. I knew Dolly-girl took that Banksy movie to seriously...

Beaumont-Wilshire: Where the Kids on Alberta Think We Live

As you may know, me and Dolly-girl set our brake in the part of town that is just about smack-dab on the convergence of Woodlawn, Vernon, and Concordia--let's call in Woodnoncordia. Actually, I can call it anything I want since you don't care and are just wondering where I'm going with this anyway. Well, here's were I'm going. Beaumont-Wilshire. "Hey, Dolly-girl, I'm off on my waddle. See you in a couple hours." "Give my regards to Radio Room, Jack." I headed out the door, turned right, then left then right then left, and before you know it, I'd passed the Alberta Arts district, which is a young hipsters' hang-out and was in Beaumont-Wilshire, which is not, as evidenced by the sign to the left. This is where the young hipsters who hang out in the Alberta Arts district think me and Dolly-girl live.


Woodnoncordia is close to the Alberta Arts district. That's where you see things like in the Kodaks to the left. Not things like "The Arrangement."






Beaumont-Wilshire's got themselves one of those Starbucks places that you definitely do not, and I mean DO NOT see in the Alberta Arts district, thank the Lord. I did notice that they had a couple joints like what you might of seen where Dolly-girl set the brake on her pram. And I noticed that they have a joint that is making beer and selling it too.










I turned left and waddled south from Beaumont-Wilshire past rows of neat houses with Subarus and Hondas, you know, the sort of houses and cars that the young hipsters in the Alberta Arts district think me and Dolly-girl live in and drive but which we don't. Before long, I was down the ridge and into what people in Portland call the Hollywood District, I think because there is a giant movie marquee that says "Hollywood" rather than because they make movies and have a lot of stars hanging around. Anyhoo, Hollywood is where you go if you want to find someone who knows how to plant you the old fashioned way--The Ross Hollywood Chapel, which is just another way to say Funerals and Cremations, which it says in the small print on their sign. I never realized that the two were, what would Dolly-girl call it, umm, mutually exclusive. Yes, that's what she would say.



I waddled on down Sandy Boulevard, noticing the extent of what I call "urban fragmentation" but I'm pretty sure people who study "urban fragmentation" don't. By "urban fragmentation" I mean how you can end up with a bunch of short blocks and wide streets and crossing lights that really slow a waddler down when a guy is trying to maintain a 4 mile-per-hour pace. I'm not sure what all those scholarly papers on "urban fragmentation" are about...





I saw a few more interesting things, like this guy whose job it is to dress up like the Statue of Liberty and wave a sign at people to try and get them to just stop in to have their taxes done on a whim I guess. I didn't stop. Didn't look like anyone else was either. Not a heck of a lot of resemblance between the tax-service guy and La Liberté éclairant le monde, but it made me really glad that I didn't have his job. Might have been a her, but I think it was a guy based on the fact that he put the "OPEN EARLY" sign down upside down while adjusting his rays and I think a girl would have put it down right-side-up. Just a gut feeling. Statue of Liberty photo © somebody else on Wikipedia




I waddled past Tony Starlight's, subject of a previous writing of mine, and the place where me and Dolly-girl and some others are headed on St. Paddy's Day.








Finally, I'd waddled full circle and was right back to the Alberta Arts district where the young hipsters don't think we live near to but we do. I was cruising along, headed for that pot-o-gold known as India Pale Ale at the end of the Radio Room Rainbow when my eyes spied something and my head jerked around like I'd been hit with a left hook. I knew Dolly-girl took that Banksy movie to seriously...