Saturday, March 18, 2006
Song of the day:
The first job I ever had was as an usher at a movie theater. (That sentence first read as "The fist job I ever had was", which is an entirely different story altogether. Even I can learn to use spellcheck.) It was minimum wage, but it was a fun job, and I got all of the free popcorn I could eat. (That gets old faster than you think. Yup. Even faster than that.) You also got to catch parts of the new releases, see free movies that aren't the new releases, and flirt with the counter girls. (Every sentence should have some separate segue to it, apparently.) Or you do at least, if you have the courage and gumption to do so.
That wasn't really my style.
There WERE times however, where some of my spontaneity and verve showed itself. No, not that. It wasn't that kind of theater unless there was a Madonna movie showing. See, we often would have soundtracks of recent or currently playing movies playing over the speakers. Even in between shows. Having nothing better to do than stand there and guide people to the bathroom or keep teenage kids from jumping theater to theater, you start feeling the groove and singing along, and maybe tapping your foot. Well, one particular night, I was really feeling the lyrics of The Bodyguard, lip-synching along with Whitney Houston, when one of the counter girls very bluntly threw off my groove, and asked point-blank, "Matt, are you a prostitute?"
"Uh, no". (That was the truth at that time. )
"Then stop singing that you are the 'Queen of the night'."
It was then that I learned a lesson I have kept upon my lips many times hence. There are simply some songs that you cannot sing as a man and keep your manhood. It is unacceptable to hear the vocal strains of "Girls just wanna have fun" from anyone who owns a penis. "Natural Woman" castrates those who are not. "Sisters are doing it for themselves" will do so without male accompaniment, for fear of having to hang their head in shame. The small tinkling chime you hear would be his testicles rolling about like small bells.
There was even an ad campaign surrounding a mid-size pickup that centered around this phenomenon. It may have been Nissan, but the idea was that they were trying to show how much space their second row provided. Some poor cowboys were put through the torture of having a fellow cowhand sitting in the middle of the second row. Oblivious to what flowed from his vocal cords, he sang with emotional gusto the anthem of "Damn, I feel like a woman." Those to his sides grimaced in awkward pain at the death of his masculinity.
A new song has entered within this realm, and I must concede I have felt a temptation I have not felt in some time to open my lips at the sound of its approach. It should come as no surprise that it is Pinks "Stupid girls" song. The song is catchy, and the message behind it one worth listening to. It's also a message that SHOULD come from the mouths of more men. This said, men are best to find their own way of saying the same thing. The lyrics take on new meaning for a man to try to put voice to them, and simultaneously renders him bereft of his fortitude. And if one is not careful, a man could find himself defending himself against charges of meaning what he sings, accusing women of less than stellar IQ's.
Nay, good friend, it is much better to leave such songs to the fairer sex, and instead take up another tune. If none comes to mind, I might suggest "California Girls" by the Beach Boys.
This day in history:
On April 7, 1862, Union forces led by Gen. Ulysses S. Grant defeated the Confederates at the Battle of Shiloh in Tennessee.
In 1927, an audience in New York saw an image of Commerce Secretary Herbert Hoover in the first successful long-distance demonstration of television.
In 1939, Italy invaded Albania. (Less than a week later, Italy annexed Albania.) Later, Italy would ask Albania "who's your poppa?" and fall asleep.
In 1945, during World War II, American planes intercepted a Japanese fleet that was headed for Okinawa on a suicide mission.
In 1947, auto pioneer Henry Ford died in Dearborn, Mich., at age 83.
In 1948, the World Health Organization was founded.
In 1949, the Rodgers and Hammerstein musical "South Pacific" opened on Broadway. Gay men everywhere were thrilled.
In 1966, the United States recovered a hydrogen bomb it had lost off the coast of Spain. Oh, hey! That's where I left it! I would forget my head if it wasn't screwed on.
In 1969, the Supreme Court unanimously struck down laws prohibiting private possession of obscene material. LIke, olive loaf.
In 1994, civil war erupted in Rwanda, a day after a mysterious plane crash claimed the lives of the presidents of Rwanda and Burundi. In the months that followed, hundreds of thousands of minority Tutsi and Hutu intellectuals were slaughtered. The itsies and bitsies were completely wiped out, but the teenies and the weanies were able to forge a bond of truce.
today's birthdays:
Actor James Garner is 78. Movie director Francis Ford Coppola is 67. Singer John Oates is 57. Actor Jackie Chan is 52. Football Hall-of-Famer Tony Dorsett is 52. Actor Russell Crowe is 42. Actor Bill Bellamy is 41. Actress Heather Burns is 31.
The Office
NBC has found a show worth watching by picking things off of the British scrap heap. The office was of mild success in England, but has found a very special place in the hearts of those who simply can't get enough abuse at work.
The Office collects those moments you might have at work that are only funny so long as they aren't happening to you. We all have had those bosses that have made us wonder if they were intentionally malicious, or completely unaware as to how insensitive they were to say or act in the manner they did. Or the co-worker who is just as clueless as to what is going on. This show places them all together with a mean streak running deep within it's writing. There isn't much doubt that it is a funny show, though there are moments that are funny only because of how terribly uncomfortable some moments are, and you slowly remember that it's only a television show. The best description I have is one that I have routinely used...Sometimes the show is funny in it's own way, and other times it rears up and hits you in the forehead with a 2x4 with its insensitivity, leaving you stunned. You'll feel sheepish later when you turn to whomever might be watching it with you and wonder if he/she really said that.
Steve Carrell stars as the boss who is completely clueless and classless. There is also a nice subplot between Jim and Pam, Jim being single, and Pam being engaged to be married. You'd like to envision a happy ending for them (not THAT kind), but given the brutality of the show from time to time, it is hard to see things working out for them.
Even still, I can see a time where I am posting quotes from this show. And show reviews. Just a thought. I haven't done a show review since that Joe Millionaire show, and I think we all enjoyed that.
If you're game, lemme know what you think.
But other than that, it's fine...
My manager recently sent out a notification that if there were some imperfection in our chairs, that we should speak now, since they are considering getting some new ones. Not knowing where to start, I went ahead and compiled a list.
My chair is possessed by the soul of one David Hasselhoff. My chair likes to give me "the shocker". My chair likes new age jazz. My chair does cover songs that Michael Bolton wouldn't do. My chair had an affair with Marilyn Monroe in the White House. But not that Clinton girl, because it has standards. My chair is responsible for the clubbing of baby seals. My chair wants to open a night club called Baby Seals. My chair also wants to attack the babies of music star Seal. My chair is behind the rapid decline of reality shows. My chair has career goals to become a Texas State Prison Electric Chair. My chair sees nothing wrong with Canada, and calls it "Back Bacon". Stupid chair.
My chair attends Klan meetings, and justifies it by saying "some of my best friends are black." My chair has spent more than a 2 week span in Wisconsin. My chair puts creamed corn on everything it eats. My chair passes gas, and then blames it on me. My chair sings the name song over and over and over. My chair scoffs at your level 3 cleric. My chair wants to fill your peanut-butter cups with potassium bromide instead. My chair doesn't appreciate my well-sculpted glutes like the rest of you do. My chair wants Louie Anderson to return to Family Feud. My chair watches women's tennis for the competition; not to see hot girls in skirts. But my chair still snickers like everyone else when they pull the tennis ball out of their shorts.
My chair will lick my undercarriage, but won't kiss, because "it's too personal". My chair is for the dismantling of Israel. My chair stands in the grocery lane to read the magazines but doesn't buy anything at all. My chair refuses to acknowledge the term of Finland Chief of State/President Tarja Halonen. My chair thinks that Roadhouse is an actual movie, instead of female-porn. My chair repeatedly tells me it's "got your back", but it never does. In a similar vein, it also plays the "got your nose" game, even though he really doesn't. My chair cheers for any team that plays against yours, because it can't stand to see you happy. My chair pollutes, and doesn't give a hoot. My chair pops the bubbles that you blow from your bubble wand.
My chair can't be trusted with your puppy's tail. My chair will tell you it will find a job, but when was the last time you saw it filling out an application?
My chair is in cahoots with the potted plants, Little Shop of Horrors-style. My chair pees outside. My chair doesn't use spellcheck. My chair thinks "alot" should be 2 words. My chair loves me only for my money. My chair places things on itself, like thistles and whoopee cushions. My chair once dated Tommy Lee, and now has hepatitis C. And a few others that have yet to be found on the Gyno charts.
My chair once starred in a film that featured chair-on-chair-action. And worse, it was the bottom chair. My chair shot President McKinley, but didn't shoot President George W Bush. My chair watches "Dog: the Bounty Hunter" for grooming tips. My chair thinks Boba Fett is a pansy. My chair waits in the bushes. My chair made Stevie Wonder blind. My chair wants to see Gary Coleman and Emmanuel Lewis fight to the death while trashy women prod them with large lit cigars. My chair is familiar with the art of Ben Wa. You need not ask how I know this. My chair blames Charles Shultz for ruining slave trade. Yes, that Charles Shultz. It also blames Gloria Estefan for giving good-looking Latin women hope that they could be anything but housemaids who could be propositioned when the kids were at school. My chair thinks that unborn fetuses have the right to marry, but noone else. My chair tells graphic stories about when it was in the Franco-Prussian war. My chair thinks the ultimate cuisine experience is Franco-American Spaghetti-o's with sliced Frankie Muniz. My chair goes to movies and claims both armrests for itself. My chair wants to see the return of the 4 man rotation, and it's not talking baseball. My chair wants to build a car lot on Gettysburg. Safe to say, my chair is a jerk.
Book review: Game of Shadows
Book of Shadows documents not only the beginning of the case being made against Barry Bonds and his (alleged) steroid use, but that of anyone who ever ran or jumped, or swam or threw something at the Olympics of the past decade. OR at least, it seems that way. Dare not read, those of you who have any sort of National pride in your athletes. Track stars of all sorts are exposed for their steroid use throughout, and their approach to it all lets the color of your patriotism for sports run pale.
"Runner x is using it, and I'm not going to let him get away with it, so I'll use it to beat him too." Caught within their own rivalries, they risk their own health to beat their competitor.
If the book is accurate, there is too much evidence against Bonds. His relationships with his suppliers is damnable in and of itself, to say nothing of his extra-marital affairs. Having no met him myself, I am forced to rely upon the stories of those who have, and I have yet to find one that didn't refer to him as unbearable. He is not in baseball to be polite or cordial of course...These aren't qualities that hit home runs or steal bases or what have you. And yet, these qualities can buy you mercy in the eyes of those who watch baseball, should you falter. He has no such slack for himself.
Barry Bonds has cheated. It cannot be ignored. So has Sosa and Palmerio, and Canseco and Giambi, and McGwire too, though I hate to admit it to myself. Mcgwire had always been of a large build, capable of hitting great home runs. So it was easy to fool yourself that he was clean. By using these growth hormones and steroids and supplements, they cheated the fans who hoped that they were clean, who hoped that there was a chance that they were seeing the best of the best competing against each other without some hidden benefit. You bring your best and I'll bring mine. Instead, these men used what could be compared to a hidden nitrous boost in a drag race.
This book is not for those that wish to keep thoughts of such pure competitions alive. I don't think I'll look upon the Olympics the same again. As much as we derided the East Germans or the Russians in the past...We are as dirty as they are. As for baseball, it is run by Bud Selig. Selig takes no action or initiative of his own, and only moves when scolded by Congress. He is a sleeping dog who only moves when pushed. Baseball will never be clean under his watch, and he won't do anything more than what he is told to do, hoping it's enough. And it won't be.
Despite my ranting, it's a book worth reading, though it may not appeal to all of my audiences reading tastes.
All my bags are packed, I'm ready to go
I'm standin' here outside your door
I hate to wake you up to say goodbye
But the dawn is breakin', it's early morn
The taxi's waitin', he's blowin' his horn
Already I'm so lonesome I could die
So kiss me and smile for me
Tell me that you'll wait for me
Hold me like you'll never let me go
'Cause I'm leaving on a jet plane
I don't know when I'll be back again
Oh, babe, I hate to go
The first job I ever had was as an usher at a movie theater. (That sentence first read as "The fist job I ever had was", which is an entirely different story altogether. Even I can learn to use spellcheck.) It was minimum wage, but it was a fun job, and I got all of the free popcorn I could eat. (That gets old faster than you think. Yup. Even faster than that.) You also got to catch parts of the new releases, see free movies that aren't the new releases, and flirt with the counter girls. (Every sentence should have some separate segue to it, apparently.) Or you do at least, if you have the courage and gumption to do so.
That wasn't really my style.
There WERE times however, where some of my spontaneity and verve showed itself. No, not that. It wasn't that kind of theater unless there was a Madonna movie showing. See, we often would have soundtracks of recent or currently playing movies playing over the speakers. Even in between shows. Having nothing better to do than stand there and guide people to the bathroom or keep teenage kids from jumping theater to theater, you start feeling the groove and singing along, and maybe tapping your foot. Well, one particular night, I was really feeling the lyrics of The Bodyguard, lip-synching along with Whitney Houston, when one of the counter girls very bluntly threw off my groove, and asked point-blank, "Matt, are you a prostitute?"
"Uh, no". (That was the truth at that time. )
"Then stop singing that you are the 'Queen of the night'."
It was then that I learned a lesson I have kept upon my lips many times hence. There are simply some songs that you cannot sing as a man and keep your manhood. It is unacceptable to hear the vocal strains of "Girls just wanna have fun" from anyone who owns a penis. "Natural Woman" castrates those who are not. "Sisters are doing it for themselves" will do so without male accompaniment, for fear of having to hang their head in shame. The small tinkling chime you hear would be his testicles rolling about like small bells.
There was even an ad campaign surrounding a mid-size pickup that centered around this phenomenon. It may have been Nissan, but the idea was that they were trying to show how much space their second row provided. Some poor cowboys were put through the torture of having a fellow cowhand sitting in the middle of the second row. Oblivious to what flowed from his vocal cords, he sang with emotional gusto the anthem of "Damn, I feel like a woman." Those to his sides grimaced in awkward pain at the death of his masculinity.
A new song has entered within this realm, and I must concede I have felt a temptation I have not felt in some time to open my lips at the sound of its approach. It should come as no surprise that it is Pinks "Stupid girls" song. The song is catchy, and the message behind it one worth listening to. It's also a message that SHOULD come from the mouths of more men. This said, men are best to find their own way of saying the same thing. The lyrics take on new meaning for a man to try to put voice to them, and simultaneously renders him bereft of his fortitude. And if one is not careful, a man could find himself defending himself against charges of meaning what he sings, accusing women of less than stellar IQ's.
Nay, good friend, it is much better to leave such songs to the fairer sex, and instead take up another tune. If none comes to mind, I might suggest "California Girls" by the Beach Boys.
This day in history:
On April 7, 1862, Union forces led by Gen. Ulysses S. Grant defeated the Confederates at the Battle of Shiloh in Tennessee.
In 1927, an audience in New York saw an image of Commerce Secretary Herbert Hoover in the first successful long-distance demonstration of television.
In 1939, Italy invaded Albania. (Less than a week later, Italy annexed Albania.) Later, Italy would ask Albania "who's your poppa?" and fall asleep.
In 1945, during World War II, American planes intercepted a Japanese fleet that was headed for Okinawa on a suicide mission.
In 1947, auto pioneer Henry Ford died in Dearborn, Mich., at age 83.
In 1948, the World Health Organization was founded.
In 1949, the Rodgers and Hammerstein musical "South Pacific" opened on Broadway. Gay men everywhere were thrilled.
In 1966, the United States recovered a hydrogen bomb it had lost off the coast of Spain. Oh, hey! That's where I left it! I would forget my head if it wasn't screwed on.
In 1969, the Supreme Court unanimously struck down laws prohibiting private possession of obscene material. LIke, olive loaf.
In 1994, civil war erupted in Rwanda, a day after a mysterious plane crash claimed the lives of the presidents of Rwanda and Burundi. In the months that followed, hundreds of thousands of minority Tutsi and Hutu intellectuals were slaughtered. The itsies and bitsies were completely wiped out, but the teenies and the weanies were able to forge a bond of truce.
today's birthdays:
Actor James Garner is 78. Movie director Francis Ford Coppola is 67. Singer John Oates is 57. Actor Jackie Chan is 52. Football Hall-of-Famer Tony Dorsett is 52. Actor Russell Crowe is 42. Actor Bill Bellamy is 41. Actress Heather Burns is 31.
The Office
NBC has found a show worth watching by picking things off of the British scrap heap. The office was of mild success in England, but has found a very special place in the hearts of those who simply can't get enough abuse at work.
The Office collects those moments you might have at work that are only funny so long as they aren't happening to you. We all have had those bosses that have made us wonder if they were intentionally malicious, or completely unaware as to how insensitive they were to say or act in the manner they did. Or the co-worker who is just as clueless as to what is going on. This show places them all together with a mean streak running deep within it's writing. There isn't much doubt that it is a funny show, though there are moments that are funny only because of how terribly uncomfortable some moments are, and you slowly remember that it's only a television show. The best description I have is one that I have routinely used...Sometimes the show is funny in it's own way, and other times it rears up and hits you in the forehead with a 2x4 with its insensitivity, leaving you stunned. You'll feel sheepish later when you turn to whomever might be watching it with you and wonder if he/she really said that.
Steve Carrell stars as the boss who is completely clueless and classless. There is also a nice subplot between Jim and Pam, Jim being single, and Pam being engaged to be married. You'd like to envision a happy ending for them (not THAT kind), but given the brutality of the show from time to time, it is hard to see things working out for them.
Even still, I can see a time where I am posting quotes from this show. And show reviews. Just a thought. I haven't done a show review since that Joe Millionaire show, and I think we all enjoyed that.
If you're game, lemme know what you think.
But other than that, it's fine...
My manager recently sent out a notification that if there were some imperfection in our chairs, that we should speak now, since they are considering getting some new ones. Not knowing where to start, I went ahead and compiled a list.
My chair is possessed by the soul of one David Hasselhoff. My chair likes to give me "the shocker". My chair likes new age jazz. My chair does cover songs that Michael Bolton wouldn't do. My chair had an affair with Marilyn Monroe in the White House. But not that Clinton girl, because it has standards. My chair is responsible for the clubbing of baby seals. My chair wants to open a night club called Baby Seals. My chair also wants to attack the babies of music star Seal. My chair is behind the rapid decline of reality shows. My chair has career goals to become a Texas State Prison Electric Chair. My chair sees nothing wrong with Canada, and calls it "Back Bacon". Stupid chair.
My chair attends Klan meetings, and justifies it by saying "some of my best friends are black." My chair has spent more than a 2 week span in Wisconsin. My chair puts creamed corn on everything it eats. My chair passes gas, and then blames it on me. My chair sings the name song over and over and over. My chair scoffs at your level 3 cleric. My chair wants to fill your peanut-butter cups with potassium bromide instead. My chair doesn't appreciate my well-sculpted glutes like the rest of you do. My chair wants Louie Anderson to return to Family Feud. My chair watches women's tennis for the competition; not to see hot girls in skirts. But my chair still snickers like everyone else when they pull the tennis ball out of their shorts.
My chair will lick my undercarriage, but won't kiss, because "it's too personal". My chair is for the dismantling of Israel. My chair stands in the grocery lane to read the magazines but doesn't buy anything at all. My chair refuses to acknowledge the term of Finland Chief of State/President Tarja Halonen. My chair thinks that Roadhouse is an actual movie, instead of female-porn. My chair repeatedly tells me it's "got your back", but it never does. In a similar vein, it also plays the "got your nose" game, even though he really doesn't. My chair cheers for any team that plays against yours, because it can't stand to see you happy. My chair pollutes, and doesn't give a hoot. My chair pops the bubbles that you blow from your bubble wand.
My chair can't be trusted with your puppy's tail. My chair will tell you it will find a job, but when was the last time you saw it filling out an application?
My chair is in cahoots with the potted plants, Little Shop of Horrors-style. My chair pees outside. My chair doesn't use spellcheck. My chair thinks "alot" should be 2 words. My chair loves me only for my money. My chair places things on itself, like thistles and whoopee cushions. My chair once dated Tommy Lee, and now has hepatitis C. And a few others that have yet to be found on the Gyno charts.
My chair once starred in a film that featured chair-on-chair-action. And worse, it was the bottom chair. My chair shot President McKinley, but didn't shoot President George W Bush. My chair watches "Dog: the Bounty Hunter" for grooming tips. My chair thinks Boba Fett is a pansy. My chair waits in the bushes. My chair made Stevie Wonder blind. My chair wants to see Gary Coleman and Emmanuel Lewis fight to the death while trashy women prod them with large lit cigars. My chair is familiar with the art of Ben Wa. You need not ask how I know this. My chair blames Charles Shultz for ruining slave trade. Yes, that Charles Shultz. It also blames Gloria Estefan for giving good-looking Latin women hope that they could be anything but housemaids who could be propositioned when the kids were at school. My chair thinks that unborn fetuses have the right to marry, but noone else. My chair tells graphic stories about when it was in the Franco-Prussian war. My chair thinks the ultimate cuisine experience is Franco-American Spaghetti-o's with sliced Frankie Muniz. My chair goes to movies and claims both armrests for itself. My chair wants to see the return of the 4 man rotation, and it's not talking baseball. My chair wants to build a car lot on Gettysburg. Safe to say, my chair is a jerk.
Book review: Game of Shadows
Book of Shadows documents not only the beginning of the case being made against Barry Bonds and his (alleged) steroid use, but that of anyone who ever ran or jumped, or swam or threw something at the Olympics of the past decade. OR at least, it seems that way. Dare not read, those of you who have any sort of National pride in your athletes. Track stars of all sorts are exposed for their steroid use throughout, and their approach to it all lets the color of your patriotism for sports run pale.
"Runner x is using it, and I'm not going to let him get away with it, so I'll use it to beat him too." Caught within their own rivalries, they risk their own health to beat their competitor.
If the book is accurate, there is too much evidence against Bonds. His relationships with his suppliers is damnable in and of itself, to say nothing of his extra-marital affairs. Having no met him myself, I am forced to rely upon the stories of those who have, and I have yet to find one that didn't refer to him as unbearable. He is not in baseball to be polite or cordial of course...These aren't qualities that hit home runs or steal bases or what have you. And yet, these qualities can buy you mercy in the eyes of those who watch baseball, should you falter. He has no such slack for himself.
Barry Bonds has cheated. It cannot be ignored. So has Sosa and Palmerio, and Canseco and Giambi, and McGwire too, though I hate to admit it to myself. Mcgwire had always been of a large build, capable of hitting great home runs. So it was easy to fool yourself that he was clean. By using these growth hormones and steroids and supplements, they cheated the fans who hoped that they were clean, who hoped that there was a chance that they were seeing the best of the best competing against each other without some hidden benefit. You bring your best and I'll bring mine. Instead, these men used what could be compared to a hidden nitrous boost in a drag race.
This book is not for those that wish to keep thoughts of such pure competitions alive. I don't think I'll look upon the Olympics the same again. As much as we derided the East Germans or the Russians in the past...We are as dirty as they are. As for baseball, it is run by Bud Selig. Selig takes no action or initiative of his own, and only moves when scolded by Congress. He is a sleeping dog who only moves when pushed. Baseball will never be clean under his watch, and he won't do anything more than what he is told to do, hoping it's enough. And it won't be.
Despite my ranting, it's a book worth reading, though it may not appeal to all of my audiences reading tastes.
Friday, March 10, 2006
Song of the Day:
Random image of Reese Withersoon:
T
This day in history:
In 1810, Emperor Napoleon of France was married by proxy to Archduchess Marie Louise of Austria.
In 1861, the Confederate convention in Montgomery, Ala., adopted a constitution.
In 1888, the famous "Blizzard of '88" struck the northeastern United States, resulting in some 400 deaths.
In 1930, former President and Chief Justice Taft was buried in Arlington National Cemetery.
In 1941, President Roosevelt signed into law the Lend-Lease Bill, providing war supplies to countries fighting the Axis.
In 1965, the Rev. James J. Reeb, a white minister from Boston, died after being beaten by whites during civil rights disturbances in Selma, Ala.
In 1977, more than 130 hostages held in Washington by Hanafi Muslims were freed after ambassadors from three Islamic nations joined the negotiations.
In 1985, Mikhail S. Gorbachev was chosen to succeed the late Soviet President Konstantin U. Chernenko.
In 1986, the state of Georgia pardoned Leo Frank, a Jewish businessman who had been lynched in 1915 for the murder of 13-year-old Mary Phagan.
In 2004, 10 bombs exploded in quick succession across the commuter rail network in Madrid, Spain, killing 191 people in an attack linked to al-Qaida.
Today's Birthdays:
Singer Bobby McFerrin is 56.
Movie director Jerry Zucker is 56.
Singer Lisa Loeb is 38.
Making sex with geeks OK again...even if their the clingy type, or just using you to climb the social ladder.
Sadly, the ladder got more action than I did in high school.
Actor Terrence Howard is 37.
Some brothers have all the luck...
Rock musician Rami Jaffee (Wallflowers) is 37.
That's him in the glasses. Kinda like "Guy" from "That Thing You Do!"
Actor David Anders is 25.
Actress Thora Birch is 24.
Shakespeare Quote of the Day:
"All the world 's a stage, and all the men and women merely players. They have their exits and their entrances; And one man in his time plays many parts"
-As You Like It. (Act II, Scene VII).
Word of the Day:
deus ex machina \DAY-uhs-eks-MAH-kuh-nuh; -nah; -MAK-uh-nuh\, noun:
1. In ancient Greek and Roman drama, a god introduced by means of a crane to unravel and resolve the plot.
2. Any active agent who appears unexpectedly to solve an apparently insoluble difficulty.
The Death of Kirby Puckett
I,like many many other kids of the midwest, was a fan of baseball because of the youthful exuberance of Kirby Puckett. Here was a man who wan't just living life; he was enjoying it. It didn't hurt of course, that he was a tireless worker, or a batting champion, or a superb fielder who knew how to measure up the plexiglass outfield fence more than anyone else. But while all of these things were helpful to his popularity, he would not have been near as popular or famous if he hadn't made it obvious that he enjoyed what he was doing.
With Puckett, you never doubted that he was giving you everything he had inside. He loved what he did and he showed it all the time. He appreciated his chance to PLAY baseball. He did what all of us thought we would do with that sort of oppurtunity...he PLAYED. It wasn't work for him at all. So many players become jaded that they seem to forget or take for granted what oppurtunity they have placed in front of them sometimes. I suppose after a few years, the rest of us might do the same. And because of that, we saw so many great things about him in his play, in his gregarious nature, that we came to think that is how he must always be. That there wasn't any dark side to him. He excuded so much of what we want to find not only in our athletes, but in human beings in general.
And so when he retired, and other portions of his life came to light, we found that he wasn't always the Kirby Puckett we knew. It was disturbing that he was a womanizer. That he had some major marital strife that ultimately led to their divorce.
As a fan, I was disheartened to learn that he wasn't who I pictured him to be away from the field. I felt like I had to defend the indefensible. As time has passed, I hae started to wonder... did these bab moments in his life cancel out all the good that he has done for others? Is he completely un-redemable? If those who were harmed by him and his actions can find it to forgive him, then hopefully the rest of us can forgive the rest of us can learn to move on as well. Kirby Puckett wasn't perfect. He did some bad things, yes. the media and others have proved to have a long memory. But that doesn't undo all of the good. No more than all of the good does all the bad. Together, they make the whole picture of Kirby Puckett.
Part of being a fan is having hope. In fact, it's pretty much all there is to being a fan. that one day all of your hope will apy off for something special...a moment to celebrate. Being a fan of the Twins and being a fan of Kirby made all of those hopes realized when they won the World Series in 1987, and 1991. Because of those moments, alot of us got to experience the feeling that anything was possible. THat if we believed enough, we would see our dreams realized.
Thanks for making our dreams come true, Puck.
David Letterman's "Top Ten Ways to Mispronounce Kirby Puckett"
10. Kooby Pickett.
9. Creepy Pockets.
8. Bernie Crumpet.
7. Turkey Bucket.
6. Buddy Hackett.
5. The Puckett Formerly Known as Kirby.
4. Punky Brewster.
3. Kent Hrbek.
2. There once was a man from Nantucket who Kirbied his very own Puckett.
1. Englepuck Kirbydink.
Book Review:
Jurassic Park and the Lost World were packged under one book together, and placed upon a shelf at the local library for me to find recently. Having enjoyed the movies when they were out, I thought it was worth looking into to see if the books truly were better than the visual option.
It was and it wasn't. Being more familiar with it from the movie, I found myself jumping from the more tedious setup right to the action, as any person with a need for immediate gratification like myself has. (That's not quite the best reflection of myself, now is it?) Montana ranch, blah, blah, dinosaurs are birds, sure...eggs...whatever. Where's the damned T-rex and the velociraptors?! Ah! Page 78! Much better! Rip that lawyer in two!
In all it was an intruiging read, because it was a different story than those portrayed on screen. A different set of people died, and their trail was much different. While the baser pieces were the same --people under the threat of attack of carnivorous beasts of the past--, the details were much changed. And it was the baser pieces that drew me in.
Once in, I found an interesting contrast...the book was trying to present some rather deep thoughts about evolution and the destruction of the world. A faux-deep conversation about where we came from, how dinosaurs interacted and such was often presented, as though it was a top 50 brief summary of the theories of the time, interlaced together with a story to be placed with a comic book. In doing so, the writer seemed as though he was trying to pull together a conversation of intellectuals and laymen to discuss different topics, with varying degrees of success. There were a few instances it actually stalled the action rather than furthering the story. Still worth reading, though if you have the inkling. I suppose that the best way to put it is that I wouldn't go out lookng for it, but if you happen across it, it's a good time filler for lunch breaks and other times that you might take to yourself.
Next up on the "Review of books that have been out for some time that everyone else has read: But not the Hippopotomous, by Sandra Boynton. It's a sad study of being a social outcast in a group setting. For more on dinosaurs, be sure to check out her breakthrough work found here.
Link of the day:
The evolving organism game! No...organ-ISM. Not what you thought. Those sort of things must be earned, and I wouldn't want my name associated with giving those out.
Wait...maybe I do. Lookit that. 2 links of the day. Aren't you people so special? Warning: this isn't the work-safe kind of link. And special note to E: If the cowboy with the boots remind you of anyone in particular, I'll be happy.
Well, beat the drum and hold the phone - the sun came out today
We're born again, there's new grass on the field
Roundin' third, and headed for home, it's a brown-eyed handsome man
Anyone can understand the way I feel
Oh, put me in, coach - I'm ready to play today
Put me in, coach - I'm ready to play today
Look at me, I can be center field
Random image of Reese Withersoon:
TThis day in history:
In 1810, Emperor Napoleon of France was married by proxy to Archduchess Marie Louise of Austria.
In 1861, the Confederate convention in Montgomery, Ala., adopted a constitution.
In 1888, the famous "Blizzard of '88" struck the northeastern United States, resulting in some 400 deaths.
In 1930, former President and Chief Justice Taft was buried in Arlington National Cemetery.
In 1941, President Roosevelt signed into law the Lend-Lease Bill, providing war supplies to countries fighting the Axis.
In 1965, the Rev. James J. Reeb, a white minister from Boston, died after being beaten by whites during civil rights disturbances in Selma, Ala.
In 1977, more than 130 hostages held in Washington by Hanafi Muslims were freed after ambassadors from three Islamic nations joined the negotiations.
In 1985, Mikhail S. Gorbachev was chosen to succeed the late Soviet President Konstantin U. Chernenko.
In 1986, the state of Georgia pardoned Leo Frank, a Jewish businessman who had been lynched in 1915 for the murder of 13-year-old Mary Phagan.
In 2004, 10 bombs exploded in quick succession across the commuter rail network in Madrid, Spain, killing 191 people in an attack linked to al-Qaida.
Today's Birthdays:
Singer Bobby McFerrin is 56.
Movie director Jerry Zucker is 56.
Singer Lisa Loeb is 38.
Making sex with geeks OK again...even if their the clingy type, or just using you to climb the social ladder.
Sadly, the ladder got more action than I did in high school.
Actor Terrence Howard is 37.
Some brothers have all the luck...
Rock musician Rami Jaffee (Wallflowers) is 37.
That's him in the glasses. Kinda like "Guy" from "That Thing You Do!"
Actor David Anders is 25.
Actress Thora Birch is 24.
Shakespeare Quote of the Day:
"All the world 's a stage, and all the men and women merely players. They have their exits and their entrances; And one man in his time plays many parts"
-As You Like It. (Act II, Scene VII).
Word of the Day:
deus ex machina \DAY-uhs-eks-MAH-kuh-nuh; -nah; -MAK-uh-nuh\, noun:
1. In ancient Greek and Roman drama, a god introduced by means of a crane to unravel and resolve the plot.
2. Any active agent who appears unexpectedly to solve an apparently insoluble difficulty.
The Death of Kirby Puckett
I,like many many other kids of the midwest, was a fan of baseball because of the youthful exuberance of Kirby Puckett. Here was a man who wan't just living life; he was enjoying it. It didn't hurt of course, that he was a tireless worker, or a batting champion, or a superb fielder who knew how to measure up the plexiglass outfield fence more than anyone else. But while all of these things were helpful to his popularity, he would not have been near as popular or famous if he hadn't made it obvious that he enjoyed what he was doing.
With Puckett, you never doubted that he was giving you everything he had inside. He loved what he did and he showed it all the time. He appreciated his chance to PLAY baseball. He did what all of us thought we would do with that sort of oppurtunity...he PLAYED. It wasn't work for him at all. So many players become jaded that they seem to forget or take for granted what oppurtunity they have placed in front of them sometimes. I suppose after a few years, the rest of us might do the same. And because of that, we saw so many great things about him in his play, in his gregarious nature, that we came to think that is how he must always be. That there wasn't any dark side to him. He excuded so much of what we want to find not only in our athletes, but in human beings in general.
And so when he retired, and other portions of his life came to light, we found that he wasn't always the Kirby Puckett we knew. It was disturbing that he was a womanizer. That he had some major marital strife that ultimately led to their divorce.
As a fan, I was disheartened to learn that he wasn't who I pictured him to be away from the field. I felt like I had to defend the indefensible. As time has passed, I hae started to wonder... did these bab moments in his life cancel out all the good that he has done for others? Is he completely un-redemable? If those who were harmed by him and his actions can find it to forgive him, then hopefully the rest of us can forgive the rest of us can learn to move on as well. Kirby Puckett wasn't perfect. He did some bad things, yes. the media and others have proved to have a long memory. But that doesn't undo all of the good. No more than all of the good does all the bad. Together, they make the whole picture of Kirby Puckett.
Part of being a fan is having hope. In fact, it's pretty much all there is to being a fan. that one day all of your hope will apy off for something special...a moment to celebrate. Being a fan of the Twins and being a fan of Kirby made all of those hopes realized when they won the World Series in 1987, and 1991. Because of those moments, alot of us got to experience the feeling that anything was possible. THat if we believed enough, we would see our dreams realized.
Thanks for making our dreams come true, Puck.
David Letterman's "Top Ten Ways to Mispronounce Kirby Puckett"
10. Kooby Pickett.
9. Creepy Pockets.
8. Bernie Crumpet.
7. Turkey Bucket.
6. Buddy Hackett.
5. The Puckett Formerly Known as Kirby.
4. Punky Brewster.
3. Kent Hrbek.
2. There once was a man from Nantucket who Kirbied his very own Puckett.
1. Englepuck Kirbydink.
Book Review:
Jurassic Park and the Lost World were packged under one book together, and placed upon a shelf at the local library for me to find recently. Having enjoyed the movies when they were out, I thought it was worth looking into to see if the books truly were better than the visual option.
It was and it wasn't. Being more familiar with it from the movie, I found myself jumping from the more tedious setup right to the action, as any person with a need for immediate gratification like myself has. (That's not quite the best reflection of myself, now is it?) Montana ranch, blah, blah, dinosaurs are birds, sure...eggs...whatever. Where's the damned T-rex and the velociraptors?! Ah! Page 78! Much better! Rip that lawyer in two!
In all it was an intruiging read, because it was a different story than those portrayed on screen. A different set of people died, and their trail was much different. While the baser pieces were the same --people under the threat of attack of carnivorous beasts of the past--, the details were much changed. And it was the baser pieces that drew me in.
Once in, I found an interesting contrast...the book was trying to present some rather deep thoughts about evolution and the destruction of the world. A faux-deep conversation about where we came from, how dinosaurs interacted and such was often presented, as though it was a top 50 brief summary of the theories of the time, interlaced together with a story to be placed with a comic book. In doing so, the writer seemed as though he was trying to pull together a conversation of intellectuals and laymen to discuss different topics, with varying degrees of success. There were a few instances it actually stalled the action rather than furthering the story. Still worth reading, though if you have the inkling. I suppose that the best way to put it is that I wouldn't go out lookng for it, but if you happen across it, it's a good time filler for lunch breaks and other times that you might take to yourself.
Next up on the "Review of books that have been out for some time that everyone else has read: But not the Hippopotomous, by Sandra Boynton. It's a sad study of being a social outcast in a group setting. For more on dinosaurs, be sure to check out her breakthrough work found here.
Link of the day:
The evolving organism game! No...organ-ISM. Not what you thought. Those sort of things must be earned, and I wouldn't want my name associated with giving those out.
Wait...maybe I do. Lookit that. 2 links of the day. Aren't you people so special? Warning: this isn't the work-safe kind of link. And special note to E: If the cowboy with the boots remind you of anyone in particular, I'll be happy.
