Relief efforts are underway. The Red Cross is requesting beer and barbecue sauce.

In this post: Casino capers, earthquake relief, the Duggars make me sick.

Even though Sam and I enjoyed our drive to Oklahoma this morning, this actually turned out NOT to be a very good day for me at the Choctaw Casino for the following reasons: 1) I woke up with crappy joint pain even though I had more than enough sleep and felt not too bad otherwise; 2) my taste buds were virtually nonexistent today — blame it on diabetic neuropathy — and everything on the buffet had NO FLAVOR WHATSOEVER including the pea salad and sugar-free pie I’ve been obsessing about for the last two months; and 3) I lost $40 at the penny slots. FORTY BUCKS! You have to be awfully damn lame (not to mention SERIOUSLY UNLUCKY) to pull off a stunt like that. On the plus side, however, the scooter rental was pleasant as hell and Sam won an excellent jackpot at the Cash Wizard slot machine!

Tomorrow we get to cross the Red River and moo at lots of cattle.

In this post: Shopping options, time travel.

Good news, people! It’s still my birthday for three more hours, which means there’s still a decent window of opportunity to send a present. I suggest Amazon.com. Thank you.

Oklahoma does not deserve that much rain.

A couple of things. First, retirement is creeping up so damn fast I can hardly stand it! In case you haven’t noticed the countdown in the right sidebar, I’ll be applying for Social Security in a few days so the government can start paying my benefits when I turn 62 on November 1. Yes, I’m collecting early, and no, I don’t want to discuss it. We’ve done the math and there’s no reason not to. Thank you.

Second, we didn’t haul in a single drop of precipitation this morning because for some insane reason that huge weather system (see previous post) vanished after it stopped for breakfast in Oklahoma. VANISHED.

This isn’t fair, people. OKLAHOMA DOES NOT DESERVE THAT MUCH RAIN.

On a happier note — especially for Sam, who practically ran out of socks yesterday — this is laundry day at Howdygram headquarters! I’m currently on my third load with two more to go. Volunteers are now being accepted for a folding extravaganza that begins tonight at 8 followed immediately by the premier episode of “Top Chef Masters.” I also recommend that you set your DVR to record The Twelve Chairs (1970) tonight on TCM. This little-known and thoroughly hilarious Mel Brooks gem stars Ron Moody, Frank Langella and Dom DeLuise as Russians in 1920 desperately searching for treasure hidden in a set of dining room chairs lost during the Revolution.

As long as I’m discussing movies I might as well throw in my thoughts about a dud that we suffered through on Tuesday called Garden of the Moon (1938), probably the lousiest musical ever made. It stars Pat O’Brien as a fast-talking jerk who operates a swanky night club in Hollywood. When John Payne comes on board as the leader (and vocalist) of a second-rate orchestra, he and Pat immediately hate each other’s guts and spend the next 90 minutes fighting, snarling and playing dirty tricks on each other like a couple of obnoxious frat boys.

As for the music, every song was gimmicky and forgettable — i.e., jerky things like “The Lady on the Two-Cent Stamp” and “The Girl Friend of the Whirling Dervish” — and the orchestra was sprinkled with all those typical 1930s-era cartoonish screwballs, such as Johnnie Davis and Jerry Colonna.

Apparently Warner Bros. wanted Dick Powell as the lead (instead of John Payne) but Powell was so disgusted that he refused the part and accepted a layoff. Smart move. Too bad the rest of the cast didn’t join him.

Thank you for reading this.

Holy crap. Oklahoma has clubs?

Take a guess who just caught the last train to Clarksville! In breaking news from Howdygram headquarters (and every major news website in the United States), DAVY JONES, 66, former miniature 1960s heart-throb and member of the TV singing group The Monkees, died today of a heart attack near his home in Indiantown, Florida. He last appeared on stage 10 days ago at a club in Oklahoma. Holy crap. Oklahoma has clubs?

Jones is survived by his wife, four daughters and a pair of seriously impressive jugs (see below). I’m guessing the latter should be destined for the Smithsonian.

I wonder if Governor Christie will order all the flags in New Jersey to be flown at half-staff. I liked Davy Jones a lot better than Whitney Houston.

In other news, FedEx just dropped off a huge and exceptionally heavy carton from Wal-Mart that contains two enormous containers of laundry detergent, two industrial-size bottles of Scope mouthwash, paper towels and a couple of one-pound tubs of sugar-free Nesquik because I’ve recently started mainlining chocolate milk. However, I can’t actually lift the carton so I’ll have to let it sit quietly on the front step until Sam gets home tonight.

But wait, there’s more! I’m still expecting UPS to deliver a biography of Clifton Webb from Amazon.com plus two teeny bottles of concentrated LorAnn flavor oil that I ordered last Friday. Flavor oils are genius. Just a few drops can change an entire bowl of frosting or a whole cake mix. LorAnn makes at least 100 flavors; I’m starting with raspberry and marshmallow. As you can see from the expression on my face, I’m so excited I can hardly stand it.

Time to head into the kitchen and rustle up some grub. I’m considering two possible menus for tonight’s evening meal: 1) a can of Loma Linda fake meat and a Mediterranean vegetable blend that I got this morning from Schwan’s; or 2) sugar-free pudding and Cheetos. You have 15 minutes to help me decide by sending your vote via email. Thank you in advance.

We got our kicks on Route 66.

Sam and I are back home after a three-day trip to Oklahoma. I’ll pause for a moment if you want to sing a few bars. The lyrics are posted below. (Nobody’s listening. Go ahead.)

Oklahoma!
Where the wind comes sweepin’ down the plain,
And the wavin’ wheat can sure smell sweet
When the wind comes right behind the rain.
Oklahoma, ev’ry night my honey lamb and I,
Sit alone and talk and watch a hawk
Makin’ lazy circles in the sky.
We know we belong to the land,
And the land we belong to is grand,
And when we say yeeow! Yip-i-o-i-ay!
We’re only sayin’
You’re doin’ fine, Oklahoma!
Oklahoma, OK!

Anyhow, we decided to skip the Arbuckle Mountains and Turner Falls (see my post from June 18) and take a drive instead along historic Route 66 from Tulsa westbound to Yukon, about 30 miles past Oklahoma City. The “mother road” (as it’s known by nostalgia buffs) winds through teeny towns, rolling hills and farmland ... most still dotted with remnants of the past: tacky motels with “tourist cabins,” little diners, souvenir stands, hilarious points of interest and vintage gas stations.

The food on our trip ranged from terrible to terrific, beginning with a nightmare of unrecognizeable pseudo-Asian crap at Golden China buffet in Denton, Texas, and ending with barbecue nirvana at Bad Brad’s in Yukon, Oklahoma, where everything was a perfect 10 — from the smoked meat and homemade sauce to the beer-battered onion rings and attractive plastic silverware. At other times we also ate Clif bars, Tic Tacs, Wheat Thins, a couple of bananas and a fine dinner at Lottinville’s Wood-Fire Grille in Oklahoma City, where they’ve got the friendliest servers on the planet.

We got home yesterday just two hours ahead of some mighty heavy rain from Hurricane Alex in the Gulf of Mexico, which apparently will continue through tomorrow night. (No complaints. We were in a drought situation here.) Our plans for the Fourth of July weekend include a few good movies on TV, my homemade potato salad and our standard ration of afternoon naps.

How about you? Anything exciting happening at YOUR house? I think we’re available on the fourth for a barbecue. I can bring olives and napkins. Thank you.

Miscellaneous stuff on a Friday.

First of all, Sam and I celebrated another milestone yesterday! After breakfast at Scrambles (see photo below), our favorite local greasy spoon, we drove around the cattle ranches in Sunnyvale for a few minutes until the odometer on our 2001 Saturn coupe hit 100,000 miles. This was a very large deal, to be sure, but not nearly as much fun as big odometer changes in decades past when it was analog instead of digital and the numbers actually took several seconds to roll over from nines to zeroes. Digital rollovers are so damn fast I was afraid we’d run into a steer trying to watch the odometer. (We didn’t.)

While I’m on the subject of vehicles, has anybody ever seen a Nissan Cube? I spotted one yesterday for the first time on my way to AAA to pick up a 2010 Oklahoma tour book (details to follow). While I seriously hope I’m not offending any of my Howdygram readers, this thing has to be the ugliest car on the road and reminds me of a plastic toy from a Disney Pixar movie. The driver looked like Buzz Lightyear.

Sam has a week of vacation time coming up so we’re planning a three- or four-day driving trip into Oklahoma, maybe somewhere around the Arbuckle Mountains and Turner Falls. This might not sound very exciting to YOU, but we really love road trips and it almost doesn’t matter where we go or what we do, as long as we’re in the car making up songs and eating pretzels. I’ll post pictures when we get back, so stay tuned. In the meantime, don’t forget to floss.