tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5575647945357514402024-02-21T00:01:37.614-08:00Stephen T. McCarthy STUFFS“There's a sadness in the heart of things,” said the second Z-man. The first Z-man added, “It's life, and life only.” The Wizard warned, “Pay no attention to that man behind the curtain!” But then I dreamed the answer and I told it to them: <a href="http://xtremelyun-pcandunrepentant.blogspot.com/2017/05/this-is-test-or-d-all-of-above.html">“We have fallen asleep in God's embrace, having a nightmare that we are elsewhere.”</a> So, now you understand what this Blog’s "stuffs" is all about.Stephen T. McCarthyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00249125637725791567noreply@blogger.comBlogger262125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-557564794535751440.post-66639170300576269852012-03-10T12:40:00.028-08:002016-11-19T08:31:34.086-08:00GOING-OUT-OF-BLOGGING SALE! (50% OFF EUROPEAN ITEMS)<span style="color: white; font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;">.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;"><i>~ Mike Ditka</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;">As one saying goes, “All good things must come to an end”, and the same applies to mediocre things like this blog. Yes, m’dear readers, here at ‘Stephen T. McCarthy STUFFS’ the time has come to <i><strike>shit</strike></i> ship my stuffs. </span><span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;">It was a good run that began in May of 2008, but it’s time I said goodbye and moved on: </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;">In fact, I really should have closed up shop here awhile back, but like the boxer who doesn’t know when it’s time to hang up the gloves, I stayed in the ring a little too long.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;">Truthfully, blogging ceased to be enjoyable for me quite some time ago, and when “the thrill is gone” and the payoff is inadequate, well, the gig is up. And you know the gig? ...It’s up!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;">The last blog bit that I really got a major kick out of putting together was the 6-part <b><a href="http://stephentmccarthysstuffs.blogspot.com/2011/08/my-homemegalopolis-los-angeles-and-me_3843.html">‘My Homemegalopolis’</a></b> series and, for crying-out-loud, that was last August!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;">Due primarily to the bloglationship I had with my “virtual buddy” A-DogG at Amazon.scumbags, I began blogging here with certain expectations that, unfortunately, were never met. In an effort to “keep it short” (for once), I won’t elaborate. Let’s just say that my overall experience here at Blogspot was a bit disappointing.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;">But then, after a couple years, I suddenly and unexpectedly found that fellow blogger Anniee McPhee and I were developing the sort of quality bloglationship in our comment sections that I’d once enjoyed with </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;">A-DogG. I was becoming invigorated, enthused about blogging again! And then just as suddenly and unexpectedly, <b><a href="http://xtremelyun-pcandunrepentant.blogspot.com/2011/07/some-fuckery-in-memory-of-my-friend.html">Anniee passed away in July of 2011</a></b>, and that took all of the new wind out of my sails. I probably should have retired from blogging at that point.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;">However, none of this means I regret having blogged here. Not at all. In my years at Blogspot I have met some nice ‘n’ cool peoples (you know who you are), and I have had some fun, some good times!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;">Furthermore, I feel a sense of satisfaction because I believe I have produced some worthwhile blog bits here at ‘STUFFS’. Perhaps I’m fooling myself, and Lord knows that’s possible because... <b><i><span style="color: #cc0000;">Uhp</span>!<span style="color: #cc0000;"> I’m an idiot</span>!</i></b>, but I believe I have posted here some rather unique blog bits - stuffs you’re not likely to find on many (if any) other sites. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;">Examples: I’m particularly pleased with my in-depth examinations into reincarnation and its relationship to Jesus and The Holy Bible; and I don’t think readers would be too apt to find anything like ‘#1 Rule Of Selfhood’ or ‘Goldenshadow: The Stab, The Pang, The Inconsolable Longing’ on many other blogs.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;">I intend to leave ‘Stuffs’ up and I hope it will remain viewable for a long time to come. And while I believe a good amount of what I’ve posted here is worth reading (or I wouldn’t have posted it), I suppose the best place for any newbie to begin would be with the “Best O’ Stuffs” category in the column at the right.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;">In “Best O’ Stuffs” I included links to a variety of blog bits. A few of them appeared to be reader favorites (even if they weren’t necessarily favorites of mine) such as ‘I Got Them Bad Luck With Womens Blues’; ‘M*A*S*H - S*T*U*F*F*S’; ‘The Bernard Pivot Blogfest’; and ‘The Chihuahua Cutthroat’.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;">But being a true maverick, I mostly included links to blog bits that I preferred, regardless of whether or not my handful of readers liked them – such as: ‘Blind Faith Vs. Educated Faith’; ‘The Makers Of "Mother Croaker’s Hemorrhoid Ointment" Present...’; and the infamous ‘Pain Management: Pills, Pillows, And Petty’. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;">Oddly though, two of my very favorite bits on this blog never received even one comment. ‘Favorite Jokes 'N' Quotes 'N' Stuffs (Parts 1 & 2)’ are just randomly posted quotes from incredibly diverse sources: “Aardvark, Flying” to “Zappa, Frank”, and everything imaginable in between. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;">It took me three years to compile those quotation collections and I love the variety of them. Imagine finding a </span><span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;">Jack</span><span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;"> Nicholson quote</span><span style="font-family: "arial"; font-size: 10pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;">followed by a quote from Patrick Henry, <span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">Yukon Cornelius followed by Gary Coleman, John Cougar Mellencamp followed by Calvin Coolidge</span>, a Quaker slogan followed by a Tiny Tim quote, and a<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"> 1943 Communist Party Directive followed by the words of Jane Russell. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;">I believe many of the greatest, most revealing, interesting, humorous, and quotable things ever said or written can be found in those two blog bits and I couldn’t possibly get through a single day without repeating at least one or two of the remarks you’ll find there. If I were forced to delete my entire blog save for two blog bits, I think </span><span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;">‘Favorite Jokes 'N' Quotes 'N' Stuffs (Part 1 & 2)’ is what I would keep. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;">Well, friends, this blog bit brings ‘STUFFS’ to a conclusion, but I intend to regularly monitor submitted comments indefinitely and will continue to post and respond to all of them that do not transgress “Ye Olde Comment Policy”. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;">My political blog <a href="http://xtremelyun-pcandunrepentant.blogspot.com/"><b>‘FERRET-FACED FASCIST FRIENDS’</b></a> will remain active for a little longer, as I have more installments in mind that I hope to compose and post, after which that blog will also be going “Buh-bye”. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;">To all who read and commented on ‘Stuffs’... or read it but didn’t comment on it... or commented on it but didn’t read it... or neither read or commented on it... I thank you; my brother Nappy thanks you; </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;">Yogi<span style="background-color: white;"> Yoey O’Dogherty</span> thanks you; Mister Flavin, Paco </span><st1:city><st1:place><span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;">Mendoza</span></st1:place></st1:city><span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;">, Father Xavier Rojas, and Claude Stroup at The Golden Dream Hotel thank you.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;">In show business they say, <span style="color: #cc0000;">“Leave ‘em wanting more.”</span> Well, it’s <i><u>way</u></i> too late for that! <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;">But another one of the old show business maxims is: <span style="color: #cc0000;">“Leave ‘em with a song”</span>.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;">Now <i><u>THAT</u></i> I can do! In fact, I’m such a generous fellow that I’m going to leave you with two songs. (Truth is, I couldn’t decide between ‘em, so you gets ‘em both.) The first song is great and soulful, and the second one is good and heartfelt.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;">Appropriately enough, here’s something from The Band’s “<u>Last</u> <u>Waltz</u>” :</span><br />
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<span lang="EN" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 13.5pt; text-align: center;">I decided to bring this blog full circle and end it with the same sentence it begins with:<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></span><span lang="EN" style="background-color: white; color: #cc0000; font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 13.5pt; text-align: center;">“...there’s a sadness in the heart of things”.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10.0pt;">Will I ever reactivate these blogs? Well, knowing how difficult it is for me to keep my mouth shut and my fingers still, the<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><i>smart money</i><span class="apple-converted-space"> </span>is probably on “Yes”. But the way I feel right now, it’s highly doubtful.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10.0pt;">Bless And Be Blessed! <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><i><span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10.0pt;">"See ya." . . . <o:p></o:p></span></i></b></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10.0pt;">~ Stephen T. McCarthy<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana";"><span style="font-size: x-small;">YE OLDE COMMENT POLICY: All comments, pro and con, are welcome. However, ad hominem attacks and disrespectful epithets will not be tolerated (read: "posted"). After all, this isn’t<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><a href="http://xtremelyun-pcandunrepentant.blogspot.com/2008/07/amazon-just-another-way-to-say-big_07.html"><span style="color: windowtext; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">Amazon.com</span></a>, so I don’t have to put up with that kind of bovine excrement. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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Stephen T. McCarthyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00249125637725791567noreply@blogger.com75tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-557564794535751440.post-29118703122790559452012-03-06T08:39:00.009-08:002018-06-14T11:06:19.066-07:00“ELEVEN, ONE LOUDER” (Or, “ELEVEN QUESTIONS AT THE ELEVENTH HOUR”)<span style="color: white;">.</span><br />
<i style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><b>“Just when I thought I was out, they pull me back in.”</b></i><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;">My friend Julie Fedderson of the blog <b><span style="background-color: yellow; color: red;">‘</span></b></span><span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;"><b><span style="background-color: yellow; color: red;">Gypsy In My Soul’</span></b> has challenged me in her blog bit titled <a href="http://gypsyjulesinmysoul.blogspot.com/2012/03/eleven-one-louder.html"><b>'Eleven, One Louder'</b></a>. </span></div>
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<i style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="color: white;">..</span></i><br />
<i style="color: #4e2800; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">["ELEVEN, . . .]</i></div>
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<i style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="color: white;">.</span></i><br />
<i style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">[. . . ONE LOUDER!"]</i><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;"><i><span style="color: white;">.</span></i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;">Gypsy Julie has posed 11 questions to “11 questionable bloggers”, and one of those named is . . .</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;"><i><b><span style="color: #cc0000;">“Stephen T. McCarthy at Stuffs (just 'cause I'd love to hear the answers and we share mad love for Spinal Tap)”</span></b></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;">I don’t ordinarily participate in the “Awards And Tagging” games here at Blogspot, but when Julie (unquestionably one of the most entertaining bloggers I “Follow”) asks me to, and even makes reference to me in the same sentence with ‘Spinal Tap’, that’s <b><u>an</u> <u>offer</u> <u>I</u> <u>can’t</u> <u>refuse</u></b>. So, here goes . . .</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;"><b><span style="color: #cc0000;">1: Paper or plastic? </span></b></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;">.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;">Normally, neither. Whenever it seems feasible, I prefer to shoplift what I want. But when paying for an item becomes absolutely necessary, I usually hand over paper Federal Reserve Notes rather than my plastic credit card. </span></div>
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<span style="color: white;">.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;"><b><span style="color: #cc0000;">2: What cartoon do you still secretly enjoy watching? </span></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;">It’s a little known cartoon called “Super-Stephen”. By day, Stephen T. McCarthy poses as mild-mannered blogger Filbert J. McDouwe.</span><br />
<span style="color: white; font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;">.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;">But at night, he peels off his jacket to reveal his spandex superhero costume and is instantly transformed into 'Super-Stephen', defender of old hippies and helpless French people!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="color: white;">.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;">Uhm . . . yer not buyin’ it, are ya? </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;">Well . . . <i>"would you believe"</i> . . . 'Deputy Dawg' and 'Foghorn Leghorn'?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;">Actually, the question seems to imply that I probably ought to feel mildly ashamed about watching cartoons. The truth is, however, that most cartoons (at least of the “Old-School” variety) are more realistic than are most movies being made in </span><city><place><span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;">Hollywood</span></place></city><span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;"> these days. So I feel no shame at all about my cartoon-watching.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;">'Deputy Dawg' and 'Foghorn Leghorn' were legitimate answers, but the <b><i>best</i></b> answer is: ‘ROCKY & BULLWINKLE’. I own on DVD all five seasons – every single episode – of ‘ROCKY & BULLWINKLE’ :</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="color: white;">.</span></span><br />
<b style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="color: #cc0000;">3: If you could pick up an instrument and immediately know how to play, what instrument would you choose?</span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;">Well, it wouldn’t be so easy to “pick up” the instrument that I would choose: A Hammond B-3 Organ. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;"><b><span style="color: #cc0000;">4: What is the song that most defines your personality? </span></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;">Oh, now THAT’S easy – a piece of pie (‘cause I like pie better’n cake). </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;">In late 1978, when I was 18 or 19 years old, I heard my first Waylon Jennings song. It was played on my Rock ‘N’ Roll radio station of choice – <b>KMET</b>, ‘The Mighty Met’ – in </span><city><place><span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;">Los Angeles</span></place></city><span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;">. I immediately recognized the song as a personal anthem and within days I bought my first of plenty o' Waylon albums. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;">I have changed a great deal over the decades since then, but I still can’t think of any other song that better defines my personality. My personal anthem remains . . .</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><iframe allow="autoplay; encrypted-media" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="236" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/xI2MhAGtZgE" width="420"></iframe></span><br />
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<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xI2MhAGtZgE" style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xI2MhAGtZgE</a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;"><b><span style="color: #3d85c6;">I've always been crazy and the trouble that it's put me through</span><br /><span style="color: #3d85c6;">
I've been busted for things that I did, and I didn't do</span><br /><span style="color: #3d85c6;">
I can't say I’m proud of all of the things that I’ve done</span><br /><span style="color: #3d85c6;">
But I can say I’ve never intentionally hurt anyone</span><br />
<span style="color: white;">.</span><br /><span style="color: #3d85c6;">
I've always been different with one foot over the line </span><br /><span style="color: #3d85c6;">
Winding up somewhere one step ahead or behind</span><br /><span style="color: #3d85c6;">
It ain't been so easy but I guess I shouldn't complain</span><br /><span style="color: #3d85c6;">
I've always been crazy but it's kept me from going insane</span><br />
<span style="color: white;">.</span><br /><span style="color: #3d85c6;">
Beautiful lady, are you sure that you understand </span><br /><span style="color: #3d85c6;">
The chances you’re taking loving a free-living man</span><br /><span style="color: #3d85c6;">
Are you really sure you really want what you see? </span><br /><span style="color: #3d85c6;">
Be careful of something that's just what you want it to be</span><br />
<span style="color: white;">.</span><br /><span style="color: #3d85c6;">
I've always been crazy but it's kept me from going insane</span><br /><span style="color: #3d85c6;">
Nobody knows if it's something to bless or to blame</span><br /><span style="color: #3d85c6;">
So far I ain't found a rhyme or a reason to change</span><br /><span style="color: #3d85c6;">
I've always been crazy but it's kept me from going insane</span></b></span><span lang="EN" style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;"></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;"><b><span style="color: #cc0000;">5: What’s your anger style? (i.e. simmer and steam, etc.)</span></b></span><br />
<span style="color: white; font-family: verdana;">.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;">I’m a very easygoing kind of guy, and a person would pretty much need to deliberately set out to piss me off to piss me off. So, it goes a bit like this:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;">Overlook, forgive, overlook, forgive, overlook, forgive, (my lips get tight and then...) <i><b>BIG BANG! </b></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;"><b><span style="color: #cc0000;">6: What do you think will be the downfall of modern society? </span></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;">You mean it hasn’t happened yet? </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;">Certainly ‘Apathy’ and ‘Self-Centeredness’ have played critical roles and will continue to do so but, really, the best answer is ‘<u>IGNORANCE</u>’ :</span><br />
<span style="color: white; font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;">.</span><br />
<em><span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;">“</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="color: #cc0000;">My people are destroyed for lack of knowledge.”</span> </span></em><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;"><em>~ Hosea 4:6</em></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="color: white;">.</span> </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;"><em><span style="color: #cc0000;">“Therefore My people are gone into captivity, because they have no knowledge.”</span> </em></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;"><em>~ Isaiah 5:13</em></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;">I’ll be alright, however, as long as beer and wine remain available. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;"><b><span style="color: #cc0000;">7: What is the best character name you’ve ever come across? </span></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;">Oh, gosh, there are so many I like – all of them goofy and/or humorous. W.C. Fields was known for using crazy pseudonyms and character names (e.g., Larson E. Whipsnade in ‘You Can't Cheat an Honest Man’, and Egbert Sousé in ‘The Bank Dick’). </span></div>
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<span style="color: white;">.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;">And I like giving loony nicknames to some of my friends (e.g., Flying Aardvark, Boidman, Mr. Sheboyganboy Six, Nitro Wilbury Babskiddo, </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;">et al.).</span></div>
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<span style="color: white;">.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;">But a couple of real big favorites of mine come from episodes of ‘The Andy Griffith Show’ (TAGS). </span></div>
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<span style="color: white;">.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;">In one hilarious episode titled ‘Convicts-At-Large’, actress Reta Shaw plays the leader of a group of female inmates who have escaped from a women’s prison. Her character’s name is Maude Tyler, and in the show a dispatcher informs the viewers through a police radio that she stands 5’6”, weighs 175 pounds, and her various aliases include: Big Maude Tyler, Clarisse Tyler, Maude Clarisse Tyler, Annabelle Tyler, and </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;">Ralph Henderson. (If you don't think that's funny, you better not go to college!) </span></div>
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<span style="color: white;">.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;">In another great TAGS episode titled ‘Barney’s First Car’, little old actress Ellen Corby (best known as Grandma Walton) plays the leader of a gang of car thieves. Her name is Myrtle “Hubcaps” Lesh. That’s classic stuffs! </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;">If you’re looking for a “real” character name (as in a book of fiction), I think Uriah Heep from the Charles Dickens book ‘David Copperfield’ is hard to beat.</span></div>
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<span style="color: white;">.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;"><b><span style="color: #cc0000;">8: What is your most bizarre beauty ritual? </span></b></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;">.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;">Being a dudeguy, I don’t really have any “beauty” rituals. But I do believe in keeping my nose clean. Which explains the 15,562 cotton swabs I have stored in my bathroom. </span></div>
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<span style="color: white;">.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;"><b><span style="color: #cc0000;">9: What is your favorite scent?</span></b></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;">.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;">I love the smell of Grey Poupon in the morning.</span><span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;"></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;"><b><span style="color: #cc0000;">10: Could your Significant Other identify you by just one body part, and if so, which one</span></b>?</span></div>
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<span style="color: white;">.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;">Well, sadly, there hasn’t been a “significant other” in a long time. Unless, of course, we’re counting Ariel Airhead, the inflatable girlfriend whom I occasionally go to bed with, <b><i><u>but</u></i></b> <b><i><u>even</u> <u>she</u></i></b> won’t let me touch her! </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="color: white;">.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;">I do have a distinctive birthmark on my left forearm, by which I could be easily indentified. However, I’m pretty sure this question is seeking a more “salacious” answer, and not wanting to disappoint anyone, I will disclose this: </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;">When I was perhaps 19 years old, I developed a couple of cysts, one in my neck and one where I sit. While the former cyst was removed in an out-patient procedure, the latter one required a stay in a hospital of two or three days.</span></div>
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<span style="color: white;">.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;">As a result of that old surgery, I have a small piece of flesh missing from my seat, as if a junkyard dog caught me stealing hubcaps one night with Myrtle Lesh in a wrecking yard and the dog managed to get himself a bite of my arse while I was scrambling back over the fence. </span></div>
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<span style="color: white;">.</span></div>
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<b><span style="color: #cc0000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;">11: What moment in your life would have won the $10,000 on </span><country-region><place><span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;">America</span></place></country-region></span></b><span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;"><b><span style="color: #cc0000;">’s Funniest Home Videos? </span></b></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;">.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;">Honestly, I don’t think I myself experienced a moment that could have won the $10,000. Maybe the best I can come up with off the top of my head was the time I was about 13 years old and on a family vacation. </span></div>
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<span style="color: white;">.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;">I was suffering from a cold, and so I felt congested, discombobulated, and my mental faculties were even more dull than usual. We had stopped at a restaurant for dinner – it may have been called The Sportsman’s or something like that, and located in Bishop, </span><state><place><span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;">California</span></place></state><span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;">, or nearby.</span></div>
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<span style="color: white;">.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;">After ordering something from the menu, the waitress asked me, “Do you want Supersalad?”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;">Well, I’d always been good about eating my vegetables and I’d never yet had a salad I didn’t like, so I figured I’d probably enjoy Supersalad – whatever it was. Therefore I answered, “Yeah, alright.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;">The waitress asked me again, “Supersalad?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;">I figured she hadn’t heard my answer, so I replied, “Yes, please.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;">“Would you like Supersalad?” the waitress repeated it yet again.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;">So now I’m thinking this woman is either deaf or dense, and I said <i>loudly</i>, “Sure, I’ll try it!”</span></div>
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<span style="color: white;">.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;">That’s when everyone at the table – my Pa, my Ma, my Brother and Sister – they all erupted and started shouting at me: <i>“DO YOU WANT SOUP <u><span style="color: #cc0000;">OR</span></u> SALAD?!”</i></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;">.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;">In an instant I realized: <b><i>Uhp! I'm an idiot!</i></b> Talk about embarrassed. (At that point what I really could have used was a double-martini - hold the Ranch dressing.)</span></div>
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<span style="color: white;">.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;">But I gotta say, a couple of the funniest stories I could tell didn’t actually involve me personally. For instance, there was the time when my Brother Nappy, probably a 4th grader then, was attending a Halloween carnival at our elementary school. He was dressed as a pirate, and at one point he had an unfortunate mishap: the large purple feather protruding from his pirate hat collided with the moist, pink cotton candy he’d been eating. I’ll spare you the details, but it <b><i><u>still</u></i></b> cracks me up!</span></div>
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<span style="color: white;">.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;">Another incident I can’t even think about without GOL ('Guffawing Out Loud') involved my Cousin Johnny, who was a few years younger than I was. It was I who turned Johnny on to Rock ‘N’ Roll music when I was a teenager; years later, it was Johnny who introduced me to the movie <b><i>‘This Is SPINAL TAP’</i></b> – so we’re “even Stephen” now.</span><br />
<span style="color: white; font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;">.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWfu0TISNbdMl_iOEkQoCp02rrfHSfaodrsIf8KjFrPSMFImXzqSgpAfw1jo6MJ1UUo5Hg8879zRg6dpuqKl6D7lRLo8thgHPhzUPZTFjs1b0dBVs8BEuu6IIdyJfwQK-YooQ1vJzVDXE/s1600/spinal+tap+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWfu0TISNbdMl_iOEkQoCp02rrfHSfaodrsIf8KjFrPSMFImXzqSgpAfw1jo6MJ1UUo5Hg8879zRg6dpuqKl6D7lRLo8thgHPhzUPZTFjs1b0dBVs8BEuu6IIdyJfwQK-YooQ1vJzVDXE/s1600/spinal+tap+3.jpg" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="color: white;">.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;">Johnny got so into music that he eventually became the lead singer for several Rock bands; he also played some mean harmonica and was always the principal songwriter in the bands he fronted. My Cousin also had A-list Rock star looks. In fact, his music went from being </span><u style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">so</u><span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;"> </span><u style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">bad</u><span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;"> to </span><u style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">so</u><span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;"> </span><u style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">good</u><span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;">, </span><u style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">so</u><span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;"> </span><u style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">fast</u><span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;">, that I once feared he had sold his soul to the devil at the Crossroads in exchange for talent, a la the great bluesman Robert Johnson. If there was any justice in this world - if it were always the </span><i style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><u>most</u></i><span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;"> talented artists who make it big - Johnny would have been hugely popular, a major Rock star.</span></div>
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<span style="color: white;">.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;">But when he was young and struggling, maybe 19 years old, for awhile Johnny had a job where he went from high-rent office to high-rent office along famous Sunset Boulevard, selling late morning snacks to overpaid corporate office workers. </span></div>
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<span style="color: white;">.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;">One morning, while pulling his carts and ice chests up over a curb on that legendary street, some of them toppled over and one or two bagels managed to break free. Sunset Boulevard is not entirely level, it slopes gently downward from the west toward the east, and when those bagels got loose, they started rolling like tires down the street. My Cousin Johnny gave chase.</span></div>
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<span style="color: white;">.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;">So now imagine that you and a friend or two are tourists from </span><place><city><span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;">Bumphuk</span></city><span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;">, </span><state><span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;">Iowa</span></state></place><span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;">, and you’ve traveled all the way to </span><place><city><span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;">Hollywood</span></city><span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;">, </span><state><span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;">California</span></state></place><span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;">; you’re walking along the famous Sunset strip, and you’re there to see all the glittering tinsel of </span><place><placename><span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;">Tinsel</span></placename><span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;"> </span><placetype><span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;">Town</span></placetype></place><span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;"> and hoping to catch sight of a celebrity or two . . . </span></div>
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<span style="color: white;">.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;">But what you see instead is this lanky, long-haired teenager, running down Sunset Boulevard, chasing a couple of rolling bagels, and the guy is shouting, <span style="color: #cc0000;"><i>“I <u>HATE</u> this job! I <u>HATE</u> this job!”</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;">.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;">Oh, Lord knows, I couldn’t even type that without GOL! Try to tell me <b><i><u>that</u></i></b> wouldn't be a $10,000 winner on 'America's Funniest Home Videos'. </span></div>
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<span style="color: white;">.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;">[Well, there are your answers, Julie. I hope I didn’t disappoint.]</span></div>
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<span style="color: white;">.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;"><i>~ Stephen T. McCarthy</i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: white;">.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana";"><span style="font-size: x-small;">YE OLDE COMMENT POLICY: All comments, pro and con, are welcome. However, ad hominem attacks and disrespectful epithets will not be tolerated (read: "posted"). After all, this isn’t <a href="http://xtremelyun-pcandunrepentant.blogspot.com/2008/07/amazon-just-another-way-to-say-big_07.html"><span style="color: windowtext;">Amazon.com</span></a>, so I don’t have to put up with that kind of bovine excrement</span></span><span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;">.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="color: white;">.</span></span></div>
Stephen T. McCarthyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00249125637725791567noreply@blogger.com27tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-557564794535751440.post-18352717748356786432012-02-29T20:43:00.005-08:002012-03-01T06:23:42.279-08:00THE BEST O’ BUZZES?<span style="color: white;">.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">Yesterday (actually, make that <i>“today”</i> – I’m a bit confused) I worked my first “graveyard” shift in many years. This graveyard work detail I’ve been assigned to supposedly goes through March. Unlike Rocky Balboa, I’m not even hoping to “go the distance”. It’s a forgone conclusion that I will get knocked out by this graveyard job; I’m merely trying to go as many rounds as possible before I’m KO’ed. (The bell for Round Two rings in two hours.)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="color: white;">.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">So, I got home and crawled into bed about 8:30 AM this morning, right after taking a 10 mg. Melatonin tablet and one of Brother Napoleon’s WAL-SOM nighttime sleep aid tablets (25 mg. of Doxylamine Succinate). I know from past experience that just one of those WAL-SOM tablets will hit me really hard and remain in my system for a very long time – I’m extremely susceptible to their effects for whatever biological reason.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="color: white;">.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">At 4:15 PM today, I was awakened by the barking of my neighbor’s dog, which must have smelled Brother Napoleon getting close to home after a long day at work. So I sez to myself, </span><span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">‘Nappy will be coming through the front door any minute, making a lot of racket, so I might as well get outta bed now’</span><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">, sez I.</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="mw-headline"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">I've brushed my teeth, and I’m drinking a bottle of <b><a href="http://stephentmccarthysstuffs.blogspot.com/2012/02/public-service-announcement-for-dog.html">ENERGY 2000</a></b>, trying to wake up and shake off the dopey, cobweb effect of the WAL-SOM that’s still in my system, when the Napster comes in, and by 4:35 PM he’s eating a sandwich and drinking an Odell’s ‘Red Ale’.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="mw-headline"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifZckEEyqm-HaEpZUxNdf_7ZBE-JmNhauwFJnCaI6Dv3K9i46sGsoiNy-FW1HXtdbSM1_ffY_goRSg3xnb0bPNLh4QcOXNodVy0je6RYisBJ5W9DfavglbNN7BPp_VYvAOySd6nRo7RQ0/s1600/Odell+Red+Ale.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifZckEEyqm-HaEpZUxNdf_7ZBE-JmNhauwFJnCaI6Dv3K9i46sGsoiNy-FW1HXtdbSM1_ffY_goRSg3xnb0bPNLh4QcOXNodVy0je6RYisBJ5W9DfavglbNN7BPp_VYvAOySd6nRo7RQ0/s320/Odell+Red+Ale.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">Well, I’m feeling pretty hungry myself, so I microwave one of those </span><b style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><a href="http://stephentmccarthysstuffs.blogspot.com/2011/08/muh-muh-muh-my-ramona-hot-spicy-little.html">Ramona’s chile relleno burritos</a></b><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"> I like so much. And as Nappy and I are eating and talking, that ‘Red Ale’ he is drinking is looking better’n better. To begin with, Odell's ‘Red Ale’ is one of the finest beers I’ve ever had, besides that, I am feeling thirsty and thinking about how good that would go down along with this chile relleno burrito.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjihMHC7ALk-OwtfzGv91VEbpFLQ10fAWjERg71ZPwKrg2ujknta5fVBOa0kNlaxXKhQtuKbitjL9lDg3tfuCuSLxbDUlY5_qr27awi4W61V8e-lkOWTly3GXUXd5pk-IWIa4UJE3iIkzc/s1600/Ramona%2527s_3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjihMHC7ALk-OwtfzGv91VEbpFLQ10fAWjERg71ZPwKrg2ujknta5fVBOa0kNlaxXKhQtuKbitjL9lDg3tfuCuSLxbDUlY5_qr27awi4W61V8e-lkOWTly3GXUXd5pk-IWIa4UJE3iIkzc/s1600/Ramona%2527s_3.jpg" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="mw-headline"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">So I break down, pop a ‘Red Ale’ open, and pour one down the chute. (Yes, one and one <u>ONLY</u> – I am perfectly capable of drinking just a single beer! Whaddaya think, I’m a lush or something? Whatever gave ya that idea?) I was right: Ramona’s chile relleno burrito and Odell's ‘Red Ale’ – “</span></span><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">two great tastes that</span><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"> taste great together!”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">So now I’ve got WAL-SOM in my body trying to put me back to sleep, and Energy 2000 in my body trying to rev me up, and 12 ounces of Odell’s ‘Red Ale’ in my bloodstream just mingling with the others and sayin’, <span style="color: #cc0000;">“How-d’ya-do?”</span>.</span><br />
<span style="color: white; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">With all those chemicals in the mix, simultaneously pulling and pushing me, slowing me down and speeding me up, it was like trying to shift into first gear and into reverse at the very same time. One might suppose that would leave a body in “neutral”, but what I found out is that SOMETHING <u>HAS</u> TO GIVE, and instead of me going forward or backward or idling in a parking space, it drove me <u><span style="color: #cc0000;">STRAIGHT</span></u> <u><span style="color: #cc0000;"><b>UP</b></span></u>!<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">Hokey-Smoke, what a high! That was some seriously good stuffs! </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">(I wonder what the street value of this chemical-combo would be.) <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">Within minutes of blasting off, I went to take a shower so Nappy and I could watch a DVD movie together before he went to bed. Getting into the shower stall, I stumbled and nearly tumbled. Then I almost washed my face with my <b><a href="http://xtremelyun-pcandunrepentant.blogspot.com/2011/05/o-what-tangled-web-we-weave.html">Mane 'N Tail</a></b> shampoo instead of my Walgreen’s ‘Gentle Skin Cleanser’.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">I kid you not, peoples, I can state unequivocally that I’ve not felt <i><u><span style="color: #cc0000;">THAT</span></u></i> <i><span style="color: #cc0000;">GOOD</span></i> since 1974, when I had an erotic dream one night about Susan Dey.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><i>~ Stephen T. McCarthy</i><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Verdana;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">YE OLDE COMMENT POLICY: All comments, pro and con, are welcome. However, ad hominem attacks and disrespectful epithets will not be tolerated (read: "posted"). After all, this isn’t <a href="http://xtremelyun-pcandunrepentant.blogspot.com/2008/07/amazon-just-another-way-to-say-big_07.html"><span style="color: windowtext;">Amazon.com</span></a>, so I don’t have to put up with that kind of bovine excrement.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="color: white;">.</span></span><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>Stephen T. McCarthyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00249125637725791567noreply@blogger.com25tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-557564794535751440.post-41444112757614047802012-02-27T19:56:00.010-08:002014-12-04T13:07:27.961-08:00FILM NOIR: MY TOP TEN + TWO (Or, FILM NOIR: MY TOP TWELVE)<span style="color: white;">.</span><br />
<span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">This List Is A Construction Zone – The Work Is Ongoing;</span><br />
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<span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">Please Pardon Our Dust And Wear Your Hard Hat:</span><br />
<span style="color: white; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><i>.</i></span><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7BM1Iq_R-1UYDG0RBTx7J56H_WBa6i4zsz7rIFKQuOkgTa75LNXyncBNhJVevVBZtrJp_h3c477nJaqDByeUgTW32K6xdU5BgR8mCyfYWYZhUi3NKwJIV0-ro58jFPQaFKPomRSKIb-U/s1600/Nighthawks.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7BM1Iq_R-1UYDG0RBTx7J56H_WBa6i4zsz7rIFKQuOkgTa75LNXyncBNhJVevVBZtrJp_h3c477nJaqDByeUgTW32K6xdU5BgR8mCyfYWYZhUi3NKwJIV0-ro58jFPQaFKPomRSKIb-U/s400/Nighthawks.jpg" height="186" width="400" /></a><br />
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</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><i>[If Film Noir were a painting it would be Edward Hopper’s ‘Nighthawks’.]</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><i><span style="color: white;">.</span></i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">The very first movie I ever saw that one could categorize as Film Noir was likely ‘Sorry, Wrong Number’. I saw it when I was quite young, probably on television’s The Late Show, or something like that. I remember it scared me pretty good.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="color: white;">.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">Some years later I made it a point to see Alfred Hitchcock’s ‘Strangers On A Train’ because my Ma told me the first time she saw it that movie scared the bejabbers out of her. I believed her, too, because I’d never known her to be in possession of any bejabbers.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="color: white;">.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">Over the years, I’ve viewed a lot of movies that fit into the Film Noir category, but I’m hardly the expert my dear friend The Flyin’ Aardvark is – she’s become my Film Noir confidante and advisor.</span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">.</span><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1t26HUuC83xmL-MRuM_uUcaYyVWgTfBGQ0mIYrrMqyfmFinHGGjBe5A_M-mvYBJo-GPz1xnJDF1qpyTOsZe8pGicolw01CNBuAvcdq9u1liAFCtVAaHJ6FKPbgvGnpoKxwmAJCgMzDVE/s1600/Film+Noir+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1t26HUuC83xmL-MRuM_uUcaYyVWgTfBGQ0mIYrrMqyfmFinHGGjBe5A_M-mvYBJo-GPz1xnJDF1qpyTOsZe8pGicolw01CNBuAvcdq9u1liAFCtVAaHJ6FKPbgvGnpoKxwmAJCgMzDVE/s320/Film+Noir+3.jpg" height="320" width="287" /></a><br />
<span style="color: white;">.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">What, exactly, IS Film Noir? Well, that’s a question easier asked than answered. I don’t think there’s “exactly” a cut and dried response to that, as various opinions are abundant.</span><br />
<span style="color: white; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">In his commentary for ‘Where The Sidewalk Ends’, Film Noir historian Eddie Muller joked: </span><span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">“With the Venetian blind shadows it’s now <u>OFFICIALLY</u> a film noir. I should do a study on that at some point and see if a movie can actually be Film Noir if it <i>DOESN’T</i> have Venetian blind shadows...”</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJTL65a0684zMV-HxRzyOHwp63VGwr-bCmDa7JlYvwI9WY9Zc6-rM6AgXsNSJeXRcOd9tTUV4wjXOgcVxBQMCS9T3xjXlLKigM3S180U8oQe9ff56hSjvcnS4YpOznroPmbyW96nCHVnI/s1600/Film+Noir+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJTL65a0684zMV-HxRzyOHwp63VGwr-bCmDa7JlYvwI9WY9Zc6-rM6AgXsNSJeXRcOd9tTUV4wjXOgcVxBQMCS9T3xjXlLKigM3S180U8oQe9ff56hSjvcnS4YpOznroPmbyW96nCHVnI/s400/Film+Noir+2.jpg" height="400" width="266" /></a><br />
<span style="color: white;">.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">Here’s a definition from the 20th</span><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"> Cetury Fox marketing department:</span><br />
<span style="color: white; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt; font-style: italic;">“Film noir, a classic film style of the ‘40s and ‘50s, is noted for its dark themes, stark camera angles and high-contrast lighting. Comprising many of </span><st1:city style="font-style: italic;"><st1:place><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">Hollywood</span></st1:place></st1:city><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><i>’s finest films, film noir tells realistic stories about crime, mystery, femmes fatales and moral conflict.”</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><i><span style="color: white;">.</span></i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">That’s a pretty good, succinct definition. Except, of course, many of the elements of Film Noir extended well beyond the ‘50s and into the ‘60s, ‘70s, and beyond. But truly the “classic” era of Film Noir is the ‘40s and ‘50s, with its black and white cinematography.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="color: white;">.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">If you’d like a more detailed description of this type of film, you can read ‘AMC: Film Noir – Part 1’ by clicking </span><b style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><a href="http://www.filmsite.org/filmnoir.html">HERE</a></b><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">. And there’s also some relevant information to be found at Movie Metropolis right </span><b style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><a href="http://moviemet.com/review/tcm-greatest-classic-films-murder-mysteries">HERE</a></b><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="color: white;">.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">In 2004, I wrote a review for a Jazz album, ‘Signature’, by alto saxophonist Richie Cole. I titled the review ‘It Was A Rainy Night In Nineteen Eighty-Eight...’ and I took a Film Noir approach when describing my favorite instrumental on the album. When my good pal (and Film Noir expert) Flyin’ Aardvark read the review years later, she had this to say:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="color: white;">.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">Wow. I love, Love, LOVE this review. I think you’ve covered all of the key elements of film noir in a couple of paragraphs (rain-swept streets, trench coats and fedoras, dicey transactions in dodgy establishments, tardy and temperamental dames). Such a clever way of reviewing a jazz album.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="color: white;">.</span></span><br />
<i style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">[I’ll add a link to that review at the bottom of this blog bit.]</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifJozFROa1xzPwy3SWrpbEJsdxC-E1S-EbtGF7mtF35j7ErIwaGRvZBOyjksKDz0s7MXps0_aE0RuRpW9yK01OITF5m1h5OkuZZlYeRJ_3mqL0iVTeNb-K-ghOEI-gxY4ibteB_HdXjMg/s1600/Film+Noir+6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifJozFROa1xzPwy3SWrpbEJsdxC-E1S-EbtGF7mtF35j7ErIwaGRvZBOyjksKDz0s7MXps0_aE0RuRpW9yK01OITF5m1h5OkuZZlYeRJ_3mqL0iVTeNb-K-ghOEI-gxY4ibteB_HdXjMg/s400/Film+Noir+6.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a><br />
<span style="color: white;">.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">In a more recent discussion with the Flyin’ Aard about Film Noir, I expressed what it is I find most appealing about the genre (even if some people argue that Noir isn’t really “a genre”)...</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="color: white;">.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">...that wonderful Noir look I like so much, with lots of weird shadows and interesting visual compositions. ... The thing that draws me to the genre more than anything else is the “look” or “atmosphere” of it, and then that hard-boiled style of the detectives with the snappy, cynical dialogue and the now-“cliché” slang like “rod”, “gat”, “dame”, “blow”, etc. But most of all, it’s the dark, shadowy, steamy atmosphere that I like the most.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiansrC6hlx0iv2pjaswCVzf6l7-Al4m9aJIyiH7XCP8VmSu5F4XypI5Fmo8cfiuWVONZ5Jmv71UTXh8tYh90piUyk8s3QxWxl08IwkW1gQNcLW279vmO4yDK4XBuY1D-9Vy4SVfahvJno/s1600/Film+Noir+7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiansrC6hlx0iv2pjaswCVzf6l7-Al4m9aJIyiH7XCP8VmSu5F4XypI5Fmo8cfiuWVONZ5Jmv71UTXh8tYh90piUyk8s3QxWxl08IwkW1gQNcLW279vmO4yDK4XBuY1D-9Vy4SVfahvJno/s1600/Film+Noir+7.jpg" /></a><br />
<span style="color: white;">.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">My personal definition of Film Noir goes like this: An urban crime story which includes the traditional Noir “</span><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">high-contrast lighting” (mentioned above). If the movie also features a tough but semi-seedy and unsentimental, fedora-wearing, bourbon-drinking detective, a hot femme fatale and a voice-over narration, all the better!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="color: white;">.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">Although movies like ‘Treasure Of The Sierra Madre’ and ‘Night Of The Hunter’ contain many of the elements commonly associated with Film Noir, I myself do not count them in the category because their settings are more rural than urban.</span><br />
<span style="color: white; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">‘</span><st1:city><st1:place><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">Casablanca</span></st1:place></st1:city><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">’ is a truly great movie and the debate has long raged about whether or not it is an example of Noir. I think it ought to be included in the Noir Canon because it utilizes almost every ingredient associated with the “genre”. And for every element that the naysayers use to argue against ‘Casablanca’ being considered an example of Film Noir, I could point to some other movie that is universally regarded as Noir but which also includes or fails to include whatever element the naysayer is picking on.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="color: white;">.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">Nevertheless, this is one of the very rare times when I will allow the general “consensus” to influence me. Y’all know I’m a true maverick almost all of the time, but I’ll “give an inch” just this once and disqualify ‘Casablanca’ from my list because I don’t want to have to compose some long, time-consuming explanation for why I have included it, and also because when it comes to this subject, I’m willing to defer to the Flyin’ Aardvark, and she wrote:</span><br />
<span style="color: white; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="color: #cc0000;">I think [</span><b style="color: #cc0000;">‘</b></span><st1:city style="color: #cc0000;"><st1:place><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><b>Casablanca</b></span></st1:place></st1:city><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="color: #cc0000;"><b>’</b>] has noir elements … but I have never really thought of it that way. … at its heart, I think of it as more of a romance picture –</span></span><br />
<span style="color: white; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><i>[See, now in response to that I might write: “But what about ‘Criss Cross’, universally regarded as classic Noir and yet it isn’t any less a “romance” movie than is ‘</i></span><st1:city style="font-style: italic;"><st1:place><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">Casablanca</span></st1:place></st1:city><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><i>’?” But I won’t write that because I’m just not going to argue for Bogie’s White House.]</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><i><span style="color: white;">.</span></i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">Conversely, plenty of people include ‘Citizen Kane’ on lists of early and classic Film Noir. Although one can make an argument for it when it comes to much of the lighting and camera work, and it is a “detective”/mystery story in a sense, the absence of a crime precludes it from qualifying for my own list.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhauFGxtZq9lLKRxuP3KtlKJ-a9tQJFbS3g2aNX3GkAm2jx5ixbM1u7grPJgBNNyx373g3cJXFrrh-tNn9aQNwf_nhq1xNUMiYAXv-7R1PPhMotJTkGpV3Yc83enyqY9P0fh9roStq8tUM/s1600/Night+And+The+City+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhauFGxtZq9lLKRxuP3KtlKJ-a9tQJFbS3g2aNX3GkAm2jx5ixbM1u7grPJgBNNyx373g3cJXFrrh-tNn9aQNwf_nhq1xNUMiYAXv-7R1PPhMotJTkGpV3Yc83enyqY9P0fh9roStq8tUM/s400/Night+And+The+City+2.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a><br />
<span style="color: white;">.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">Now then, below you will find my personal (but still under construction and open to revisions) list of Top Ten Film Noir Favorites + 2 (and minus <span style="color: #cc0000;"><b>‘</b></span></span><u><span style="color: #cc0000;"><b><st1:city><st1:place><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">Casablanca</span></st1:place></st1:city></b></span></u><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="color: #cc0000;"><b>’</b></span> which would have come in easily at<u><b> </b></u><span style="color: #cc0000;"><b>#</b></span><u><span style="color: #cc0000;"><b>2</b></span></u> on this list if I <i>had</i> included it) but first . . .</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="color: white;">.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">Here is an entertaining scene of a Film Noir spoof featured in one of the most memorable episodes of the TV show ‘Moonlighting’ with Bruce Willis and Cybill Shepherd. As should be clear from the title, the classic they are having fun with is ‘The Postman Always Rings Twice’. It’s a comedic look at what Film Noir is all about; this’ll ‘splain the entire style in five minutes time:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="color: white;">.</span></span><br />
<b style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">2x04 The Dream Sequence Always Rings Twice</b></div>
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<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GRZ6S4yCiR4" style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GRZ6S4yCiR4</a></div>
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<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b><u>MY TOP TEN TODAY</u></b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;"><span style="color: white; font-size: x-small;">.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="color: #333333;"><b>#10: </b></span><span style="color: #cc0000; font-weight: bold;">‘The Maltese Falcon’</span><span style="color: #333333; font-weight: bold;"> (1941)</span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">Stars: Humphrey Bogart; Peter Lorre; Mary Astor; Sydney Greenstreet</span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">Director: Walter Huston</span><br />
<span style="color: white; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">.</span><br />
<span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt; font-style: italic;">“</span><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt; font-style: italic;"><span style="color: #cc0000;">When you're slapped, you'll take it and like it!”</span></span></div>
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><i>~ Sam Spade</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="color: white;">.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">A
very complex detective story about a collection of connivers attempting
to get possession of a jewel-encrusted black falcon statuette – “the
stuffS that dreams are made of.”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;"><span style="color: #333333;"><b style="font-size: 10pt;">#9: </b></span><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: 10pt; font-weight: bold;">‘Double Indemnity’</span><span style="color: #333333; font-size: 10pt; font-weight: bold;"> (1944)</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">Stars: Fred MacMurray; Barbara Stanwyck; Edward G. Robinson<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">Director: Billy Wilder</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="color: white;">.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="color: #cc0000; font-style: italic;">“Who'd you think I was anyway? The guy that walks into a good looking dame's front parlour and says, ‘Good afternoon, I sell accident insurance on husbands... you got one that's been around too long? One you'd like to turn into a little hard cash?’”</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><i>~ Walter Neff</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="color: white;">.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">An insurance salesman helps a woman murder her husband. He does it for the money and he does it for the woman. He doesn't get the money, and he doesn't get the woman.</span><br />
<span style="color: white; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="color: white;">..</span>.</span><br />
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><b>#8: </b></span><span style="color: #cc0000; font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">‘</span><st1:place><st1:placetype><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">Cape</span></st1:placetype><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"> </span><st1:placename><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">Fear</span></st1:placename></st1:place></span><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><b><span style="color: #cc0000;">’</span><span style="color: #333333;"> (1962)</span></b></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">Stars: Robert Mitchum; Gregory Peck<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">Director: J. Lee Thompson</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="color: white;">.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="color: #cc0000; font-style: italic;">“I got somethin' planned for your wife and kid that they ain't nevah gonna forget. They ain't nevah gonna forget it... and neither will you, Counselor! Nevah!”</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><i>~ Max Cady</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="color: white;">.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">By targeting his family, an ex-convict seeks revenge on the lawyer who prosecuted him. This, the original, is 100 times better than the atrocious, comic book “horror” movie remake starring Robert DeNiro in 1991.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="color: white;">.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">Unlike DeNiro’s caricature performance, Mitchum plays the ex-con with such a subtle, understated but unmistakably brewing anger that the menace is truly palpable, making Max Cady one of the greatest film villains <i>evah!</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="color: white;">.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="color: #333333;"><b>#7:</b></span><span style="color: #cc0000; font-weight: bold;"> ‘The Strange Love Of Martha Ivers’</span><span style="color: #333333; font-weight: bold;"> (1946)</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">Stars: Van Heflin, Kirk Douglas, Barbara Stanwyck<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">Director: Lewis Milestone</span><br />
<span style="color: white; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">.</span><br />
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><i>Walter O'Neil</i></span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt; font-style: italic;">:</span><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><i><span style="color: #cc0000;"> “I wasn't going to shoot.” </span></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;"><i> <span style="color: #333333; font-size: 10pt;"> Sam Masterson: </span><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: 10pt;">“I wasn't going to wait and see.”</span></i></span><br />
<span style="color: white; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">.</span><br />
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">Y</span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">oung heiress Martha Ivers is prevented from running away with her friend Sam Masterson, and subsequently becomes involved in fatal events. Many years later, Sam’s car breaks down in his boyhood town and his reappearance draws him into a conspiratorial web of scheming.</span><br />
<span style="color: white; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">.</span><br />
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">I don’t usually go for the blondes, but there was something appealing about the sultry “bad girl” </span><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">'Toni' Marachek that got my attention ...and kept it. Van Heflin – hate his wavy hair, but he played a very charismatic tough guy.</span><br />
<span style="color: white; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">.</span><br />
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt; font-weight: bold;">#6: </span><span style="color: #cc0000; font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">‘</span><st1:place><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">Key Largo</span></st1:place></span><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><b><span style="color: #cc0000;">’</span><span style="color: #333333;"> (1948)</span></b></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">Stars: Humphrey Bogart, Lauren Bacall, Edward G. Robinson<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">Director: John Huston</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="color: white;">.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="color: #cc0000; font-style: italic;">“Nobody messes with Johnny Rocco, see?”</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><i>~ Johnny Rocco</i></span><br />
<span style="color: white; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">.</span><br />
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">A group of dissimilar individuals are held captive in a </span><st1:place><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">Florida Keys</span></st1:place><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"> hotel by a gang of hoodlums waiting out a storm so they can make good their escape from the law.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="color: white;">.</span></span><br />
<b style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">KEY LARGO</b></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><b><br />
</b></span></div>
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<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/GlohlrJKpp8?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: Verdana; font-size: x-small;"><b>.</b></span><br />
<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=endscreen&NR=1&v=aCYVsCQSsf8">http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=endscreen&NR=1&v=aCYVsCQSsf8</a></div>
</div>
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<span style="color: white;">.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="color: #333333;"><b>#5: </b></span><span style="color: #cc0000; font-weight: bold;">‘Murder, My Sweet’</span><span style="color: #333333; font-weight: bold;"> (1944)</span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">Stars: Dick Powell; Claire Trevor</span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">Director: Edward Dmytryk</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="color: white;">.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="color: #cc0000; font-style: italic;">“I tried to picture him in love with somebody... but it didn't work.”</span></span></div>
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><i>~ Philip Marlowe</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="color: white;">.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="color: #333333;">Another complex detective story, this one about a stolen necklace and... </span><b><i><span style="color: #cc0000;">MURDER</span><span style="color: #333333;">!</span></i></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="color: white;">.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">Claire
Trevor – one of my all-time favorite actresses – plays the femme
fatale, and Powell turns in a performance that the story’s author,
Raymond Chandler, said was his favorite screen version of Detective
Marlowe.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="color: white;">.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">For a tough private investigator, Marlowe sure takes one beating after another in this movie... but he keeps on ticking.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt; font-weight: bold;">#4: </span><span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt; font-weight: bold;">‘Touch Of Evil’</span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt; font-weight: bold;"> (1958)</span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">Stars: Charleton Heston. Janet Leigh, Orson Welles<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">Director: Orson Welles</span><br />
<span style="color: white; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="color: #cc0000;"><i>“An old lady on </i></span></span><st1:street style="color: #cc0000; font-style: italic;"><st1:address><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">Main Street</span></st1:address></st1:street><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt; font-style: italic;"><span style="color: #cc0000;"> last night picked up a shoe. The shoe had a foot in it. We're gonna make you pay for that mess.”</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><i>~ Police Captain Hank Quinlan</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="color: white;">.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">A Mexican narcotics officer attempts to solve a murder while simultaneously having to combat a corrupt American police captain and his Good Ol’ Boy network.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="color: white;">.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">Imagine a Film Noir story constructed by the same man who directed and starred in ‘Citizen Kane’. Well, that’s what you have here, and so naturally it is “Grand” in every sense of the word!</span><br />
<span style="color: white; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">.</span><br />
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">As seems to be the case in much Film Noir, there is a convoluted storyline, a couple of plot holes, and some weird </span><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">stuffs goin’ on (like<span style="color: #333333;"> </span>Marlene Dietrich in the role of a Mexican madam, and some <span style="color: #333333;">White dudes trying to play young Mexican thugs, etc.)</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="color: white;">.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">Charleton Heston may not be entirely believable as a Mexican official, but damned if he doesn’t look almost exactly like Vicente Fox! However, there are some wildly interesting performances here, one by Welles, but also by a couple of minor players.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="color: white;">.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">The real star of the movie in my book, though, is the atmosphere and cinematography, beginning with one outrageously creative, fantastic, single-shot street scene of nearly three and a half minutes duration – the greatest cinematic opening I’ve ever had the pleasure to watch!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="color: white;">.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">Many viewers probably wouldn’t even notice what an amazing shot ‘Touch Of Evil’ starts with, and most have no idea what sort of work, plotting, timing, camera-crane/dollying action went into creating that editless opening (right up until the moment the car explodes), but I sat there astonished by it. I even had to go back and replay that opening scene again after the movie was over to relive the genius of it!</span><br />
<span style="color: white; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">.</span><br />
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">No question, Orson Welles was an over-the-top brilliant director, and how he was able to conceive using </span><st1:place><st1:city><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">Venice Beach</span></st1:city><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">, </span><st1:state><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">California</span></st1:state></st1:place><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">, in the role of a small, decrepit town on the American/Mexican border, and make it look so gosh-darned “Film Noir-y” is testament to his rare cinematic vision. </span><st1:place><st1:placename><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">Venice</span></st1:placename><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"> </span><st1:placetype><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">Beach</span></st1:placetype></st1:place><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">? - A Mexican border town? On the surface it sounds preposterous but . . . only the mind of Orson Welles:</span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">.</span><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp2L1m5F67hVyRmNYR5xFzGDv_GJf2Dw8dUZ-oC5-xrqikZNXbx60eJeSiuMSGmxTGHytq7GMfdRw5pTrrmLMlSixqlVl1JL5ut8eADGjJZylF_CVvpWGaJHJpT7wE9Dt5rKjXSqK8Y6E/s1600/Touch+Of+Evil.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp2L1m5F67hVyRmNYR5xFzGDv_GJf2Dw8dUZ-oC5-xrqikZNXbx60eJeSiuMSGmxTGHytq7GMfdRw5pTrrmLMlSixqlVl1JL5ut8eADGjJZylF_CVvpWGaJHJpT7wE9Dt5rKjXSqK8Y6E/s400/Touch+Of+Evil.jpg" height="297" width="400" /></a><br />
<span style="color: white;">.</span><br />
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">If for no other reason, ‘Touch Of Evil’ should be seen just for the astounding sets, classic Noir atmosphere, and ingenious cinematography. This is the stuffs I watch Noir for!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="color: white;">.</span></span><br />
<b style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">#3: <span style="color: #cc0000;">‘Night And The City’</span> (1950)</b></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">Stars: Richard Widmark, Gene Tierney<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">Director: Jules Dassin</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="color: white;">.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="color: #cc0000; font-style: italic;">"No, dear boy, I am not giving you two-hundred quid. I am giving you the sharp edge of the knife."</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="font-style: italic;">~ Philip Nosseross</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><i>.</i></span><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOpKfz1mPuwu0kNwgVjYQHCJ15_MDkQNXT6QUtXwP6F0WqAvNxyWx19Bgz3u8gN0cCcphJOfe7qd6-8CS6nbpNKQEktoFWnhyphenhyphenwmXbcuYHb4Dbdv-pKIP6BJG-dI71_PQlnN85tNPOrSD8/s1600/Night+And+The+City+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOpKfz1mPuwu0kNwgVjYQHCJ15_MDkQNXT6QUtXwP6F0WqAvNxyWx19Bgz3u8gN0cCcphJOfe7qd6-8CS6nbpNKQEktoFWnhyphenhyphenwmXbcuYHb4Dbdv-pKIP6BJG-dI71_PQlnN85tNPOrSD8/s1600/Night+And+The+City+1.jpg" /></a><br />
<span style="color: white;">.</span><br />
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">No Film Noir looks better than 'Night And The City'. This one takes place in </span><st1:city><st1:place><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">London</span></st1:place></st1:city><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">, where indebted, on-the-ropes hustler Harry Fabian turns family members against each other as he attempts to gain control of the professional wrestling racket and finally make his mark in the world.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="color: white;">.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">There are several characters with various agendas that collide in this fabulously moody, atmospheric movie. This is exactly what I want my Film Noir to look like! The cinematography is artful and beautiful and but for a too-long and somewhat too hysterical wrestling scene, ‘Night And The City’ would probably have scored the #2 spot on my list. It could easily have been titled ‘Loser On The Run’.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="color: white;">.</span></span><br />
<b style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">#2: <span style="color: #cc0000;">‘Where The Sidewalk Ends’</span> (1950)</b></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">Stars: Dana Andrews, Gene Tierney<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">Director: Otto Preminger</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="color: white;">.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><i>“I could use a drink.”</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><i>~ Detective Mark Dixon</i></span><br />
<span style="color: white; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><i>.</i></span><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk8y1IFKz4EiLl615wQ50BLv52fhwbFODx2LHZKkndWTDwu2WTC7IkjrEF_8HMt43sYVuOBlEFzyO8RgiYAWy-w7glWI8q0Wrq9OHo0q95NcH7XzRjmGF80D2sYU_FDxmBYE2BcA1tFOU/s1600/Film+Noir+8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk8y1IFKz4EiLl615wQ50BLv52fhwbFODx2LHZKkndWTDwu2WTC7IkjrEF_8HMt43sYVuOBlEFzyO8RgiYAWy-w7glWI8q0Wrq9OHo0q95NcH7XzRjmGF80D2sYU_FDxmBYE2BcA1tFOU/s400/Film+Noir+8.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a><br />
<span style="color: white;">.</span><br />
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">Sgt. Mark Dixon is trying to be something his dad wasn’t: a guy on the right side of the law. But his zeal and his ability to rough up the bad guys gets him in hot water with his boss at the police precinct.</span><br />
<span style="color: white; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">.</span><br />
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">After he’s warned to cease his violent crusade against the criminal element, fate pulls </span><st1:city><st1:place><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">Dixon</span></st1:place></st1:city><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"> in further. He becomes responsible for an accidental death which he covers up. Afterwards, the father of the woman </span><st1:city><st1:place><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">Dixon</span></st1:place></st1:city><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"> has fallen in love with is accused of the murder and all the evidence points to the old man’s guilt. What’s a cop to do?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="color: white;">.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">This one might well be the template for all the </span><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="color: #cc0000;">‘semi-bad good cop’ / “I’m taking you off the case, McCallahan”-type</span></span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"> police movies that came later.</span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">.</span><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzbnopRZwrDecbiRSWAIJ2XEtHMQjDpapgMjA1-8zJtxp6dscV0W8VELqqrnDRKN9HhUAgJlKUdGr_HIH3YAttxJax9wPq-xOdRCkPSslWUceOSk0cIoQMBKjkEwOk3ViyglnYOD6bwz8/s1600/Film+Noir+10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzbnopRZwrDecbiRSWAIJ2XEtHMQjDpapgMjA1-8zJtxp6dscV0W8VELqqrnDRKN9HhUAgJlKUdGr_HIH3YAttxJax9wPq-xOdRCkPSslWUceOSk0cIoQMBKjkEwOk3ViyglnYOD6bwz8/s400/Film+Noir+10.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a><br />
<span style="color: white;">.</span><br />
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">Dana Andrews makes an ideal hard-boiled, tough-as-nails Film Noir detective; Andrews looks the way I want my detectives to look, and the movie puts </span><st1:state><st1:place><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">New York</span></st1:place></st1:state><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"> in the perfect Noir light! The sets, the atmosphere, the cast... picture perfect!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="color: white;">.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">‘Where The Sidewalk Ends’ is one of three on my list [along with #6 and #8] that my friend the Flyin’ Aardvark recommended to me.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="color: white;">.</span></span><br />
<b style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">#1: <span style="color: #cc0000;">‘Sunset Boulevard’</span> (1950)</b></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">Stars: William Holden, Gloria Swanson<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">Director: Billy Wilder</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="color: white;">.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="color: #cc0000; font-style: italic;">“Alright, Mister DeMille, I'm ready for my close-up”.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><i>~ Norma Desmond</i></span><br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_ckWeCUrFeXfvkG4YUiJSmi712-kr4_M54LS0pNhjK9inn19N6mWTxADiXJPxZzz2mYHZ29PcnuIUJzlOroydlaokuvD8jTZt0pFLF660RtzXv-39RXw9S_q8nhY8EvlP5kbw1jrbI2A/s1600/Sunset+Blvd.+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_ckWeCUrFeXfvkG4YUiJSmi712-kr4_M54LS0pNhjK9inn19N6mWTxADiXJPxZzz2mYHZ29PcnuIUJzlOroydlaokuvD8jTZt0pFLF660RtzXv-39RXw9S_q8nhY8EvlP5kbw1jrbI2A/s320/Sunset+Blvd.+1.jpg" height="252" width="320" /></a><br />
<span style="color: white;">.</span><br />
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">William Holden (one of my very favorite actors, along with James Dean and John Wayne) plays down-on-his-luck screenwriter Joe Gillis who uses the body, money, and </span><st1:place><st1:placetype><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">mansion</span></st1:placetype><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"> of </span><st1:placename><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">Norma Desmond</span></st1:placename></st1:place><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">, a forgotten silent film star who dreams of making a <strike>comeback</strike> <i>“return”</i> to the silver screen. Gillis becomes increasingly uncomfortable with his lifestyle while Desmond clings more and more desperately to him as she dives deeper and deeper into her delusions.</span><br />
<span style="color: white; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">.</span><br />
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">Gloria Swanson gives a performance for the ages as Norma Desmond, which </span><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">Harriet Sansom Harris hilariously channeled decades later in her TV role as Bebe Glazer, Frasier Crane’s conniving agent.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="color: white;">.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">Look, any movie that begins with the image of a man floating face down in a swimming pool while the voice-over narration of the dead man himself begins explaining to the viewer how he ended up in this condition couldn’t be anything but great!</span><br />
<span style="color: white; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">‘Sunset Boulevard’ is Hollyweird self-criticism, black comedy, and Noir at its “noirest”. It’s also an absolute classic, a genuine masterpiece that was selected by the Library of Congress for preservation in the National Film Registry due to its being </span><span lang="EN" style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">"culturally, historically, or aesthetically significant".</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiptAy6jWiHZBhKGnZKb5ZGMDkx7Msorbw4TFDpANXVJRTWQsRqeXS9DwiOZc0i_SIHom6q2HkKhNwvFG9GvTUYhHoE3VOgFwBb6MqiqIJG1LYdvXiPdhc33eKMYXhTWJpbmk_R9D4T21k/s1600/Sunset+Blvd.+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiptAy6jWiHZBhKGnZKb5ZGMDkx7Msorbw4TFDpANXVJRTWQsRqeXS9DwiOZc0i_SIHom6q2HkKhNwvFG9GvTUYhHoE3VOgFwBb6MqiqIJG1LYdvXiPdhc33eKMYXhTWJpbmk_R9D4T21k/s400/Sunset+Blvd.+2.jpg" height="297" width="400" /></a></div>
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<i>[<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">Joe Gillis</span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">: </span><span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">“The poor dope - he always wanted a pool. Well, in the end, he got himself a pool.”</span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">]</span></i><br />
<span style="color: white; font-family: Verdana; font-size: x-small;"><i>.</i></span><br />
<b style="color: #333333; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><u><span style="font-size: large;">HONORABLE / DISHONORABLE MENTION</span></u></b><br />
<span style="color: white; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">.</span><br />
<b><span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">‘Out Of The Past’</span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"> (1947)</span></b></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">Stars: Robert Mitchum; Kirk Douglas<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">Director: Jacques Tourneur</span><br />
<span style="color: white; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">.</span><br />
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><i>Kathie Moffat</i></span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt; font-style: italic;">: </span><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><i><span style="color: #cc0000;">“Oh, Jeff, you ought to have killed me for what I did a moment ago.”</span></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;"><i> <span style="color: #333333; font-size: 10pt;"> Jeff Bailey: </span></i><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: 10pt;"><i>“There's time.”</i></span></span><br />
<span style="color: white; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><i>.</i></span><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSWf1mDTsdWSz8bZj4JcEXpMQcGWAOh-sYTL0NjrnucLb9PRkiTQ5CXejHdmWfW8BnjtEa6-TTaq79vn0Uo9MpON73pRPL50ga1ZCJzJoCKwpzpsplPpzRvSuylyLbvYpMse7cwAkbXg8/s1600/Out+Of+The+Past.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSWf1mDTsdWSz8bZj4JcEXpMQcGWAOh-sYTL0NjrnucLb9PRkiTQ5CXejHdmWfW8BnjtEa6-TTaq79vn0Uo9MpON73pRPL50ga1ZCJzJoCKwpzpsplPpzRvSuylyLbvYpMse7cwAkbXg8/s320/Out+Of+The+Past.jpg" height="253" width="320" /></a><br />
<span style="color: white;">.</span><br />
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">A private detective is hired by a gangster to investigate the disappearance of his girlfriend. In many ways, this is the quintessential example of Film Noir, with some of the snappiest dialogue you’ll find in a movie of this type.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="color: white;">.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">Unfortunately, I have rarely seen a movie fall so quickly and so completely apart as this one does: the last 3-5 minutes contains three preposterously illogical plot holes/dumb character actions. It’s almost as if the filmmakers said: “We MUST find a way to make this story end badly!”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="color: white;">.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">Even so, ‘Out Of The Past’ contains everything anyone would watch a Film Noir for, and the first 92 minutes were so good that I simply had to mention it here despite the utterly ridiculous ending.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="color: white;">.</span></span><br />
<b><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;"><u>TWO FILM NOIR SPOOFS I DIG</u></span></b><br />
<span style="color: white; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">.</span><br />
<b><span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">'Who Framed Roger Rabbit'</span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"> (1988)</span></b></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">Stars: Bob Hoskins, Christopher Lloyd, Roger Rabbit, Baby Herman</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="color: white;">.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="color: #cc0000; font-style: italic;">“I'm not bad. I'm just drawn that way.”</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><i>~ Jessica Rabbit</i></span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><i>, cartoon femme fatale extraordinaire</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="color: white;">.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">In ‘Who Framed Roger Rabbit’, real actors and actresses play out their scenes while interacting with animated cartoon characters; it’s a world inhabited by both people and ‘toons.</span><br />
<span style="color: white; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">.</span><br />
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">The movie is really a takeoff on or a burlesque of Jack Nicholson’s 1974 neo-Noir film ‘</span><st1:place><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">Chinatown</span></st1:place><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">’. In ‘Roger Rabbit’, </span><st1:place><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">Chinatown</span></st1:place><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"> becomes Toontown, and the mystery pertaining to </span><st1:city><st1:place><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">Los Angeles</span></st1:place></st1:city><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"> water rights becomes a mystery concerning the acquisition of land to be used in the construction of </span><st1:city><st1:place><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">L.A.</span></st1:place></st1:city><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">’s first freeway system. If ‘Roger Rabbit’ is not Noir, then neither is ‘</span><st1:place><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">Chinatown</span></st1:place><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">’.</span><br />
<span style="color: white; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">.</span><br />
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">I suspect everyone has already seen ‘Who Framed Roger Rabbit’, but shame on anyone who hasn’t. It’s one of my all-time Top 25 Favorite Movies, made all the more enjoyable by a viewer’s knowledge of ‘</span><st1:place><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">Chinatown</span></st1:place><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">’ which this half-animated 1988 classic “drew” from.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="color: white;">.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="color: #cc0000; font-weight: bold;">‘Dead Men Don’t Wear Plaid’</span><span style="color: #333333; font-weight: bold;"> (1982)</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">Stars: Steve Martin, Rachel Ward<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">Director: Carl Reiner</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="color: white;">.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">In this very clever, imaginative comedy, Martin plays private investigator Rigby Reardon, who is hired by a woman to… whatever… investigate something.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="color: white;">.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">What makes this so much fun is that a bunch of clips from old Film Noir movies have been edited into the scenes with Steve Martin, making it appear as if he is really interacting with the likes of Humphrey Bogart, et al.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="color: white;">.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">Here’s an example of one of my very favorite moments:</span><br />
<span style="color: white; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">.</span><br />
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><i>Charles Laughton</i></span><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><i><span style="color: #333333;">: </span><span style="color: #cc0000;">“We know who you are, Mr. Rigby.” </span></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;"><i> <span style="color: #333333; font-size: 10pt;"> Rigby Reardon:</span><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: 10pt;"> “I'm interested. Who am I?”</span><br />
<span style="color: #333333; font-size: 10pt;"> Charles Laughton: </span><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: 10pt;">“You could be a guy who collects 10,000 dollars, just to leave this stinking town.” </span><br />
<span style="color: #333333; font-size: 10pt;"> Rigby Reardon: </span><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: 10pt;">“I could, could I?”</span><br />
<span style="color: #333333; font-size: 10pt;"> Charles Laughton: </span><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: 10pt;">“You know who I could be?” </span><br />
<span style="color: #333333; font-size: 10pt;"> Rigby Reardon: </span><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: 10pt;">“The Hunchback of Notre Dame?”</span></i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="color: white;">.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">‘Dead Men Don’t Wear Plaid’ is as insane and loony as its title indicates; it’s funny in a very screwball, wacky way. I recommended it to my friend the Flyin’ Aardvark and she didn’t like it at all. ...But I still refuse to believe that about her: </span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">.</span><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsi4pvGR6oxFXogPciQcKbpYHezzxSnMGaPSE4on2ed-YvbOxwjW-LE9wu6F4CcS3bXU52JJAl1cV62TnRcMnDLElCts74etmrNQJxjkpOA3USqLI5IU1Wh457ZtcJ82Alg4gSDpPrRoY/s1600/Film+Noir+4.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsi4pvGR6oxFXogPciQcKbpYHezzxSnMGaPSE4on2ed-YvbOxwjW-LE9wu6F4CcS3bXU52JJAl1cV62TnRcMnDLElCts74etmrNQJxjkpOA3USqLI5IU1Wh457ZtcJ82Alg4gSDpPrRoY/s400/Film+Noir+4.bmp" height="303" width="400" /></a><br />
<span style="color: white;">.</span><br />
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">As I said at the top, my list isn’t necessarily etched in stone yet. As I view more Film Noir over the years my selections might change slightly. Someday I’d like to see ‘City That Never Sleeps’, in which the city of </span><st1:city><st1:place><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">Chicago</span></st1:place></st1:city><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"> narrates the story that takes place on its own turf (gotta see how they pull that off!)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="color: white;">.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">If any of y’all know of other must-see Film Noir productions that ya think I may not have already watched, please sing out! Yer recommendations will be appreciated.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="color: white;">.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDIvfDelTP0t10u3eO8VEjnNAQZH9ZBRrxDABcRtAfqidr6wuIGneU3qfxw-r83SZGjPh5kMKAa-3w2VBeDUbqvuKXIOsY-I1E36c3aREOGEdKr1Bgp1k0D0R0rQtDrS9Ef72a3AYAhyphenhyphenA/s1600/Film+Noir.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDIvfDelTP0t10u3eO8VEjnNAQZH9ZBRrxDABcRtAfqidr6wuIGneU3qfxw-r83SZGjPh5kMKAa-3w2VBeDUbqvuKXIOsY-I1E36c3aREOGEdKr1Bgp1k0D0R0rQtDrS9Ef72a3AYAhyphenhyphenA/s400/Film+Noir.bmp" height="385" width="400" /></a><br />
<span style="color: white;">.</span><br />
<span style="color: #333333;"><i style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">[‘I Can Has Cheezburger’ LOL created by </i></span><span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt; font-style: italic;"><b>ProvDog</b></span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt; font-style: italic;"> – that’s this STMcC cat whose <b>‘<u>Stuffs</u>’</b> you’ve been reading!]</span><br />
<span style="color: white; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt; font-style: italic;">.</span><br />
<b style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;"><u>THE FLYIN’ AARDVARK’S FAVORITES</u></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;"><span style="color: white; font-size: x-small;">.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">Here is an alphabetized list of my Pal’s first 11 Film Noir choices:</span><br />
<span style="color: white; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="color: #cc0000; font-weight: bold;">‘Black Angel’</span></span><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"> – “Dan Duryea, Peter Lorre, Broderick Crawford and based on a Cornell Woolrich story.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="color: white;">.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="color: #cc0000; font-weight: bold;">‘Double Indemnity’</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="color: white;">.</span></span><br />
<b style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="color: #cc0000;">‘M’</span></b><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"> – “I guess the original would top the list.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="color: white;">.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="color: #cc0000; font-weight: bold;">‘The Maltese Falcon’</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="color: white;">.</span></span><br />
<b style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="color: #cc0000;">‘Murder, My Sweet’</span></b><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"> – “Dick Powell playing Philip Marlowe, along with the great Claire Trevor.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="color: white;">.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="color: #cc0000; font-weight: bold;">‘Night of the Hunter’</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="color: white;">.</span></span><br />
<b style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="color: #cc0000;">‘Out of the Past’</span></b><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"> – “Robert Mitchum, Jane Greer and Kirk Douglas. Great classic noir.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="color: white;">.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="color: #cc0000; font-weight: bold;">‘Phantom Lady’</span></span><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"> – “Gorgeous Ella Raines tries to prove her boss didn't kill his wife by tracking down the elusive woman he spent the evening with. … A wonderfully deranged performance by character actor Elijah Wood, Jr.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="color: white;">.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="color: #cc0000; font-weight: bold;">‘Shadow of a Doubt’</span></span><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"> – “Joseph Cotton as a wonderfully evil Blue Beard uncle visiting his adoring sister's family.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="color: white;">.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="color: #cc0000; font-weight: bold;">‘The Strange Love of Martha Ivers’</span></span><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"> – “Completely weird, but great performances by Barbara Stanwyck, Van Heflin, Lizbeth Scott and Kirk Douglas.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="color: white;">.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="color: #cc0000; font-weight: bold;">‘Sunset Boulevard’</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="color: white;">.</span></span><br />
<i style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">~ Stephen T. McCarthy</i><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><i><span style="color: white;">.</span></i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><u style="font-weight: bold;">LINKS</u></span></div>
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<i><a href="http://www.blogger.com/post-edit.g?blogID=557564794535751440&postID=4144411275761404780" name="2250588069408007640"></a></i><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><i>Flyin’ Aard’s Review Choice: </i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><a href="http://xtremelyun-pcandunrepentant.blogspot.com/2010/05/it-was-rainy-night-in-nineteen-eighty.html">“It Was A Rainy Night In Nineteen Eighty-Eight…”</a> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">[‘Signature’, a Jazz album by Richie Cole]<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><a href="http://www.filmsite.org/filmnoir6.html">AMC: Film Noir ‘Examples’</a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><a href="http://www.lileks.com/bw/noir/index.html">Hats And Gats</a></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkUPTEuklKWo2ONayEBqveTxRyAkRHn-4VpS-EfCImJmJux70iwgIJsMFES7nlD89udaH5j7UPqA5VsTV8wvTaL8UCt1kxWMZUc4mv5UfjNYddrGQeQdFxitmCXIun_AWD-HiTJviVfWg/s1600/Night+And+The+City+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkUPTEuklKWo2ONayEBqveTxRyAkRHn-4VpS-EfCImJmJux70iwgIJsMFES7nlD89udaH5j7UPqA5VsTV8wvTaL8UCt1kxWMZUc4mv5UfjNYddrGQeQdFxitmCXIun_AWD-HiTJviVfWg/s400/Night+And+The+City+3.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a><br />
<span style="color: white;">.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: x-small;">YE OLDE COMMENT POLICY: All comments, pro and con, are welcome. However, ad hominem attacks and disrespectful epithets will not be tolerated (read: "posted"). After all, this isn’t </span><a href="http://xtremelyun-pcandunrepentant.blogspot.com/2008/07/amazon-just-another-way-to-say-big_07.html" style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: small;"><span style="color: windowtext;">Amazon.com</span></a><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: x-small;">, so I don’t have to put up with that kind of bovine excrement.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="color: white;">.</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
Stephen T. McCarthyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00249125637725791567noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-557564794535751440.post-42196112193204292812012-02-21T14:30:00.016-08:002012-02-23T00:52:50.393-08:00M*A*S*H - S*T*U*F*F*S (Or, "YES, WE PLAY REQUESTS")<span style="color: white;">.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">From time to time a fleeting thought would run through my mind and I’d consider composing a blog bit about the years I spent working on the popular television show </span><b style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="background-color: #b6d7a8; color: red;">M*A*S*H</span></b><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">.</span><br />
<span style="color: white; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">But then I’d think: </span><i style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">Nahhhhh.</i><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><i><span style="color: white;">.</span></i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">However, just a few nights ago I received my second request for it.</span><br />
<span lang="EN" style="color: white; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">.</span><br />
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">I had first mentioned the idea in a blog bit last August, and my blog buddyette <a href="http://thealliterativeallomorph.blogspot.com/">Alliterative Allomorph</a> (or “AlliAllo” for short) commented: <span style="color: #cc0000;">“</span></span><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="color: #cc0000;">I'd LOVE to hear about the time you worked for MASH! Next blog project?”</span></span><br />
<span style="color: white; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">Then a few nights ago, my dearly beloved Brother Napoleon (or Nappy for short) and I started yakkin’ about the old days, and he suggested I write something for my blog about my years on M*A*S*H. He even went so far as to get his cell phone camera and took a few pictures of a picture of me in the book </span><b style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="background-color: #b6d7a8; color: red;">‘The Last Days Of MASH’</span></b><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">. Which was ironically funny since I’m usually buggin’ him to loan me his cell phone camera so I can take some pictures for my blogs, and he’s usually grumbling about having to transmit the photos that I take to our computer.</span><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">I thought: OK, that’s two requests, and one even came from grumpy Nappy. And if I was ever going to write a blog bit about M*A*S*H, I knew there was no time to waste. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">So, by popular demand (uh… two readers: a friend and a Bro), here it is, <b><span style="color: red;"><span style="background-color: #b6d7a8;">M*A*S*H</span><span style="background-color: white;"> </span><span style="background-color: #b6d7a8;">S*T*U*F*F*S</span></span></b>, thrown together quickly because time is short. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">Although I’ve always loved the theme instrumental for the TV show MASH (‘Suicide Is Painless’), finding it bittersweet and lovely (and probably my second favorite theme song after ‘WKRP In Cincinnati’), ironically, I was never a fan of MASH. And I’m still not. Despite the fact I’m still receiving occasional (small) residual checks for work I did on the show beginning in 1978. Oh, I’m every bit as anti-war as anyone who ever wrote or acted on MASH. Nevertheless, MASH was way too Leftist for my tastes! <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">THE LAST DAYS OF M*A*S*H</span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmW6qbjk5_oP1Wjgg-DC8CKPokUVgmCXHJ845ohQTb5GJ9Om2Px2ejvygaXzy3tHc7t8jglN9G6ROLQN2W960RI2SCqhDcJxVra1z2_7TPmPw_hfsu29U3ZXOHG2BogzXgH6yidT7g-Ao/s1600/MASH+5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmW6qbjk5_oP1Wjgg-DC8CKPokUVgmCXHJ845ohQTb5GJ9Om2Px2ejvygaXzy3tHc7t8jglN9G6ROLQN2W960RI2SCqhDcJxVra1z2_7TPmPw_hfsu29U3ZXOHG2BogzXgH6yidT7g-Ao/s1600/MASH+5.jpg" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">‘The Last Days Of MASH’ is a 1983 book by Alan and Arlene Alda, which chronicles the final days of shooting during the 11th</span><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"> and final season of MASH.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">My name appears in it, and so does my image, in a couple of photographs taken on the MASH set. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">Below is a photograph that appears in the book ‘The Last Days Of MASH’ which features much of the cast and crew of MASH from its last season.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: Verdana;">I can still remember that photograph being taken. I and my coworkers were done with filming for the day but we were invited to stick around for the 11</span><span lang="EN" style="font-family: Verdana;">th Season MASH picture that would be taken after a couple of “pick-up shots” were completed.<span style="font-size: x-small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">Most of my friends elected to remain in their “fatigues” for the photo that would be taken in about 30 or so minutes. Me, I got to thinking: Well, if I change out of my fatigues now, and into my street clothes, I won’t have to go back to the Wardrobe Department after the picture is taken; I will be able to go directly home.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: Verdana;">Years later, I regretted that I had not remained in my “costume”, which would have shown me to be a “G.I.” and part of the cast. But now, it actually makes it easier for me to point myself out to you. Here is the 11</span><span lang="EN" style="font-family: Verdana;">th Season photo:</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDrdVn4Iuk-JJceDCt_wJSXg41_QSQ2VZS5vF9R5a-OKrBXCRRfwWpIOQXSpronYQ-XOznv8sYH0oAgdKfJYP0MLjC2SEkgY8WdrQA_CcUSoqrN5f3fQXUSTS0P7golKZMghoZE1KfFPg/s1600/MASH+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDrdVn4Iuk-JJceDCt_wJSXg41_QSQ2VZS5vF9R5a-OKrBXCRRfwWpIOQXSpronYQ-XOznv8sYH0oAgdKfJYP0MLjC2SEkgY8WdrQA_CcUSoqrN5f3fQXUSTS0P7golKZMghoZE1KfFPg/s1600/MASH+1.jpg" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: Verdana;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span><i style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">[Photo of a photo by Brother Nappy. That’s Harry Morgan (Col. Potter), second row up and center, and William Christopher (Father Mulcahy) to <u>his</u> right, in the white hat. The third person down from William Christopher – in the red leather motorcycle jacket with a black and white Los Angeles Raiders T-shirt underneath – is This Blogger. Directly to Morgan’s left is Loretta Swit (“Hot Lips” Houlihan) and to her left is Mike Farrell (B.J. Hunnicutt) with the white, long-sleeved shirt. Next to him is Jamie Farr (Maxwell Klinger). In the third row from bottom, directly above Morgan, is Alan Alda, (Hawkeye Pierce).]</i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpCvM5Nma4WsY3raE2yrNsmU91rQSXckAh1wnXxwH4-CZB9g2HJ5NlEcqTYP2IMjBBzWExOwYYUwkEu2A9uYfVB92wAi8m1lQ_3jXKLp_gNBTpZomrjizo-slAjlVu1QoLdWX5_Lfmvvg/s1600/MASH+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpCvM5Nma4WsY3raE2yrNsmU91rQSXckAh1wnXxwH4-CZB9g2HJ5NlEcqTYP2IMjBBzWExOwYYUwkEu2A9uYfVB92wAi8m1lQ_3jXKLp_gNBTpZomrjizo-slAjlVu1QoLdWX5_Lfmvvg/s1600/MASH+2.jpg" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><br />
</i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span><i style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">[Photo of photo by Brother Nappy.]</i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><br />
</i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2K0PxsXTeV3p4ozJF-PF_UTuvF8qn6C6vN9T7NzpFPXVOYkSRLWS5ADfLmUg4Za5OR8boh2sFYeA_PMRFtTzArjIl_oslJm447i2HNSmTQNg6jGYt7agheUtD8n75kk2zu-OAdkeu7E4/s1600/MASH+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2K0PxsXTeV3p4ozJF-PF_UTuvF8qn6C6vN9T7NzpFPXVOYkSRLWS5ADfLmUg4Za5OR8boh2sFYeA_PMRFtTzArjIl_oslJm447i2HNSmTQNg6jGYt7agheUtD8n75kk2zu-OAdkeu7E4/s1600/MASH+3.jpg" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><br />
</i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span><i style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">[Photo of photo by Brother Nappy. NOTE: I was wearing that same Los Angeles Raiders football T-shirt for a year or two BEFORE the Raiders actually moved from Oakland to L.A.]</i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">SURPRISING S*T*U*F*F*S </span><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: x-small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">A few years ago, something inspired me to do some Internet research, to find out how many seasons I’d worked on MASH. My perception was that I’d worked on it for the last two seasons. I was startled to discover that I had actually worked on the show during its final five seasons! <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">MASH ran for 11 seasons. I was almost dumbfounded when I realized that I had worked on it for only half-a-season shy of 50% of its lifetime! <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">A couple years back, Brother Nappy gave me a Barnes & Noble gift card for Christmas. I hadn’t seen most of the MASH episodes I’d worked on since their initial television showings (and some of them I’d NEVER seen, because I rarely watched MASH), and I knew that I was unlikely to spend my own hard-earned money on MASH DVDs. So, I decided to apply Nappy’s gift card toward some MASH DVD sets. And that got me started.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">Watching those old seasons of MASH decades later, and finding myself in episode after episode was almost surreal. I was regularly doing ‘Background’ (or, ‘Extra’) work on MASH beginning with Season 7 which </span><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">premiered on September 18, 1978. It took about a week to film a single MASH episode, and there were some weeks (episodes) I never worked on it at all. But overall, I would say that from Season 7 through its final Season 11, I may have averaged two days per week of work on MASH. In other words, I can spot myself in the vast majority of the episodes over its final 5 seasons.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">THOUGHTS THEN AND NOW</span><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: x-small;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">At the time, I was daily involved in Background work in movies, television shows, and TV commercials – it was just the way I supported myself – and I was never one to be “star-struck”, so I didn’t particularly have much esteem for what I was doing. Honestly, it was just a job to me, and I always hoped for a short day of filming so I could get back to my “real life” – mostly partying with my friends, ‘The League Of Soul Crusaders’ at Bay Street. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">20</span><span style="font-family: Verdana;">th Century Fox and MGM were “good” jobs because they were close to my house. Warner Brothers and Universal Studios were “bad” jobs because they required that I drive out to “The Valley”. A job at </span><st1:place><span style="font-family: Verdana;">Paramount</span></st1:place><span style="font-family: Verdana;"> studios was “middle ground” – in grungy </span><st1:city><st1:place><span style="font-family: Verdana;">Hollywood</span></st1:place></st1:city><span style="font-family: Verdana;">, but at least it wasn’t in “The Valley”. <span style="font-size: x-small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">When I became a “regular” on MASH, it was a blessing because MASH was filmed on Stage 9 at 20</span><span style="font-family: Verdana;">th Century Fox. <span style="font-size: x-small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">That’s truly the way I thought about it back then. What the hell did I know? I was just a young man. My goal was to become the greatest actor since James Dean, and working on sets, getting pegged to act in a small but notable bit in a show, or picking up a couple lines of dialogue here and there was just my “day job”. It would be many years – long after I’d left “The Industry” - before I realized what a unique and special position I was in and how fortunate I was to be doing what I was doing.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">SOME S*T*U*F*F*S I DON’T REMEMBER</span><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: x-small;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">In watching these DVDs decades later, I was rather shocked to find myself prominently visible in a number of episodes/scenes that I had no recollection of whatsover! Sure, I could recall the episodes where I had dialogue. But there were times when I felt like I was watching some OTHER performer, because I had no remembrance of being involved in the shooting of those scenes.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">For example: In the 9</span><span style="font-family: Verdana;">th episode (‘Taking The Fifth’) of Season 9, the story revolves around an issue with the 4077th MASH unit receiving anesthetics that are not potent enough to keep the patients “under” while the surgeries are performed. In one scene, B.J. Hunnicutt makes a joke to a patient about to undergo surgery. Suddenly the patient begins fighting to get off Dr. Hunnicutt’s operating table and it takes several orderlies and nurses to restrain him.<span style="font-size: x-small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">As I was watching that scene, I began to think: <i>That looks like me!</i><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">And sure enough, it was! Although I had no recollection of that scene, nor even of that episode, when I put the DVD player on ‘pause’ and then watched that scene frame-by-frame, I easily recognized the unusual birthmark I have on my left forearm, proving that I was “the fighting patient”. (Obviously, all of my fighting was “a lot of flailing about, signifying nuttin’”; had I really wanted to get off that operating table, those orderlies and nurses couldn’t have prevented me from it.) <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">Another one of the several scenes I’d not remembered being involved in is found in Episode 12 (‘Blood And Guts’) of Season 10. There’s a scene in the Officer’s Club, and in the background, I steal another person’s beer (bartender Roy Goldman pretends to be shocked that I would do that) and I act as if I’ve got a pretty good buzz on. It’s not likely that many viewers would pick up on that Background activity, but it tickled me to see, decades later, how I had invented interesting “business” while performing basic Background duty – none of which I had recalled.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">Some of the S*T*U*F*F*S I really enjoyed discovering was the continuity errors that no viewer was likely to notice. There were many. For instance: In Episode 15 (‘Bottom’s Up’) of Season 9, I’m being operated on when </span><span lang="EN" style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">Nurse Kellye – played by Kellye Nakahara – nearly gives me the wrong blood type. In the VERY NEXT SCENE, I am visible in the Mess Tent and booing Hawkeye Pierce. (Yeah, the patients recuperated QUICKLY at the 4077</span><span lang="EN" style="font-family: Verdana;"><span style="font-size: 11px;">th</span><span style="font-size: x-small;">). <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><i>[Incidentally: I spent a lot of “down-time” over the years talking with other cast members, including the very popular Kellye Nakahara (“Nurse Kellye”) who, as I recall, had a degree in English Literature. I remember one day in particular when she asked to see a poem I’d written – ‘<b><a href="http://stephentmccarthysstuffs.blogspot.com/2010/04/m-is-for-mad-dog-mcdonalds.html">The Mad Dog</a></b>’ – and she was impressed by it, comparing me to Stephen King. She may have been B.S.-ing a bit with the Stephen King comparison, but I could tell she was genuinely impressed by the poem.]</i><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: x-small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">I found several back-to-back scenes like that: In one scene I’m being operated on or I’m laid-up in Post-Op with my head all bandaged, and in the next scene, I’m walking through the MASH compound or I’m standing just outside Hawkeye’s and B.J.’s tent, “The Swamp”, and tossing a football back and forth with another G.I. Funny stuffs.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">I watched the 2 1/2–hour final episode ‘Goodbye, Farewell, And Amen’ on DVD. I hadn’t seen it since it aired on TV. I thought it was overrated then, and I thought it was overrated upon my second viewing as well. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">But as I was watching the scene where the Korean War is declared “over”, and saw all the people in the camp celebrating, I thought to myself: Gee, it would have been really cool to have been involved in THAT particular scene! <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">Wouldn’t that be neat to be able to say you were one of the celebrating soldiers when the war was finally declared finished on M*A*S*H? <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">And then, son-of-a-gun, I spotted myself in the scene! I had no recollection of it at all, and yet there I was in the very scene I had just been wishing I could have been included in!<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><b>M*A*S*H (The War Ends!)</b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/q8p2uobyodY?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q8p2uobyodY" style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q8p2uobyodY</a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><i>[At the 15-second mark, at the very far right edge of the frame, you can see a guy in a funky brown robe walking along and then he looks back at the truck of Korean musicians as it goes down the road. That’s me. And at the 41-43 second point, you can see me again, jumping around like an idiot.]</i><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">SOME S*T*U*F*F*S I <u>DO</u> REMEMBER</span><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: x-small;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">Naturally, I recall all the episodes in which I had some dialogue to deliver or was involved in some piece of important business that was crucial to the scene. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">The </span><span lang="EN" style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/M*A*S*H_(TV_series)">M*A*S*H page at Wikipedia</a> includes a section that highlights <span class="mw-headline">16 <b><u>Unusual</u> <u>Episodes</u></b>. I know that I played a part in at least two of them.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">Probably the most significant of the two was an episode titled “Life Time” in Season 8. That is one episode that every major MASH fan always seems to remember. Wikipedia says this:</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><i><a href="http://www.tv.com/shows/mash/life-time-43383/">"LifeTime"</a> (originally aired November 26, 1979), which takes place in real time as the surgeons perform an operation that must be completed within 20 minutes (a clock in the bottom right-hand corner of the screen counts down the time). </i><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: x-small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">The basic plot is that one soldier named Sherwood has suffered such a massive head wound that he is sure to die and there is nothing the surgeons at the 4077th</span><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"> can do to save him. At the same time, another badly injured soldier needs an aorta graft within a certain number of minutes if he is to survive and/or not lose the use of his legs. So the doctors are hoping Sherwood will die in time to take a piece of his aorta and transplant it into the second soldier.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">Meanwhile, Sherwood’s best buddy, Roberts – played by actor Kevin Brophy – is angry that no one is attempting to save the life of his friend. What really made the episode so memorable to so many MASH fans is that a small clock in the corner of the screen kept track of the minutes in "real time", showing how much time was left to save the second soldier.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">Would Sherwood die in time? Well, <u>I</u> <u>was</u> <u>Sherwood</u>, and sure I would! Being a good boy who cares about the welfare of others, of course I died in time! I was supposed to be in a coma the entire episode, essentially brain-dead (a victim of <u>typecasting</u>!) due to the head wound. So I never said anything, I just did a little gasping and heavy breathing before croaking. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">I recall that between shots, Kevin Brophy struck up a conversation with me and began asking a number of personal questions. At one point I laughed and said, <span style="color: #cc0000;">“I know what you’re doing. You’re trying to get to know me on a personal level so you can make the scenes more meaningful for you.”</span> (I had spent a lot of money and time in professional acting classes and workshops over the years, so I was aware of all the tricks, including that one.) <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">Kevin admitted that I had discerned his motivation for all the discussion and the questions. I didn’t blame him at all - it’s the exact same thing I would have been doing had I been in his shoes; that’s just the sign of a person who has really studied, understands, and respects their craft. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">Another one that made Wikipedia’s <b>‘<u>Unusual</u> <u>Episodes</u>’</b> list was . . . <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><i><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">"Follies of the Living—Concerns of the Dead" (originally aired </span><st1:date day="4" month="1" year="1982"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">January 4, 1982</span></st1:date></i><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><i>), in which a dead soldier's ghost (Kario Salem) wanders around the compound, and only a feverish Klinger is able to see him or speak with him. </i><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">In that episode I provided a couple lines of voice-over dialogue. While the dead soldier is wandering around, he hears disembodied voices discussing things that seem important to the living but are of less concern to the dead. I remember recording my lines one day just before we broke for lunch. And I’m the bloke you hear (but don’t see) saying: <span style="color: #cc0000;">“I just don’t love her anymore. It’s all over between us.”</span><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">I can find myself in most of the MASH episodes of the final 5 seasons, maybe in a driver’s education class, drinking beer at Rosie’s or in the Officer’s Club, playing in a floating craps game, etc. I remember some of those scenes being filmed, but most of them I do not. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">Episode 3 of Season 7 is called ‘Lil’, in which ...<i>“</i></span><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><i>Colonel Potter meets a female soldier of the same age and interests as himself, named Lil. The others in the camp think that he might be cheating on Mildred, even though his friendship with Lil is completely platonic.” </i><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">There’s a scene in that episode when Potter gives Lil a tour of the Post-Op facility. At one point she looks down at a young wounded soldier asleep on a cot and she says something like: <i><span style="color: #cc0000;">Look at that boy. He should be on a playground, not on a battlefield.</span></i><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">Then it cuts to a big close-up of my sweet and innocent face – me bandaged and asleep on the cot, looking like a wounded young angel. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">What’s fairly funny is that at the time I was living something of a double-life. To the people on the MASH set I was that respectful, reserved, even shy, nice young man. Away from the set, and with my Bay Street “League” buddies, I was one of them: a rather wild, kinda funny, intense, semi-tough semi-hood, half outta control, "half-drunk half the time and all drunk the rest", stayin’ out until all hours of the wee bit o’ the mornin’, bar-hoppin' and just raisin’ hell:</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTfey7vMruPJjrNWf8D_sqT5Oc0iwnx0gUHx21NvgPNDUHZ2huzxz7xvFzOmmDu9fCJ68e1pEvM6SgvmJOB1K5fJUbqDIcjNOumLmTRt7l6e9_AgsUFP8aewTfS2oWlbBLEAFpIVvtXu8/s1600/MASH+4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTfey7vMruPJjrNWf8D_sqT5Oc0iwnx0gUHx21NvgPNDUHZ2huzxz7xvFzOmmDu9fCJ68e1pEvM6SgvmJOB1K5fJUbqDIcjNOumLmTRt7l6e9_AgsUFP8aewTfS2oWlbBLEAFpIVvtXu8/s1600/MASH+4.jpg" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: x-small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">There’s a better than even chance that when that footage of my sweet and innocent face was filmed for the ‘Lil’ episode, I was hungover and just dreamin’ about getting home to a lotta hair of the dog that bit me.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">Below is a short clip I found at YouTube. It shows me in the Officer’s Club watching a woman play piano. That’s me in the background, just on the other side of the pianist, standing next to (Perry) the Black soldier. I’ve got a drink in my hands at first, and then I set my drink down and continue to watch with my hands in the pockets of my army pants: <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><b>M*A*S*H season 10 episode 1 - Piano Solo</b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><b><br />
</b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/888eMi11gG0?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=888eMi11gG0&NR=1&feature=endscreen" style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=888eMi11gG0&NR=1&feature=endscreen</a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">MY FAVORITE M*A*S*H S*T*A*R*S</span><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: x-small;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">The two actors I spent the most time speaking with and got to like best were, first, Gary Burghoff who played Radar O’Reilly, and then later - after Burghoff left the show - David Ogden Stiers who played Charles Winchester. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">I got to know Gary Burghoff as a result of my drawing and his love of art. I would often spend all that “waiting time” between shot set-ups drawing pictures in my sketch books. One day early on during my first season working on MASH we were shooting exteriors at the </span><st1:city><st1:place><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">Malibu</span></st1:place></st1:city><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"> site and I was sitting in the Post-Op structure (which also served as the Wardrobe Dept.) and drawing in a sketch book. </span><st1:city><st1:place><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">Gary</span></st1:place></st1:city><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"> walked by, saw what I was doing, struck up a conversation with me, and then sat down, asking if he could look through my sketch book. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><i>[For sketch book drawings see <a href="http://stephentmccarthysstuffs.blogspot.com/2009/05/no-drugs-except-for-pink-floyd.html">“No Drugs Except For Pink Floyd”</a> and <a href="http://stephentmccarthysstuffs.blogspot.com/2011/02/no-drugs-except-for-pink-floyd-part-two.html">“No Drugs Except For Pink Floyd – Part 2”</a>.] </i><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: x-small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">Gary was intrigued by what he saw and we wound up in a long and rather deep conversation. Somehow we got onto the topic of spirituality; I probably recommended to him the Richard Bach book ‘<u>ILLUSIONS</u>: <u>The</u> <u>Adventures</u> <u>Of</u> <u>A</u> <u>Reluctant</u> <u>Messiah</u>’, and he suggested I read ‘<u>NOTES</u> <u>TO</u> <u>MYSELF</u>’ by Hugh Prather. I jotted it down on the back cover of a sketch book (getting both the title and the name of the author wrong, although I did later get the book and read it). </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="mw-headline"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBA5yMZYkTKVB-oHU0AtF_tdst2epFnmc1gg4vv8Pk9XS7TJChwv5XOVVAU1YGx07fJZN4elbYXw8VHxj4MWK859HWDBM76oNUIZ4fx4k0rR6uKOf8liaV5OElcnqNwgOYfIcIiUmDH4w/s1600/MASH+6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBA5yMZYkTKVB-oHU0AtF_tdst2epFnmc1gg4vv8Pk9XS7TJChwv5XOVVAU1YGx07fJZN4elbYXw8VHxj4MWK859HWDBM76oNUIZ4fx4k0rR6uKOf8liaV5OElcnqNwgOYfIcIiUmDH4w/s1600/MASH+6.jpg" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: x-small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">At that time, Gary paid me what to this day is the most memorable compliment I’ve ever received. He said: “I think you’re a creative genius”.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="mw-headline"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">And putting his money where his mouth was, thus proving he wasn’t just blowing smoke, Gary wrote his phone number in my sketch book and commissioned me to produce a large drawing for him, which he added to his growing art collection. It was quite an honor, and something that still makes me feel all good ‘n’ sh!t. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="mw-headline"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">I did believe that I was destined for big things. (And you can plainly see how <b><i><u>that</u></i></b> turned out.) <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="mw-headline"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">Gary Burghoff left the show at the beginning of Season 8, and later I got to know David Ogden Stiers a little bit (it was he who recommended I read John Steinbeck’s book ‘<u>SWEET</u> <u>THURSDAY</u>’, which I did). I always felt that Stiers was actually the best, most talented actor in the MASH cast.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="mw-headline"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">There’s another episode in Season 10 in which I had a small, two-line part. I made a decision to deliver the lines as a façade, a deliberate attempt to cloak an altogether different motivation than what the lines superficially appeared to indicate. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="mw-headline"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">The next day, David Ogden Stiers pulled me aside and said: “I just saw the dailies <i>[meaning: footage of the previous day’s shooting unedited]</i>, and what you did was the very essence of acting.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="mw-headline"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">Coming as it did from the actor whom I considered to be the most talented MASH cast member, that was high praise, and I was totally thrilled by his remark. Hell, I’m <u>STILL</u> thrilled by it! I was surprised and honored that the best actor on MASH had recognized the “subtle, extra little layer of texture” I had added to a simple two-line part. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="mw-headline"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><i>[NOTE: All these years later, I still find it peculiar when I reflect on what little guidance and input performers on MASH received. There were a couple of times when lines of dialogue or things I was given to perform could have been presented in a variety of different ways. Not once was I ever approached by a director, writer, or star and advised that “this way” or “that way” was the interpretation they were seeking or hoping for.] </i><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="mw-headline"><span lang="EN"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">THE EPISODE I SIMPLY <u><b>HAD</b></u> TO WATCH! </span><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: x-small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="mw-headline"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: Verdana;">Not being a fan of MASH, I didn’t watch a lot of the episodes. Naturally, I made it a point to catch the ones where I had something to say or some “silent bit” that was important. But the rest of ‘em . . . eh, <i>whatever!</i> However, there was one show I made it a point to see. In the 8</span><span lang="EN" style="font-family: Verdana;">th season there was an episode titled <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dreams_(M*A*S*H)"><b>‘Dreams’</b></a>. <span style="font-size: x-small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">Unless one had a small part in the show, he or she wouldn’t be in possession of a script, so one could only guess as to what the show was about based on the scenes he/she was working in.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="mw-headline"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">I did not have a script for the ‘Dreams’ episode, and I remember watching all these highly unusual scenes being filmed and wondering: <i>What in the hell is this episode about? </i><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="mw-headline"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">I was standing just beyond the camera’s view when that scene of Major Winchester dancing with lit sparklers in his hands was shot. I was just scratching my head in wonder. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="mw-headline"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">They had opened the giant barn-like door of Stage 9 to shoot the scene with Father Mulcahy; all this LIGHT was filling the soundstage - I had never seen it so illuminated before, and I couldn’t imagine how all these things were going to be tied together to create a MASH episode. So I thought: <i>OK, I simply <u>MUST</u> watch this episode when it airs!</i><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="mw-headline"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">As it turned out, I think <b>‘Dreams’</b> was one of the finest MASH episodes ever constructed. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="mw-headline"><span lang="EN"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">BEHIND THE S*C*E*N*E*S AND UNDER THE SHEETS</span><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: x-small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="mw-headline"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">I know some people would probably like me to dish some dirt. I really don’t have any to dish out. If there was any friction amongst the principals (and it’s nearly impossible to think there never was), it was all handled elsewhere; I never saw any arguments or ego explosions in my 5 years on the set. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="mw-headline"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">The “juiciest” gossip I can come up with is that I felt Loretta Swit wore too much perfume; I could always smell her coming, and I knew where she had been long after she’d left. Sorry, that’s the best I gots!<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="mw-headline"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">Everyone got along with each other really well on the set and there truly was a kind of family-like atmosphere amongst the major players, the minor players, the technicians and even the caterer; it was an extremely friendly place to work and I only wish I had appreciated that gig more at the time. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="mw-headline"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">Harry Morgan used to often tell stories of the “old Hollywood days” to his fellow stars, and I remember one time passing by an open door when I heard him saying to the others: <span style="color: #cc0000;">“He couldn’t act his way out of a paper bag. They tried it once: they put him in a paper bag and he couldn’t act his way out of it”.</span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="mw-headline"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">I thought that was really funny. To this day I don’t know who Harry Morgan was talking about and I’ve always regretted that I didn’t ask him later in the afternoon. But I loved that bit so much that I later stole it and used it against Nick Nolte when writing a review of the movie ‘Hotel Rwanda’. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="mw-headline"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">There’s a lot of waiting around between shots on a movie or television set while the camera-work and the lighting is being worked out. I spent most of my “waiting time” either drawing in my sketch books (usually in the Mess Tent unless it was being used in the shot) or just lying on one of the cots in Hawkeye’s and Hunnicutt’s “Swamp”. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="mw-headline"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">I took the job seriously, and was always standing by when I was needed for a scene, but I could basically tell by what they were currently shooting and how many pages of dialogue it entailed, how long it would be before I was needed, so slipping away to the “Swamp” for a little eye-rest was perfectly acceptable. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="mw-headline"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: Verdana;">MASH was filmed in two places: Nearly all of the interiors were shot on Stage 9 at 20</span><span lang="EN" style="font-family: Verdana;">th Century Fox studio, and most of the exteriors were shot at Malibu Creek State Park.<span style="font-size: x-small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="mw-headline"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">I didn’t really like the Malibu shoots because it meant having to get up before the Sun did and driving 30-40 minutes up to Malibu along the Pacific Coast Highway in the dark. Once at the park, we would be shuttled in minivans about 15-minutes deeper into the canyon where the outdoor set was constructed.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="mw-headline"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">True, getting the “Malibu call” meant a free, all-I-could-eat lunch provided by a good Hollywood caterer, but it also meant a long, full, busy day under the hot Sun in a dusty canyon.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="mw-headline"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">I greatly preferred the Fox studio “Stage 9 call”, which was much more common. Fox was only about 15 minutes from my house, and sometimes it would mean a shorter work day. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="mw-headline"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">The MASH production company spent Tuesday, December 9, 1980, shooting externals at its Malibu canyon location. The only reason I remember that so clearly is because that’s where I was when I saw the newspaper story that told of John <strike>Lenin's</strike> <i>Lennon’s</i> murder. I saw a newspaper lying on a bench in the Wardrobe Department, and for a good part of that morning, all the talk on the set was about Lennon having been shot and killed. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="mw-headline"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">On Stage 9, the compound was set up just as it looked in Malibu, but it was slightly more compressed, meaning the tents and structures were a bit closer to each other in proximity due to space limitations. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="mw-headline"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">The floor was rubberized with some very dark grey material so that many performers (i.e., soldiers, doctors, nurses) could walk around during a scene without their footsteps being picked up on the microphone that was recording the actors’ dialogue. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="mw-headline"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: Verdana;">When you see a night scene taking place in the 4077</span><span lang="EN" style="font-family: Verdana;">th compound – even an EXTERNAL night scene - know that it was almost certainly filmed on Stage 9 at Fox. The external day scenes are from the Malibu Creek State Park canyon, while the external night scenes are on the stage at Fox studio, and if you concentrate on it, you will be able to notice that at night, all the tents at the 4077th are a little closer together than they are during the day shots.<span style="font-size: x-small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="mw-headline"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">The scenes I most disliked working in (and I worked in A LOT of them) were those filmed in the Operation Room. It seemed to me that most of the time the scenes we did in the O.R. were shot immediately after returning from lunch. So we’d return to the set after having eaten a lot of food, and immediately we young dudes would be placed <u>under</u> <u>the</u> <u>sheets</u> for “our operations”. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="mw-headline"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">Well, you know what happens when it’s after noon and you’ve just eaten a lot of food, right? The body tends to want to “sleep it off”. And THAT’S when they’d most often put us on tables, cover us with sheets, and film these scenes that felt like they took forever. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="mw-headline"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">Yeah, you can count on it: some of those patients in those scenes are really ASLEEP! As I recall, once or twice a take had to be reshot because some patient started snoring in the middle of an actor’s dialogue. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="mw-headline"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">I never wanted to be “that guy” who started snoring during an O.R. scene. However, what I dreaded even more than ruining a take by snoring, was perhaps falling asleep and then having a natural, biological… uh, <i>“guy”</i> thang occur. <i>Knowwhatahmean? </i><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="mw-headline"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">Believe me, that would have been noticed, and how do you ever “live something like that <u>DOWN</u>”? <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="mw-headline"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">So, I fought hard . . . er-- I mean, I tried to remain <u>mentally</u> alert as much as possible, so I wouldn’t fall asleep, wouldn’t snore, wouldn’t . . . snap to attention (even though I was “in the army now”). <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="mw-headline"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">More than once I thought to myself: <i>Why do they always feel a need to shoot these O.R. scenes right after lunch? Is it a conspiracy agin us guys? </i><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="mw-headline"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">I think I probably dozed off a few times while under a sheet and under the knife in the O.R., but only momentarily – not long enough to do any damage to a scene or to my reputation. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="mw-headline"><span lang="EN"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">THE E*N*D OF M*A*S*H</span><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: x-small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="mw-headline"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">I still vividly recall the final scene of MASH. I was fully aware of the magnitude of the moment and of all the hype - it was impossible not to be, with all the reporters hanging around the set and all the film crews filming the MASH film crew. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="mw-headline"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">But even so, it didn’t mean all that much to me at the time, and it wasn’t until many years later that I realized how special it was to have been in the last shot that the MASH production company ever did. When the director said, “Cut. Print. That’s a wrap!” MASH was over and done forever. And I was there.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="mw-headline"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">The last MASH episode shown on TV was the 2+ hour special ‘Goodbye, Farewell, And Amen’. But that wasn’t the last thing ever shot. The concluding special was already “in the can” (i.e., filmed, edited, and ready for showing) before the last regular 30-minute episode (‘As Time Goes By’) was completed. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="mw-headline"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">The final shot of ‘As Time Goes By’ involved the burying of a time capsule by the principal MASH characters. I was fortunate enough to have been selected to be one of the few nameless G.I.s who were gathered around during the time capsule burial ceremony. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="mw-headline"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">Looking back all these decades later – after “Time <u>Has</u> Gone By” – I realize what an honor it was to be included in that final shot when one of television’s all-time most beloved shows brought its 11-Season run to an end. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="mw-headline"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">Below is a YouTube video I found of those final minutes prior to the last shot on MASH. If you </span></span><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">pause it right at 3:38, on the right edge of the frame you’ll see one blurry, dark-haired guy standing amongst three or four women (he’s not tall, but he’s the tallest one in that group). That guy is Yours Truly. (You can also barely see me from </span><st1:time hour="19" minute="10"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">7:10</span></st1:time><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"> to </span><st1:time hour="19" minute="20"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">7:20</span></st1:time><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"> standing directly behind Father Mulcahy and partially obscured by a camera lens.) <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 13px;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 13px;"><b>Last Day of filming</b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><b><br />
</b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/BSDYNfmm-ew?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?NR=1&v=BSDYNfmm-ew&feature=endscreen" style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">http://www.youtube.com/watch?NR=1&v=BSDYNfmm-ew&feature=endscreen</a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: #b6d7a8; color: red; font-weight: bold;">M*A*S*H </span>: FOR ME, IT WAS A <u>GOOD</u> <span style="background-color: #b6d7a8; color: red; font-weight: bold;">G*I*G </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><i>~ Stephen T. McCarthy</i><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Verdana;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">YE OLDE COMMENT POLICY: All comments, pro and con, are welcome. However, ad hominem attacks and disrespectful epithets will not be tolerated (read: "posted"). After all, this isn’t <a href="http://xtremelyun-pcandunrepentant.blogspot.com/2008/07/amazon-just-another-way-to-say-big_07.html"><span style="color: windowtext;">Amazon.com</span></a>, so I don’t have to put up with that kind of bovine excrement.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="color: white;">.</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>Stephen T. McCarthyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00249125637725791567noreply@blogger.com25tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-557564794535751440.post-4826052054961969422012-02-13T15:46:00.005-08:002012-02-13T20:00:14.497-08:00A PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT FOR THE DOG-TIRED AMONGST US<span style="color: white;">.</span><br />
Not enough sleep last night? Did a dumb thing by staying up too late watching your <strong><em>'<u>GET</u> <u>SMART</u>'</em></strong> episodes on DVD and now you're paying the price for it . . . all-freakin'-day? <br />
<br />
Didn't get to bed until 4 AM because you were studying for that final exam today, and now you're just dead on your feet and too tired to remember the correct answers? <br />
<br />
Well, help is only 2 fluid ounces away. It's called <span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;"><strong><span style="background-color: yellow;"><em>ENERGY 2000</em></span></strong> </span>:<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3elDFIt8N7CHYp4NjtDSIwyq054q3DSOBRINN3_GnvD_DTjHrWVZcxr6BdsmCjhxdCFyOTOymMUq6lgYqUx2egQ53PNrnsEHXH7bEIEuLdeylhJOETKS378rbvFOdKYPVOs5gY-y5eB0/s1600/Image012.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" sda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3elDFIt8N7CHYp4NjtDSIwyq054q3DSOBRINN3_GnvD_DTjHrWVZcxr6BdsmCjhxdCFyOTOymMUq6lgYqUx2egQ53PNrnsEHXH7bEIEuLdeylhJOETKS378rbvFOdKYPVOs5gY-y5eB0/s1600/Image012.jpg" /></a><br />
<br />
<strong><span style="background-color: yellow;"><em>ENERGY 2000</em></span></strong> comes in three flavors - <span style="color: orange;">Orange</span>, <span style="color: magenta;">Grape</span>, <span style="color: red;">Berry</span> - and it sells for <strong>.99 cents</strong> at most <strong><em>Walgreens Drug Stores</em></strong> (at least here in Phoenix, Airheadzona, it does).<br />
<br />
I was on a road trip vacation to Las Vegas with a friend once and we hit the road pretty early in the morning. Neither of us had gotten enough sleep the night before, so my friend had brought along a couple 2-ounce bottles of 5-Hour Energy - that product you see advertised often. <span style="color: #cc0000;">(Advertising costs money, and the cost of it is passed on to the customer via higher prices - remember that, you'll need it later.)</span> 5-Hour Energy boasts of providing "Hours of energy now - no crash later", and of being "Sugar Free" with "Only 4 calories". They say you'll "Feel it in minutes" and "It lasts for hours".<br />
<br />
This was my first experience with 5-Hour Energy, and I'm prepared to confirm that all the company says about it is true. After that road trip, I would occasionally pick up a couple bottles of that stuffs to have on hand when I really needed it.<br />
<br />
Then, some months later, I discovered a very similar product called <strong><span style="background-color: yellow;"><em>ENERGY 2000</em></span></strong> selling at Walgreens for much, much less. <br />
<br />
In most convenience stores you'll find 5-Hour Energy selling for between $3. and $3.50. But, as I said above, <strong><em>ENERGY 2000</em></strong> - made by Global Brands LLC of Scottsdale, AZ. but available only at Walgreens Drug Stores (as far as I know) - sells for a mere .99 cents. <br />
<br />
But the question is: <em>Does it work as well as 5-Hour Energy does?</em><br />
<br />
Well, it certainly ought to, seeing as how the ingredients are damn near identical. Let's compare and contrast:<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKiYVBI_NZKDmN_TmlJCWoqoG0tCg-8PVLBbR7Mg3NwTYcP-bmSWpU3x-CQGAJGs9FDMjOz3k7cKSiu_IEfsMkS3eJV9iKtJBTl1DlQTpHnidejjp1ERCD5pj5Y4HXSyRPDutROcjw8PE/s1600/5-Hour+Energy.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="338px" sda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKiYVBI_NZKDmN_TmlJCWoqoG0tCg-8PVLBbR7Mg3NwTYcP-bmSWpU3x-CQGAJGs9FDMjOz3k7cKSiu_IEfsMkS3eJV9iKtJBTl1DlQTpHnidejjp1ERCD5pj5Y4HXSyRPDutROcjw8PE/s400/5-Hour+Energy.png" width="400px" /></a><br />
<br />
OK, now here's how the <strong><span style="background-color: yellow; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;"><em>ENERGY 2000</em></span></strong> label reads:<br />
<br />
Serving Size: 2 fl. oz.<br />
Calories: 0 <em><span style="color: #cc0000;">[as compared to 5-Hour Energy's 4]</span></em><br />
Total Carbohydrates: 0 g<br />
Niacin (as Niacinamide) : 20 mg <em><span style="color: #cc0000;">[ten mgs. <u>less</u> than 5-Hour Energy]</span></em><br />
Vitamin B6 (as Pyridoxine Hydrochloride) : 40 mg. <br />
Folic Acid: 400 mcg. <br />
Vitamin B12 (as Cyanocobalamin) : 500 mcg. <br />
Sodium: 10 mg <em><span style="color: #cc0000;">[8 mgs. <u>less</u> than 5-Hour Energy contains]</span></em><br />
<br />
Energy Blend 2200 <span style="color: #cc0000;"><em>[330 mg <u>more</u> <u>potent</u> than 5-Hour Energy]</em></span><span style="color: black;"> :</span><br />
Taurine, Malic Acid, Caffeine, Glucoronolactone, N-Acetyl, L-Tyrosine, L-Phenylalanine <em><span style="color: #cc0000;">[ENERGY 2000 does not include any Citicoline, as found in 5-Hour Energy]</span></em> <br />
<br />
There is no Enzyme Blend listed on the 5-Hour Energy bottle, but there is on <strong><span style="background-color: yellow;"><em>ENERGY 2000</em></span></strong>. It reads as follows:<br />
<br />
Enzyme Blend 1 mg :<br />
Amylase, Protease, Lipase, Cellulase, Lactase<br />
<br />
So, as you can see, the ingredients are very similar, with each formula tweaked just slightly here and there. I find that <strong><em>ENERGY 2000</em></strong> does indeed give me energy for at least 5 hours, sometimes more like 6 or even 7 hours. It makes me feel awake and alert, but never jittery, the way too many cups o' coffee affects me. And, no, there is no "crashing" feeling as the little drink is wearing off. <br />
<br />
Both products work great - exactly as advertised. But the difference in price is approximately $2.00 to $2.50 per bottle. <br />
<br />
So, why am I posting an advertisement for <strong><span style="background-color: yellow;"><em>ENERGY 2000</em></span></strong> on my blog? Do I work for the company? Do I own stock in the product? <em>NO! & NO!</em> My action is solely self-serving: through this blog bit I hope merely to continue SAVING money, not make more of it. I find that <strong><em>ENERGY 2000</em></strong> works so well and is so inexpensive that I purchase the stuffs a case at a time now (12 bottles). <br />
<br />
I like this product (and its price) so much that I want to see it branch out and become a big seller nationally, so it will remain readily available at a price even I can afford! <br />
<br />
If 5-Hour Energy is the kind of product you do buy or would buy on occasion, I urge you to see if <strong><em>ENERGY 2000</em></strong> is available at a Walgreens Drug Store near you. If it's not, see if it can be requested; perhaps your Walgreens would be willing to stock it on a regular basis.<br />
<br />
For more information, try contacting the manufacturer at:<br />
<a href="http://www.globalbrandsllc.com/">http://www.globalbrandsllc.com/</a><br />
<br />
Then study all night and ace that test. You can celebrate by swimming 2000 laps or playing tennis for a few days and nights. <br />
<br />
<strong><em>Sleep? Fuhgeddaboudit! We'll watch '<u>Get</u> <u>Smart</u>' all night, every night, and we'll sleep when we're dead!</em></strong><br />
<br />
<em>~ Stephen T. McCarthy</em><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">YE OLDE COMMENT POLICY: All comments, pro and con, are welcome. However, ad hominem attacks and disrespectful epithets will not be tolerated (read: "posted"). After all, this isn’t Amazon.com, so I don’t have to put up with that kind of bovine excrement.</span><br />
<span style="color: white;">.</span>Stephen T. McCarthyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00249125637725791567noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-557564794535751440.post-20610696704642129742012-02-12T20:18:00.017-08:002012-02-13T10:27:26.325-08:00HOT-BABES-R-US (Or, R U CUTE, PRETTY, BEAUTIFUL AND/OR SEXY?)<span style="color: white;">.</span><br />
Y’all know Missed Periods, right? She’s the owner/operator of the cleverly named blog <a href="http://missedperiodsandothergrammarscares.blogspot.com/">‘Missed Periods And Other Grammar Scares’</a>, where she educates her readers about punctuation and grammar in such an entertaining fashion that they ain’t got no idea they’re bein’ taught sumpin’. (I could use a few more lessons.)<br />
<br />
Not too long ago, Missed Periods posted a blog bit titled <a href="http://missedperiodsandothergrammarscares.blogspot.com/2012/01/crazy-sexy-men.html">‘Crazy Sexy Men’</a> which she closed with this sentence: <br />
<br />
<em><span style="color: #cc0000;">“And speaking of the dictionary, in your opinion, under the word SEXY, whose picture will you find?”</span></em><br />
<br />
My comment started thus... uhm... ‘thusly’? <em>[Missed Periods, where ya be when I needs ya?!]</em> :<br />
<br />
<em><strong>First thing I need to do is differentiate between the categories. (I once considered composing an entire blog bit about this subject with photographic examples of each group, but I just never got around to it.)</strong></em><br />
<br />
<em><strong>I have 4 categories for desirable women:</strong></em><br />
<br />
<em><strong>1: Beautiful</strong></em><br />
<em><strong>2: Pretty</strong></em><br />
<em><strong>3: Cute</strong></em><br />
<em><strong>4: Sexy</strong></em><br />
<br />
Well, guess what, 'STUFFS' fans! I just now <strong><em><span style="color: #cc0000;">"<u>got</u> <u>around</u> <u>to</u> <u>it</u>."</span></em></strong><br />
<br />
Being the sort of man who appreciates the look of an attractive woman (in other words, “bein’ an ordinary bloke”), I have given this A LOT of thought over the <em><strike>years</strike> decades</em>.<br />
<br />
Most women would probably assume that most men would be most attracted to <strong><em>#1: Beautiful</em></strong> women. <em>[Missed Periods, was that too many “mosts” in one sentence?]</em> Followed by <strong><em>#2: Pretty</em></strong>. Then <strong><em>#3: Cute</em></strong>. And ALL women want to be thought of as <strong><em>#4: Sexy</em></strong>, or, at minimum, <u>NOT</u> thought of as a “dog”. (Don’t worry, babe, there are very few dogs out there, and you prot’ly ain’t one o’ dem. Besides, dogs need and deserve love too!) <br />
<br />
Well, if that’s generally thought to be true by most men – that “Beautiful” is best and “Cute” is least in the ‘Battle Of The Babes’ - then I just ain’t like most men. (But then if you’ve spent more than fifteen minutes reading my blog, you already knew dat.) I will state unequivocally that there are plenty of Cute women I am more attracted to than Beautiful women. <br />
<br />
I find that there really is four different classifications for the attractiveness of women. But I also find that there is a little bit of cross-over at times. For example: there’s sometimes a fine line between Beautiful and Pretty, and I’m not always sure which class I would dump a woman into. (Uh... well... if I couldn’t decide whether she was Pretty or Beautiful, the chances are I wouldn’t “dump” her at all.) <br />
<br />
And sometimes there is a hard-to-define line between Cute and Pretty. However, NEVER do I find myself confused about whether a woman is Beautiful or Cute. (Is this classifying and labeling of women offending any of you females out there? Gee, I sure HOPE so! You’re so cute when you’re angry.) <br />
<br />
The most intriguing, nebulous, elusive, subjective, hard-to-quantify – <em>HOT!</em> – category is #4: Sexy. <br />
<br />
Not all Beautiful, Pretty, and Cute women are Sexy. Sexy women have a certain - I dunno - “It” quality that’s almost impossible to put into words, but it just makes a dudeguy’s motor immediately overheat. It’s not necessarily a good thing. I repeat: It’s not necessarily a good thing. <br />
<br />
I can admire and I can desire a woman who’s Cute, Pretty, or Beautiful, but a woman who’s Sexy makes me... <strong><em>LUST!</em></strong> Sexy is a kinda Va-Va-Voom(!) essence that brings out the baser, animalistic tendencies in a man. It appeals to the raw, earthy, Pirate-y <strong>“Arrrrr!”</strong> instinct in a man. "Sexy" is that indefinable something that silently screams: <em><strong>"Jump my bones; have your way with me, boy!"</strong></em> It’s the difference between <em>“<u>loving</u>”</em> and <em>“<u>something</u>-<u>else</u>-<span style="color: #cc0000;"><strong>ing</strong></span>”.</em> ...I threepeat: Sexy is not necessarily a good thang. “This world” would probably be better off without it.<br />
<br />
Below I will provide two photographs for each 'Attractiveness Category', as seen through Stephen T. McCarthy’s eyes. I’m not trying to imply that I’ve labeled all these women correctly; I’m stating outright that I’ve labeled them <u><em>ABSOLUTELY</em></u> correctly.<br />
<br />
<strong><span style="font-size: large;">THE BABE-O-METER ACCORDING TO McME:</span></strong><br />
<br />
<strong><em><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;">1 - <u>BEAUTIFUL</u> :</span></em></strong><br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLjO2c3tUWcYZeUd88EiYXtPCbqwHX2QKGIXv3cAdZLU8ScfE-4jnf2mVUqbH_8nfvybAPiHbRwVjsxXuZs12i2aC5SCc7A43Mae9s1GLWaQO_k_eK7iIZ7FOcb8ydcPGwCeJ9VKaRGyM/s1600/Beautiful+1+-+Tierney.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" sda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLjO2c3tUWcYZeUd88EiYXtPCbqwHX2QKGIXv3cAdZLU8ScfE-4jnf2mVUqbH_8nfvybAPiHbRwVjsxXuZs12i2aC5SCc7A43Mae9s1GLWaQO_k_eK7iIZ7FOcb8ydcPGwCeJ9VKaRGyM/s1600/Beautiful+1+-+Tierney.jpg" /></a><br />
<br />
<em>[GENE TIERNEY]</em> <br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt; mso-ansi-language: EN;">The founder of 20th Century Fox, Darryl F. Zanuck, said that Gene Tierney was <span style="color: #cc0000;">"Undeniably the most beautiful woman in movie history."</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><span style="color: #cc0000;"> </span> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt; mso-ansi-language: EN;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span>Zanuck couldn't have been more right! Gene Tierney is the most beautiful woman I have ever seen <em>anywhere.</em> But the problem is, Tierney was <em><u><strong>SO</strong></u></em> beautiful that she seemed almost unearthly, goddess-like. Any woman who looked like <em><u>that</u></em> and allowed a man <em><u>like</u></em> <em><u>me</u></em> to paw her with his grubby little fingers would immediately lose all my respect! </span><br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8_pZFjEusR0uXv1beV07cguh_J_WfsdGiCZaBz90vhQ0Bb34qK9bpsL8QPZWdjcuHsTjZWufRlYJ0UpODdZqumgsw2NHrmMwv4soAUpquCJohHHthKEy36qcTa_4yBusMe9z7FoKAW8s/s1600/Gene+Tierney.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" sda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8_pZFjEusR0uXv1beV07cguh_J_WfsdGiCZaBz90vhQ0Bb34qK9bpsL8QPZWdjcuHsTjZWufRlYJ0UpODdZqumgsw2NHrmMwv4soAUpquCJohHHthKEy36qcTa_4yBusMe9z7FoKAW8s/s1600/Gene+Tierney.jpg" /></a><br />
<br />
<em>[GENE TIERNEY again ...because she's just so <u>luscious</u>!]</em> <br />
<span style="color: white;">.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaLAX_XBJuEnuP1cV-yod_NwCKbHf5ULSJNG_ms7ZmzFFL2WVsaejc6eFqlCrUZ3E0t5RENTOPVoChFHdYeJx0Rc2qQYvKnK99Mvi-fT8DXXEuzEjPxjmzvPKlDKHw3sPibGO3Lp7zkx4/s1600/Beautiful+2+-+Cardinale.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="297px" sda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaLAX_XBJuEnuP1cV-yod_NwCKbHf5ULSJNG_ms7ZmzFFL2WVsaejc6eFqlCrUZ3E0t5RENTOPVoChFHdYeJx0Rc2qQYvKnK99Mvi-fT8DXXEuzEjPxjmzvPKlDKHw3sPibGO3Lp7zkx4/s320/Beautiful+2+-+Cardinale.jpg" width="320px" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><em>[CLAUDIA CARDINALE]</em></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
<strong><em><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;">2 - <u>PRETTY</u> :</span></em></strong><br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzlp9lZ8M8lxA8pI-TTWmThiIzg6Wjdg6mH0JtIJUyuHiB3HFEugahdqh8PMJNNkF9f7nzYLR1_fy66PLtphv6rPBYeXVfoMtLGxVPVElKFHI9DazMEPiqN9wYcp9zCE1QjbNAsmXJNjM/s1600/Pretty+5+-+O'Hara.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320px" sda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzlp9lZ8M8lxA8pI-TTWmThiIzg6Wjdg6mH0JtIJUyuHiB3HFEugahdqh8PMJNNkF9f7nzYLR1_fy66PLtphv6rPBYeXVfoMtLGxVPVElKFHI9DazMEPiqN9wYcp9zCE1QjbNAsmXJNjM/s320/Pretty+5+-+O'Hara.jpg" width="315px" /></a><br />
<br />
<em>[MAUREEN O'HARA]</em><br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZL0E0Bd1IM8e7YFCvlB9SQe12pNFB8boBe3_-aryJekDlJHo_HKOivBaTKs-GFwJxow_bSqpWAl4WjMnokjNxftHDN0HyripfZ_Xiq4S4xJwCA26hs1k8h37f02Bbvo9_i8xtHDCL6os/s1600/Pretty+4+-+Irving.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="286px" sda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZL0E0Bd1IM8e7YFCvlB9SQe12pNFB8boBe3_-aryJekDlJHo_HKOivBaTKs-GFwJxow_bSqpWAl4WjMnokjNxftHDN0HyripfZ_Xiq4S4xJwCA26hs1k8h37f02Bbvo9_i8xtHDCL6os/s320/Pretty+4+-+Irving.jpg" width="320px" /></a><br />
<br />
<em>[AMY IRVING]</em></div><br />
<strong><em><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;">3 - <u>CUTE</u> :</span></em></strong><br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiWKQfsVpzj2H93PbWGEdhoFlFrEB69dhs2ikspRbTPhM33jquC4AE7b0QTxPJk8O0UB9r3dHtnbaED7zDI_k9WX6-PQWFG4T_mFl93BcFgKSr-Pgl6sJ6UBFSscI82ABWjzdxZleIrJg/s1600/Cute+1+-+Bertinelli.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320px" sda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiWKQfsVpzj2H93PbWGEdhoFlFrEB69dhs2ikspRbTPhM33jquC4AE7b0QTxPJk8O0UB9r3dHtnbaED7zDI_k9WX6-PQWFG4T_mFl93BcFgKSr-Pgl6sJ6UBFSscI82ABWjzdxZleIrJg/s320/Cute+1+-+Bertinelli.jpg" width="241px" /></a><br />
<br />
<em>[VALERIE BERTINELLI]</em><br />
<br />
Oh, I had it <em><span style="color: #cc0000;">bad</span></em>, and that <em><span style="color: #cc0000;"><u>weren't</u> <u>good</u></span>.</em> <br />
Until she went and married a guy named Eddie who was almost as "cute" as she was.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQzaePJ8qqUybe_t-BYLZUHLDrt9RNwXjriOgB3HPvpjEEAZS8NWG6OOhnplXArMQnDMEc-MRbTs1kyhKlJEzsNvAsVVpTlLWxnLa5Mw-yTCBrN7Pt6zbgp4RAKx1XKy1uv_EZpP4MlSQ/s1600/Cute+2+-+Ray.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320px" sda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQzaePJ8qqUybe_t-BYLZUHLDrt9RNwXjriOgB3HPvpjEEAZS8NWG6OOhnplXArMQnDMEc-MRbTs1kyhKlJEzsNvAsVVpTlLWxnLa5Mw-yTCBrN7Pt6zbgp4RAKx1XKy1uv_EZpP4MlSQ/s320/Cute+2+-+Ray.jpg" width="240px" /></a><br />
<br />
<em>[RACHAEL RAY]</em><br />
<br />
<em><span style="color: #cc0000;">Get out in that kitchen and rattle those pots and pans!</span></em><br />
<em><span style="color: #cc0000;">Well, roll my breakfast 'cause I'm a <u>hungry</u> man</span></em><br />
<br />
<strong><em><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;">3.5 – <u>PRETTY</u> <u>CUTE</u> :</span></em></strong> <br />
<br />
This is a kinda in-between category. I can't quite decide if these two women are Pretty or Cute, so I've decided to call them "Pretty Cute".<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5DpnlHfjDAlpgzwe_GJPX2JwEOeDFNRpaQm2Yy9pYw0T-aGiOncnmlfKSs8B9oqY9BgVR_6UX92RceLKZOeoOI9Ny7Gf3BavEXOaj6mxyCZmAcqe2jZ7wt28nAc4jgcAwwdLNpHDS5VE/s1600/Pretty+1+-+Dey.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320px" sda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5DpnlHfjDAlpgzwe_GJPX2JwEOeDFNRpaQm2Yy9pYw0T-aGiOncnmlfKSs8B9oqY9BgVR_6UX92RceLKZOeoOI9Ny7Gf3BavEXOaj6mxyCZmAcqe2jZ7wt28nAc4jgcAwwdLNpHDS5VE/s320/Pretty+1+-+Dey.jpg" width="240px" /></a><br />
<br />
<em>[SUSAN DEY]</em><br />
<br />
I once wrote a haiku about the 1970s:<br />
<br />
<strong><em><span style="color: magenta;"><span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: yellow;">Loud clothes! Fords explode!</span> </span> </span></em></strong><br />
<strong><em><span style="color: magenta;"><span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: yellow;">Seventies: silly, zitful.</span> </span> </span></em></strong><br />
<strong><em><span style="background-color: black; color: magenta;"><span style="color: yellow;"><u>STILL</u> want Susan Dey!</span> </span></em></strong> <br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimtEwPC9jA8H5T_QavUXPhYMIsLvKEQ5sJ9wjaQrlMUxyalXPKROS4XEk3yG3NCwRABSbdNYBj-ywsw6IMVem1S0sU3wwXEijsxz6Lz72OE_2S1vXYK69dWaAFaUhWnBHLbzMa-d5fDQo/s1600/Sally+Field.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320px" sda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimtEwPC9jA8H5T_QavUXPhYMIsLvKEQ5sJ9wjaQrlMUxyalXPKROS4XEk3yG3NCwRABSbdNYBj-ywsw6IMVem1S0sU3wwXEijsxz6Lz72OE_2S1vXYK69dWaAFaUhWnBHLbzMa-d5fDQo/s320/Sally+Field.jpg" width="192px" /></a><br />
<br />
<em>[SALLY FIELD]</em><br />
<br />
When she was very young and playing 'The Flying Nun' on television, Sally Field definitely fell into the 'Cute' category. But as she got older, some of the cuteness became prettiness, until she was inhabiting that borderland between the two. -- <em>I like her, I <strong>really</strong> like her! </em><br />
<br />
<strong><em><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;">4 - <u>SEXY</u> :</span></em></strong><br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEgC9fenZ4w-EHKpaw1XI6rzSMEmvCIxHrKBK-Ge85oWkZ0zt31FH4s5b1UvuNiEbSSTsu2PonhiTKHOyC-82oPic-FnwAxpn-LMFOyeW-f4Wher10dL-eiaZe6Y8qChrDx3g9MTxE8aU/s1600/Sexy+1.5+-+Bacall.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="283px" sda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEgC9fenZ4w-EHKpaw1XI6rzSMEmvCIxHrKBK-Ge85oWkZ0zt31FH4s5b1UvuNiEbSSTsu2PonhiTKHOyC-82oPic-FnwAxpn-LMFOyeW-f4Wher10dL-eiaZe6Y8qChrDx3g9MTxE8aU/s320/Sexy+1.5+-+Bacall.jpg" width="320px" /></a><br />
<br />
<em>[LAUREN BACALL]</em> <br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguInijck8gWrbjtPVBFy_fStrH5tq_cPtLAvzwjcUV8Mish2UK5BsX3lbZfR4H81wRrI4KFzzmbcsyF-egDPMuHGFznc9r_K-_jsGA60nV7TPpHlnBz3jAEo-hgEYwome_miD6-MMg4-c/s1600/Sexy+2+-+Newmar.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" sda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguInijck8gWrbjtPVBFy_fStrH5tq_cPtLAvzwjcUV8Mish2UK5BsX3lbZfR4H81wRrI4KFzzmbcsyF-egDPMuHGFznc9r_K-_jsGA60nV7TPpHlnBz3jAEo-hgEYwome_miD6-MMg4-c/s1600/Sexy+2+-+Newmar.jpg" /></a><br />
<br />
<em>[JULIE NEWMAR]</em> <br />
<br />
Lauren Bacall and Julie Newmar were both Pretty women, but they also possessed that aura or quality about them that just makes a man (well <em><u>this</u></em> man, anyway) have impure thoughts. The other women above - I can fantasize about having a relationship with them. I mean, a nice, good boyfriend/girlfriend or husband/wife relationship. But with Bacall and Newmar, my first thought is of buttons flyin' off and zippers screechin' down! It's horrible, and delightful ...in a sinful way.<br />
<br />
I know it <em>sounds</em> exciting - (hell, you should <em><strong><u>see</u></strong></em> how exciting it looks in my mind!) - but truth be told, this is not a good, wholesome thang. <em>I RE<u>PENT</u>!</em> (...with <u>Pent</u>house).<br />
<br />
How many of the other women shown above do I feel exude that "Sexy"-Appeal aura? <br />
<br />
<em><strong>Tierney</strong>?</em> No. <u><em>Too</em></u> <em>Beautiful</em> to have dirty thoughts about.<br />
<em><strong>Cardinale</strong>?</em> Oh, hell yes!<br />
<em><strong>O'Hara</strong>?</em> Well, I'd say she's "semi-sexy". She has that quality but it's not quite in full bloom.<br />
<em><strong>Irving</strong>?</em> No.<br />
<em><strong>Bertinelli</strong>?</em> No. She's <em><u>too</u></em> Cute to be Sexy.<br />
<em><strong>Ray</strong>?</em> Ditto.<br />
<em><strong>Dey</strong>?</em> Don't get me wrong - I would have jumped at the chance, but, no, not really.<br />
<em><strong>Field</strong>?</em> No. But she definitely looked "hot" in the movie 'The End' - one of the darkest of Black Comedies. <br />
<br />
<strong><em><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><u>SPECIAL</u> <u>CASES</u> :</span></span></em></strong><br />
<br />
Is it possible for a woman who is <em><u>NOT</u></em> Beautiful, Pretty, <strong><em><u>or</u></em></strong> Cute to be Sexy? Well, one does come to mind:<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8ojRBhMhAxZd3oliYDe7yB9CT5Y0BwJiThj3GYR_tOjAj9VySgTjmqdy39T5viOMgTsZSUcLbWHu9SuOF0pjKBXsTo6z5PqQg5WwQrpUCesV_Wi1tJ7BkDVIM5Nxp_5f7p58MM-ufwLU/s1600/Sexy+3+-+Jett.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320px" sda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8ojRBhMhAxZd3oliYDe7yB9CT5Y0BwJiThj3GYR_tOjAj9VySgTjmqdy39T5viOMgTsZSUcLbWHu9SuOF0pjKBXsTo6z5PqQg5WwQrpUCesV_Wi1tJ7BkDVIM5Nxp_5f7p58MM-ufwLU/s320/Sexy+3+-+Jett.jpg" width="219px" /></a><br />
<br />
<em>[JOAN JETT]</em><br />
<br />
In my opinion, Joan Jett was not Beautiful, Pretty, or Cute <em>[that's the <u>BEST</u> photo I could find of her on the Internet]</em>, but she did seem to send that silent signal: <em><strong>"Jump my bones; have your way with me, boy!"</strong></em> Unfortunately, she didn't just come across as "Sexy", but "Sluttish" as well. Because of that, I never <em><strong>lusted</strong></em> for her. She wasn't the type I would bring home to Mother ...nor bring home <em>at all - </em>I'd have to be rather drunk (and good friends tell me that on some nights <em><u>I</u> <u>was</u>!</em>) <br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDQ3-EXwBNk272W9hoAigP7oCvKQpF5r9YpYcyru7k4EWita6CSMW0GwfXs-PUD5snH32k8UxCGBDVDXDaWla1MehPywmDXfciTAxj7I9YZzyRscZMS455REGYpsVsxxU5BytUg3AYBLQ/s1600/Sexy+Not+1+-+Benatar.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320px" sda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDQ3-EXwBNk272W9hoAigP7oCvKQpF5r9YpYcyru7k4EWita6CSMW0GwfXs-PUD5snH32k8UxCGBDVDXDaWla1MehPywmDXfciTAxj7I9YZzyRscZMS455REGYpsVsxxU5BytUg3AYBLQ/s320/Sexy+Not+1+-+Benatar.jpg" width="222px" /></a><br />
<br />
<em>[PAT BENATAR]</em><br />
<br />
I know that a lot of dudeguys from my generation lusted after Pat Benatar. She was Pretty, and she could really sing, but, there was always something about Benatar that turned me off: I always felt she was <em><strong>trying</strong></em> to <strong><em>act</em></strong> "Sexy". But Sexy is an organic thang: you either have it or you don't, and I don't believe anyone can truly "fake it", at least not to me, anyway. I know it when I <em>"<u>FEEL</u>"</em> it, and all your tight clothing, plunging necklines and sashaying around isn't going to convince me that you possess it. I'll <strong><em>know</em></strong> you have <strong><em>"It"</em></strong> when I <strong><em>feel</em></strong> the fire down below! <br />
<br />
But, I fourpeat: Sexy is not necessarily a good thang! It makes me think bad thoughts and feel guilty. In a heartbeat I would have married Valerie Bertinelli, but <em><u>NOT</u></em> Julie Newmar. (However, there will always be a dark corner in my mind where I will meet Julie for martinis and then let her tie me down like I'm Batman.) <br />
<br />
If <em>NONE</em> of this is clear to you, and if <em>ALL</em> of it seems confusing, you need to bear in mind that a person cannot adequately ‘splain sumpin’ unless he or she truly understands it. I confess that I don’t understand this <strong><em>stuffs</em></strong> at all. I instinctively <em><strong>know</strong></em> it, but I can't 'splain it. <br />
<br />
All I can state with certainty is that the only women pictured above that I would kick out of bed <em>“just because”</em> is Joan Jett and Pat Benatar. I could embrace the rest of them smoking <em><u>AND</u></em> eating crackers in my bed. <br />
<br />
Ladies, if all of this yakkin' 'bout women in (almost) strictly physical terms makes you begin to suspect that Stephen T. McCarthy is a "bad" man, please understand that <span style="color: #cc0000;"><em>"I'm not bad, I was just <u><strong>drawn</strong></u> that way"</em> <span style="color: black;">...</span><span style="color: black;">thirty</span><span style="color: black;"> years ago: </span></span><br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRZ7ZYygmKb4ABphtkhIpHsV-FMnT9ivoA7uA7bd9UZW93P6xHWHgZ_JI2a3pQGQwgviqqYhrLAdxxvzErzKuhqRGyo6O4BIJCnfrs5_Z4hVune-7BDeYFA7P9wGM0OImJc6UkbCxWKxA/s1600/Stephen+T.+McCarthy+Cartoon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" sda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRZ7ZYygmKb4ABphtkhIpHsV-FMnT9ivoA7uA7bd9UZW93P6xHWHgZ_JI2a3pQGQwgviqqYhrLAdxxvzErzKuhqRGyo6O4BIJCnfrs5_Z4hVune-7BDeYFA7P9wGM0OImJc6UkbCxWKxA/s1600/Stephen+T.+McCarthy+Cartoon.jpg" /></a><br />
<br />
<em><span style="color: black;">~ Stephen T. McCarthy </span></em><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">YE OLDE COMMENT POLICY: All comments, pro and con, are welcome. However, ad hominem attacks and disrespectful epithets will not be tolerated (read: "posted"). After all, this isn’t Amazon.com, so I don’t have to put up with that kind of bovine excrement</span>.<br />
<span style="color: white;">.</span>Stephen T. McCarthyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00249125637725791567noreply@blogger.com20tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-557564794535751440.post-84001265015478912592012-02-09T20:27:00.009-08:002012-02-10T08:09:10.029-08:00F-WORD FICTION! (Or, HOW CAN YOU HAVE ANY PUDDING IF YOU DON'T EAT YOUR MEAT?)<span style="color: white;">.</span><br />
<em><strong><span style="color: #cc0000;">In a time of universal deceit, </span></strong></em><br />
<em><strong><span style="color: #cc0000;">telling the truth is a revolutionary act.</span></strong></em><br />
<em><strong>~ George Orwell</strong></em><br />
<br />
LOLITA by Vladimir Nabokov<br />
<br />
BRAVE NEW WORLD by Aldous Huxley<br />
<br />
THE SOUND AND THE FURY by William Faulkner<br />
<br />
CATCH-22 by Joseph Heller<br />
<br />
THE GRAPES OF WRATH by John Steinbeck<br />
<br />
1984 by George Orwell<br />
<br />
SLAUGHTERHOUSE-FIVE by Kurt Vonnegut<br />
<br />
ANIMAL FARM by George Orwell<br />
<br />
AS I LAY DYING by William Faulkner<br />
<br />
THE SUN ALSO RISES by Ernest Hemingway<br />
<br />
ON THE ROAD by Jack Kerouac<br />
<br />
THE CATCHER IN THE RYE by J.D. Salinger<br />
<br />
A FAREWELL TO ARMS by Ernest Hemingway<br />
<br />
THE CALL OF THE WILD by Jack London<br />
<br />
THE FOUNTAINHEAD by Ayn Rand<br />
<br />
TO KILL A MOCKINGBIRD by Harper Lee<br />
<br />
ILLUSIONS by Richard Bach<br />
<br />
Those are the titles found on Modern Library’s list of <strong><a href="http://www.modernlibrary.com/top-100/100-best-novels/">'100 Best Novels'</a></strong> that I have read at some point in my life. The majority of them I read in my late teens and early twenties. One exception is ‘Lolita’, which I read in 2010 or ’11. I shouldn’t say I “read” it because I didn’t finish it – I got only about two-thirds of the way through before deciding that my time would be better spent reading some nonfiction instead.<br />
<br />
Of course, that hardly exhausts the list of fiction I read in my teens and early twenties; some of the books I enjoyed the most aren’t even found above. Titles such as: ‘Tortilla Flat’; ‘Adventures of Huckleberry Finn’; ‘Roughing It’; ‘A Tree Grows In Brooklyn’; 'White Fang'; 'Look Homeward, Angel'; ‘Crime And Punishment’; ‘Green Eggs And Ham’, et al. And make no mistake about it: I thought Kerouac’s ‘Dharma Bums’ was much better than ‘On The Road’. <br />
<br />
A comprehensive list of fiction I’ve read in my lifetime would be many, many times longer than the list posted above! <br />
<br />
Not too shabby for a guy who denigrates novels, eh? Strangely enough, some bloggers here in my little bathroom of the Blogosphere probably think of me as: <strong><em><span style="color: #cc0000;">“That guy who hates fiction.”</span></em></strong><br />
<br />
I don’t hate fiction, and I don’t hate the writers of fiction. (Although they do sometimes irritate me to a noteworthy degree.) <br />
<br />
Here’s the deal: I think there is value in reading fiction and everyone should have some knowledge of the classics. I mean, there is definitely a hole in your education if you aren’t familiar with Dickens’ character Uriah Heep; and if you haven’t read ‘Huckleberry Finn’ you have missed a couple of the all-time greatest chapters in the history of social commentary and the written word – namely, chapters 16 & 31. I could easily write one of my patented neverending blog bits about the spirit, psychology, and genius found in chapters 16 & 31 of Mark Twain’s ‘Adventures Of Huckleberry Finn’. <br />
<br />
My argument, however, is that when it is plainly observable by anyone with even just two brain cells to rub together that our American society is crumbling down, falling apart, self-destructing before our very eyes, the truly intelligent and wise individual would spend most of their time reading NONFICTION, in order to learn about the world around him or her. And if he or she had a desire to write, that person would aim toward enlightening the world via powerful nonfiction, rather than another “made-up” story from which we are already overburdened! <br />
<br />
Look, writer-wannabes, all the great fiction stories have <strong><em><u>already</u></em></strong> been written! You ain’t gonna come up with anything genuinely new! <span style="color: #cc0000;">“There is nothing new under the sun.”</span> (D’ya know where that quote comes from? No? Then you are not nearly as knowledgeable about the greatest Book on the planet as ya oughter be!) <br />
<br />
When it comes to fiction, there’s nothing original left to say; you ain’t doin’ nuttin’ but repackaging something that has already been written before – and most likely BETTER!<br />
<br />
Today’s writers of fiction are merely rewrapping old stories or putting multiple older stories into a blender and presenting the “mash-up” as if it were something new. But there’s nuttin’ new in fiction. All of today’s fiction is just one person’s or several persons’ ideas tweaked, twisted, groped, photographed and . . . <br />
<br />
. . . wait a second! I’m supposed to be writing a blog bit about writing, not about <strong><em>flying</em></strong>.<br />
<br />
See, my problem with fiction isn’t so much a problem with fiction as it is with American priorities. The average American on the street couldn’t begin to explain the Constitution and its Bill Of Rights. The average American on the street couldn’t begin to explain the history and the workings of the Federal Reserve System and the Council on Foreign Relations (CFR), and yet those are the two biggest (secular) problems that the U.S.A. faces today!<br />
<br />
Why are Americans so oblivious to the “real world” around them? Because all they know about politics is what gets nearly force-fed to them through their newspapers and TV sets. They COULD learn the truth quite easily if they focused more of their reading time on nonfiction titles rather than works of fiction. But nonfiction, they believe, is far less entertaining than is fiction. And they’re mistaken about that, too!<br />
<br />
And most of the Americans (at least of the female variety) who dream of writing, dream of becoming the next J. K. Rowling, as if one J. K. Rowling somehow weren’t enough. <br />
<br />
I have no problem with anyone reading fiction; I think it’s a good way to rest the mind from the really <strong><em><u>serious</u></em></strong> matters at hand. But fiction should be the dessert you treat yourself to <strong><em><u>after</u></em></strong> you’ve consumed the main course:<br />
<br />
<em><span style="color: #cc0000;">"If you don't eat your meat, you can't have any pudding. How can you have any pudding if you don't eat your meat?"</span></em><br />
<br />
Now I’m willing to acknowledge that not everyone is going to prefer nonfiction over fiction to the same degree that I do. But, if you give the slightest damn about the world you live in, about the world you’re leaving to your children and to your children’s children, then nonfiction should/would represent <strong><em><u><span style="color: #cc0000;">at</span></u> <u><span style="color: #cc0000;">least</span></u></em></strong> 50% of what you spend your 'reading-time' reading. <br />
<br />
And there’s a terrible misconception out there: By and large, people mistakenly think fiction is more exciting than nonfiction. IT’S NOT! One element that makes nonfiction MORE exciting to read is the fact that nonfiction is... <em><u>REAL</u>!</em><br />
<br />
Believe it or not, for just about every wild, exciting, heart-stopping <br />
E-ticket fiction you can find, you can also find real, true-life, NON-fiction stories that match it! There is almost nothing in fiction that does not have its counterpart in a biography or history book. “This world” is a hell of a lot more exciting, mysterious, violent, and remarkable than you could possibly imagine. All of the heroes, heroines, antiheroes, tragically flawed heroes, underdogs, rebels, spies, lovers, fighters, connivers, geniuses, and villains that we love to read about in fictional stories do exist in 'true-life' nonfiction books. You can find it <em><u>ALL</u></em> in the real world and recorded in great, awesomely memorable works of nonfiction! <br />
<br />
From <span style="color: #cc0000;">Agee, James</span> and <span style="color: #cc0000;">Bronte, Emily</span> to <span style="color: #cc0000;">Yeats, William Butler</span> and <span style="color: #cc0000;">Zola, Émile</span>, fiction has been covered. As a writer, you might add quantity to it, but you’re not likely to improve it. If you simply <em><u>must</u></em> be rich and famous – if that’s important to you - then go right on ahead and continue writing fiction and reading mostly fiction. <br />
<br />
But keep in mind that you are <em><strike>fiddling</strike></em> <em>writing</em> "while Rome burns". And unless the American people turn off their televisions soon, put away the latest Fantasy, Thriller, and Sci-Fi books and turn to the information found in nonfiction that can educate us and preserve our basic liberties, before long the only professional writing that <em><u>ANYONE</u></em> is going to be doing will be historical revisionism written on behalf of the <strong><em><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ministry_of_Truth">Ministry Of Truth</a></em></strong>. <br />
<br />
Allow me, please, to suggest some nonfiction reading material:<br />
<br />
If you liked this fiction . . . <br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuA10xY9-KeS-FWfSjeZZrO3HKL3CpmojEe2XeXuhYfMMc-tpYnoqnd-8qM-axUy_SpnuToNhkPZin-EoV4JQPTOvhLXeH-UIKLVQ3HOtnBhN5TgScY8gSEyRi7Sb9z_3jFE4o0qu4feg/s1600/Books+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" sda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuA10xY9-KeS-FWfSjeZZrO3HKL3CpmojEe2XeXuhYfMMc-tpYnoqnd-8qM-axUy_SpnuToNhkPZin-EoV4JQPTOvhLXeH-UIKLVQ3HOtnBhN5TgScY8gSEyRi7Sb9z_3jFE4o0qu4feg/s1600/Books+1.jpg" /></a><br />
<br />
I recommend this nonfiction . . . <br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvvXi0kpqdduN55SxB9d2zGE9i4FS-vZw06jVAceQxMWN_kS8Fz6xxDzXcelxyZOkMiOjQbP2yTkTNfhnuBIajxLFaOCb45jBsoPw_0ZGyUn398IQp50jVcU4Jz8p_YyN2Tn1ZZ7B-jso/s1600/Books+2.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320px" sda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvvXi0kpqdduN55SxB9d2zGE9i4FS-vZw06jVAceQxMWN_kS8Fz6xxDzXcelxyZOkMiOjQbP2yTkTNfhnuBIajxLFaOCb45jBsoPw_0ZGyUn398IQp50jVcU4Jz8p_YyN2Tn1ZZ7B-jso/s320/Books+2.bmp" width="213px" /></a><br />
<br />
<em>'THE RESURRECTION OF THE SHROUD: New Scientific, Medical And Archeological Evidence' by Mark Antonacci.</em><br />
<br />
If you liked this fiction . . . <br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq2v-_KfYiG4b3x8p-fMKKtfjtFCrOGTmx85QFJyBPzdX3UvSHN-imPfRtsb72htYWCrGnCw4pT_20__QUBwnGzT9WZvtw9-SBpnxR6D0YDxzCSkp2z9LMhOCUyYv4xXsuOr3B-LtTQck/s1600/Books+10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" sda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq2v-_KfYiG4b3x8p-fMKKtfjtFCrOGTmx85QFJyBPzdX3UvSHN-imPfRtsb72htYWCrGnCw4pT_20__QUBwnGzT9WZvtw9-SBpnxR6D0YDxzCSkp2z9LMhOCUyYv4xXsuOr3B-LtTQck/s1600/Books+10.jpg" /></a><br />
<br />
I recommend this nonfiction . . . <br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE5oKxNZQQ6_8BGuIZeqQCjPtGRMcxjW-LRbUsVkG9XyQCCVcZ5qRoaZxv6oTn3p8e4Ghih9gKKOKreSa3VW_xQgKCjTR318hlzaBO-7Hr6v3n6jCDPW3mqDG7Bvvm9yjjevVuzDjMsDU/s1600/Books+9.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320px" sda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE5oKxNZQQ6_8BGuIZeqQCjPtGRMcxjW-LRbUsVkG9XyQCCVcZ5qRoaZxv6oTn3p8e4Ghih9gKKOKreSa3VW_xQgKCjTR318hlzaBO-7Hr6v3n6jCDPW3mqDG7Bvvm9yjjevVuzDjMsDU/s320/Books+9.jpg" width="212px" /></a><br />
<br />
<em>'THE HARBINGER' by Jonathan Cahn</em><br />
<br />
If you liked this fiction . . . <br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgITphYkUNMOyTzCnGy-LieTfva_MLnDGhPW2wn079oPHr_YwwkWiDLWyCS73iHuM-mo79nRvjpzCO5GMgF5pYcq1tuR9zVT7Hl6khsSQf_EeErUC01OI3jWmUm46QBD1hYb5mNlHYYFes/s1600/Books+6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320px" sda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgITphYkUNMOyTzCnGy-LieTfva_MLnDGhPW2wn079oPHr_YwwkWiDLWyCS73iHuM-mo79nRvjpzCO5GMgF5pYcq1tuR9zVT7Hl6khsSQf_EeErUC01OI3jWmUm46QBD1hYb5mNlHYYFes/s320/Books+6.jpg" width="208px" /></a><br />
<br />
I recommend this nonfiction . . . <br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6f-c0XIdPIGZQ5ylmYWIPVTpxbmIcr-1JhKciBKbaixTwxXAeJCClrN0Hj_p5d49vQIXmNY38apgQrfnsfglnfx_VqRQaFVlRwmb0JmGGX370_wC0tt3NOR6oK5nY67d3x6ob7E_tgMA/s1600/Books+7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320px" sda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6f-c0XIdPIGZQ5ylmYWIPVTpxbmIcr-1JhKciBKbaixTwxXAeJCClrN0Hj_p5d49vQIXmNY38apgQrfnsfglnfx_VqRQaFVlRwmb0JmGGX370_wC0tt3NOR6oK5nY67d3x6ob7E_tgMA/s320/Books+7.jpg" width="214px" /></a><br />
<br />
<em>'THE CREATURE FROM JEKYLL ISLAND' by G. Edward Griffin</em><br />
<br />
If you liked this fiction . . . <br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPk1qc3trtO88EkMepgl-6pZ5BSBo60zDPmKxcZ4YUkCgVcfsd3lp1vbyIaKXEffNR9-JaP6V6CSnS5MhuL5kglMJcxzS_-GIrRWj9V2Qxt0tnOye1KCWOKTUTG1j5nRzgsrtO0WK6wlM/s1600/Books+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320px" sda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPk1qc3trtO88EkMepgl-6pZ5BSBo60zDPmKxcZ4YUkCgVcfsd3lp1vbyIaKXEffNR9-JaP6V6CSnS5MhuL5kglMJcxzS_-GIrRWj9V2Qxt0tnOye1KCWOKTUTG1j5nRzgsrtO0WK6wlM/s320/Books+3.jpg" width="215px" /></a><br />
<br />
I recommend this nonfiction . . . <br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXyM7EKKFVTFDSBeL_sT84fcjJL9z_p5hKClxSny2wdd4mbQ4ikFg9io8pSZA20OZcx8Z9zMrAgr2FMXXO9hPjhIZAUlADvLXVu5KlcapdOZNea64423mPHhtOziSIEIGpeBzEGvZbsRc/s1600/Books+4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320px" sda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXyM7EKKFVTFDSBeL_sT84fcjJL9z_p5hKClxSny2wdd4mbQ4ikFg9io8pSZA20OZcx8Z9zMrAgr2FMXXO9hPjhIZAUlADvLXVu5KlcapdOZNea64423mPHhtOziSIEIGpeBzEGvZbsRc/s320/Books+4.jpg" width="211px" /></a><br />
<br />
<em>'WITNESS' by Whittaker Chambers</em> <br />
<br />
If you liked this fiction . . . <br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirl_LAVuaviwpuBJMFHTW04iacr1_FTX9XPfHTsGS1aIUsPtl47wLNJgK6WcMhJqaCFlhv0Etq2bk5eWa-DDKc9Mow84NZg2OKopfkoNAchPukfmYCWNJ2pFWygHKqfWoNTx-Txq5bjJQ/s1600/Books+5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320px" sda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirl_LAVuaviwpuBJMFHTW04iacr1_FTX9XPfHTsGS1aIUsPtl47wLNJgK6WcMhJqaCFlhv0Etq2bk5eWa-DDKc9Mow84NZg2OKopfkoNAchPukfmYCWNJ2pFWygHKqfWoNTx-Txq5bjJQ/s320/Books+5.jpg" width="199px" /></a><br />
<br />
I recommend this nonfiction . . . <br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigzVbgp_dzZNj99cb5tvzcxmDqMjskcGXSnVwMHXgGdzMHxG5vGkdcDMFECIwKF31mTvrUQoOeIw1YCeW7J7FGz_RdB6swaQE_9TCZpPl9m5OVcX1MUlle29FNCb9duD0Mww2mWaomDD8/s1600/Books+8.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320px" sda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigzVbgp_dzZNj99cb5tvzcxmDqMjskcGXSnVwMHXgGdzMHxG5vGkdcDMFECIwKF31mTvrUQoOeIw1YCeW7J7FGz_RdB6swaQE_9TCZpPl9m5OVcX1MUlle29FNCb9duD0Mww2mWaomDD8/s320/Books+8.bmp" width="208px" /></a><br />
<br />
<em>'HOSTAGE TO THE DEVIL: The Possession And Exorcism Of Five Living Americans' by Malachi Martin</em><br />
<br />
<em>~ Stephen T. McCarthy</em><br />
<br />
<strong><u>Links</u>:</strong><br />
<br />
<em><strong><a href="http://xtremelyun-pcandunrepentant.blogspot.com/2012/01/where-was-god-on-september-eleventh.html">'THE HARBINGER'</a></strong> by Jonathan Cahn</em><br />
<br />
<em><strong><a href="http://xtremelyun-pcandunrepentant.blogspot.com/2008/06/evil-of-monstrous-proportions.html">'THE CREATURE FROM JEKYLL ISLAND'</a></strong> by G. Edward Griffin</em><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">YE OLDE COMMENT POLICY: All comments, pro and con, are welcome. However, ad hominem attacks and disrespectful epithets will not be tolerated (read: "posted"). After all, this isn’t Amazon.com, so I don’t have to put up with that kind of bovine excrement.</span><br />
<span style="color: white;">.</span>Stephen T. McCarthyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00249125637725791567noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-557564794535751440.post-1750423300232055642012-02-07T20:34:00.007-08:002012-02-07T22:15:19.035-08:00I’LL SEE YOUR WAYLON AND RAISE YOU ONE . . .<span style="color: white;">.</span><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt78LCM4UtturPRdkbHnHzXojSqLr80zGLlRfo6kHXKg9zV6h8_mi5GiwC_p5HeqVmQHZpWATyOXrNYx55jT7iesD9oA5ffeqoFhuR1hfu-DmeCkG8s37B8jwTh0SrjIGugw2ry5Q3aPM/s1600/Outlaw.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320px" sda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt78LCM4UtturPRdkbHnHzXojSqLr80zGLlRfo6kHXKg9zV6h8_mi5GiwC_p5HeqVmQHZpWATyOXrNYx55jT7iesD9oA5ffeqoFhuR1hfu-DmeCkG8s37B8jwTh0SrjIGugw2ry5Q3aPM/s320/Outlaw.jpg" width="299px" /></a><br />
<br />
<em>"You wanna hear 'Waymore’s Blues'"?</em><br />
<em>"I never heard it."</em><br />
<em>"You never <u>heard</u> it? - You <u><strong>produced</strong></u> it!"</em><br />
<br />
<em><span style="color: #cc0000;">If you wanna get to heaven gotta d-i-e</span></em><br />
<em><span style="color: #cc0000;">You gotta put on your coat and t-i-e</span></em><br />
<em><span style="color: #cc0000;">If you wanna get the rabbit out of the l-o-g</span></em><br />
<em><span style="color: #cc0000;">You gotta make a commotion like a d-o-g</span></em><br />
<em><span style="color: #cc0000;">A-like a d-o-g</span></em><br />
<span style="color: black;"><em>["D'ya understand that?"]</em></span><br />
<em><span style="color: #cc0000;">Like a d-o-g</span></em><br />
<br />
When Waylon Jennings asks his sexy wife, Jessi “I’m not Lisa” Colter, <span style="color: #cc0000;">“D'ya understand that?”</span>, he seems <strong><em><u>so</u> <u>much</u></em></strong> like my Pa [may he rest in peace]. In fact, throughout most of the conversation with Jessi after the song ends, Waylon seems just like my Pa! <br />
<br />
<strong>Waylon Jennings . Waymore’s Blues solo acoustic</strong><br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/ugm0JZhX3CI?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe><br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ugm0JZhX3CI">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ugm0JZhX3CI</a><br />
<br />
He was - <em><u>by</u></em> <em><u>far</u></em> - the most charismatic singer I ever saw on a stage. Got to see four shows and I loved ‘em all, but my favorite was probably the first one: standing-room only in this little cowboy joint. And at one point Waylon said to the idiot standing next to me: <br />
<em><span style="color: #cc0000;">“You! Shut up!”</span></em> <br />
He did. <br />
<br />
<em><span style="color: #cc0000;">I grew up with long and lean and hungry looks</span></em><br />
<em><span style="color: #cc0000;">I learn’t you can't go nowhere when you go by the book!</span></em><br />
<em><span style="color: #cc0000;">People all around me earthbound; I learned how to fly</span></em><br />
<em><span style="color: #cc0000;">Upside, downside, outside, sailin’ on by!</span></em> <br />
<br />
<strong>Waylon Jennings - Trouble Man</strong><br />
<br />
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<br />
<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N5_UQJWQG6Q">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N5_UQJWQG6Q</a><br />
<br />
Waylon kicks Grace Slick’s ass.<br />
<br />
<em><span style="color: #cc0000;">I don't explain if you don't understand</span></em><br />
<em><span style="color: #cc0000;">I'm my own man - trouble man</span></em><br />
<br />
<em>~ Stephen T. McCarthy</em><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">YE OLDE COMMENT POLICY: All comments, pro and con, are welcome. However, ad hominem attacks and disrespectful epithets will not be tolerated (read: "posted"). After all, this isn’t Amazon.com, so I don’t have to put up with that kind of bovine excrement.</span><br />
<span style="color: white;">.</span>Stephen T. McCarthyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00249125637725791567noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-557564794535751440.post-50290693976839754042012-02-06T11:20:00.006-08:002012-02-07T09:08:22.213-08:00SLEEP? FUHGEDDABOUDIT! "I’LL SLEEP WHEN I’M DEAD"<span style="color: white;">.</span><br />
At the tail of October and the snout of November, I read a couple of borrowed biographies about Rock stars Warren Zevon and Tom Petty. After finishing and returning them, I immediately went back to my literary métier: tomes about Communist subversion and espionage. (I’ll bet you didn’t think I knew words like that, huh? I’m referring to “métier”, not “subversion” and “espionage”.) <br />
<br />
Below are some excerpts I copied from the biographies, as I found these interesting for this or that reason, or for one thing or another. <br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj33DrKxjoV_AqjWdBlfI9fLr4bnrRD1zEd7NSIdeqO1Z7uKSmR-Z8N-jbxth3Ju9laC2KdAx-quwUof4wBvGZHOoYQVTthZuTablLfVlEHCxf7Q3sHxgJ7dGTbvk10pxKPEADWiU_5xhE/s1600/Zevon+Bio.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320px" sda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj33DrKxjoV_AqjWdBlfI9fLr4bnrRD1zEd7NSIdeqO1Z7uKSmR-Z8N-jbxth3Ju9laC2KdAx-quwUof4wBvGZHOoYQVTthZuTablLfVlEHCxf7Q3sHxgJ7dGTbvk10pxKPEADWiU_5xhE/s320/Zevon+Bio.jpg" width="214px" /></a><br />
<br />
<em><strong>‘<u>I’LL SLEEP WHEN I’M DEAD</u>: The Dirty Life And Times Of Warren Zevon’</strong> by Crystal Zevon - 2007</em><br />
<br />
I attended one Warren Zevon concert in my life. As it turns out, I attended the very concert at the Wiltern Theatre in Los Angeles that was described in the following passages. I know this because my ol’ pal General Poohregard, who attended the concert with me, did an online search and discovered that Warren Zevon only played but one show at L.A.’s Wiltern Theater.<br />
<br />
By 1987, I had seen SOoooo many music shows that I suppose I’d become a bit jaded. Although Pooh recalls it as being a pretty good, hard-rockin’ performance, I’ve always remembered it as basically “just another Rock concert”. <br />
<br />
According to the book, however, everyone (except me, apparently) thought it was a very memorable Zevon performance: <br />
<br />
<em><strong>Page 225 - CRYSTAL ZEVON:</strong> </em><br />
<em>Near the end of the Sentimental Hygiene tour, Warren played the Wiltern in Los Angeles. Everyone was there. People I hadn’t seen in years. Warren blew us all away. He was in control of the music and he commanded his audience. Ariel and I were sitting with Warren’s dad, and J.D. Souther was right behind us.</em><br />
<br />
<em>I was jumping to my feet, shouting, whistling, acting like a fan. What I also remember is that there was no alcohol backstage, so I kept making trips to the theater lobby to guzzle glasses of wine. That night marked the beginning of the end of my drinking. I didn’t get sober for another six months, but seeing him onstage, I knew sober was the way to live.</em><br />
<br />
<em><strong>Page 226 - WARREN’S NOTEBOOK:</strong></em><br />
<em>November 20, 1987</em><br />
<em>…The Wiltern. Nice theater. Nervous. Dad and his friend, Milt, arrived about 7:00. Then, Merle and Beth. When I came out of the shower, there were roses from Michael Ironside. Andy was nervous, too. The nervousness worked for us – the show felt great. The kids were there with their friends, Crystal & Yvonne, LeRoy, Jimmy, Stephan, J.D., Duncan & his wife – it was quite a night. It was a great night.</em><br />
<br />
OK, now this next passage I found kinda humorous in a ridiculous sorta way:<br />
<br />
<em><strong>Pg. 361 - WARREN’S NOTEBOOK</strong></em><br />
<em>March 29. 1999</em><br />
<em>…Tom Waits called: Stu told him I knew vocal exercises that help hoarseness (the ones J.D. Souther taught me long distance a decade ago). “Are you sick?” I asked. “Define sick.” I said, “Mormon fever that keeps you home from school.” He said he’d gotten a cortisone shot – “Where?” “Austin.” And so on. I told him I just gave ‘em a shit show – “I get a tan and hold back.”</em><br />
<br />
So, let’s see if I’ve got this right: Tom Waits was concerned that his voice was hoarse? The guy who sings ‘Tom Traubert’s Blues’ thought some of his fans might notice that his voice wasn’t as smoothly polished as it usually is? <br />
<br />
<strong>Tom Waits - Tom Traubert's Blues (Lyrics)</strong><br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/ztMslNg16og?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe><br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ztMslNg16og">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ztMslNg16og</a><br />
<br />
<em><strong>Pg. 351: WARREN’S NOTEBOOK</strong></em><br />
<em>April 15, 1998</em><br />
<em>…Saw “The Spanish Prisoner” with Ariel & Ben. It was wonderful. I turned to Ariel at one point and said, “This is the best movie I’ve ever seen.”</em><br />
<br />
Uh... y’all ever seen ‘The Spanish Prisoner’? It’s a movie that definitely had some potential, and my brother Nappy and I did get caught up in it for awhile. But by the end of the story we had found some holes in the plot that were big enough to drive a Rock star’s limousine through. If it was the best movie Warren had ever seen, then either he had not seen many movies or he wasn’t nearly as brilliant as everyone who knew him says he was. (And, incidentally, Warren was a big film fan - so it’s the latter rather than the former.) <br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlKuznFIJCGUS3PoVkvh-IXkgsyTqP9FyBMLLeen0pCCq5XXDC6EZPmH-2Ry0FG6UeQqgFcthEBU7b1wddJ2NqqfxizR2Cd6DaFliifKBU1cdx1pWJ66CgFq2X0GpeIMTG_fZbAtmeTqI/s1600/El+Coyote.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" sda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlKuznFIJCGUS3PoVkvh-IXkgsyTqP9FyBMLLeen0pCCq5XXDC6EZPmH-2Ry0FG6UeQqgFcthEBU7b1wddJ2NqqfxizR2Cd6DaFliifKBU1cdx1pWJ66CgFq2X0GpeIMTG_fZbAtmeTqI/s1600/El+Coyote.jpg" /></a><br />
<br />
OK, these next passages kind of blew me away . . .<br />
<br />
Some of you may recall my blog bit titled ‘ROCK ‘N’ ROLL.A.’ In that bit I wrote the following: <br />
<br />
<em><span style="color: #cc0000;">I was thinking that the gypsy wasn't lyin'</span></em><br />
<em><span style="color: #cc0000;">All the salty margaritas in Los Angeles </span></em><br />
<em><span style="color: #cc0000;">I'm gonna drink 'em up</span></em><br />
<em>~ 'Desperados Under The Eaves' by Warren Zevon</em><br />
<br />
<em><span style="background-color: #ffe599; color: black; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>Anytime I listen to that song, the line about drinking all the margaritas in Los Angeles immediately makes me think of El Coyote Mexican restaurant on Beverly Blvd. I’ve always thought they made L.A.’s best margarita.</strong></span></em><br />
<br />
Hokey-Smoke & Hoo-Wee! Gimme an “A” in Intuition! . . . <br />
<br />
<em><strong>55 - CRYSTAL ZEVON:</strong></em><br />
<em>Warren was incredibly jealous. He thought every man on the street was after me, and once we started drinking, it always became my fault. We lived walking distance from our favorite restaurant, El Coyote. The main attractions in those days were the margaritas, the green corn tamales, and the price. One night we were at El Coyote, and the subject of my past relationship with Waddy came up. The fight lasted for days. Warren was convinced that I was sleeping with Waddy, who lived about three blocks away. Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore, so I told him he should just leave.</em><br />
<br />
<em><strong>89 - WARREN’S NOTEBOOK:</strong></em><br />
<em>April 26, 1975</em><br />
<em>…Torrance Shopping Center huge & teeming like a skyless future city. Lots of people here & excited for Billy Jack: Waddy sang “Most Likely You Go Your Way, etc,” & “Tumbling Dice.” Place did have a pub with Heinekens on tap, so drank plenty. $600. check. Took Crystal to El Coyote.</em><br />
<br />
Based on those passages above, I’d be willing to bet a Dairy Queen Blizzard that when Warren wrote that line – <span style="color: #cc0000;">“all the salty margaritas in Los Angeles, I’m gonna drink ‘em up</span><span style="color: #cc0000;">”</span> – he had El Coyote margaritas in mind... just like I always have when hearing it sung! <br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFimE0pMdhK5dUoRoFjP9DimqSI615iggwYYjWmaxSTiDoxFcRaHdr9urXuHd9uxd6kpuRqGXbp3zzin_JWfdtqEIrc8WKjxw4Z-W2bYOz_xflyk68gLqoZcgBQ4mPv7ou4VuMl5_abtU/s1600/2011_1122tombstone0048.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300px" sda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFimE0pMdhK5dUoRoFjP9DimqSI615iggwYYjWmaxSTiDoxFcRaHdr9urXuHd9uxd6kpuRqGXbp3zzin_JWfdtqEIrc8WKjxw4Z-W2bYOz_xflyk68gLqoZcgBQ4mPv7ou4VuMl5_abtU/s400/2011_1122tombstone0048.JPG" width="400px" /></a><br />
<br />
<em>[Inside the El Coyote bar, Beverly Blvd., Los Angeles.]</em><br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTVZn_OWczC_-gtnSNC-Qq9JgO9OUpA81OouxvN0M8nIlzlwC8g-BMNGRzMroXrXlTUmcDQO3gOZkRTPuLHXnj17PajSYUGAnPeSbYj81aNoG-D8b3AFpPdj01C7WCXFr9tRSC-c9mWvM/s1600/2011_1122tombstone0046.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400px" sda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTVZn_OWczC_-gtnSNC-Qq9JgO9OUpA81OouxvN0M8nIlzlwC8g-BMNGRzMroXrXlTUmcDQO3gOZkRTPuLHXnj17PajSYUGAnPeSbYj81aNoG-D8b3AFpPdj01C7WCXFr9tRSC-c9mWvM/s400/2011_1122tombstone0046.JPG" width="300px" /></a><br />
<br />
<em>[All the salty margaritas at El Coyote, I'm gonna drink 'em up.]</em><br />
<br />
<em><span style="color: #cc0000;">I was sitting in the Hollywood Hawaiin Hotel</span></em><br />
<em><span style="color: #cc0000;">I was listening to the air conditioner hum</span></em><br />
<em><span style="color: #cc0000;">It went Hmmm – mmmmm- mmmmm...</span></em><br />
<em>~ ‘Desperados Under The Eaves’ by Warren Zevon</em><br />
<br />
<em><strong>40 - DAVID MARKS:</strong></em><br />
<em>One night he [Warren Zevon] ended up at the Hollywood Hawaiian motel somewhere around Gower and Yucca. He was there for a while, I mean, maybe two or three weeks, and he couldn’t check out because he didn’t have the money to pay the bill. So, one night, I got my mother’s station wagon and pulled it into the alley. He threw all his stuff out the bathroom window and we escaped without paying.</em><br />
<br />
<em><strong>40 - CRYSTAL ZEVON:</strong></em><br />
<em>Years later, when Warren got sober, he actually went back there to pay the bill. Of course, by then he’d written and recorded “Desperados Under The Eaves”, so they settled for a few copies of his ‘Warren Zevon’ album.</em><br />
<br />
David Marks, incidentally, was an original Beach Boy when that band initially formed. And that passage above calls into question whether or not the Princess Grace Apartments at Yucca and Grace was indeed formerly known as the Hollywood Hawaiian Motel, as reported in Art Fein’s book ‘L.A. Musical History Tour’ and repeated in my blog bit ‘ROCK ‘N’ ROLL.A.’ <br />
<br />
My Nephew helped me locate the Princess Grace Apartments at ‘Google Map’ to determine if there is an alley that runs adjacent to it. The view was inconclusive, but if there was an alley, what’s left of it today is very narrow and is hardly even worthy of the name “Alley”. <br />
<br />
The Hollywood intersections of Yucca & Grace and Yucca & Gower are separated by only six blocks, so it is possible that all those years later, Marks’ memory missed the mark by a mere six slim streets. Who can say whose account we should take a-literally? <br />
<br />
<em><span style="color: #cc0000;">Well, I pawned my Smith-Corona</span></em><br />
<em><span style="color: #cc0000;">And I went to meet my man</span></em><br />
<em><span style="color: #cc0000;">He hangs out down on Alvarado Street </span></em><br />
<em><span style="color: #cc0000;">By the Pioneer Chicken stand</span></em><br />
<em>~ 'Carmelita' by Warren Zevon</em><br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi22SwTCiRNomIGShav2GYtVAs6yQ0IES5PLaERl_cVo_zRM6k5kfWj8EWi8P5p42SKiWXjszQXU1d6fZ7vjJ0gQOzmI9yN3kiZD0CJKbHz7insMDxu6962U-0LKYYQW9F4a01kT7QgIHU/s1600/Chachickenman.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320px" sda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi22SwTCiRNomIGShav2GYtVAs6yQ0IES5PLaERl_cVo_zRM6k5kfWj8EWi8P5p42SKiWXjszQXU1d6fZ7vjJ0gQOzmI9yN3kiZD0CJKbHz7insMDxu6962U-0LKYYQW9F4a01kT7QgIHU/s320/Chachickenman.jpg" width="285px" /></a><br />
<br />
<em><strong>25 & 26 - HOWARD KAYLAN:</strong></em><br />
<em>…I wasn’t stable at all, and neither was he [Warren Zevon]. We would drink red wine in the afternoon, we would take acid, we would smoke bongs, and then we would start walking down to Sunset Boulevard.</em><br />
<br />
<em>We wound up using as a hangout Pioneer Chicken Stand on Sunset Boulevard, which was a notorious bad fast food place that caters pretty much to twenty-four-hour biker, hooker, and dealer servicing. But either we didn’t care, or we were just too high to notice.</em><br />
<br />
This too raises some questions. As I wrote in ‘ROCK ‘N’ ROLL.A.’, there was at one time a Pioneer Chicken stand on Alvarado Street, in the parking lot of where the Vons supermarket is located today. That is just a couple blocks from Echo Park. As a youngster in the early 1970s, I passed the chicken stand many times while en route to Dodger Stadium with my Grandfather.<br />
<br />
Warren Zevon HAD to be aware of the Pioneer Chicken stand on Alvarado because it was only a block or two north of the Sunset Boulevard ‘Burrito King’ where he used to eat. However, based on Howard Kaylan’s reminiscences, it seems Warren had a more intimate knowledge of a Sunset Boulevard Pioneer Chicken stand – one I don’t specifically recall. <br />
<br />
One wonders why Zevon didn’t sing “He hangs out down on Sunset Boulevard by the Pioneer Chicken stand”, since ‘Sunset Boulevard’ and ‘Alvarado Street’ both contain five syllables. <br />
<br />
The only answer I can think of is this: Sunset Blvd. is a very long street that stretches from the eastern edge of downtown Los Angeles to the ocean, where it terminates at the Pacific Coast Highway. But most people unfamilar with L.A. don’t associate the name Sunset Blvd. with the grimy, graffitied downtown and Echo Park areas; rather, most people think of Sunset Blvd. as a place loaded with glitzy nightclubs and strolling celebrities. (And, yes, it’s that too.) <br />
<br />
Did Warren mention the Pioneer Chicken stand on Alvarado Street, rather than the run-down, lowlife Pioneer stand on Sunset Blvd. (which he was more familiar with) only because the name ‘Sunset Boulevard’ would have betrayed the grungy, dangerous word-picture he was attempting to paint in the minds of non-Angeleno record buyers? <br />
<br />
<em><strong>68 - CRYSTAL ZEVON:</strong></em><br />
<em>Elmer started in on Warren. “So, Warren, ya met manual yet?” I’m so naïve, I actually thought he was referring to a person until Bop [Warren’s grandfather] stood up, looked at Warren and me, and said, “If you want to leave now, we’ll understand.” Warren got up to go, but I put my hand on his leg and we finished dinner.</em><br />
<br />
Apparently I’m still as “naïve” as Crystal was then. Does anybody know what “manual” refers to here? Is that a euphemism for some sex act or something? <br />
<br />
<em><span style="color: #cc0000;">Mama couldn't be persuaded</span></em><br />
<em><span style="color: #cc0000;">When they pleaded with her,</span></em><br />
<em><span style="color: #cc0000;">"Daughter, don't marry that gamblin' man."</span></em><br />
<br />
<em><span style="color: #cc0000;">Gambler tried to be a family man</span></em><br />
<em><span style="color: #cc0000;">Though it didn't suit his style</span></em><br />
<em><span style="color: #cc0000;">He thought he had him a winning combination</span></em><br />
<em><span style="color: #cc0000;">So he took us where the stakes were high</span></em><br />
<br />
<em><span style="color: #cc0000;">Her parents warned her, tried to reason with her</span></em><br />
<em><span style="color: #cc0000;">Never kept their disappointment hid</span></em><br />
<em><span style="color: #cc0000;">They all went to pieces when the bad luck hit</span></em><br />
<em><span style="color: #cc0000;">Stuck in the middle, I was the kid</span></em><br />
<em>~ ‘Mama Couldn’t Be Persuaded’ by Warren Zevon</em><br />
<br />
<em><strong>57 - CRYSTAL ZEVON:</strong></em><br />
<em>…One night Don, Karen, Warren, and I went downtown [Las Vegas] to gamble. Warren didn’t gamble, but he cheered Don on when he rolled snake eyes at the craps table. He’d bet conservatively, but after a couple more good rolls, he upped his stakes. He couldn’t lose. Finally, Don scooped up his chips and we left. We were all drunk on luck and Don split his winnings with us. When we got back to our room [at the Landmark Hotel], Warren talked about his childhood and we watched the sun come up and held on to each other knowing how much we had to lose. Or gain. That night, he scrawled the beginnings of a new song called “Mama Couldn’t Be Persuaded” on the hotel stationery.</em> <br />
<br />
I have never been able to listen to ‘Mama Couldn’t Be Persuaded’ without thinking of my parents: Pa was always a gamblin’ man – ‘The Racing Form’, his daily newspaper – and my Ma married him in Las Vegas, where I was probably conceived. Many’s the time I went to Vegas with my Pa, watched him gamble at the tables, drank with him at the bars [The Landmark, The Fremont, The Mint], and learned from him how to play the horses. <br />
<br />
And then to read that Warren actually began to compose that song while staying in Vegas at The Landmark, it’s too much! No wonder the eponymous ‘Warren Zevon’ album has always felt to me like it was my own personal musical statement! <br />
<br />
<em><strong>325 - WARREN’S NOTEBOOK:</strong></em><br />
<em>…When I said that Warren Oates was in my favorite movie, a riotous exchange of lines from “Bring Me The Head Of Alfredo Garcia” ensued; one of his [Dwight Yoakam’s] favorites also. Dwight’s great.</em> <br />
<br />
Have you ever seen Sam Peckinpah’s movie ‘<u>Bring Me The Head Of Alfredo Garcia</u>’? <br />
<br />
It could have been titled ‘<u>Show Me The Breasts Of Isela Vega</u>'. <br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUzfH5OdwAN1usnVdTpA6OMI5dBG8Ny2x8rgtnc1q9_WV5aiYv0x9ev4lYMSyX0dSapvdTUkc5hTjl6h5H6pil-GVbldGbBDyo_4ayew-JZoR1wzYJJUaa5LYcjtfBmxhdSzG5ZnPHmyI/s1600/Tom+Petty+Bio.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400px" sda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUzfH5OdwAN1usnVdTpA6OMI5dBG8Ny2x8rgtnc1q9_WV5aiYv0x9ev4lYMSyX0dSapvdTUkc5hTjl6h5H6pil-GVbldGbBDyo_4ayew-JZoR1wzYJJUaa5LYcjtfBmxhdSzG5ZnPHmyI/s400/Tom+Petty+Bio.jpg" width="277px" /></a><br />
<br />
<em><strong>‘<u>CONVERSATIONS WITH TOM PETTY</u>’</strong> by Paul Zollo – 2005</em><br />
<br />
I found this really surprising . . . <br />
<br />
<em><strong>Page 288 – Tom Petty:</strong></em><br />
<em>“I love the ukulele. You can’t be sad and play the ukulele. It always brings a smile into the room.” </em><br />
<br />
Petty used a ukulele in the song 'The Man Who Loves Women'.<br />
<br />
Now this will seem a bit insane but I read the book about Tom Petty solely in the hope that it would reveal where his ‘Hard Promises’ album cover photograph was taken.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPsCBshJuKbpdY_0WCPyDwu9ihWYLaEidysbIVK2AJaj4i8vRpv2AAQwOA2Br_zbuC3AS29kM9RgZUrHNQEhPDz9HTn23G5ajwGddemBbjyKH8YtZXr5FIC7n9rDJ1O_9aAfcLBX80EOI/s1600/Hard+Promises+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="316px" sda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPsCBshJuKbpdY_0WCPyDwu9ihWYLaEidysbIVK2AJaj4i8vRpv2AAQwOA2Br_zbuC3AS29kM9RgZUrHNQEhPDz9HTn23G5ajwGddemBbjyKH8YtZXr5FIC7n9rDJ1O_9aAfcLBX80EOI/s320/Hard+Promises+2.jpg" width="320px" /></a><br />
<br />
‘Hard Promises’ is my favorite Tom Petty album and I had been wondering from the time I purchased that <em><strong><span style="color: #cc0000;">L</span></strong>icorice</em> <em><strong><span style="color: #cc0000;">P</span></strong>izza</em> in 1981 where the cover shot was taken. I had noticed that Petty appeared to be in a Mexican record store and the sign on one wooden crate says “California”, so I guessed it was probably somewhere in Los Angeles.<br />
<br />
There were a couple of record stores geared toward Hispanic customers in the neighborhood where I grew up and so I wondered if Petty might have been photographed in one of them. <br />
<br />
The answer came kind of late in the book and in the form of a photograph caption. There was an alternative picture of Petty taken in the same record store during the same album cover photography session and the caption said that the shots had been taken in a downtown L.A. record shop in 1981.<br />
<br />
Ah-ha! That makes sense because I knew that there were a few Hispanic record stores in downtown L.A. that I myself had browsed through from time to time over the years. The odds are that at one time or another I stood in that same record store represented on the ‘Hard Promises’ album cover. Cool! Let’s hear it for Menudo, Freddy Fender and Los Texas Tornados! <br />
<br />
<strong>Texas Tornados on Austin City Limits</strong><br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/ySNON249yes?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe><br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ySNON249yes">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ySNON249yes</a><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><strong><u>BONUS TRACK</u>:</strong></span> <br />
<br />
<strong><em>FUHGEDDABOUDIT - The Official Way To Write It:</em></strong><br />
<br />
So I found myself at the Christown AMF bowling alley and waiting for my ol’ girlfriend to finish her frame – she’s in the ‘Over-70-Bowling-League’. (Well, losers can’t be choosers!) While waiting for the dog to roll her wheelchair up to the line and roll her last balls into the gutter, I decided to have a glass of Grand Marnier at the bar.<br />
<br />
While nursing my GraMar I was watching the game show ‘Who Wants To Be A Millionaire?’ which just happened to be on one of the boob tubes in the bar/off-track betting parlor.<br />
<br />
At one point a question was asked and answered about some official city signs that read <em><span style="color: #cc0000;">“Leaving Brooklyn. Fuhgeddaboudit.”</span></em><br />
<br />
This caught me by surprise because I’d never known there were actual signs proudly displaying that slang expression. So I did a little Google searching when I got home and discovered that not only do four of the signs exist, but that I had always instinctively written that slang expression letter-for-letter perfectly. <br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMWI-7SaZzvSAmhulah09Rt9UbGc5vEB9m4K9FdQXYdZeJoTu5nqvaxwSAMX6sH9rgHtH4oVlrh-1he4ohYNf6vptyE3v_mh2xd0m_TUKGpwxjfNj_VriSQ9_hj9jBqyk03i_ywYva-B0/s1600/fuhgeddaboudit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320px" sda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMWI-7SaZzvSAmhulah09Rt9UbGc5vEB9m4K9FdQXYdZeJoTu5nqvaxwSAMX6sH9rgHtH4oVlrh-1he4ohYNf6vptyE3v_mh2xd0m_TUKGpwxjfNj_VriSQ9_hj9jBqyk03i_ywYva-B0/s320/fuhgeddaboudit.jpg" width="300px" /></a><br />
<br />
According to the Internet, the signs are found at:<br />
<br />
Gowanus Expressway approaching the Verazzano <br />
BQE approaching the Kosciuczko Bridge <br />
Belt Parkway near the Queens border, and <br />
Belt Parkway, ramp to the Verazzano<br />
<br />
Naturally, I was reminded of the time someone said the following to me:<br />
<br />
<em><span style="color: #cc0000;">Do me a favor, though - stop using "fuhgeddaboudit." Without any Italian in ya, youze just don't say it right, and it make my ears hurt. In fact when ya types it, it makes my eyes hurt.</span></em><br />
<br />
In other words, the person was implying that I didn’t butcher English properly - that I was speaking and writing bad English incorrectly. But I found out much later that - according to the Brooklynites themselves - I was butchering it <em>just right.</em> <br />
<br />
I may not have “Clue One” about how to cook Steak Pizzaiola, but I am at least capable of throwing together an Italian Slangwich.<br />
<br />
Ukulelely Yours . . . <br />
<br />
<em>~ Stephen T. McCarthy</em><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">YE OLDE COMMENT POLICY: All comments, pro and con, are welcome. However, ad hominem attacks and disrespectful epithets will not be tolerated (read: "posted"). After all, this isn’t Amazon.com, so I don’t have to put up with that kind of bovine excrement.</span><br />
<span style="color: white;">.</span>Stephen T. McCarthyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00249125637725791567noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-557564794535751440.post-173098680744622182012-02-04T12:48:00.000-08:002012-02-04T12:48:22.625-08:00DOGS, VOMIT, FOOLS AND FOLLY (ANNEX)<span style="color: white;">.</span><br />
<u>Link</u>: <a href="http://xtremelyun-pcandunrepentant.blogspot.com/2012/02/dogs-vomit-fools-folly.html"><span style="color: white;">No Backmasked Messages</span></a><br />
<br />
<em>~ Stephen T. McCarthy</em><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">YE OLDE COMMENT POLICY: All comments, pro and con, are welcome. However, ad hominem attacks and disrespectful epithets will not be tolerated (read: "posted"). After all, this isn’t Amazon.com, so I don’t have to put up with that kind of bovine excrement.</span><br />
<span style="color: white;">.</span>Stephen T. McCarthyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00249125637725791567noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-557564794535751440.post-68045807280310611532012-02-02T22:07:00.003-08:002012-02-02T22:22:39.898-08:00“CAN YOU WEAR ME NOW?”<span style="color: white;">.</span><br />
It will be nearly impossible for anyone who has known me during the 666 years I’ve lived here in Phoenix, Airheadzona, to believe this but, in fact, I DO have a personal style when it comes to clothing. <br />
<br />
The reason no one who currently knows me “in the flesh” will accept that statement is because no one who knows me now has seen my “style”. And that’s because the majority of the year, Phoenix is hotter’n ‘ell and so I dress purely for comfort, not for style. I have been forced to abandon my style preference solely in order to survive the blasted heat! <br />
<br />
I’m fast approaching the 17th anniversary of my move to Phoenix, but much of my life here has been so hellish that it only <em>FEELS</em> like 666 years. When I arrived here in the Summer of ’95, I almost immediately adopted my brother Nappy’s lifelong style of dress, which can be summed up thus: <em><span style="color: #cc0000;">Put on the first T-shirt at the top of the stack in the chest of drawers. </span></em><br />
<br />
So, unless I’m working “on the clock”, I’m almost always just wearing jeans and a T-shirt. I’d love to re-adopt my “natural” style, but that won’t happen in the foreseeable future. I own a couple of stylish overcoats. One is grey - it was originally owned by my dear friend Martin Brumer and given to me by his Mom after he passed away. The other one, which I purchased for myself in 1988, is either black or navy blue. The fact that I’m not entirely sure which color it is gives you some indication how long it’s been since I’ve seen it.<br />
<br />
My own “style” of preference, however, is jeans and a dark vest worn over a light colored long-sleeved shirt (such as white, tan, pale blue, pale yellow, or even a pale pink). I still have the vests, but they usually just hang around together in the closet, gossiping about what a maroon I am.<br />
<br />
Before the unfortunate move to Hell, Airheadzona, here’s the way you’d usually find me dressed:<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji9r8R0rHpOPdvHpMYOWEK6JhyphenhyphenlkouoAhBk3lm5RMvAMgAfhXRwxgdP0JfcuIWpYyrw6TvR67YnW23NvAgTYm6jOyjwmKb2UNjxQ57QPbNxzpt61VzS6U6Rj4zxMQpKZ-eq5EeL2999pA/s1600/Mohave+Kid+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" sda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji9r8R0rHpOPdvHpMYOWEK6JhyphenhyphenlkouoAhBk3lm5RMvAMgAfhXRwxgdP0JfcuIWpYyrw6TvR67YnW23NvAgTYm6jOyjwmKb2UNjxQ57QPbNxzpt61VzS6U6Rj4zxMQpKZ-eq5EeL2999pA/s1600/Mohave+Kid+2.jpg" /></a><br />
<br />
In my twenties, I pretty much lived in that black leather jacket you see in the ‘Statue Of Liberty’ photograph at the top of this blog. As I matured, I gradually gave up the urban “hoodlum” appearance and replaced it with the classier “Western” vest look. And as I said, that (strictly through necessity) eventually degenerated into the T-shirt thang. <br />
<br />
I can tell you precisely what I’ll be wearing for the next three days just by going to my chest of drawers and checking which 3 T-shirts are at the top of the stack: <br />
<br />
Tomorrow it will be my <a href="http://xtremelyun-pcandunrepentant.blogspot.com/2011/04/my-favorite-t-shirt.html">‘U.S. Constitution* - *Void Where Prohibited By Law’</a> T-shirt. On Saturday it will be my T-shirt with the Henry David Thoreau quote printed on the front (<span style="color: #cc0000;">“Always you have to contend with the stupidity of men.”</span>); and the following day it’ll be my <span style="color: #cc0000;">“Revelation Riders Rodeo”</span> T-shirt. Oh, boy! <br />
<br />
The only thing I am very fond of and still get to wear regularly is the blue-‘n’-green checkered, thermal-lined cotton shirt my Sister gave me for Christmas eons ago. Along with my vests and my black leather jacket of old, this has been the most beloved article of clothing in my lifetime. It has been so practical that it’s been almost like a <strong><a href="http://stephentmccarthysstuffs.blogspot.com/2009/03/paul-harvey-hits-road.html">cowboy hat</a></strong> to me. <br />
<br />
I have worn this shirt while camping, walking, flying, and driving. I’ve worn it while horribly sober and while pleasantly drunker’n you could possibly imagine! Innumerable are the nights I’ve gone to sleep in it! And almost every evening from December through March, I wear this shirt in my house to fight off the chill. <em>(I’m wearing it right this very moment as I type this sentence!)</em> <br />
<br />
So many times I’ve told my Sister that she needs to find and buy me a new one 'cause I almost done-have worn this shirt out! It’s been one of the best Christmas gifts I’ve ever received. <br />
<br />
Think I’m exaggerating? Below are photographs I took of this very shirt at about 16:30 this afternoon (that’s 4:30 PM to those of y’all who don’t know Military Time). I realize the shirt looks like a dog has been roughhousing with it for about six years but, take my word for it, no dog has ever had this shirt in its choppers. It was love, and love <em><u>only</u></em>, what dun this to the shirt. <em>[Love’ll do this to ya!]</em> : <br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg281nbPp2Z8LnNEN7ML8b3O6coky41ycx3oJjPdiewkqhcBK6oqptvM_LMc5qz2KEmUfQAVrFsS36E7YvCNH08BcRmWOPs83xrugCf3XsFCx1Nfs-htIOd_iSHVKzzrefjkoWuXuNqHGc/s1600/Shirt+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" sda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg281nbPp2Z8LnNEN7ML8b3O6coky41ycx3oJjPdiewkqhcBK6oqptvM_LMc5qz2KEmUfQAVrFsS36E7YvCNH08BcRmWOPs83xrugCf3XsFCx1Nfs-htIOd_iSHVKzzrefjkoWuXuNqHGc/s1600/Shirt+1.jpg" /></a><br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-SrdsjnAvSwEfiRX0Q9Pkxt8pyUOuJs3PMxs5Uuwoki5jxT4ZuOnPDzsHRqpC_n4kO6r_EYzsc5vu7P6Y8ca4uyDpgDig7VpNjkvbKLEMAsbK2OwWTDo-6IJTHDGfrz0G3WFBw_6hExg/s1600/Shirt+4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" sda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-SrdsjnAvSwEfiRX0Q9Pkxt8pyUOuJs3PMxs5Uuwoki5jxT4ZuOnPDzsHRqpC_n4kO6r_EYzsc5vu7P6Y8ca4uyDpgDig7VpNjkvbKLEMAsbK2OwWTDo-6IJTHDGfrz0G3WFBw_6hExg/s1600/Shirt+4.jpg" /></a><br />
<br />
The label just inside the collar gives the brand name of this shirt as <span style="color: #cc0000;">‘GRAND BANKS Outfitters’</span> and indicates that it was “Made In Guatemala”. <br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUyQd81W4KtczoAjWSeMSXNZChoiOAs32SbB_M7kFHSAjHFqRrn3vVWugl2cNE2PVe6uyziK-xaaPR8P3l5mfeEfCsl0z0Cg_q6-QRPJPS0WFTNrMXb0nH1hXvGX2V0hVylhSE8R22LU0/s1600/Shirt+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" sda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUyQd81W4KtczoAjWSeMSXNZChoiOAs32SbB_M7kFHSAjHFqRrn3vVWugl2cNE2PVe6uyziK-xaaPR8P3l5mfeEfCsl0z0Cg_q6-QRPJPS0WFTNrMXb0nH1hXvGX2V0hVylhSE8R22LU0/s1600/Shirt+2.jpg" /></a><br />
<br />
I’m sure this was a fairly inexpensive article of clothing, most likely found at a Ross Dress-For-Less store or something along those lines. All I know for sure is that . . . I NEEDS ME ANUDDER ONE O’ DEEZE SHIRTS!<br />
<br />
This great shirt has outlasted most automobiles, marriages, wines, and fruitcakes. (Well, OK, maybe not fruitcakes – those things last forever!) But, clearly, as proven by the photographs above, this shirt probably has no more than another decade of service to provide before it bites the dust.<br />
<br />
<strong><span style="font-size: large;"><u>Two</u> <u>Qs</u>:</span></strong> <br />
<br />
<strong>#1)</strong> <span style="color: #cc0000;">Anyone know where I can get me another one o’ these shirts?</span><br />
<br />
<strong>#2)</strong> <span style="color: #cc0000;">What is your own all-time favorite article of clothing, past or present?</span> <br />
<br />
<em>~ Stephen T. McCarthy</em><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">YE OLDE COMMENT POLICY: All comments, pro and con, are welcome. However, ad hominem attacks and disrespectful epithets will not be tolerated (read: "posted"). After all, this isn’t Amazon.com, so I don’t have to put up with that kind of bovine excrement.</span><br />
<span style="color: white;">.</span>Stephen T. McCarthyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00249125637725791567noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-557564794535751440.post-4112033021730203932012-02-01T15:35:00.007-08:002012-02-01T23:05:39.724-08:00THE HIGHS AND LOWS OF GRAND MARNIER IN ROCK ‘N’ ROLL HISTORY<span style="color: white;">.</span><br />
<strong><em>‘<u>THIS</u> <u>WHEEL’S</u> <u>ON</u> <u>FIRE</u>: Levon Helm And The Story Of The Band’</em></strong> by...(yup, you guessed it)...Levon Helm.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidCLdIWpgRDqw7fQKCZfAcS_5QFhL9TV5ssxW7XNy9sXB1F5_gX-xeYKz_aVn0XWFKtMinWxH2D7zUByJUY_RlGsigVMXStfuOfI6kLbX4s9Qz5kWuq86Jo0du6nUb8m2Z7rs6ZPKQn24/s1600/Band+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320px" sda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidCLdIWpgRDqw7fQKCZfAcS_5QFhL9TV5ssxW7XNy9sXB1F5_gX-xeYKz_aVn0XWFKtMinWxH2D7zUByJUY_RlGsigVMXStfuOfI6kLbX4s9Qz5kWuq86Jo0du6nUb8m2Z7rs6ZPKQn24/s320/Band+2.jpg" width="320px" /></a><br />
<br />
<em>[Cool photo borrowed from <strong><a href="http://nicolenelch.blogspot.com/">The Nicole Nelch Blog</a></strong>]</em><br />
<br />
It’s a 300+ page book that was given to me for Christmas by my good friend The Flyin’ Aardvark. (The Flyin’ Aard knows what this boy wants!) And I had probably finished reading the book a week or two after unwrapping it on Christmas Day. <br />
<br />
Levon Helm was always my favorite member of THE BAND. And I liked his down-home name so much that I even borrowed the first half of it for a short story I wrote in 1994. The character was a small-town newspaper journalist named Levon Rendman whose research leads him to discover that the local legend is actually more myth than fact and when he publishes the “nonfiction” version - thinking the inhabitants of this “wide spot in the road” will appreciate learning the truth - he unexpectedly finds himself both dogged and ostracized by the community to the point that he up and moves his family out of the state. <br />
<br />
Levon Rendman . . . Rendman. Get it? He tears the local legend apart – <em>rends it</em> – and suffers the consequences.<br />
<br />
Anyway, whatever.<br />
<br />
I found Levon Helm’s story of The Band plenty interesting. I’ll tell you this much: Robbie Robertson does not come off looking too good in this band biography. Hoo-Wee! Talk about getting hit with a heavy wordstick! <br />
<br />
But this blog bit is not about Robbie Robertson, The Band, nor even Levon Helm; this blog bit is about Grand Marnier, or “GraMar” as I sometimes call it (because we are such close friends).<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1vWWAG-1InplcZmDFZYt3hOX28O08pYoVoxpuVNRiGyJ8fT6ea3kP8rWF5m8Emmnm6Koz6BP2vrIKv1vOJngVFri3Xx7p1c6108ZnRXswVQPKp3yqmr1ZN4MglDFE8chAg9CdOXucNAw/s1600/GraMar+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266px" sda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1vWWAG-1InplcZmDFZYt3hOX28O08pYoVoxpuVNRiGyJ8fT6ea3kP8rWF5m8Emmnm6Koz6BP2vrIKv1vOJngVFri3Xx7p1c6108ZnRXswVQPKp3yqmr1ZN4MglDFE8chAg9CdOXucNAw/s400/GraMar+1.jpg" width="400px" /></a><br />
<br />
Grand Marnier is an 80-proof liqueur made in France from cognac and the essence of oranges. It’s pretty much the only thing that keeps me from despising the French to the degree that I should and would like to. <br />
<br />
Grand Marnier (you can call it “GraMar” too, if you like it as much as I do) has, in two ways, figured prominently in Rock ‘N’ Roll – a high point, and also one of Rock’s real low points.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><u>THE “HIGH” POINT</u>:</span><br />
<br />
Well, it’s not news to anyone who has followed ‘STUFFS’ for awhile to learn that I feel the cover of Nils Lofgren’s debut solo LP is the best that Rock ‘N’ Roll has ever given us.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPnGNsNmknLg88OFVbxRB4tHPey-xBCjCV0OiBbldLPJ8Hu1qmfrQBRYCeQfjACgH7-pp7UG4wKXsW6AVXYaJ8ttWXKrlutyiBzXVXKq35dtz671KX8-JB5rUMsWrZtjg8m_5iYf8EXZw/s1600/Nils+Lofgren.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320px" sda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPnGNsNmknLg88OFVbxRB4tHPey-xBCjCV0OiBbldLPJ8Hu1qmfrQBRYCeQfjACgH7-pp7UG4wKXsW6AVXYaJ8ttWXKrlutyiBzXVXKq35dtz671KX8-JB5rUMsWrZtjg8m_5iYf8EXZw/s320/Nils+Lofgren.jpg" width="320px" /></a><br />
<br />
It’s a bottle of Grand Marnier our hero is tilting in that album cover photo. <br />
<br />
I’ve already written about this a couple times and I’m not going to repeat myself yet again. If you’re interested in learning WHY I think ‘Nils Lofgren’ is the best Rock ‘N’ Roll album cover and how I think it probably inspired my own ‘Statue Of Liberty’ picture [<u>see photo at the top of this blog</u>!] you can read the older blog bits titled <a href="http://stephentmccarthysstuffs.blogspot.com/2010/03/musics-all-time-15-best-album-covers.html">‘Music’s All-Time 15 Best Album Covers’</a> and ‘<a href="http://stephentmccarthysstuffs.blogspot.com/2010/01/yakkin-with-rock-stars-nils-n-norman.html">Yakkin’ With Rock Stars Nils ‘N’ Norman’</a>. (I’ll include links again at the bottom.) <br />
<br />
OK, the “high” point has already been covered. That brings us to the other.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><u>THE LOW POINT</u>:</span> <br />
<br />
Richard Manuel was a member of The Band. He was primarily a keyboardist but he could play just about anything, including drums. He was also one of The Band’s songwriting vocalists. <br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl73qyr3DeOqm7CP0qKkznc6zru01-t14myJGzXybGgmhyEb2aVAoXSwEwVQRSyzDBMm2bMszFm1Z4zEl5tjX3CBR1xz6ge5M6ut5vj6cv_xvLp1yFICRQmutE9PuFWzZFCmk_3RsBIN0/s1600/Richard+Manuel+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="311px" sda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl73qyr3DeOqm7CP0qKkznc6zru01-t14myJGzXybGgmhyEb2aVAoXSwEwVQRSyzDBMm2bMszFm1Z4zEl5tjX3CBR1xz6ge5M6ut5vj6cv_xvLp1yFICRQmutE9PuFWzZFCmk_3RsBIN0/s320/Richard+Manuel+2.jpg" width="320px" /></a><br />
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<em>[Richard Manuel is at the far left in this album cover photo.]</em><br />
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Unfortunately, on March 4, 1986, Richard Manuel committed suicide by hanging himself in a Florida motel bathroom. It seems the last drink Manuel ever consumed was Grand Marnier, as Levon Helm tells us in his book that when he entered Manuel’s room on that morning, there was an empty GraMar bottle on the dresser.<br />
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Now if that’s all there was to this, I wouldn’t have bothered composing a blog bit about it. You see, among the many other interesting things I learned by reading ‘This Wheel’s On Fire’ is that Richard Manuel was a Grand Marnier hound! <br />
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<em><span style="color: #cc0000;"><span style="color: black;">[</span>Warning:</span> What’s coming next is rather sad.]</em><br />
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On page 246, Helm tells of how Manuel, at one point, moved into a bungalow on Zuma Beach in Malibu, near the Shangri-La recording studio. (My grade school, junior high school, and high school buddy Eric used to live just a few blocks from Shangri-La and I remember him showing it to me on one of my many weekend visits to his Malibu house.) <br />
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At any rate, Manuel’s Zuma Beach bungalow was originally a shed where TV’s talking horse Mr. Ed used to live. Levon writes: “We had Mr. Ed’s stable converted to a bungalow, and Richard moved in and basically stayed there for the next year, drinking seven or eight bottles of Grand Marnier...a day, relying on the sugar in the liqueur to keep his weight up.”<br />
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HOKEY-SMOKE! Seven or eight bottles a day? If I had seven or eight <em>GLASSES</em> of GraMar I’d be gassed! At 80-proof, Grand Marnier is the same strength as most whiskey, vodka, and tequila. Some hard alcohol is a little stronger, such as absinthe and most gin. But 80-proof is the standard “adult dose”. 7,8/80/7? (7 or 8 bottles of 80-proof 7 days a week?) Sheesh! It’s a wonder Manuel lived long enough to hang himself!<br />
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Levon later tells us that when they finally managed to get Manuel to move out of Mr. Ed’s Zuma Beach stable, it took “a couple of days to clean out the two thousand Grand Marnier bottles they found.” <br />
[Page 277]<br />
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If only I could <em>AFFORD</em> that much GraMar! That stuffs ain’t cheap. I’ll tell you this much though: it’s a helluva high. I’m not surprised that Richard Manuel (and Nils Lofgren) liked it so much. The chemical reaction is different for everyone, of course, but various alcoholic drinks provide various effects.<br />
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Examples: Beer usually just makes me sluggish; tequila makes me crazy; wine and GraMar make me happy; gin just tastes good; and vodka . . . well, vodka, I just won’t touch the stuffs - that’s for Rooskies in Commieville. <br />
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So, anyway, now you know the Highs and the Lows of Grand Marnier in Rock ‘N’ Roll history. <br />
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Hmmm... <span style="color: #cc0000;">"Thought I’d something more to say".</span><br />
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<em>~ Stephen T. McCarthy</em><br />
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<strong><u><em>Links:</em></u></strong><br />
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<a href="http://stephentmccarthysstuffs.blogspot.com/2010/03/musics-all-time-15-best-album-covers.html"><strong>‘Music’s All-Time 15 Best Album Covers’</strong></a><br />
<br />
<strong><a href="http://stephentmccarthysstuffs.blogspot.com/2010/01/yakkin-with-rock-stars-nils-n-norman.html">‘Yakkin’ With Rock Stars Nils ‘N’ Norman’</a></strong><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">YE OLDE COMMENT POLICY: All comments, pro and con, are welcome. However, ad hominem attacks and disrespectful epithets will not be tolerated (read: "posted"). After all, this isn’t Amazon.com, so I don’t have to put up with that kind of bovine excrement.</span><br />
<span style="color: white;">.</span>Stephen T. McCarthyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00249125637725791567noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-557564794535751440.post-86897221850073356222012-01-31T12:16:00.001-08:002012-01-31T12:30:37.258-08:00AMERICA’S FIRST SPORTS DRINK? (Or, "SHAKE YOUR YOO-HOO!")<span style="color: white;">.</span><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjNJETeMuzHzRqVHND5Erf9tPey0pjd3tqcg13Om1tZeNHC824mtLHbpo91Fi4OK4smvZBhLng73RFb7QVuucUkxFHJtXionylbi1IV8Sp6rDpWhq73f_K4npjYuQ_jVkR1uF6nE0ZE5Y/s1600/YooHoo.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="110px" sda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjNJETeMuzHzRqVHND5Erf9tPey0pjd3tqcg13Om1tZeNHC824mtLHbpo91Fi4OK4smvZBhLng73RFb7QVuucUkxFHJtXionylbi1IV8Sp6rDpWhq73f_K4npjYuQ_jVkR1uF6nE0ZE5Y/s400/YooHoo.gif" width="400px" /></a><br />
<span style="color: white;">.</span><br />
Back when I was a youngster there were no home video games, iPods, or cell phones. And, in fact, there were very few malls. So we boys spent most of our time playing sports. It was always Twinkie, Wally Murphy, my brother Napoleon, and me (plus whoever else had found a way out of doing their household chores) and we were <em><u><strong>always</strong></u></em> playing <em><u><strong>something</strong></u>.</em><br />
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If we weren’t involved in an organized baseball game at Sunset Little League then it means we were out on the street playing Wiffle Ball. Or if it wasn’t that, then we were at Marine Park playing tackle football, Over-The-Line, or Pickle. How many boys today could even explain Over-The-Line or Pickle? <br />
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Pickle – as in “you’re in a pickle” – was a way for three boys to practice their base-stealing skills. One kid would be trying to see how many bases he could steal back-and-forth, while the other two boys were trying to get him in a run-down and tag him out. The player who managed to steal the most consecutive bases by the end of the Pickle session was the winner. And a Pickle session ended when the boys were too tired to run anymore or when it was time to go home for dinner. Meaning, of course, the latter, because we boys NEVER reached a point where we were too tired to run anymore! For Twinkie, Wally, Nappy, and I, the bases at Marine Park were usually represented by two trees. (I wonder how big those trees are today!)<br />
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And if we weren’t playing Little League Baseball, Wiffle Ball, tackle football, Over-The-Line, or Pickle, then it means we could be found in the backyard playing “Birdie Ball” - a form of baseball we had invented using a miniature souvenir bat and badminton birdies. <br />
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Anyway, there were very few fat kids during my boyhood era because we were all too busy playing sports. We never thought of it as “exercising”.<br />
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Nowadays, there are a lot of fat kids around because the only thing they exercise are their thumbs via texting and Xbox (“virtual” sports).<br />
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In that same era, Twinkie, Wally, Nappy and I also drank a good deal of YOO-HOO. Yoo-Hoo, which is still around today, is a chocolate flavored beverage. I would describe it as tasting like a nonfat or lowfat chocolate milk. <br />
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Of course, the packaging design changed a great deal over the years, but back in ‘The Days Of Pickle’, the labels used to say <strong><em><span style="color: #cc0000;">“<u>Shake</u>! <u>It’s Great</u>!”</span></em></strong> and also <strong><em><span style="color: #cc0000;">“<u>A Chocolate Flavored ACTION Drink</u>”</span></em></strong>.<br />
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Although in our Santa Monica stores we always found Yoo-Hoo bottled, read the label on the <u>second can from the left</u> in the photo below: <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJbrcw4gXAOjBUpJDpNal8wXig6H2dSDJL6ZNKqD8ozTE7XnafpEsM8VSosPnD1pZXgCwarMePvx4dMfkm7pHkN3dntBheBVsUd_XKAbbSJJdnp1nVENgSQDPbnaJ2V5OeiLkM9qRWN2E/s1600/Yoo-Hoo+Action+Drink.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" sda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJbrcw4gXAOjBUpJDpNal8wXig6H2dSDJL6ZNKqD8ozTE7XnafpEsM8VSosPnD1pZXgCwarMePvx4dMfkm7pHkN3dntBheBVsUd_XKAbbSJJdnp1nVENgSQDPbnaJ2V5OeiLkM9qRWN2E/s1600/Yoo-Hoo+Action+Drink.jpg" /></a><br />
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You always had to <em>shake</em> a Yoo-Hoo well before drinking it because otherwise all the chocolate syrup would be coagulated at the bottom of the bottle. <strong><em><span style="color: #cc0000;">“<u>Shake</u>! <u>It’s Great</u>!”</span></em></strong><br />
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About three years ago, Yoo-Hoo entered into a conversation that brother Nappy and I were having about “the good ol’ days”. And recalling how the labels used to read <span style="color: #cc0000;">“A Chocolate Flavored <u><strong>ACTION</strong></u> Drink”</span>, I jokingly remarked: <em>“Forget Gatorade. Yoo-Hoo was America’s first sports drink!”</em> <br />
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I thought that was kinda funny in a facetious sorta way. That is until a year later when I acquired a copy of <em><u>‘THE YOGI BOOK:</u> <u>I Really Didn’t Say Everything I Said!’</u></em> by Yogi Berra. <br />
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You know Yogi, right? The great Hall Of Fame catcher who played for the New York Yankees and who is almost as well known for all his famous malapropistic sayings.<br />
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<em><span style="color: #cc0000;">“It ain’t over ‘til it’s over.”</span></em><br />
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<em><span style="color: #cc0000;">“It’s déjà vu all over again!”</span></em><br />
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<em><span style="color: #cc0000;">“We were overwhelming underdogs.”</span></em><br />
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<em><span style="color: #cc0000;">“The future ain’t what it used to be.”</span></em><br />
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<em><span style="color: #cc0000;">“A nickel ain’t worth a dime anymore.”</span></em><br />
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<em><span style="color: #cc0000;">“We’re lost, but we’re making good time!”</span></em><br />
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<em><span style="color: #cc0000;">“Nobody goes there anymore. It’s too crowded.”</span></em><br />
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<em><span style="color: #cc0000;">“If people don’t want to come to the ballpark, how are you going to stop them?”</span></em><br />
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And many more . . . <br />
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Well, I was greatly surprised to discover in ‘THE YOGI BOOK’ that way back when – long before I was drinking Yoo-Hoo and playing Pickle with the boys - Yogi and some of his Yankees teammates were acting as spokesmen for that <span style="color: #cc0000;">“Chocolate Flavored <u><strong>ACTION</strong></u> Drink”</span>. So, in a sense, I mighta been sorta correct: It seems Yoo-Hoo might really <em>have</em> <em>been</em> advertised as America’s first "sports" drink. (And here I thought I was being clever!)<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi4WvUMI2NRIOcLTAP4godE-NuhFeB-6QkMm2lGg4ZWV8VerMsWqHOJTGs4otNj7aPt6eBy2lGmD1sy3HOih-NJcurXHLj54Izp4rGNd26zdaSVVMFISGGkuBq0qB2wyVwRQ8uVCM-RA8/s1600/YogiYoo-Hoo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320px" sda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi4WvUMI2NRIOcLTAP4godE-NuhFeB-6QkMm2lGg4ZWV8VerMsWqHOJTGs4otNj7aPt6eBy2lGmD1sy3HOih-NJcurXHLj54Izp4rGNd26zdaSVVMFISGGkuBq0qB2wyVwRQ8uVCM-RA8/s320/YogiYoo-Hoo.jpg" width="259px" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXTUMr7j9avwytQW0nX19xiRAfnqkR0NxC1XpRf4Rn5BmWGtOTfrnvON0zPV4lQe0DT9i_kQz2CpQowjN5_yuySZGc1bBxUiZAhJjMT1bdt7LsxrDsuLXGdboCtlj7Hie0X9wqJMidZjg/s1600/Yoo-HooEnergyBoost.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" sda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXTUMr7j9avwytQW0nX19xiRAfnqkR0NxC1XpRf4Rn5BmWGtOTfrnvON0zPV4lQe0DT9i_kQz2CpQowjN5_yuySZGc1bBxUiZAhJjMT1bdt7LsxrDsuLXGdboCtlj7Hie0X9wqJMidZjg/s1600/Yoo-HooEnergyBoost.bmp" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtbVZ63fTb9DW9PhLCTJ93Jrh0NUA_ekr2R5FWFEtzPmT7NKbiEjXciqS9VFhKRmZ9KffTR6dLOKbKcYY_jFHpn50na5CSPDr6yI6XMxqniYNtniR7sgxDPVx0WAsxdYjvsocgsOo0izE/s1600/Yoo-HooDrinkOfChampions.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320px" sda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtbVZ63fTb9DW9PhLCTJ93Jrh0NUA_ekr2R5FWFEtzPmT7NKbiEjXciqS9VFhKRmZ9KffTR6dLOKbKcYY_jFHpn50na5CSPDr6yI6XMxqniYNtniR7sgxDPVx0WAsxdYjvsocgsOo0izE/s320/Yoo-HooDrinkOfChampions.jpg" width="243px" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidjfsop36ZPi3aR9GAw9sBR7nJz5KnXiYWtnQOpJazDUhCqBNFt9nGdqRsZeiv7MZ6XfDR3_oWQK13n6IIKfqyeE8tIslC4HnwsOdAuj7q_kme9lkFProol4v4732LPKpGrCLTrmwizKY/s1600/YooHoo+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320px" sda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidjfsop36ZPi3aR9GAw9sBR7nJz5KnXiYWtnQOpJazDUhCqBNFt9nGdqRsZeiv7MZ6XfDR3_oWQK13n6IIKfqyeE8tIslC4HnwsOdAuj7q_kme9lkFProol4v4732LPKpGrCLTrmwizKY/s320/YooHoo+1.jpg" width="252px" /></a><br />
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And wouldn’t you know it? There’s even a screwy Yogi Berra remark associated with Yoo-Hoo! ‘THE YOGI BOOK’ contains this little anecdote:<br />
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At a YOO-HOO convention, a woman asked Yogi, “Is Yoo-Hoo hyphenated?” Yogi answered, <em><span style="color: #cc0000;">“No, ma’am, it isn’t even carbonated!”</span></em> <br />
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One of my favorite players on the 2001 World Champion Arizona Diamondbacks team was Reggie Sanders. He only played that one season with the D-Backs, but he had a pretty good year for a power-hitting outfielder: .263 Average; 33 Home Runs; 90 RBI; 14 Stolen Bases.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSIHCWX5lxGrGABG6LKDmL8ixA935-MmnUWNzwhThw5EofjpLC0mLMahjdjJ-uMFdlmZSISxoeoSe9Wgns3KyEsImoZfRt-y5k7t7fhr9eZXwgnb5To7hN2IfdMmuVqjr8tyZuFUpxanw/s1600/Reggie+Sanders+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320px" sda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSIHCWX5lxGrGABG6LKDmL8ixA935-MmnUWNzwhThw5EofjpLC0mLMahjdjJ-uMFdlmZSISxoeoSe9Wgns3KyEsImoZfRt-y5k7t7fhr9eZXwgnb5To7hN2IfdMmuVqjr8tyZuFUpxanw/s320/Reggie+Sanders+1.jpg" width="207px" /></a><br />
<br />
I’d noticed that Sanders had a quirky little habit. When he was standing near home plate, about to enter the batter’s box, he would often hold his baseball bat at the center of the thick barrel and shake it back and forth three or four times. Whenever I saw him doing that in important, pressure situations, just for good luck, I would call out to Reggie through the TV screen, <span style="color: #cc0000;">“Shake your Yoo-Hoo!”</span> It was amazing how often that seemed to bring positive results. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimdZ2R11hRg3_4jxjoQ5W3O8rsPtq-aTN4A6LpZ7D8eRamBPDqwZgifrXpa-oY_MuZ4N9RqNoxnq9s-ootRyzg9-oY4DWCKSebi7FHpBWaoEk5nt4rssnQDcDFnStqPJ6BFKL2CCxqp2k/s1600/Reggie+Sanders+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" sda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimdZ2R11hRg3_4jxjoQ5W3O8rsPtq-aTN4A6LpZ7D8eRamBPDqwZgifrXpa-oY_MuZ4N9RqNoxnq9s-ootRyzg9-oY4DWCKSebi7FHpBWaoEk5nt4rssnQDcDFnStqPJ6BFKL2CCxqp2k/s1600/Reggie+Sanders+2.jpg" /></a><br />
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<em>Hey, baby, show us your Yoo-Hoo! . . .</em><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizwaNmTJuNTCyIqLremLiKgYPodgWIIH6KOwmBfh8-ENV3lySR5vOxpVq30yWgXkyzIgorujleonaBCNN-qX8JDCCWFikNjLPhMi2sQVvXoayN4Y8Cf27KgP2QoMIRxi4Y4ZwcgNSH0vI/s1600/Yoo-Hootattoo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320px" sda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizwaNmTJuNTCyIqLremLiKgYPodgWIIH6KOwmBfh8-ENV3lySR5vOxpVq30yWgXkyzIgorujleonaBCNN-qX8JDCCWFikNjLPhMi2sQVvXoayN4Y8Cf27KgP2QoMIRxi4Y4ZwcgNSH0vI/s320/Yoo-Hootattoo.jpg" width="309px" /></a><br />
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Hmmm... I think I’d rather have Yoo-Hoo <strong><em><u>in</u></em></strong> me than <strong><em><u>on</u></em></strong> me.<br />
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<em>~ Stephen T. McCarthy</em><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">YE OLDE COMMENT POLICY: All comments, pro and con, are welcome. However, ad hominem attacks and disrespectful epithets will not be tolerated (read: "posted"). After all, this isn’t Amazon.com, so I don’t have to put up with that kind of bovine excrement.</span><br />
<span style="color: white;">.</span>Stephen T. McCarthyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00249125637725791567noreply@blogger.com19tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-557564794535751440.post-48677296249781741652012-01-29T23:07:00.009-08:002012-01-30T01:48:57.949-08:00TEN FAVORITE SPORTS MOVIES (Or, STEPHEN’S SPORTS PAGE... Uhm-- “PHASE”)<span style="color: white;">.</span><br />
<em>“Well, Stephen’s just going through a phase”</em>, you could frequently and correctly say. It’s true, I have always tended to go through various phases. <br />
<br />
There have been music phases, where for weeks all I’d want to listen to is Pat Metheny, or Glenn Miller, or Bob Dylan, or Tom Waits. I once got on a Blues kick that lasted for over a year, and every few years I’ll find myself going through yet another Mahalia Jackson phase that lasts for a week or two. <br />
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It’s happened with books also. I burned through a New Age spirituality phase; a Chistian apologetics phase; a Communism kick (just learning about it, NOT embracing it!); a bunch of books about the Bible Code; everything I could get my hands on pertaining to Virginia City, Nevada; and a P.I.G. phase – that is, I was reading a whole lotta books in Regnery Publishing company’s “Politically Incorrect Guide” series. The Thomas Wolfe phase did not last long because he only wrote three major books. (Wait! Wikipedia says “four”. I must have missed one. Uh-Oh!)<br />
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But nothing can “phase” me to the extent that movies do! I just seem to move from one theme-addiction to the next, and sometimes back again. They have been numerous, almost neverending. Twice, many years apart, I went on W.C. Fields and Laurel & Hardy kicks. I had my James Dean phase; my Gene Tierney phase; my Disney phase; William Holden, Judy Holliday, Charles Coburn, Robert Mitchum, Spencer Tracy, Frank Capra, and Alfred Hitchcock phases. I’m currently in the midst of my second Film Noir phase. But nuttin’ lasted longer than the Western Movie kick that The Countess (girlfriend & saddle pal) and I got on. That was a nearly 3-year phase. <br />
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But this blog bit is about my 2009 Sports Movies phase. How did it get started? Well, how do these things EVER get started? Some little inconsequential remark from someone gets me mentally moving in a certain direction. Or maybe it’s an article I come across somewhere. Or I watch one movie that I love so much (‘The Ghost And Mrs. Muir’) that it makes me want to watch EVERYTHING that beautiful woman (Gene Tierney) ever appeared in! <br />
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In ‘The Case Of The Sports Movies Phase’, that one got born this way: On September 29, 2008, The Airheadzona Republic newspaper’s ‘Heat Index’ (an ongoing opinion series on page 2 of their Sports section) published an article titled ‘He Shoots, He Scores’, in which they provided the lists of ‘Top Sports Movies’ according to Sports Illustrated magazine and ESPN.Com.<br />
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Well, I read it and saved it. For a year. No phase or nuttin’. But in the Fall of the following year – 2009 – I just happened to run across that article again when I was sorting through some files of stuffs and – “BOOM!” [to quote John Madden] – all the sudden the Sports Movies phase began and lasted for at least 6 months.<br />
<br />
I already had an idea about which Sports-themed movies would make my own Top Ten list if I were to compile it right at that moment, but there were a few movies on the S.I. and ESPN lists that I had never seen, and I thought I really ought to watch them before compiling my own list. <br />
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So, that got me started. First I watched the few movies on those aforementioned lists that I’d never viewed before, and then I started watching a whole bunch of other sports movies that I’d never seen. Anything I’d heard was good (‘The Bad News Bears’) or anything that any friend recommended to me (‘Friday Night Lights’), I was willing to rent ‘n’ watch. The phase lasted about half a year and my updated list of Ten Favorites is posted below, following the S.I. & ESPN selections (with my comments in red) . . . <br />
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<u><strong>SPORTS ILLUSTRATED</strong></u><br />
#1: Bull Durham<br />
#2: Raging Bull<br />
#3: Rocky<br />
#4: Hoosiers<br />
#5: Body And Soul<br />
#6: The Hustler<br />
#7: Chariots Of Fire<br />
#8: Requiem For A Heavyweight<br />
#9: Slap Shot<br />
<span style="color: #cc0000;"><em>[The only reason to see ‘Slap Shot’ is to view Ralphie’s Mom (Melinda Dillon) from the movie ‘A Christmas Story’, topless and in the role of Paul Newman’s bisexual lover. Not a very good reason, in my opinion.]</em></span><br />
#10: Jerry Maguire<br />
<span style="color: #cc0000;"><em>[A movie so bad that I actually turned it off before it was over in an attempt to cut my losses short. That this movie was quite popular is a sad commentary on contemporary America.]</em></span><br />
<br />
<strong><u>ESPN.COM</u></strong><br />
#1: Bull Durham<br />
#2: Rocky<br />
#3: Raging Bull<br />
#4: Hoosiers<br />
#5: Slap Shot<br />
#6: The Natural<br />
#7: Field Of Dreams<br />
#8: Caddyshack<br />
<span style="color: #cc0000;"><em>[Are you kidding me? With all the great sports movies that have been made, you’re selecting a sophomoric movie (with a fake mole) about something that’s more of a “game” than a sport?]</em></span><br />
#9: The Hustler<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"><span style="color: #cc0000;"><em>[Sorry! It’s not a bad movie, but billiards is a “game”, NOT a sport! It shouldn’t have even been eligible to make the list.]</em></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">#10: The Longest Yard (1974)</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">And now, on to STMcC’s selections. I can tell you which of the following are my first and second favorites but trying to put them in some order of preference after that would be simply impossible, so I have merely alphabetized my list. Those movies that I had not seen prior to my 2009 Sports Movies Phase I have noted:</div><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJE9KE2vKXicPdfgCC8wWcax8Oa5elGv1ClB6amWHsR0vcNnq02cKSRN33VgI5DplQ_cPKe99tP5CIqwxRUHGN3dqBBaAwgG6ylxkDZYBntfUi-9NFvx3TgYC6mncCPQs2kvbu0UZw0sY/s1600/Bang+The+Drum+Slowly.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" gda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJE9KE2vKXicPdfgCC8wWcax8Oa5elGv1ClB6amWHsR0vcNnq02cKSRN33VgI5DplQ_cPKe99tP5CIqwxRUHGN3dqBBaAwgG6ylxkDZYBntfUi-9NFvx3TgYC6mncCPQs2kvbu0UZw0sY/s1600/Bang+The+Drum+Slowly.jpg" /></a><br />
<strong><em>BANG THE DRUM SLOWLY</em></strong><br />
<em>(1973 – Baseball)</em><br />
<br />
This was Robert De Niro’s first major movie role. He plays a catcher who, unbeknownst to most of his teammates, is dying of cancer. I saw this movie in the very earliest days of cable television, when my Pa sold cable TV subscriptions. <br />
<br />
It’s a real sad, tearjerking story - sort of the ‘Brian’s Song’ of baseball. Watching this movie now, as an adult, it is clear to me that few if any of the actors had any real athletic ability. However, despite the fact that at one time I was probably a better baseball player than any ‘Bang The Drum Slowly’ cast member, this is still a big favorite of mine.<br />
<br />
I love the scenes where the players take money from their naïve fans via the card game TEGWAR (“The Exciting Game Without Any Rules”). <br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZw3kS89p1lqLnqlBYepSKgA3JM9wm4lLHOIHAB5KTL7Wy9gV4jM_gh09CCGHQBDShONXp3oQU_mFRYkmz8GTiuYzEGy1NuRITpFN5-6Q_4oSY9OWEOKtkot681Ecff9EbWJUwwrO77NQ/s1600/Black+Stallion.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" gda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZw3kS89p1lqLnqlBYepSKgA3JM9wm4lLHOIHAB5KTL7Wy9gV4jM_gh09CCGHQBDShONXp3oQU_mFRYkmz8GTiuYzEGy1NuRITpFN5-6Q_4oSY9OWEOKtkot681Ecff9EbWJUwwrO77NQ/s1600/Black+Stallion.jpg" /></a><br />
<strong><em>THE BLACK STALLION</em></strong><br />
<em>(1979 – Horse Racing)</em><br />
<br />
If I were rating these movies by preference, ‘The Black Stallion’ would certainly get the #2 spot. It’s a gorgeous movie about a little boy shipwrecked on an island and who is befriended and saved by a wild stallion. Eventually both boy and horse are rescued (uh, “No, thanks”, I would have said) and returned to civilization. <br />
<br />
The little boy eventually becomes fond of an old, retired jockey - Mickey Rooney – who serves as a mentor and surrogate father. <br />
<br />
‘The Black Stallion’ includes some of the most delightful and creative photography in the history of cinema, and Mickey Rooney is downright amazing in his supporting role. <br />
<br />
To the average viewer, it will appear as if Rooney isn’t doing any great acting at all. EXACTLY! He is so natural and he is so often “reacting” rather than “acting”, that you don’t notice a “performance” taking place. But at the same time, watch carefully and you will discover that he is wonderfully inventive (look for the itch he scratches while playing solitaire!) <br />
<br />
I once spent a lot of time and money in professional acting classes trying to learn how to effectively “do nothing” like Mickey Rooney does in ‘The Black Stallion’. Sadly, I never did master the difficult ‘Art Of Nothing’. <br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfPzCavpHw0Lo7AR4QzpJi4ZtCLMXJYdW3pduY-dbjWsckqwNoR6h9HJJ9SOkGQ0NMyqNEF8tFdfY904uxL5b2Ln86YBv52Khdelxz3ImvTWbiOpUCK1p_3vnGae6QF0H3Q41fab11dKk/s1600/Breaking+Away.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" gda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfPzCavpHw0Lo7AR4QzpJi4ZtCLMXJYdW3pduY-dbjWsckqwNoR6h9HJJ9SOkGQ0NMyqNEF8tFdfY904uxL5b2Ln86YBv52Khdelxz3ImvTWbiOpUCK1p_3vnGae6QF0H3Q41fab11dKk/s1600/Breaking+Away.jpg" /></a><br />
<strong><em>BREAKING AWAY</em></strong><br />
<em>(1979 – Bicycle Racing)</em><br />
<br />
This is a movie that many of my friends and acquaintances referred to over the years but I somehow missed seeing until my 2009 Sports Movies Phase. Well, I may have been 30 years late, but I really loved it when I finally caught up to it. <br />
<br />
It’s a low-budget movie about some small-town boys and one in particular whose coming-of-age includes bicycle racing, girl-crazy crushes, and a confused family life. This really is the sort of movie that “they don’t make anymore”, but if they did, I would perhaps start “going to the movies” again.<br />
<br />
No special effects, no explosions or machine guns, no women unrealistically beating the crap out of men; just a straightforward, well-told, heartwarming and often humorous story about a simpler and far better time.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWdZp87INy1kLyKe-s0GCRXaAEyIrIUgGNAk3wKf0Ke6_Z6xsmDISl-rv5svedYVs3bI_Fu7l_myeH5hSdmfXmkYe9-d_GvFV2vSwWhjPvX4gqa6rU6BFMXM78okLIP5-FwA79PrF2d3c/s1600/Field+Of+Dreams.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" gda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWdZp87INy1kLyKe-s0GCRXaAEyIrIUgGNAk3wKf0Ke6_Z6xsmDISl-rv5svedYVs3bI_Fu7l_myeH5hSdmfXmkYe9-d_GvFV2vSwWhjPvX4gqa6rU6BFMXM78okLIP5-FwA79PrF2d3c/s1600/Field+Of+Dreams.jpg" /></a><br />
<strong><em>FIELD OF DREAMS</em></strong><br />
<em>(1989 – Baseball)</em><br />
<br />
<strong><em><span style="color: #cc0000;">“If you build it, they will come.”</span></em></strong><br />
<br />
Baseball presented as mythology, chimerical morality play, and a healing balm for the spirit. Despite the dippy hippie delusions, it's the best and most poetic movie about America's pastime.<br />
<br />
It’s hard to believe there could be anybody who hasn’t already seen this movie. It’s also hard to believe that for many years I thought Kevin Costner’s other A-list baseball movie, ‘Bull Durham’, was better than ‘Field Of Dreams’. Uhp! I was an idiot! <br />
<br />
Both of those excellent movies should be seen by all baseball fans and everyone else. And true, ‘Bull Durham’ contains some really classic scenes and lines of dialogue <em>[<span style="color: #cc0000;">“So, is somebody going to go to bed with somebody, or what?”</span>]</em>, but for my baseball movie money . . . make mine “mysterious”.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrk16k8JC2jPcm35jGd0121zS9GOzDjrBZwf7sAOFLSi-ZfUQNbtboMuifsOV9lKIQoBFEJSZLhxMb88ha9FAt0vagVFylJR1NeBBhyphenhyphenSyQiDXZ093BLcCvU1YH6MhWfd5oq5JrWF5sYFY/s1600/Longest+Yard.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" gda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrk16k8JC2jPcm35jGd0121zS9GOzDjrBZwf7sAOFLSi-ZfUQNbtboMuifsOV9lKIQoBFEJSZLhxMb88ha9FAt0vagVFylJR1NeBBhyphenhyphenSyQiDXZ093BLcCvU1YH6MhWfd5oq5JrWF5sYFY/s1600/Longest+Yard.jpg" /></a><br />
<strong><em>THE LONGEST YARD</em></strong> <br />
<em>(1974 – Football)</em><br />
<br />
This is another one I first saw on television during cable TV’s infancy (Z-Channel on THETA Cable Television). <br />
<br />
Incarcerated professional quarterback Paul Crewe (Burt Reynolds) is coerced into organizing a football team o’ criminals to battle the evil warden’s team o’ prison guards, BUT . . . he is not allowed to let his team win the game! Will the always self-centered quarterback save his own neck while disappointing the ragtag group of inmates who have come to trust him? Or will he really go for “the longest yard”? <br />
<br />
Was this really worth watching about 20 times? <em><span style="color: #cc0000;"><strong>“Yeah. For me it was.”</strong></span></em> <br />
<br />
‘The Longest Yard’ is a hilarious movie that needed to be remade in 2005 with Adam Sandler like I need a pink bonnet and a bouquet of pansies! <br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2XPc8m5VvuqnQ1YX-tpQIRZog2vZQPHUFBMwJbdVMJ6hgg-tAGOvKQcsIPXKA6Yw1jKcvTikqX6BvmLxsqnZeiJSQL-NPN2Gj62hEDtyBed8wNyiygh_GAOskVtWX1eBfkwLSg2LUVL4/s1600/Miracle.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" gda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2XPc8m5VvuqnQ1YX-tpQIRZog2vZQPHUFBMwJbdVMJ6hgg-tAGOvKQcsIPXKA6Yw1jKcvTikqX6BvmLxsqnZeiJSQL-NPN2Gj62hEDtyBed8wNyiygh_GAOskVtWX1eBfkwLSg2LUVL4/s1600/Miracle.jpg" /></a><br />
<strong><em>MIRACLE</em></strong><br />
<em>(2004 – Ice Hockey)</em><br />
<br />
How many of you were old enough and aware enough to remember the U.S. Olympic hockey team upsetting “the seemingly invincible Russian squad” in 1980? It was probably that, more than anything else, that started the Soviet Union toward its eventual break-up.<br />
<br />
Like every other American at the time, I was rejoicing over that incredible and totally unexpected outcome. Our hearts were regularly skipping beats! <br />
<br />
More incredible than the U.S. victory, however, is that it took Hollywood nearly a quarter of a century to put this story on film! <br />
<br />
In the ensuing years, I have come to absolutely despise the Olympic Games and I never ever watch ANY of them. Therefore, it wasn’t until my 2009 Sports Movies Phase kicked in that I got around to seeing ‘Miracle’.<br />
<br />
Considering how I now feel about the Olympics, and considering that I don’t even understand all the rules to hockey, much less watch any of it or root for any team, the fact that I enjoyed this movie so much was almost as incredible as the U.S. hockey team’s gold medal accomplishment in 1980.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmuOsaTAD5doRkUrNHhzrQArzk0m41xXHAAh8QnUFaeXyslrk7cTi7i8QkGZ5_l-itO5ORcuD80uQNWBLV-UuelS_rTATOAB5H9XNeryrSJcUQiZfVvA15eqFwZWzcqClTk57s559EoZQ/s1600/On+Any+Sunday.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" gda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmuOsaTAD5doRkUrNHhzrQArzk0m41xXHAAh8QnUFaeXyslrk7cTi7i8QkGZ5_l-itO5ORcuD80uQNWBLV-UuelS_rTATOAB5H9XNeryrSJcUQiZfVvA15eqFwZWzcqClTk57s559EoZQ/s1600/On+Any+Sunday.jpg" /></a><br />
<strong><em>ON ANY SUNDAY</em></strong><br />
<em>(1971 – Motocross Racing)</em><br />
<br />
This is the biggest surprise on my list. The surprise isn’t that ‘On Any Sunday’ is on my list, but that it’s on my list when the surfing movie ‘Endless Summer’ isn’t. <br />
<br />
Bruce Brown has made a number of lighthearted documentaries, his most famous being ‘Endless Summer’ (1966), which I love only slightly more than its long-awaited sequel ‘Endless Summer II’ (1994). Mr. Brown also made ‘On Any Sunday’.<br />
<br />
Although I never did any board surfing (unless you’re including Boogie Boards, which I’m not), I grew up body-surfing on Santa Monica Beach and, in my youth, I went through a couple pairs of good quality fins. I never rode motorcycles or was the least bit interested in Motocross – although my brother Napoleon was into motorcycles and Motocross at one time. But then Nappy also likes Tony Orlando And Dawn, so what does HE know?<br />
<br />
I’m not the least bit mechanical-minded; a motorcycle engine looks like Greek to me. My curiosity about how things work does not extend beyond taking apart a Keurig coffee kup to see its internal design (which I did just a couple days ago). So, it’s a real head-scratcher to find ‘On Any Sunday’ on this list when ‘Endless Summer’ isn’t. <br />
<br />
I can’t watch ‘On Any Sunday’ without being reminded of John Milner in the two ‘American Graffiti’ movies.<br />
<br />
I remember in the days before BETA and VHS tapes, they’d occasionally show Bruce Brown’s movies at the Santa Monica Civic Auditorium, and I went there more than once. All I can say is that although both of his early documentaries take me back in time to the innocence of my wonderfilled childhood days and engender in me a bittersweet mood or saudade, somehow ‘On Any Sunday’ does it a shade more intensely for me than does ‘Endless Summer’ - despite my love of wave-riding and general disinterest in motorsports.<br />
<br />
There’s something about that scene at the end of ‘On Any Sunday’ showing Steve McQueen and his buddies riding motorcycles on a beach at sunset, while that theme song plays, that just wrings my heart of sadness over my <em><strike>Paradise</strike></em> Childhood Lost. It makes me feel like I do when listening to the softer sounds of Bossa Nova: <br />
<br />
<strong>On Any Sunday Bruce Brown Steve McQueen</strong><br />
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<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1qODJEH1JhE">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1qODJEH1JhE</a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiYlLpwHimuhSYQqfz6iraclqK8x_yxvo9kBo__mxH-WoZb6YMdFYlD2zTzppe_Du4bs689fam9ZsVeqgYr4OkBIXMuK7Uz3RSBGmFV85-TPHxrWRSO2J7cagHQMTgCeAJhnMnjiY_ULw/s1600/Requiem+For+A+Heavyweight.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" gda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiYlLpwHimuhSYQqfz6iraclqK8x_yxvo9kBo__mxH-WoZb6YMdFYlD2zTzppe_Du4bs689fam9ZsVeqgYr4OkBIXMuK7Uz3RSBGmFV85-TPHxrWRSO2J7cagHQMTgCeAJhnMnjiY_ULw/s1600/Requiem+For+A+Heavyweight.jpg" /></a><br />
<strong><em>REQUIEM FOR A HEAVYWEIGHT</em></strong><br />
<em>(1962 – Boxing)</em><br />
<br />
I watched this in 2009 only because it came in at #8 on Sports Illustrated’s ‘Top Ten’ list. Here you have a boxing movie with no boxing in it. Which means, of course, that it’s really more of a character study than it is a boxing movie.<br />
<br />
Anthony Quinn (whom I normally do not care for) plays a washed-up fighter who is being ill-treated by his conniving manager (Jackie Gleason). Mickey Rooney, giving his standard excellent performance, plays Quinn’s trainer who goes to bat for the down ‘n’ out pug. And sweet Julie Harris (who played opposite James Dean in the classic ‘East Of Eden’) is the social worker who tries to help Quinn as he becomes increasingly sweet on her. <br />
<br />
It is well known that a large part of the inspiration for Sylvester Stallone’s ‘Rocky Balboa’ character was supplied by Chuck Wepner and his surprising tenacity in a fight with Muhammad Ali – a boxing match that all the so-called “experts” said would be over at just about the ringing of the bell for round one.<br />
<br />
Well, after watching ‘Requiem For A Heavyweight’, I realized (despite never having heard or read this) that Sylvester Stallone must have also been aware of this movie before sitting down to write the first ‘Rocky’ movie. Anthony Quinn is clearly the pre-Rocky Rocky. <br />
<br />
The only criticism I have to make about ‘Requiem…’ is that it includes one of the worst punches (if not the VERY WORST punch) I have ever seen thrown in a movie or television show – and believe me, I have seen some really bad movie/TV punches thrown! <br />
<br />
The offending punch is thrown by Michael "Let's Be Careful Out There" Conrad of TV show ‘Hill Street Blues’ fame. <br />
<br />
<em>[By the way - for the record - I always HATED ‘Hill Street Blues’, regardless of the fact that all these years later I’m still receiving an occasional pittance of a residual check for a little “bit” I did as an Irish gang member in one early-1980s episode. I gladly accepted their money, but I HATED their show!]</em> <br />
<br />
Anyway, ‘Requiem For A Heavyweight’ is a nicely told, nicely acted, heartbreaking story. I’ve already watched it a second time! <br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcF0o15avKRQ70QAWox7HfMaz_yJixm-wonEtIJiH_7dt1C0gir5UicGsoV7igTpxzui0XEchmEN9_kVELfFz1cYxyB2s6hJExIK_mVovSwrbAj1CjQuta9A4fO8mZhZt6ptIg2eeRCqI/s1600/Rocky.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" gda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcF0o15avKRQ70QAWox7HfMaz_yJixm-wonEtIJiH_7dt1C0gir5UicGsoV7igTpxzui0XEchmEN9_kVELfFz1cYxyB2s6hJExIK_mVovSwrbAj1CjQuta9A4fO8mZhZt6ptIg2eeRCqI/s1600/Rocky.jpg" /></a><br />
<strong><em>ROCKY </em></strong><br />
<em>(1976 – Boxing)</em><br />
<br />
If this list were in order of preference, ‘Rocky’ would be #1. It’s a crying shame that Sylvester Stallone went on to make 364 sequels – one ‘Rocky’ movie for every day of the year – which really tarnished the memory of the original classic. But let’s not allow Stallone’s stupidity to make us forget just how great the first installment was!<br />
<br />
I had the good fortune to visit Philadelphia in 2005 with my dear friend Pooh. I’ll never forget the year because Hurricane Katrina hit while I was in Rocky Balboa’s “City Of Brotherly Love”. <br />
<br />
Speaking of love – I loved being in Philadelphia, the true birthplace of our country, and having the opportunity to visit Independence Hall, to see the Liberty Bell, and to climb the steps of Rocky’s Museum of Art. (Actually, it is the Philadelphia Museum of Art, but it might as well bear Rocky’s name now, because he truly put it on The American Map of popular tourist attractions.) <br />
<br />
I would love to return to Philly again someday to spend several more days there; I felt I had only scratched the surface in 2005. <br />
<br />
On a personal note: Although ‘Rocky’ takes place in Philadelphia, and most of the external shots were filmed there, the ice skating rink where Rocky takes Adrian on their first date was actually located in downtown Santa Monica (it’s now a Fred Segal store). <br />
<br />
That ice skating rink was a regular hangout for my Sister and her friends around the same time ‘Rocky’ was filmed there, and that is also the first ice skating rink I ever stepped on. I also went there occasionally in the mid-1970s in an attempt to pick up girls. It didn’t work. I was such a lousy ice-skater that the only person I ever picked up there was me, from off the ice where I had fallen . . . again. <br />
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<strong>Rocky - First Date Scene</strong><br />
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<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gD7_6vj10do&NR=1&feature=endscreen">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gD7_6vj10do&NR=1&feature=endscreen</a><br />
<br />
At the conclusion of ‘Rocky’, Apollo Creed and Rocky Balboa are holding each other up in the middle of the ring, both of them utterly spent and barely alive. Then, Creed, the victor in a split decision, informs Rocky, <span style="color: #cc0000;">“Ain’t gonna be no rematch.”</span><br />
Rocky replies, <span style="color: #cc0000;">“Don’t want one.”</span><br />
<br />
What a PERFECT ending! Alas, if only dunderhead Stallone had listened to his own characters and honored their wishes. <br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghyphenhyphenULzyrTw8V1ziBaJyXwbS2q43T_GK3Rg1FSnb-kxl5ewa2XRtOADeF-AzBioqJqxfgEVsDipj7yRyr7W5V221x6QAqRN498qQ1S-QP8qgfTYsgJMGgMgmRctMTqOJe3wFIXOanAilXk/s1600/Rudy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" gda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghyphenhyphenULzyrTw8V1ziBaJyXwbS2q43T_GK3Rg1FSnb-kxl5ewa2XRtOADeF-AzBioqJqxfgEVsDipj7yRyr7W5V221x6QAqRN498qQ1S-QP8qgfTYsgJMGgMgmRctMTqOJe3wFIXOanAilXk/s1600/Rudy.jpg" /></a><br />
<em><strong>RUDY</strong></em><br />
<em>(1993 – Football)</em><br />
<br />
You can’t be anything even remotely resembling a sports fan without having heard of this movie - comparisons to real-life athletes are made weekly! So, obviously, I’d been aware of ‘Rudy’ for years, but it wasn’t until my 2009 Sports Movie Phase that I finally got around to watching it.<br />
<br />
It’s the story of too-small, minimally-talented Daniel “Rudy” Ruettiger, who had a dream. The dream? To play on the Notre Dame football team. <br />
<br />
I was sure I would enjoy the movie, after all, it’s an underdog <em><strike>tail</strike></em> tale based on a true story, and who among us doesn’t love an underdog tale? <br />
<br />
But, heck, I’ve seen and heard lots of underdog sports stories and, really, the odds of ‘Rudy’ making my Top Ten list were about the same as the real-life “Rudy” making the Notre Dame football team. So I was greatly surprised to find myself “leaking from the eyes” on more than one occasion while watching the movie. <br />
<br />
Of course, we all know that most of these “based on a true story” movies usually means that it’s 1% truth vs. 99% Hollywood fabrication (e.g., ‘The Blind Side’). Therefore I was greatly surprised to learn after doing a little research that ‘Rudy’ was predominately nonfiction - most importantly those final minutes! <br />
<br />
Bottom line: If you don’t like the emotionally moving movie ‘Rudy’, all I can say is, "Heavens to Murgatroyd!” Why don’t you make like Snagglepuss and get out of my life? You can "exit, stage left!" <br />
<br />
<strong>The True Rudy Story ( Part 2 )</strong><br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/VL4fEUKwdPw?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe><br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VL4fEUKwdPw&feature=endscreen&NR=1">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VL4fEUKwdPw&feature=endscreen&NR=1</a><br />
<br />
<strong><u>Honorable Mention:</u></strong><br />
<br />
I would be remiss if I did not mention . . . <br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCnfXLxsHzLWKR9vNLIV-tlNTDFAFzdR4L2sfOs397Bb2WP94o7cxOz5yY5Fd15VrRpRU-QzoGfpNXIo_Ne8kUkBe813sVbyhZXyhvBbc7w7w1xu3KfGOy-LVBP2-D3rKAvLQXfiYpfOA/s1600/Heaven+Can+Wait.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" gda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCnfXLxsHzLWKR9vNLIV-tlNTDFAFzdR4L2sfOs397Bb2WP94o7cxOz5yY5Fd15VrRpRU-QzoGfpNXIo_Ne8kUkBe813sVbyhZXyhvBbc7w7w1xu3KfGOy-LVBP2-D3rKAvLQXfiYpfOA/s1600/Heaven+Can+Wait.jpg" /></a><br />
<strong><em>HEAVEN CAN WAIT</em></strong> <br />
<em>(1978 – Football)</em><br />
<br />
This movie was solidly on my Top Ten list until right up to the very end when - in a stunning upset – the underdog, ‘Rudy’, displaced it. Nevertheless, I want it known that I love ‘Heaven Can Wait’! <br />
<br />
Warren Beatty plays quarterback Joe Pendleton who dies in a roadway accident “before his time”. The Heavenly Powers That Be are persuaded to find another earthly body for Joe to inhabit and they settle on Leo Farnsworth, a greedy, corporate bastard. Enter Betty Logan (Julie Christie), a determined young environmental activist who hates everything Farnsworth stands for. <br />
<br />
Farnsworth sets out to purchase the Los Angeles Rams so he can lead them to the Super Bowl, while he is simultaneously falling in love with Betty and attempting to convince her that he isn’t really the greedy, corporate bastard she thinks he is. ‘Heaven Can Wait’ is equal parts fantasy, sports movie, and love story. <br />
<br />
Ladies, here’s what I suggest: With Valentine’s Day fast approaching, why don’t you get yourself a copy of ‘Heaven Can Wait’ and surprise your husband or boyfriend with it on February 14th. He will be pleasantly shocked that you got him a sports movie (after all the complaining you’ve done about how much time he spends watching sports on TV), and he will never suspect that you really got the movie so you could watch an A-list love story with him. <br />
<br />
I know for a fact that you will <em><u>BOTH</u></em> enjoy ‘Heaven Can Wait’ because . . . <strong><em><span style="color: #cc0000;">“It is written!”</span></em></strong><br />
<br />
And, fellas, I have a Valentine’s Day suggestion for you as well: Get your wife a copy of ‘The Ghost And Mrs. Muir’ (1947) in honor of The Sport Of Love. That incredibly romantic story will have her eyes so full of tears that she’ll never be able to see that you really got the movie so you could vicariously live the sailor’s life of ultramacho-man Captain Gregg (Rex Harrison), and lust after actress Gene Tierney, the most beautiful woman God ever created!<br />
<br />
Watch ‘The Ghost And Mrs. Muir’ with your wife and, trust me, dudeguys, you’re going to get some on Valentine’s Day night! <br />
<br />
OK then, tell me now, y’all, what are <u>YOUR</u> favorite sports movies? <br />
<br />
<em>~ Stephen T. McCarthy</em><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">YE OLDE COMMENT POLICY: All comments, pro and con, are welcome. However, ad hominem attacks and disrespectful epithets will not be tolerated (read: "posted"). After all, this isn’t Amazon.com, so I don’t have to put up with that kind of bovine excrement.</span><br />
<span style="color: white;">.</span>Stephen T. McCarthyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00249125637725791567noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-557564794535751440.post-27405269466398741332012-01-25T13:41:00.005-08:002012-01-25T23:30:07.803-08:00A PISTOL + THE BIBLE = LOL (?)<span style="color: white;">.</span><br />
Perhaps it’s only self-delusion but I like to think I’m a mentally well-rounded person who can converse with reasonable intelligence on a fairly wide variety of topics. <br />
<br />
I’m not going to have anything useful to add when the conversation turns to cooking, knitting, Reality TV, car repairs, or anything “mechanical” for that matter. But I’d like to believe I can hold my own for a little while on topics such as art, literature, sports, film, and music. <br />
<br />
The three areas in which I have acquired the most amount of knowledge are spirituality, including subcategories like “religion” and “The Holy Bible”; American West history, with special emphasis on mining camps 'n' characters; and politics, including everything from the Federal Reserve System, to the “New World Order”, to the life and times of Senator Joseph McCarthy. (I can more than adequately defend Senator McCarthy in any contentious debate with Liberals - as some Leftists through the years have come to find out and won’t soon forget.)<br />
<br />
Therefore, some time ago when my friend Kevin, “The Kansas Kid”, sent me the small paperback book <strong><em>‘<span style="color: #e69138;">BIBLE</span> IN POCKET, <span style="color: #e69138;">GUN</span> IN HAND: The Story Of Frontier Religion’</em></strong> by Ross Phares (first published in 1962), I was certain I would like it. How could I not? It simultaneously addressed two of my favorite subjects: religion and American West history.<br />
<br />
However, considering that the book includes no photographs or illustrations, and the somber black and white cover shows (what appears to me to be) a Colt single-action pistol laid across a roughly-textured black leather Bible, I naturally assumed this book was going to be a very serious affair (not that there’s anything wrong with that!)<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPrwXhkh1QIiVGCj-xMHFV3N-4NYmNaZM_9GKpENO4FtX3jX9ZdTV1QfLWkUzhaLtG47zxYb6sRqWTb1XW2hUkhXbbQjE4TMALL9hWUgG0r0mRbiwvcNVbttRR06B5G0_w-vezn2X9f3Y/s1600/Bible+Gun.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" gda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPrwXhkh1QIiVGCj-xMHFV3N-4NYmNaZM_9GKpENO4FtX3jX9ZdTV1QfLWkUzhaLtG47zxYb6sRqWTb1XW2hUkhXbbQjE4TMALL9hWUgG0r0mRbiwvcNVbttRR06B5G0_w-vezn2X9f3Y/s1600/Bible+Gun.jpg" /></a><br />
<br />
So, was I ever surprised – and pleasantly so – when I found this book chock full of funny stories and anecdotes. Make no mistake about it, Ross Phares has due respect for his subject matter, but he addresses it with a light touch, and many of the anecdotes - which were pulled together from a large variety of sources - are highly entertaining and sometimes even laugh-out-loud funny. Despite his respect and serious intentions, Phares is not averse to illustrating some of the contradictions and ridiculousness that accompanied the sowing of religious ideas in the newly opened Western frontier.<br />
<br />
A number of these stories really deserve to be better known, and so I will share with you below some of my favorites – those that are short enough to be typed without too much strain on my fingers. Take it away, Ross Phares: <br />
<br />
<span style="color: #cc0000;">Many (preachers) by expert marksmanship saved themselves to preach another day. As basic precaution, they often traveled armed to the teeth and made it a practice to lay a pistol and the Bible side by side on the lectern.</span><br />
<span style="color: #cc0000;"><strong><span style="color: black;">. . .</span></strong> </span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #cc0000;">Preachers were thwarted in their work by many of the backwoods people’s lack of a sufficient vocabulary to communicate with understanding on religion … A traveling preacher told of examining a woman at her home on her beliefs, and asking if she had any religious convictions. </span><br />
<span style="color: #cc0000;">“Naw,” she replied bluntly, “nor my ol’ man neither. He war tried for hog-stealin’ once, but he warn’t convicted.”</span><br />
<strong>. . .</strong> <br />
<br />
<span style="color: #cc0000;">The establishment of schools did not quickly bring enlightenment. The story is told that a politician, after making a campaign speech near the Mexican border, was asked by a man in the audience: “What do you think of this teaching of the Mexican language to our kids?”</span><br />
<span style="color: #cc0000;">“I’m agin’ it,” he shouted. “If the English language was good enough for Jesus Christ, it’s good enough for me.”</span><br />
<strong>. . .</strong> <br />
<br />
<span style="color: #cc0000;">The blessings they sought were simple and understandable. Someone has formulated their vision thus: “For the promise of the Word is that some day the children of the Word will find a land of milk and honey where each man may eat of his own vine, sit under his own fig tree and whittle on his own sticks.”</span> <br />
<strong>. . .</strong> <br />
<br />
<span style="color: #cc0000;">But unable to resist attention to the distinguished stranger, [the preacher] finally turned to him and said: “My friend, are you a Christian?” </span><br />
<span style="color: #cc0000;">The distiguished gentleman replied: “Sir, I am a theological professor.”</span><br />
<span style="color: #cc0000;">“My Lord,” said the preacher, “I wouldn’t let a little thing like that keep me from coming to Christ. … You can’t be saved with anything between you and God.”</span><br />
<strong>. . .</strong> <br />
<br />
<span style="color: #cc0000;">A church member commented to a friend about a fine sermon he had just heard that lasted “nigh about two hours.”</span><br />
<span style="color: #cc0000;">“What was the preacher’s subject?” the friend asked.</span><br />
<span style="color: #cc0000;">“He nevah did say,” was the answer.</span> <br />
<strong>. . .</strong> <br />
<br />
<span style="color: #cc0000;">After listening to favorable arguments [for raising funds for the education of young ministers], this preacher rose to his feet and said emphatically he was agin’ it. “Not only that,” he said, “I thank God I have never seen a college.”</span><br />
<span style="color: #cc0000;">The bishop asked: “Brother, do you mean to thank God for your ignorance?”</span><br />
<span style="color: #cc0000;">“You may call it that if you wish.”</span><br />
<span style="color: #cc0000;">To which the bishop replied: “All I can say, Brother, is that you have a great deal to be thankful for.”</span> <br />
<strong>. . .</strong> <br />
<br />
<span style="color: #cc0000;">“You see, it’s this way. There’s an election goin’ on all the time. The Lord votes for you, the devil votes against you, and you cast the decidin’ vote.”</span><br />
<strong>. . .</strong> <br />
<br />
<span style="color: #cc0000;">A Negro preacher was hearing the confession of a young man. In the middle of it he interrupted him: “Wait a minute, wait a minute,” he called. “You ain’t confessin’. You’s braggin’.”</span><br />
<strong>. . .</strong> <br />
<br />
<span style="color: #cc0000;">One [minister] applying for lodging at a tavern was addressed by the landlord: “Stranger, I perceive that you are a clergyman. Please let me know whether you are a Presbyterian or a Methodist.”</span><br />
<span style="color: #cc0000;">“Why do you ask?” responded the preacher.</span><br />
<span style="color: #cc0000;">“Because I wish to please my guests, and I have observed that a Presbyterian minister is very particular about his own food and bed, and a Methodist about the feed and care of his horse.”</span><br />
<span style="color: #cc0000;">“Very well said,” replied the minister. “I am a Presbyterian, but my horse is a Methodist.”</span><br />
<strong>. . .</strong> <br />
<br />
<span style="color: #cc0000;">This [gravestone epitaph] was for a gambler – suggesting the hazards of both clumsiness and avarice:</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #cc0000;"><strong><em>Played five aces,</em></strong></span><br />
<span style="color: #cc0000;"><strong><em>Now playing a harp.</em></strong></span><br />
<strong>. . .</strong> <br />
<br />
<span style="color: #cc0000;">Another couple came to a minister’s home late one Saturday night without a license. The preacher told them he could not marry them without a license – for them to come back Monday. The insistent, disappointed young fellow asked him: “Couldn’t you just say a few words to tide us over the weekend?”</span> <br />
<strong>. . .</strong> <br />
<br />
<span style="color: #cc0000;">One minister on Temperance Sunday, to offer undisputable proof of the evil effects of liquor, made an elaborate demonstration with a worm.</span><br />
<span style="color: #cc0000;">He first dropped the worm into a glass of clear water where it wiggled about with apparent delight. Then he removed it and dropped it into a glass of whiskey, where it died instantly.</span><br />
<span style="color: #cc0000;">“Now what does this prove?” the preacher asked, beaming with satisfaction.</span><br />
<span style="color: #cc0000;">A red-eyed brother from the rear rose up and answered: “If you drink plenty of whiskey, you’ll never have worms.”</span> <br />
<strong>. . .</strong> <br />
<br />
<span style="color: #cc0000;">Early Baptist preachers were sometimes paid in barrels of whiskey.</span> <br />
<strong>. . .</strong> <br />
<br />
<span style="color: #cc0000;">This illustrative story is told of a Negro girl who, accused of improper relations with the opposite sex, was brought before a church assembly and thought by the examiner to be either quibbling or without clear understanding of the charges against her. Finally he asked her the direct question: “Are you a virgin?”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #cc0000;">Without hesitation the girl replied: “Yessuh, I is.” Then she hesitated in thoughtful meditation for a moment and added emphatically: “But I ain’t no fanatic about it!”</span><br />
<strong>. . .</strong> <br />
<br />
<span style="color: #cc0000;">One pastor labored six days for his flock, but early every Saturday morning he went fishing and spent the day at it. … Called to account for his idleness, he was asked: “How can you waste a whole day every week fishing when Satan’s so busy in this community? He certainly doesn’t take any time off!”</span><br />
<span style="color: #cc0000;">“I don’t suppose he does,” the pastor agreed. “But I’m not following <strong><em><u>his</u></em></strong> example.” And he kept right on fishing and preaching in the same community.</span><br />
<strong>. . .</strong> <br />
<br />
<span style="color: #cc0000;">A Negro pastor was found embracing one of the sisters of the congregation. When summoned before the church to answer for his actions, he defended himself with Scripture: “Doan it say in de Book dat de shepherd taketh de lamb unto his busom?”</span><br />
<strong>. . .</strong> <br />
<span style="color: #cc0000;">The Methodists, who boasted of some margin of learning over the Baptists (though hardly enough, it would seem, to boast about), took digs at their ignorance. They gave one definition of a Methodist as “a Baptist who has learned to read and write.”</span><br />
<strong>. . .</strong> <br />
<br />
<span style="color: #cc0000;">An old Negro, a member of the Baptist Church, was given a litter of puppies by a Methodist neighbor. Before he left with them the Methodist minister appeared, and to make conversation with the new owner of the puppies, he asked: “What denomination are they?”</span><br />
<span style="color: #cc0000;">In respect to the Methodist donor, who was present, he answered: “Dey’s Methodist dogs.”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #cc0000;">A week later the preacher chanced by the Negro’s place, and seeing the puppies running about in the yard asked him again what denomination they belonged to. </span><br />
<span style="color: #cc0000;">“Dey’s Baptist dogs.”</span><br />
<span style="color: #cc0000;">“But you told me last week they were Methodist pups.”</span><br />
<span style="color: #cc0000;">“But dey didn’t have dar eyes open den.”</span><br />
<strong>. . .</strong> <br />
<br />
<span style="color: #cc0000;">Because the people truly believed that God was real, and that His spirit abided in this part of the raw earth they were fashioning according to their beliefs, they approached Him as a deity of the backwoods who required little formality or polished manners on the part of His simple children. …</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #cc0000;">[One old man] said he did not think an intermediary was necessary to get in touch with the Lord; that “when a feller’s in a jam, the Lord can hear him if he’ll holler.”</span><br />
<strong>. . .</strong> <br />
<br />
<span style="color: #cc0000;">One man at a weekly meeting rose and prayed with calculated restraint: “Oh Lord, we need rain bad, send us rain. We don’t want a rippin’, rarin’ tearin’, rain that’ll harrer up the face of Nature, but a drizzlin’, drozzlin’, sozzlin’ rain, one that’ll last all night and putty much all day, Oh Lord.” …</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #cc0000;">Downpours following prayer for rain sometimes brought the supplicants to their knees again to let the Lord know they had had enough. One drought sufferer, suddenly turned flood victim, pleaded: “Lord, Lord, stay thy hand! Enough! Art thou goin’ to drown us out like woodchucks?” </span><br />
<strong>. . .</strong> <br />
<br />
<span style="color: #cc0000;">A band of immigrants held up their westward journey just outside Dodge City for prayer for protection, during which the minister-leader pleaded: “…On our long journey Thy Divine Providence has thus far kept us safe. We have survived cloudbursts, hailstorms, floods, and strong gales, thirst and parching heat – as well as raids of horsethieves and attacks by hostile Indians.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #cc0000;">“But now, Oh, Lord, we face our greatest danger. Dodge City lies just ahead, and we must pass through it. Help us and save us, we beseech Thee. Amen.”</span><br />
<strong>. . .</strong> <br />
<br />
<span style="color: #cc0000;">Liquor, directly and indirectly, inspired a great deal of praying. An old deacon who had a decided weakness for the bottle got on a terrible bender one night, and thought he was dying. He called his wife, who was a devout woman, and asked her to pray for him. She fell to her knees and prayed: “Oh Lord, have mercy on my poor drunken husband.”</span><br />
<span style="color: #cc0000;">The deacon heard her from the next room, and called to her: “No, no, Margaret! Don’t tell Him I’m drunk; tell Him I’m sick!”</span> <br />
<strong>. . .</strong> <br />
<br />
<span style="color: #cc0000;">The frontier folk possessed such a capacity to laugh at themselves they told funny stories about prayer. Where truth ends and fiction begins is sometimes difficult to say. …</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #cc0000;">All-out faith in immediate answer to prayer is illustrated in this story of an old maid who, feeling that her opportunites for matrimony were fast coming to an end, went out into the woods, greatly distressed, to meditate upon the matter. She finally concluded that since there was no earthly hope in sight she would call upon the Lord for help.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #cc0000;">She knelt down and prayed fervently: “Oh Lord, hear my prayers. This day send me a man. Send me a man, Oh Lord, that I may not be lonesome.”</span><br />
<span style="color: #cc0000;">At that moment an owl in a nearby tree sounded out: “Who! Who! Who!”</span><br />
<span style="color: #cc0000;">The old maid jumped to her feet and shouted with joy: </span><br />
<span style="color: #cc0000;">“Anybody, Lord. Just anybody!”</span> <br />
<strong>. . .</strong> <br />
<br />
<span style="color: #cc0000;">Evangelist L. M. White said: </span><br />
<span style="color: #cc0000;">“Just at that time, with everybody excited, a regular pandemonium reigning, I threw my Remington on the crowd and howled, ‘Sit down! We came here to worship God, and we are going to do it if I have to kill somebody’.”</span><br />
<br />
<strong>- - - - - - - -</strong> <br />
<br />
Hokey-Smoke! That is so similar to that classic line in the Paul Newman movie ‘The Life And Times Of Judge Roy Bean’ . . . <br />
<br />
<em><span style="color: #cc0000;">Tell them it's going to be a new place. It's going to be a nice place to live. I'm the new judge. There's going to be law, there's going to be order, progress, civilization, and peace. Above all, peace. And I don't care who I have to kill to get it.</span> </em><br />
<em>~ Paul Newman (as Judge Roy Bean)</em><br />
<br />
If you’ve never seen that movie, people, you have missed a great one!<br />
<br />
Well, I hope you have enjoyed exploring religion in the Wild West with me. Tune in again next week when we will explore Marilyn Monroe in the buff. <br />
<br />
<em>~ Stephen T. McCarthy</em><br />
<br />
<strong>The Life and Times of Judge Roy Bean 1972 John Huston</strong><br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/C2r5pNGNXpU?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe><br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C2r5pNGNXpU">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C2r5pNGNXpU</a><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">YE OLDE COMMENT POLICY: All comments, pro and con, are welcome. However, ad hominem attacks and disrespectful epithets will not be tolerated (read: "posted"). After all, this isn’t Amazon.com, so I don’t have to put up with that kind of bovine excrement.</span><br />
<span style="color: white;">.</span>Stephen T. McCarthyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00249125637725791567noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-557564794535751440.post-83438951127772736742012-01-22T22:39:00.008-08:002012-01-22T23:38:15.437-08:00ARE YOU IN YOUR “RIGHT” MIND? (Or, “HAVE YOU SEEN THIS ONE?”)<span style="color: white;">.</span><br />
Laurel: <span style="color: #cc0000;">“Shakespeare.”</span><br />
Hardy: <span style="color: #38761d;">“Longfellow.”</span> <br />
Laurel: <span style="color: #cc0000;">“What goes up the chimney?”</span><br />
Hardy: <span style="color: #38761d;">“Smoke. What comes down?”</span><br />
Laurel: <span style="color: #cc0000;">“Santy Claus. ...Have you seen this one?...”</span><br />
<br />
You’re confused already, aren’t ya? I could tell by that blank look on your face. <br />
<br />
That bit o' dialogue comes from a 1936 Laurel & Hardy movie called ‘Our Relations’. The drinking gang I used to hang with – The League Of Soul Crusaders – we loved all the old Laurel & Hardy movies (although W.C. Fields was really the house hero!) <br />
<br />
Laurel & Hardy, W.C. Fields, Deputy <em><strike>Dog</strike></em> Dawg cartoons, Mickey’s Big Mouth malt liquor, and the “Come On, Eileen” music video – those are the things that kept us alive throughout 1982. <br />
<br />
<strong>Come On Eileen - Dexy's Midnight Runners (HQ Audio)</strong><br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/RXLHUThBib8?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe><br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RXLHUThBib8">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RXLHUThBib8</a><br />
<br />
In ‘Our Relations’, Laurel & Hardy would go through that “<span style="color: #cc0000;">Shakespeare</span>/<span style="color: #38761d;">Longfellow</span>” dialogue exchange every time they would find themselves saying the same thing at the same time. The <span style="color: #cc0000;">“Have you seen this one?”</span> bit at the end is actually the pay-off joke that comes later in the movie. But I’m not going to explain it to ya because none of that has <strong><em><u>anything</u></em></strong> at all to do with this blog bit! <br />
<br />
A couple years ago, my friend The Flying Aardvark sent me this picture of a rotating woman. It came from <strong><a href="http://www.news.com.au/dailytelegraph/story/0,22049,22535838-5012895,00.html">TheTelegraph</a>.com.au</strong> website. <span style="color: #cc0000;">[See below]</span> <br />
<br />
According to that site, this rotating woman is a . . . <br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">RIGHT BRAIN VS. LEFT BRAIN TEST</span><br />
<br />
Here’s what they say about it: <br />
<br />
<em>Do you see the dancer turning clockwise or counter-clockwise?</em><br />
<br />
<em>If clockwise, then you use more of the right side of the brain.</em><br />
<br />
<em><strong><u>RIGHT BRAIN FUNCTIONS</u>:</strong></em><br />
<em>uses feeling</em><br />
<em>"big picture" oriented</em><br />
<em>imagination rules</em><br />
<em>symbols and images</em><br />
<em>present and future</em><br />
<em>philosophy & religion</em><br />
<em>can "get it" (i.e. meaning)</em><br />
<em>believes</em><br />
<em>appreciates</em><br />
<em>spatial perception</em><br />
<em>knows object function</em><br />
<em>fantasy based</em><br />
<em>presents possibilities</em><br />
<em>impetuous</em><br />
<em>risk taking</em><br />
<br />
<em>If counter-clockwise, then you use more of the left side of the brain.</em><br />
<br />
<em><strong><u>LEFT BRAIN FUNCTIONS</u>:</strong></em><br />
<em>uses logic</em><br />
<em>detail oriented</em><br />
<em>facts rule</em><br />
<em>words and language</em><br />
<em>present and past</em><br />
<em>math and science</em><br />
<em>can comprehend</em><br />
<em>knowing</em><br />
<em>acknowledges </em><br />
<em>order/pattern perception</em><br />
<em>knows object name</em><br />
<em>reality-based</em><br />
<em>forms strategies</em><br />
<em>practical</em><br />
<em>safe</em><br />
<br />
<em>Most of us would see the dancer turning counter-clockwise, though you can try to focus and change the direction; see if you can do it.</em><br />
<br />
I can’t even remember anymore which direction I first saw the woman rotating in. But I do recall that in a minute or so, I saw that she had reversed herself and was suddenly spinning in the opposite direction. <br />
<br />
Within a few minutes I found that I could mentally manipulate her and make her turn in either direction I chose. Then it became a game for me to see how quickly I could reverse her direction. <br />
<br />
I got to the point where I could (and still can) make her reverse her direction before she’s able to make a full revolution. I like to make her swing her forward leg back and forth, back and forth. But the question is, of course, which leg is forward, the right one or the left one? It depends upon which direction the mind sees her turning, doesn’t it? <br />
<br />
What’s really fun is to read all the comments people have left on the <a href="http://www.news.com.au/dailytelegraph/story/0,22049,22535838-5012895,00.html"><strong>TheTelegraph</strong></a><strong>.com.au</strong> website about this. Some people swear the woman rotates in only one direction; others swear she reverses her direction every couple of minutes; and some are certain the whole thing is rigged in some way.<br />
<br />
It’s not rigged; she’s not changing her direction from time to time. She really can be seen to revolve both clockwise and counter-clockwise. Or even, as I said, not revolving at all, but merely swinging her forward leg back and forth.<br />
<br />
I’m not sure that I’m buying any of the Right Brain/Left Brain explanation for how a person views the image moving. All I can state for certain is that this woman has a pretty nice body . . . <br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRlqwscNTrhfyP_eXkW64pCJjSPoYmg62BVEcgZGWYAPQBAvnJY-PKt0RSEczETTAhjvoh_lDkKdmcNgsyI47KUXAgNoLDo25JcChioKHRxwrvjpvJEuR8l0lPQy19cXU4PHL7mnaSRJM/s1600/577592-the-right-brain-vs-left-brain-test.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" nfa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRlqwscNTrhfyP_eXkW64pCJjSPoYmg62BVEcgZGWYAPQBAvnJY-PKt0RSEczETTAhjvoh_lDkKdmcNgsyI47KUXAgNoLDo25JcChioKHRxwrvjpvJEuR8l0lPQy19cXU4PHL7mnaSRJM/s1600/577592-the-right-brain-vs-left-brain-test.gif" /></a><br />
<br />
<em><span style="color: #cc0000;">With you in no dress</span></em><br />
<em><span style="color: #cc0000;">Oh, my thoughts, I confess</span></em><br />
<em><span style="color: #cc0000;">Verge on dirty</span></em><br />
<em><span style="color: #cc0000;">Ah, come on, Eileen!</span></em> <br />
<br />
So, how do you see her moving? Clockwise? Counter-clockwise? Both at different times? Jus’ swingin’ her front leg back and forth? <br />
<br />
<em>~ Stephen T. McCarthy</em><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">YE OLDE COMMENT POLICY: All comments, pro and con, are welcome. However, ad hominem attacks and disrespectful epithets will not be tolerated (read: "posted"). After all, this isn’t Amazon.com, so I don’t have to put up with that kind of bovine excrement.</span><br />
<span style="color: white;">.</span>Stephen T. McCarthyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00249125637725791567noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-557564794535751440.post-72184274091038943282012-01-19T13:52:00.003-08:002012-01-20T00:05:17.538-08:00NOTICE: TO ALL MY BLOG FRIENDS (But Especially Sig, Marjorie, & Missed Periods)<span style="color: white;">.</span><br />
<em>Doggs & Doggettes . . .</em> <br />
<br />
<em>If you wish to contine leaving comments on my blogs, and would like me to continue leaving comments on yours, you need to read the following:</em><br />
<br />
It seems such a simple and obvious rule that you’d assume no one would really even NEED to learn it, and yet some folks still can’t seem to mentally grasp it . . . particularly I.T. computer geek-like website builders. Personally, I think all but two of them should be publicly executed, just to make an example of people who simply can’t leave well enough alone. <br />
<br />
The rule? The impossible rule to learn? <br />
<br />
<strong><span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: x-large;"><em>IF IT AIN’T BROKE, DON’T F-IN' "FIX" IT!</em></span></strong><br />
<br />
And yet these computer geeks can somehow never restrain themselves from tinkering with it, and tinkering with it, and tinkering with it until they have <strike><em>fixed</em></strike> fudged-up a perfectly fine thing. <br />
<br />
If you once spent a lot of time at <strike><em>Amazon.com</em></strike> BigBitch.com like I did, then you saw it happen over and over again. Their website geeks kept tweaking things until they’d completely wrecked it. (It’s so bad there now that one can’t even access the Profile Pages of their Friends & Favorites.)<br />
<br />
Well, Blogspot.com ain’t much different. I think the problem is that they keep a bunch of geeks on the payroll rather than just bringing them in and paying them on a job-by-job, project-by-project basis. And so in order to feel like the wages are being justified, the Blogspot.com geeks keep messing with a perfectly good thing, and each time they do, something BREAKS somewhere else.<br />
<br />
<em><span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><strong>The leg bone's connected to the knee bone </strong></span></em><br />
<em><span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><strong>The knee bone's connected to the thigh bone </strong></span></em><br />
<em><span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><strong>The thigh bone's connected to the hip bone, etc. </strong></span></em> <br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjkvUc-bbt3yV8kZ12KEmtPA4cV14yKViYuGjOR5eXALcahMunB7IDR7kzTU04019OiXyno_HveUfrfCELtzAQXZZLpYyRjUrCWD1uJImo2oohZEGuCCcq5wM_lCfOBZ33oiS7hoh0kw8/s1600/Oh%252C+Joy%2521.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400px" nfa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjkvUc-bbt3yV8kZ12KEmtPA4cV14yKViYuGjOR5eXALcahMunB7IDR7kzTU04019OiXyno_HveUfrfCELtzAQXZZLpYyRjUrCWD1uJImo2oohZEGuCCcq5wM_lCfOBZ33oiS7hoh0kw8/s400/Oh%252C+Joy%2521.jpg" width="210px" /></a><br />
<br />
Did you see what these nitwits did recently? Someone (with no aesthetic sense whatsoever) felt our Blogspot Profile Pages needed “fixing” and so they went to work redesigning them. Have you seen one lately? They look like absolute sh!t compared to how they looked just a couple months back. I can’t even stand to look at mine anymore because it just makes me cringe! It's just Amazon.com all over again! <br />
<br />
I guess Blogger just doesn't have faith that <em><u>WE</u></em> will contact <em><u>THEM</u></em> when we feel something needs "fixing" or "improving". <br />
<br />
I seriously doubt anyone sent an Email to Blogger saying, <em><span style="color: #cc0000;">"Could you take my perfectly acceptable Profile Page and reorganize it in as ugly and eye-challenging a fashion that you are capable of imagining? Thank you!" </span></em><br />
<br />
Anybody who thinks our Blogger Profile Pages look better “now” than they did “then”, well, Blogger probably has a job for <u>YOU</u>!<br />
<br />
Just some days ago, the Blogspot.com geniuses did it again! Someone tweaked, adjusted, redesigned, or “fixed” something somewhere and the “blowback” (to use a political term) or “unintended consequences” from that “fix” was that suddenly many of us found we could no longer comment on each other’s blogs.<br />
<br />
Now, thanks to <strong><a href="http://kittiehoward.blogspot.com/">Kittie Howard’s Blog</a></strong>, I learned this morning how to get around that problem. Or to put it another way: I learned how to fix what Blogger broke when they “fixed” something else or made something “better” for us. <em>(Thanks, Blogspot Geeks! You guys do the bestest stuffs!)</em><br />
<br />
Anyway, it seems it is the bloggers who are using the “Full Page” Comments format who are adversely affected by the “fixing”. If you or someone you are attempting to leave a comment for is using the “Full Page” format, you and they may need to change to the “Pop-Up Window” instead.<br />
<br />
It’s too bad, because I really prefer the “Full Page” Comment layout to the “Pop-Up Windows” but Blogspot.com has taken that choice away from us.<br />
<br />
When <strong><a href="http://farawayeyes1.blogspot.com/">Farawayeyes</a></strong> and I both changed to the “Pop-Up Window” this morning, we found we were able to post comments on each other’s blogs again. (Thanks, Kittie!)<br />
<br />
Sig, Marjorie, and Missed Periods are the owners/operators of three of the blogs I “Follow” and that I have been unable to leave comments for recently. (So, Sig, Marjorie, and Missed Periods, if you ever want to hear from me again, you’ll probably need to switch your Comment formats also. NOT switching, however, will be a very effective way of avoiding me from now on. Something to consider before changing.)<br />
<br />
If anyone is unsure how to change from “Full Page” to “Pop-Up Window”, here are my easy, handy-dandy instructions: <br />
<br />
Go to your DASHBOARD<br />
Click SETTINGS<br />
Then click COMMENTS (found just to the right of “Formatting”)<br />
Scroll down to COMMENT FORM PLACEMENT and <br />
Click the green dot into the “Pop-Up Window” option.<br />
Scroll down to the very bottom and click SAVE SETTINGS. <br />
<br />
You’re done. You’ll hear from me again. <strike><em>Un</em></strike>lucky you!<br />
<br />
But don’t think this is the end of our Blogspot Bugs, people! The next “fixed” or “improved” thing is only weeks away. You’ll know when our host has completed the project because <u>SOMETHING</u> <u>ELSE</u> will go <u>WRONG</u> with your blogging experience.<br />
<br />
Next problem! Next problem!<br />
I love ya, next problem! <br />
You're always<br />
A “fix”<br />
Away.<br />
<br />
<em>~ Stephen T. McCarthy</em><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">YE OLDE COMMENT POLICY: All comments, pro and con, are welcome. However, ad hominem attacks and disrespectful epithets will not be tolerated (read: "posted"). After all, this isn’t Amazon.com, so I don’t have to put up with that kind of bovine excrement.</span><br />
<span style="color: white;">.</span>Stephen T. McCarthyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00249125637725791567noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-557564794535751440.post-78601763349855706102012-01-17T00:59:00.005-08:002012-01-17T09:33:09.126-08:00“IS THAT A SIREN OR A SAXOPHONE?”<span style="color: white;">.</span><br />
<em>[This “Blog Bit” is dedicated to (Tom Waits fan) EVE of the blog </em><a href="http://bcbuddie.blogspot.com/"><em>‘LITTLE THINGS…'</em></a><em>]</em><br />
<br />
Lyrically speaking, the greatest song ever written is “It’s Alright, Ma (I’m Only Bleeding)” by Bob Dylan.<br />
<br />
Ya wanna argue it with me? Fine. No problem. I wholeheartedly welcome your challenge. <br />
<br />
But before you even try to contend with the words, you’ll need to contend with the rhyming scheme. Click <strong><a href="http://www.bobdylan.com/songs/its-alright-ma-im-only-bleeding">HERE</a></strong>, then take a pencil ‘n’ paper and write out the rhyming pattern that Dylan used. <br />
<br />
F-in’ amazing, ain’t it?<br />
Well, Shakespeare himself, with his pointed shoes and his bells, wouldn’t have tried topping it! <br />
<br />
OK, now that you’re ready to match the rhyming scheme, you can go on ahead and try matching the lyrical content.<br />
<br />
What? Admitting defeat so soon? <br />
<br />
Well, that’s to your credit. <br />
<br />
Lyrically speaking, the greatest song ever written - “It’s Alright, Ma (I’m Only Bleeding)” - belongs to Bob Dylan, but as gifted a songwriter as Dylan was, he wasn’t the best that planet-E has ever produced.<br />
<br />
From 1973 through 1982, Tom Waits proved himself to be the greatest lyricist this world has ever known. <br />
<br />
But then Tom met this woman named Kathleen and she convinced him to throw his God-given talent away. As Edgar Cayce said: <em><span style="color: #cc0000;">"When the devil can't get a man any other way, he sends a woman for him.”</span></em><br />
<br />
Oops. Was that politically incorrect? If so, I most sincerely apologize to . . . <em>EVERYONE!</em> (Lord knows I never mean to swim against the mainstream!)<br />
<br />
Anyway... tonight, Brother Napoleon and I watched the 1982 Francis Ford Coppola movie <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/One_from_the_Heart"><strong>“One From The Heart”</strong></a><strong>.</strong> I saw it with my acting buddy, <strong><a href="http://stephentmccarthysstuffs.blogspot.com/2008/08/what-i-imagine-and-what-imagines-me.html">Marty Brumer</a></strong>, in a Los Angeles theatre the year it came out. <br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzvECAb9WeP1Nh5iBU1eQi_pkp-VlnsLe3PX-CgVadouNSrQFeg2XFVrYz0zCywVq_7GlXiFbCWy-RERcm4_9H62Fe16Vp9i7pG1EAcGEzxgVYVPD0vFdC8ihwf16OxWeS63B8frej4y8/s1600/One+From....jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320px" kba="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzvECAb9WeP1Nh5iBU1eQi_pkp-VlnsLe3PX-CgVadouNSrQFeg2XFVrYz0zCywVq_7GlXiFbCWy-RERcm4_9H62Fe16Vp9i7pG1EAcGEzxgVYVPD0vFdC8ihwf16OxWeS63B8frej4y8/s320/One+From....jpg" width="320px" /></a><br />
<br />
Pay close attention and you’ll notice that the story begins with a stray dog running from right to left, and concludes with that same stray dog running from left to right. But in between that stray dog’s roaming from side-to-side, there is a tremendous amount of color and beauty. <br />
<br />
Story-wise, “One From The Heart” is <strong><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rXH_12QWWg8">“wafer thin”</a></strong>. <br />
<br />
But cinematically and musically, it is gorgeous beyond description! And there is an abundance of humor in this movie, but it is humor of the subtle variety; some viewers might not even catch all of it.<br />
<br />
We’re talking about character-driven humor, not over-the-top joke-telling or physical humor. (If Hank’s pick-up lines used on Leila don’t make you laugh-out-loud, you, my friend, are deficient in the Sense O’ Humor department.)<br />
<br />
And character-actor Harry Dean Stanton as Moe <em>(<span style="color: #cc0000;">“Moe me, Moe you, Moe life, Moe love!”</span>)</em> almost steals the movie - watch and listen to him closely! Moe cracks me up! <br />
<br />
The thin story killed the movie at the box office and drove Coppola to bankruptcy, but regardless, I consider “One From The Heart” to be nothing less than ‘visual poetry’ and one of my Top 25 all-time favorite movies.<br />
<br />
The only movies I can think of from that era that are in the same league with “One From The Heart” from a cinematography standpoint are “Koyaanisqatsi” and “The Black Stallion”. <br />
<br />
“One From The Heart” is unquestionably a visual masterpiece! I mean, we’re talking diabetic eyeballism here, and equaled only by its musical score, composed by Tom Waits.<br />
<br />
This might be the only movie based entirely on a song. Francis Ford Coppala’s son, Gian-Carlo, played his dad the Tom Waits/Bette Midler duet “I Never Talk To Strangers” from Tom’s ‘Foreign Affairs’ album, and Coppola was knocked out by it.<br />
<br />
<strong>I Never Talk to Strangers-Tom Waits</strong><br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/Gav3IgeBbec?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe><br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Gav3IgeBbec">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Gav3IgeBbec</a><br />
<br />
Later, Coppola got to thinking that a love story shown from two different viewpoints – his and hers (as in the “I Never Talk To Strangers” song) – might make a pretty interesting movie.<br />
<br />
Well, the movie was <em>“<u>pretty</u>”</em> alright – that much is certain.<br />
<br />
Coppola later said the movie symbolized Greek mythology pertaining to Zeus and Hera. <strong><em>Whatever!</em></strong> The bottom line is: “One From The Heart” lost millions of dollars – every shot having been filmed indoors, on sound stages, which made it a financial albatross – and Coppola spent about a decade trying to regain his lost money and his lost reputation. <br />
<br />
The truth, however, is that “One From The Heart” is a visual and aural feast of Thanksgiving Day-proportions! And it includes a number of dialogue gems that I have regularly used in my every-day smart-aleckness ever since. <br />
<br />
Speaking solely for myself (and every other person of good taste), I'm prepared to claim that the soundtrack song “Broken Bicycles” features the best lyrics Tom Waits ever penned (unless it was “San Diego Serenade” instead). "Broken Bicycles" was also probably my good friend Martin Brumer’s all-time favorite song. (<strong><a href="http://stephentmccarthysstuffs.blogspot.com/2008/08/what-i-imagine-and-what-imagines-me.html">Marty</a></strong> was constantly singing it to no one in particular; singing it just because it deserved to be heard by others!) <br />
<br />
In 1990 or '91, I had the tremendous good fortune to see world-class musician Jack Sheldon - who provided all of the mournful trumpet-playing on the "One From The Heart" soundtrack, as well as on other Tom Waits recordings - performing on the 4 Queens Hotel/Casino stage in downtown Las Vegas. (Yeah, overall, God has been good to me.)<br />
<br />
Anyway, to conclude this blog bit o’ nuttin’, I just wanna tell ya . . . <br />
<br />
If you love visual poetry and top o’ da line song lyrics, you must <u>NOT</u> miss “One From The Heart” – it’s Hollywood’s all-time greatest bomb! (Uh... that is... I mean, excluding “<u>Dr.</u> <u>Strangelove</u>”, of course!)<br />
<br />
<strong>one from the heart_intro</strong><br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/TAiJqFhylDQ?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe><br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TAiJqFhylDQ">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TAiJqFhylDQ</a><br />
<br />
<strong>One From The Heart 1982 Trailer</strong><br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/g6aYLIn9zXs?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe><br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g6aYLIn9zXs">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g6aYLIn9zXs</a><br />
<br />
<strong>one from the heart</strong><br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/Rdqw5irMX7A?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe><br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Rdqw5irMX7A">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Rdqw5irMX7A</a><br />
<br />
<strong>Broken Bicycles - Tom Waits</strong><br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/0YroQxUyg6k?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe><br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0YroQxUyg6k">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0YroQxUyg6k</a><br />
<br />
<em>~ Stephen T. McCarthy</em><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">YE OLDE COMMENT POLICY: All comments, pro and con, are welcome. However, ad hominem attacks and disrespectful epithets will not be tolerated (read: "posted"). After all, this isn’t Amazon.com, so I don’t have to put up with that kind of bovine excrement.</span><br />
<span style="color: white;">.</span>Stephen T. McCarthyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00249125637725791567noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-557564794535751440.post-21638413121328628862012-01-12T13:20:00.003-08:002012-01-12T23:34:39.382-08:00‘THE PRESCOTT BLUES’ (Or, ‘STILL GOT THE BRUISE FROM YOU’)<span style="color: white;">.</span><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfveWiXBn7W0zOVYjHcnDGxgiVFaYGIQcQR1hA8LXdcJ9SyN9b67wk10sJd66baIKHHBvc5ku95uyosIUVoCVmyBDw-ZPgJXtyrjyv-fNBQ9gQ6TzhGumuAJdPqzVDt5vpbmj6XN3jZLrT/s1600/Kelly%2527sTruck.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" kba="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfveWiXBn7W0zOVYjHcnDGxgiVFaYGIQcQR1hA8LXdcJ9SyN9b67wk10sJd66baIKHHBvc5ku95uyosIUVoCVmyBDw-ZPgJXtyrjyv-fNBQ9gQ6TzhGumuAJdPqzVDt5vpbmj6XN3jZLrT/s1600/Kelly%2527sTruck.jpg" /></a><br />
<br />
<em>[Stephen and Kelly in Kelly’s truck, circa Hangover 1,982.]</em><br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ-Rm_rCOQys-Go4DjQcWKJlVPjCqbJa8ULkKrBQY0_AIzw4p8hiOwigRXKx4VqciBTsz0lPFgnBVxAQDYxgCEiLwXzgGhymHJklFvpNGaOhyphenhyphen-jkq-077XgC9Z_sBDRWlvGSG00a9N5m8H/s1600/bad+actor.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" kba="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ-Rm_rCOQys-Go4DjQcWKJlVPjCqbJa8ULkKrBQY0_AIzw4p8hiOwigRXKx4VqciBTsz0lPFgnBVxAQDYxgCEiLwXzgGhymHJklFvpNGaOhyphenhyphen-jkq-077XgC9Z_sBDRWlvGSG00a9N5m8H/s1600/bad+actor.jpg" /></a><br />
<br />
<em>[Stephen’s old publicity shot, circa 1982. Picture by Kelly – fine photographer, artful animator, manic mechanic.]</em><br />
<br />
Brother Napoleon and I drove up to Prescott (Airheadzona) from Phoenix (Airheadzona) on ‘Margarita Day, 2012’ just to take a look around the old neighborhood, have lunch and a margarita.<br />
<br />
I can’t remember anything that happened after that fifth margarita. <br />
<br />
Jus’ kiddin’. We were <u>good</u> <u>boys</u>. (Hell, we’ll try <strong><em><span style="color: #cc0000;"><u>anything</u></span></em></strong> once!) <br />
<br />
We had lunch at the Gurley Street Bar And Grill, then a beer at the Prescott Brewing Company, we walked around the courthouse square, and I had ONE margarita at Lyzzard’s Lounge. Then we got outta town. (It weren’t nuttin’ like “The Terrible Night I” or “The Terrible Night II”.)<br />
<br />
Awhile back ago, with the help of my friend Mister Sheboyganboy Six, I was able the determine that the Chevy pickup truck owned by my ol’ buddy <strong><a href="http://stephentmccarthysstuffs.blogspot.com/2010/11/you-know-what-merle-haggard-says-or.html">Kelly Anderson</a></strong> was built in 1953 to 1955 or ’57. <br />
<br />
Well, back in Prescott on Jan. 1st (“Margarita Day”) I paid a visit to the woman who runs The Old Sage Bookshop, whom I remembered had a Chevy pickup that looked to me as if it were very much like the one Kelly owned. She told me that hers is a ’53, and it just so happens that she’s got it up for sale. (Wish I could afford to buy it. Bet it ain’t as fast as Kelly’s though – being a manic mechanic, he had that thing all souped-up.) <br />
<br />
So, I walked down Whiskey Row to where she had it parked and took another look and I made up my mind that Kelly’s Chevy must have been the same year, because I didn’t see a single detail that struck me as being different or out-of-place. Even the “3100” seemed familiar to me. <br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW16B4eeipK-4XMnoKPwYhbXU37Mz04uYwjGm_Wrze7UYsg3jrAwkgmlkUyCc5GnN-u-gnUVucdTSEAnvt2APB4xRp8baKdRzyNENnHQ1UmuevJHPLim4sSQwYfWAJNM9vRtT1qqDvjRoF/s1600/P+4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" kba="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW16B4eeipK-4XMnoKPwYhbXU37Mz04uYwjGm_Wrze7UYsg3jrAwkgmlkUyCc5GnN-u-gnUVucdTSEAnvt2APB4xRp8baKdRzyNENnHQ1UmuevJHPLim4sSQwYfWAJNM9vRtT1qqDvjRoF/s1600/P+4.jpg" /></a><br />
<br />
<em>[Brother Nappy stands next to the '53.]</em><br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLrYQcpGuvXbIQ-we8261HK2-uXw4u5yiyV7AUBFamlLSK-tooYLqBsMtQYsVIu-C9TvC0TDjf0QQe2ear5KdCyDz15oI4r_dTgfrX_JzECuU2ivHgVB5za9IozGlMy_a7e0xxE_q4NYk/s1600/P+7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" kba="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLrYQcpGuvXbIQ-we8261HK2-uXw4u5yiyV7AUBFamlLSK-tooYLqBsMtQYsVIu-C9TvC0TDjf0QQe2ear5KdCyDz15oI4r_dTgfrX_JzECuU2ivHgVB5za9IozGlMy_a7e0xxE_q4NYk/s1600/P+7.jpg" /></a><br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikBvSXtvB2U_CPobV0IRZD7p8wMDvGjnkIyMkD9w67lVLATMUr_Y-GO0H3Lx2uN1o3L8TuwQqv8_4BlbiKZAV0zonZ6krGjFpCNzcfdF1RykH8XrWnfHgJVKy05-e8u90hFOTGe5P-o7Q/s1600/P+6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" kba="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikBvSXtvB2U_CPobV0IRZD7p8wMDvGjnkIyMkD9w67lVLATMUr_Y-GO0H3Lx2uN1o3L8TuwQqv8_4BlbiKZAV0zonZ6krGjFpCNzcfdF1RykH8XrWnfHgJVKy05-e8u90hFOTGe5P-o7Q/s1600/P+6.jpg" /></a><br />
<br />
I’m still gonna play the Tom Waits song “Ol’ ‘55” every year on Kelly’s birth and death dates though - it’s close enough! And the memories! <em>Oh, the memories:</em><br />
<br />
<em><span style="color: #cc0000;">Well, my time went so quickly </span></em><br />
<em><span style="color: #cc0000;">I went lickity-splitly </span></em><br />
<em><span style="color: #cc0000;">Out to my ol’ '55</span></em><br />
<em><span style="color: #cc0000;">As I drove away slowly </span></em><br />
<em><span style="color: #cc0000;">Feeling so holy</span></em><br />
<em><span style="color: #cc0000;">God knows I was feeling alive</span></em><br />
<br />
<em><span style="color: #cc0000;">Now the sun's coming up</span></em><br />
<em><span style="color: #cc0000;">I'm riding with Lady Luck</span></em><br />
<em><span style="color: #cc0000;">Freeway, cars and trucks</span></em><br />
<em><span style="color: #cc0000;">Stars beginning to fade</span></em><br />
<em><span style="color: #cc0000;">And I lead the parade</span></em><br />
<br />
Naturally - to Brother Nappy’s disgust - I insisted on taking yet another picture of the cowboy ‘n’ horse statue behind the Prescott Courthouse. (Incidentally, the only lawsuit I was ever involved in was resolved in THAT courthouse. I doesn’t has to tell ya who won, <br />
does I?) This time I think I finally got a picture I’m satisfied with:<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBS8QTplURsMGqE7_Z-UMupFGjwU3pCvbn7i69VRy4MGA2XAFVYoA_OViWHT8gDuzf_JWMd2XV6XXLFdb8G-siWdZx5rKi9aX4pTAdRlWmnggVaCy8z8cvv0x_vLjQTSGOiszwOlFylly5/s1600/Prescott+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" kba="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBS8QTplURsMGqE7_Z-UMupFGjwU3pCvbn7i69VRy4MGA2XAFVYoA_OViWHT8gDuzf_JWMd2XV6XXLFdb8G-siWdZx5rKi9aX4pTAdRlWmnggVaCy8z8cvv0x_vLjQTSGOiszwOlFylly5/s1600/Prescott+2.jpg" /></a><br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizO-ezk1Sq25fkfXiak8JeOQ_MJhu2Ie5CgKi6BpWblOqcgsqdmfmN_9GDUaFxg5E5riqYNetty0cshZJ3LazVA7-hDJZB6iYKmjdUWqTWn0qO9k29Yd8w8vDClFNpcES0lxK0snlu2tJD/s1600/Prescott+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" kba="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizO-ezk1Sq25fkfXiak8JeOQ_MJhu2Ie5CgKi6BpWblOqcgsqdmfmN_9GDUaFxg5E5riqYNetty0cshZJ3LazVA7-hDJZB6iYKmjdUWqTWn0qO9k29Yd8w8vDClFNpcES0lxK0snlu2tJD/s1600/Prescott+1.jpg" /></a><br />
<br />
I have no idea why the edges of these pictures make it look like there was Vaseline on the cell phone camera’s lens (probably leftover mayonnaise from lunch) but I dig how it makes the pictures look kinda dreamy.<br />
<br />
Why do I like this statue so much? Well, mostly I just like the way the brim on the left side of the cowboy’s hat bends upward slightly more than the opposite edge does. (Look, I’ve told you people I’m odd, strange, weird. Didja think I was just saying it to make myself seem “different”? No! I really AM “different”... odd, strange, weird. <em><span style="color: #cc0000;">"Not that there's anything right with that."</span></em>)<br />
<br />
Directly across the street from the fountain where <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Billy_Jack"><strong>BILLY JACK</strong></a> kicked all that booty in 1971 . . .<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOFDfhfv6MOpx6Y1nFIH3r8JU5Otcp-VJNTYSMC5ZRwr5_T5KdVT-33wnVdYQuaMMCvMsVT_8vs42log6XdLzHtSbIaijyqvc00S_oE-cpVMTL0b28kiYJodUcECChTRG3-CiBxCDVJAE/s1600/PrescottFountain.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300px" kba="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOFDfhfv6MOpx6Y1nFIH3r8JU5Otcp-VJNTYSMC5ZRwr5_T5KdVT-33wnVdYQuaMMCvMsVT_8vs42log6XdLzHtSbIaijyqvc00S_oE-cpVMTL0b28kiYJodUcECChTRG3-CiBxCDVJAE/s400/PrescottFountain.jpg" width="400px" /></a><br />
<br />
. . . there’s a new age book store called Lifeways. Well, back when I lived in Prescott (Oct. 1992 - Feb, ’94) that book store was a record store. As Nappy and I were walking past it, I got to thinking about where I was at “musically” during my time in Prescott. <br />
<br />
By then, Jazz and Blues had replaced Rock as my favorite musical genre. In fact, that transformation had begun about 1983 and was complete by ’85. It’s no exaggeration to say that performers like the Eurythmics, Madonna, Culture Club, Duran Duran, and A Flock Of Seagulls chased me into the waiting arms of Howlin’ Wolf, Muddy Waters, Lightnin’ Hopkins, John Lee Hooker, and <strong><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GDVoWCZa8hM">Blind Lemon Pye</a></strong>. And from there I eventually found my way to Jazz. <em>Ahhh, Jazz!</em> <br />
<br />
So, during my time in Prescott, while I was weaving my way from The Bird Cage Saloon to Matt’s Saloon to Sneakers Bar to The Cattleman’s Bar And Grill and back to The Bird Cage Saloon again, it was Blues songs I had running through my mind.<br />
<br />
Yeah, during my stay in Prescott, I had the Blues. I had ‘em bad and that weren’t good! Heck, it was the middle of January ’93 while staring out of my Victorian house apartment window that I composed the darkest poem I would ever write: ‘Ailing Spiders’. I’d post it here but it would only bum us all out.<br />
<br />
And when I say I had the Blues, I don’t mean that I had the Sad Blues; what I had was the Angry Blues.<br />
<br />
And that’s probably why I was SO READY to hear what I heard that July night in 1993 when I walked into that little record shop and started browsing. I really couldn’t afford to buy anything, but I had a few minutes to spare between drinks.<br />
<br />
And then I heard those stinging, rip-roaring electric guitar notes bouncing off the walls of that little store. I stopped browsing, walked up to the counter and asked the clerk, “Who the heck is this you’re playing?!”<br />
<br />
He says, “Gary Moore. His new album ‘Blues Alive’.”<br />
Me: “You mean Gary Moore - the Irish dude - who was in Thin Lizzy?”<br />
“Yep. Some time ago he met Albert King who really got him into the Blues, and now he plays this stuff. In my opinion, with this album, Gary has graduated into the Guitarist Big Leagues.”<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzLnAur08lC20WLXM9vI_-UzHTffQg5fLDM57FT4uoMuLvu83zT6d7IddVqMStyEqhbHZxbxyrP6MNbC6MbLW5WJJE9muSwGA0-2szPCpElDRGjV8L_5mAmGUOcF0F3x3DqWHxkuEcepM/s1600/Blues+Alive.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200px" kba="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzLnAur08lC20WLXM9vI_-UzHTffQg5fLDM57FT4uoMuLvu83zT6d7IddVqMStyEqhbHZxbxyrP6MNbC6MbLW5WJJE9muSwGA0-2szPCpElDRGjV8L_5mAmGUOcF0F3x3DqWHxkuEcepM/s200/Blues+Alive.jpg" width="200px" /></a><br />
<br />
I was just floored by what Gary Moore was doing. Here was an Irish bloke who had taken his brand of <strong>Hard</strong> Rock/Heavy <strong>Metal</strong>, added Albert King’s brand of Urban <strong>Blues</strong>, and come up with an amalgamation I would call <em><span style="background-color: blue;"><span style="background-color: #9fc5e8; color: red;">“</span><strong><span style="color: red;"><span style="background-color: #9fc5e8;">Hard Metal Blues"</span><span style="background-color: #9fc5e8;"> </span></span></strong></span> .</em> <br />
<br />
I was all prepared to part with some of my limited funds to buy a copy of that CD but the store didn’t have any more Moore in stock, so the clerk sold me the store’s own used copy at a big discount. He took it right off the store’s CD player and handed it to me. <br />
<br />
I took the CD and some beer back to my Victorian house apartment and cranked that album up to eleven for the next <strike>seventy-six minutes</strike> <em>eight months!</em> <br />
<br />
You know how we associate certain songs, albums or musicians with certain events or epochs of our lives? Well, I will never be able to think of that Victorian house converted into an apartment building on Prescott’s main thoroughfare, Gurley Street, without thinking of my poem ‘Ailing Spiders’ and Gary Moore’s album ‘Blues Alive’.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgihGGMIu78So9AOj-qwl-fXGRfukR1HRfC1N0KVZ3X5ebfzpXxyNQ9p-2icAGqBLu_EKfK0jJ0z62gle2c2fEn3Sxe9AChFLdAQxADw00vCp4I7NyHfbvi7E9A1whTe3zRqoXmNweSZTM/s1600/MyPrescottPad.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" kba="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgihGGMIu78So9AOj-qwl-fXGRfukR1HRfC1N0KVZ3X5ebfzpXxyNQ9p-2icAGqBLu_EKfK0jJ0z62gle2c2fEn3Sxe9AChFLdAQxADw00vCp4I7NyHfbvi7E9A1whTe3zRqoXmNweSZTM/s1600/MyPrescottPad.jpg" /></a><br />
<br />
I’ll bet the landlord was ecstatic the day I informed him that I was moving back to Los Angeles. No more nights of ‘Blues Alive’ cranked to eleven at eleven. <br />
<br />
Sometime during that same year, my friend Dean came to visit. Some psychic or geologist or psychologist had announced that California was going to experience “The Big One” on a certain weekend, and Dean figured it was as good a time as any to pay a visit to his old friend Stephen up in Prescott, Airheadzona.<br />
<br />
When he got there, we decided to spend the weekend camping in Sedona. Of course I packed Gary Moore into the bag with my toothbrush and my Excedrin. <br />
<br />
So, that first night, with our campsite set up and an ice chest packed with cold ones, Dean and I broke out the invisible instrument cases, carefully removed the AirGuitars from them, tuned them up, and then stood side-by-side playing all of Gary Moore’s ‘Blues Alive’ licks . . . cranked to eleven, of course.<br />
<br />
All through the Sedona valley you could hear our AirGuitars screaming and echoing off the rock walls! All the dogs in Sedona were barking, the women and children were running, and the tree-huggers were scampering up their trees! And the bears . . . well, the bears were sleeping. Even Gary Moore cranked to eleven can’t wake hibernatin’ bears. (Luckily for the AirGuitarist dudes.)<br />
<br />
Not one person approached and asked us to turn the AirGuitars down to ten. But then Dean and I were both wearing red bandanas around our necks, and everyone knows you don’t wanna rile cowboys when they got the Blues. Just let ‘em play; they’ll pass out soon enough.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKQYNDk9r-ma86lLL5pSwPeZDQ6mAjKYd0VZOCUmF9SNK8Eu3KXW9WyEPHjQGKFGbLeJIOCAXHovNtX0oNjWnXwQ1GSIcKKWtZBazqHtG81fLhqnSv4Hqs5nJFKrx1SMEkk4QRIplnZME/s1600/P+5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" kba="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKQYNDk9r-ma86lLL5pSwPeZDQ6mAjKYd0VZOCUmF9SNK8Eu3KXW9WyEPHjQGKFGbLeJIOCAXHovNtX0oNjWnXwQ1GSIcKKWtZBazqHtG81fLhqnSv4Hqs5nJFKrx1SMEkk4QRIplnZME/s1600/P+5.jpg" /></a><br />
<br />
<em>[A drive-through liquor store in Prescott. </em><br />
<em>Does M.A.D.D. know about this?]</em><br />
<br />
Some songs found on Gary Moore’s ‘Blues Alive’ album . . . <br />
<br />
<strong>Gary Moore - Still Got The Blues (Live)</strong><br />
<br />
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<br />
<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4O_YMLDvvnw">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4O_YMLDvvnw</a><br />
<br />
Believe it or not, I think the version of “Further On Up The Road” found on the ‘Blues Alive’ album is even better than this one:<br />
<br />
<strong>Gary Moore - Live Blues (1993) #12 "Further On Up The Road"</strong><br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/BTY2yTl2l1Q?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe><br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BTY2yTl2l1Q">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BTY2yTl2l1Q</a><br />
<br />
<u><em>Link:</em></u><br />
<strong><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QcN3cklfAzY">Gary Moore - King of the Blues (Live at HammerSmith Odeon 1990)</a></strong><br />
<br />
<span style="color: black;"><em>Albert King:</em></span><br />
<span style="color: #cc0000;">"He's the hunter with a crosscut saw</span><br />
<span style="color: #cc0000;">Born under a <em><strong><u>b-A-d</u></strong></em> sign!"</span><br />
<br />
<em>~ Stephen T. McCarthy</em><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">YE OLDE COMMENT POLICY: All comments, pro and con, are welcome. However, ad hominem attacks and disrespectful epithets will not be tolerated (read: "posted"). After all, this isn’t Amazon.com, so I don’t have to put up with that kind of bovine excrement.</span><br />
<span style="color: white;">.</span>Stephen T. McCarthyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00249125637725791567noreply@blogger.com25tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-557564794535751440.post-8709218031599590352011-12-31T23:18:00.004-08:002012-01-01T08:03:32.314-08:00HAPPY MARGARITA DAY – 2012<span style="color: white;">.</span><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKrlchTrA-UFd1R2NfaGgV_LTvvVkvknQ1fYS8XUsFMaS_C07IhrdnQjv3qA36wOL4SqQXC8SnWahhbhnoOE3Md7pQ5Irod24ZKKx5Np7e4mdkxWMo8t_A_p4Z4mgko2MiqrUe_QbF5Lo/s1600/2011_1122tombstone0046.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320px" rea="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKrlchTrA-UFd1R2NfaGgV_LTvvVkvknQ1fYS8XUsFMaS_C07IhrdnQjv3qA36wOL4SqQXC8SnWahhbhnoOE3Md7pQ5Irod24ZKKx5Np7e4mdkxWMo8t_A_p4Z4mgko2MiqrUe_QbF5Lo/s320/2011_1122tombstone0046.JPG" width="240px" /></a><br />
<br />
<em><span style="background-color: #fff2cc; color: #6aa84f;"><strong>It’s Margarita Day! - It’s Margarita Day!</strong></span></em><br />
<em><span style="background-color: #fff2cc; color: #6aa84f;"><strong>Hooray! - Hooray! – Hooray!</strong></span></em><br />
<em><span style="background-color: #fff2cc; color: #6aa84f;"><strong>For Margarita Day!</strong></span></em><br />
<br />
Well, 2011 is in the books, and mostly . . . <br />
<br />
It was a year for the birds<br />
That went to the dogs<br />
‘Cause the cats in Washington<br />
Turned out to be rats<br />
Who golfed and fished while<br />
<span style="color: #cc0000;">T</span><span style="color: blue;">h</span><span style="color: #cc0000;">e</span> <span style="color: blue;">E</span><span style="color: #cc0000;">a</span><span style="color: blue;">g</span><span style="color: #cc0000;">l</span><span style="color: blue;">e</span> flew the coop<br />
Leaving <em>We The People</em><br />
To clean up the poop.<br />
<br />
Or something like that. At any rate, that sentence is a reasonable facsimile of 2011.<br />
<br />
Nope, it was not a banner year for anyone I personally know, and for some of them it was downright lousy. <br />
<br />
Nevertheless, my Christmas was fairly good. Here’s a few photos of it:<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMRjz3ma4sAmulYkw15TuLVqkAuJlgXMeDd3gcvUSuVnOFvkHOp-WuaL1Mfj-EIEDO_4IgOA5bk3BjmDd-HGjsY8rYcFrLse44BEmJ6DNDm7anbNDeldF7GCxlsmnsrNozWCG8DaEJJC8/s1600/Image018.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" rea="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMRjz3ma4sAmulYkw15TuLVqkAuJlgXMeDd3gcvUSuVnOFvkHOp-WuaL1Mfj-EIEDO_4IgOA5bk3BjmDd-HGjsY8rYcFrLse44BEmJ6DNDm7anbNDeldF7GCxlsmnsrNozWCG8DaEJJC8/s1600/Image018.jpg" /></a><br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXHS1LdNaY0I0sZhVDCGWny50dOg2xMC7eF8Guhj-V06iCB3AWBUSymox46xaPGJutQpSuJo_yN4VnLDeUXwOfLIZ1sqdXVknEoWIJgIcTqGSBBQ-JrKYrZJOhIsLOob2W1i6eMdCR3II/s1600/Image017.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" rea="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXHS1LdNaY0I0sZhVDCGWny50dOg2xMC7eF8Guhj-V06iCB3AWBUSymox46xaPGJutQpSuJo_yN4VnLDeUXwOfLIZ1sqdXVknEoWIJgIcTqGSBBQ-JrKYrZJOhIsLOob2W1i6eMdCR3II/s1600/Image017.jpg" /></a><br />
<br />
Brother Nappy and I kept alive our <a href="http://stephentmccarthysstuffs.blogspot.com/2011/12/worlds-silliest-christmas-tradition.html">“MAKE A WISH FOR TINY TIM”</a> on Christmas Day tradition by driving to Park Central Deli near downtown Phoenix, tossing a couple quarters into the fish pond on the back patio and making wishes with the fishes that Tiny Tim will someday score a second Top 40 hit song.<br />
<br />
While we were there to cast our wishes into the fish pond, I took a picture of my “Ron Paul For President” baseball cap to “cap”ture the moment:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgga730zTXO88CrmtgTxp05A5fxrnhp2o4Qu3QNKabMUxLaj_3TY_UInZCcR8iV2_y5AeZOmMBoDjFxflvTkcVZZ_qOCGD0M4BDo1d2jkPlSEPn1i0TkCjmvg-_J42IKdAulbdYjg9JYbY/s1600/Image023.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" rea="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgga730zTXO88CrmtgTxp05A5fxrnhp2o4Qu3QNKabMUxLaj_3TY_UInZCcR8iV2_y5AeZOmMBoDjFxflvTkcVZZ_qOCGD0M4BDo1d2jkPlSEPn1i0TkCjmvg-_J42IKdAulbdYjg9JYbY/s1600/Image023.jpg" /></a><br />
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My friend the Flying Aardvark sent me a couple things that really tickled me. One was a photo she had seen somewhere of two houses decorated for Christmas... somewhere. Talk about stealing someone else’s thunder, and with minimal lighting:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiK2cRpvXAQRTI9RRgNxgWyW3JPnKPXczuXIuclTZvO_aFBofQ9Tc-COiUeP4k-1qOOGuZw76Mk-iyvYGEDfMw-jX64lGN0TM-cJL4sAqlbUsajPQcUP4l_KHV2FFdy_NNHjOfkloHk-qQ/s1600/holiday2.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300px" rea="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiK2cRpvXAQRTI9RRgNxgWyW3JPnKPXczuXIuclTZvO_aFBofQ9Tc-COiUeP4k-1qOOGuZw76Mk-iyvYGEDfMw-jX64lGN0TM-cJL4sAqlbUsajPQcUP4l_KHV2FFdy_NNHjOfkloHk-qQ/s400/holiday2.bmp" width="400px" /></a><br />
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Also, on a Christmas gift the Aard had sent me, she had integrated into the wrapping a margarita Christmas tree ornament (she wraps beautifully, too!) I loved the ornament so much that I immediately removed it from the gift and hung it on my tree. It’s very appropriate that I am revealing this here on Margarita Day 2012:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBzzq69kvn4mRiURc-UX_tcDvW5JOXuGQ8NeiOZNAGZgVpk2Hm97be7xMSsefpv-8BbKMg4ZGCFHmgNXuUu_89D6xkE1_2-yz6wIOLrnF5Z-ucMY6YTUCxA7iA8U5p-7yvGAjmHq8BV9U/s1600/Image001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" rea="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBzzq69kvn4mRiURc-UX_tcDvW5JOXuGQ8NeiOZNAGZgVpk2Hm97be7xMSsefpv-8BbKMg4ZGCFHmgNXuUu_89D6xkE1_2-yz6wIOLrnF5Z-ucMY6YTUCxA7iA8U5p-7yvGAjmHq8BV9U/s1600/Image001.jpg" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimvD8votL3iPjPgd-BbFrqLWpf0s4j7dDhBu3rPVKTaaHe8uuMtCPDZ0uJeDjURFIczR6cHwIaw97Lh_bInHe_U78bBYmRAnJLxL6oK_SqW-KoST_arVZzTu8j-J8Kj_WYeIN0VlcZHR0/s1600/image33.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" rea="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimvD8votL3iPjPgd-BbFrqLWpf0s4j7dDhBu3rPVKTaaHe8uuMtCPDZ0uJeDjURFIczR6cHwIaw97Lh_bInHe_U78bBYmRAnJLxL6oK_SqW-KoST_arVZzTu8j-J8Kj_WYeIN0VlcZHR0/s1600/image33.jpg" /></a><br />
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The maggie ornament goes perfect next to my other ‘New Year’s Day’ Christmas tree ornament – a pink elephant holding a champagne glass, that I purchased in Westwood Village circa 1988:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiViUG7nCMw4fw8P3Zf-jwqQGP6m0Gl0dbK6EkkFO3V7mUHuAC8nqXBa_GQL9M7PDtz6Ar-5ys07EpKs1DZtYrPT2zp0COxyzWp71dcjw0-Z683RI2jB8lvPbx5kt3JcEBfFoHO6v2I3N8/s1600/Image022.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" rea="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiViUG7nCMw4fw8P3Zf-jwqQGP6m0Gl0dbK6EkkFO3V7mUHuAC8nqXBa_GQL9M7PDtz6Ar-5ys07EpKs1DZtYrPT2zp0COxyzWp71dcjw0-Z683RI2jB8lvPbx5kt3JcEBfFoHO6v2I3N8/s1600/Image022.jpg" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIddM624CXmIlyjds3KH_W3EOyem84mU8xWu6yiRqdX2GmX8OP2d5m1RxhclHHo9XNMY2lk_QlzWlKIlYyUcXgFAH9O4cMuub0g1gLyW4Gq_fSskF_vcADVntUXcx00ZrRlPMvoUucpTE/s1600/Pink+Elephant+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" rea="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIddM624CXmIlyjds3KH_W3EOyem84mU8xWu6yiRqdX2GmX8OP2d5m1RxhclHHo9XNMY2lk_QlzWlKIlYyUcXgFAH9O4cMuub0g1gLyW4Gq_fSskF_vcADVntUXcx00ZrRlPMvoUucpTE/s1600/Pink+Elephant+1.jpg" /></a><br />
<br />
And the margarita ornament segues beautifully into the real point of this January 1st blog bit: I want to wish y’all a . . . <br />
<br />
<span style="color: #6aa84f; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: x-large;"><strong><span style="background-color: lime; color: red;">HAPPY MARGARITA DAY!</span> </strong></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji69O5P7c_rXUkpzslmh2-HCYYg_hTVSUXTnfWn5kg5nIMB9IVUdLOqV4SGF5pjawkUxIV8zdeA8xx00lMqkBSMi41MSQsQN_pE7aQx3SfaM4181vnlulS8iBT4tMBIawRkHgnXiwnuYI/s1600/la+11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" rea="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji69O5P7c_rXUkpzslmh2-HCYYg_hTVSUXTnfWn5kg5nIMB9IVUdLOqV4SGF5pjawkUxIV8zdeA8xx00lMqkBSMi41MSQsQN_pE7aQx3SfaM4181vnlulS8iBT4tMBIawRkHgnXiwnuYI/s1600/la+11.jpg" /></a><br />
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<em><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="color: red;"><span style="background-color: lime;">“A Tradition Since 1986, Except For 1994<strong>.”</strong></span></span></span></em><br />
<br />
To those with less imagination, “Margarita Day” is known as “New Year’s Day”. On this day I always ring in the new year with a margarita or two; a tradition that my dear Pa (may he rest in peace) inadvertently started in ’86, and which we both somehow inexplicably forgot to maintain on New Year’s Day 1994, thus giving birth to what I think is a funny slogan.<br />
<br />
I have one pretty hysterical Margarita Day story I could tell, but you’d need to get to know me “personally” rather than “virtually” to hear that one in detail because I’d be too embarrassed to reveal it publicly.<br />
<br />
Now think about that for a second. After some of the <em><strike>shit</strike></em> stuffs I’ve written on my blogs, here is something <em>too</em> embarrassing to write! How embarrassing is <u>THAT</u>? Here’s just a snapshot of it and you can fill in the blanks with your imagination:<br />
<br />
This was perhaps 1989 or 1990, when I overindulged my enthusiasm for the celebration a bit and Margarita Day turned into Irish Coffee Night at El Torito Mexican Restaurant/Bar in Marina Del Rey. Then, after setting what was almost certainly the all-time point total record on the video game <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Paperboy_(video_game)">PAPERBOY</a> in a nearby arcade, I got on my “real” bicycle and attempted to ride home. Let’s just say <em><span style="color: #cc0000;">“video games ain’t real life!”</span></em> and leave it at that. <br />
<br />
Anyway, feel free to join me by celebrating a new year with a margarita. Well, you’re only going to get ONE Margarita Day 2012 in your lifetime, so why not?...G’wahn and have two. What the hell! Besides, ya know, if there turns out to be any truth in all that Mayan Calendar end-of-the-world prophecy yakking, you’ll look back with regret that you... only had one maggie on Margarita Day. <br />
<br />
You lucky folks living in L.A. can enjoy the BEST margaritas (as seen in the pictures above) by going to El Coyote Mexican Restaurant on Beverly Boulevard. Me, I’m going to have to settle for maggies here in Airheadzona.<br />
<br />
Regardless, I raise my salt-rimmed glass and wish a Happy Margarita Day to you all! May we bless and be blessed in 2012. <br />
<br />
Oh, and – <em>psst!</em> – don’t be a <span style="background-color: #f4cccc; color: #990000;"><strong>maroon</strong></span> by <br />
forgetting to remember on election day . . . <br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyBxLzwwcKYRIgg6igVUNlpy7UYRcXIlbZ3wrVeTus21xyhGwAfEPXa6eIVHpvc37tNyAGNuRLtdXRlm6qvk69CvlvtSNaHJLIMuBGvGpynrSJ1mCaK-KwN6YCbu7yb1ZlEFu60_NKjts/s1600/ron+paul.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" rea="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyBxLzwwcKYRIgg6igVUNlpy7UYRcXIlbZ3wrVeTus21xyhGwAfEPXa6eIVHpvc37tNyAGNuRLtdXRlm6qvk69CvlvtSNaHJLIMuBGvGpynrSJ1mCaK-KwN6YCbu7yb1ZlEFu60_NKjts/s1600/ron+paul.jpg" /></a><br />
<br />
<em>~ Stephen T. McCarthy</em><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">YE OLDE COMMENT POLICY: All comments, pro and con, are welcome. However, ad hominem attacks and disrespectful epithets will not be tolerated (read: "posted"). After all, this isn’t Amazon.com, so I don’t have to put up with that kind of bovine excrement.</span><br />
<span style="color: white;">.</span>Stephen T. McCarthyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00249125637725791567noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-557564794535751440.post-19998884711345051182011-12-30T13:43:00.004-08:002011-12-30T23:39:38.741-08:00YOUR BULLDOG DRINKS CHAMPAGNE BUT CAN HE SURF? (Or, THE LORD OF DOGTOWN!)<span style="color: white;">.</span><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg145PH6RNS6IVdEAyaGH0l1kvKVnbXkICpvQuYQxKrE2Br3CsbU6YGCxYRBN5N7a_hE50RSPLt5CRJgUDrbdtLsqWrgAmVKizGcAeNYT8RumXg2d2gu0PahdDcn3vgfioWIVMpWzqCuP8/s1600/Endless+Summer.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="247px" rea="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg145PH6RNS6IVdEAyaGH0l1kvKVnbXkICpvQuYQxKrE2Br3CsbU6YGCxYRBN5N7a_hE50RSPLt5CRJgUDrbdtLsqWrgAmVKizGcAeNYT8RumXg2d2gu0PahdDcn3vgfioWIVMpWzqCuP8/s320/Endless+Summer.jpg" width="320px" /></a><br />
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<em><span style="color: #cc0000;">D-d-d-dog, dog, dog</span></em><br />
<em><span style="color: #cc0000;">D-d-dog is the word!</span></em><br />
<br />
<em><span style="color: #cc0000;">D-d-d-dog, dog, dog</span></em><br />
<em><span style="color: #cc0000;">D-d-dog is the word!</span></em><br />
<br />
Do you know what “bulldogging” is? <br />
<br />
Well, it’s an event you’d find in a rodeo but it does not involve bulls or dogs. (Google it.)<br />
<br />
Do you know who “Bill Doggett” was?<br />
<br />
He wasn’t a bulldogger, but he was damn good at what he did. (Google him.)<br />
<br />
Do you know the song “Your Bulldog Drinks Champagne”? It’s extremely funny. (Google it, then get some champagne before New Year’s Eve arrives.)<br />
<br />
Can you explain the term “hotdogging”?<br />
<br />
It’s an old expression for someone who does a lot of fancy tricks while riding a surfboard.<br />
<br />
Have you heard the instrumental “Surfdoggin’”? <br />
<br />
It’s something Gary Hoey recorded for the surfing movie “Endless Summer II” in which I think he may have invented a new musical genre (a combination of surf guitar and country pickin’.)<br />
<br />
Have you ever been to “Dogtown”? <br />
<br />
That’s where I grew up in the 1970s. To be hyper-specific, Dogtown is that area of southern Santa Monica and northern Venice - pretty much where those two Los Angeles communities meet. I grew up right in the heart of it (in Santa Monica, two blocks from Venice) and there was a time when I used to ride my bicycle right down Rose Avenue to the beach, four or five days a week before work, just for the exercise. Ahh, those were golden days! <br />
<br />
The Dogtown area was kind of symbolized by the abandoned, dilapidated (and now long gone) <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pacific_Ocean_Park">Pacific Ocean Park pier (or POP)</a>. As a teenager, I actually spent some nights guarding that pier from vandals while it was being dismantled. <br />
<br />
In the mid-1970s, a group of young surfers in Dogtown - later known as <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Z-Boys">The Z-Boys</a> - started the whole skateboarding culture that eventually took the country by storm. My Brother and Sister went to school with one of them (Jay Adams) and my good friend Eric once shared a hospital room with one of them (Tony Alva), and Eric told me that the steady stream of hot girls coming to visit his roommate in that hospital was utterly unbelievable! <br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.answers.com/topic/dogtown-and-z-boys">Several movies</a> have been made about those dudeguys and the skateboarding craze that they started. One of those movies is titled “Lords Of Dogtown”. <br />
<br />
This morning, my dear friend the Flying Aardvark sent me a link to a YouTube video that I absolutely love! I’ve watched it three times now and it has made me laugh every single time. <br />
<br />
Maybe your bulldog drinks champagne, but can he surf? This video gives new meaning to the expression “Dogtown Surfer”. In fact, some commenter posted this:<br />
<br />
<strong><em><span style="color: #cc0000;"><span style="background-color: yellow; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;">Isn't this dog in ‘Lords of Dogtown’?</span> </span></em></strong><br />
<br />
This might be the most entertaining video I’ve seen this year. My favorite parts are when the dog is on the skateboard. Watch him, he’s <em><u>really</u></em> groovin’ that board back and forth, he’s doin' some serious <em><u>sidewalk</u> <u>surfin’!</u></em> And his swaying on that skateboard is <em>perfectly synchronized</em> with the music. <br />
<br />
So, I’m closing out 2011 at ‘STUFFS’ with a little gift for y’all: Some sun, sand ‘n’ surf on "a Winter’s day in a deep and dog December". This is where Simon & Garfunkel and The Beach Boys crash into each other, wipeout and meld. <br />
<br />
<strong>Surfin´ Bulldog (Beach Boys - Surfin´ USA)</strong><br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/cqxTUxzOceE?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe><br />
<br />
Link to the YouTube original:<br />
<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cqxTUxzOceE">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cqxTUxzOceE</a><br />
<br />
<em>~ Stephen T. McCarthy</em><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">YE OLDE COMMENT POLICY: All comments, pro and con, are welcome. However, ad hominem attacks and disrespectful epithets will not be tolerated (read: "posted"). After all, this isn’t Amazon.com, so I don’t have to put up with that kind of bovine excrement.</span><br />
<span style="color: white;">.</span>Stephen T. McCarthyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00249125637725791567noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-557564794535751440.post-71681741455520112992011-12-28T12:23:00.003-08:002011-12-28T12:48:27.576-08:00GREAT MOMENTS IN "REAL MAN" HISTORY!<span style="color: white;">.</span><br />
We'll call this one <u><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;">'Great Moments In "Real Man" History'</span></u><span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 10pt;"> (Or, <u>'They Are Who We Thought They Were!'</u>)</span><br />
<br />
What are the greatest moments in "Real Man" history? Well, there are plenty, and everyone will have their own favorite. If it were possible for a "Real Man" to slap a girl around and make my list of 'Great Moments In "Real Man" History', then I would surely be listing the time Senator Joseph McCarthy earned an Elgin watch "for combat...above and beyond the call of duty" by slapping Drew Pearson around in a cloakroom.<br />
<br />
But I guess I'll just stick with the National Football League for now.<br />
<br />
Less than two weeks ago, I posted a blog bit celebrating the fact that the Kansas City Chiefs, in a major and unpredictable upset, defeated the Green Bay Packers, ensuring that for at least one more year, the 1972 Miami Dolphins - the team I idolized in my boyhood - would remain the only unbeaten and untied team to win a Super Bowl. (Which is not, by any means, to say that I am conceding this year's championship to the Packers; I am not ready to <span style="color: #cc0000;">"crown their asses"</span>.) <br />
<br />
Two of my favorite "Real Man" moments are tied in with that 1972 Dolphins team. <br />
<br />
<strong><span style="background-color: cyan; color: orange; font-size: x-large;"><em>ZONK! </em></span></strong> <br />
<br />
<span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><em>Throughout his career, [Larry] Csonka played fullback like a horse ploughs a field: doggedly, with a high pain threshold and with great determination.</em></span><br />
<em><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">~ John Doremus</span></em><br />
<br />
My favorite player on that Dolphins team was Larry Csonka; I loved the way he ran through and over defenders, and I dreamed of being the next Csonka. But then I stopped growing, encountered more athletically gifted dudeguys than myself, and came to realize that I was never tough enough to be another Csonka anyway. (Besides, all that football playing would have damaged my fingers and interfered with my violin lessons.) <br />
<br />
But this brief video below will give you a basic idea of why I loved "The Zonk" and wrote his number 39 on everything I owned:<br />
<br />
<strong>Miami Dolphins Larry Csonka</strong> <br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/5oa2meWsaOc?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe><br />
<br />
<em><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Link to a mo' bigger screen:</span></em><br />
<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5oa2meWsaOc&NR=1&feature=endscreen">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5oa2meWsaOc&NR=1&feature=endscreen</a><br />
<br />
<span class="long-title" dir="ltr" id="eow-title" title="Larry Csonka - Unnecessary roughness while running w/ the football"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">Csonka makes my 'Greatest Moments In "Real Man" History' list by virtue of the fact that he is the only NFL ballcarrier to ever be flagged for "Unnecessary Roughness" against a tackler! </span></span></span><br />
<br />
<span class="long-title" dir="ltr" title="Larry Csonka - Unnecessary roughness while running w/ the football"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><strong>Larry Csonka - Unnecessary roughness while running w/ the football</strong></span> </span></span><br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/7SF0RaXR4nI?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe><br />
<br />
<em><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Link to a mo' bigger screen:</span></em><br />
<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7SF0RaXR4nI">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7SF0RaXR4nI</a><br />
<br />
However, in my book, 'The <u><em>Greatest</em></u> Moment In "Real Man" History' - not just in the NFL but <strong><em>anywhere</em></strong> <strong><em><u>ever</u></em></strong> - belongs to my second favorite player on that '72 Dolphins team: Manny Fernandez. <br />
<br />
<strong><span style="background-color: cyan; color: orange; font-size: x-large;"><em>THE "MAN" IN MANNY! </em></span></strong> <br />
<br />
<em><span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Manny Fernandez, in my opinion, is the only defensive lineman in the history of the National Football League that can get into a nest of alligators and come out with an alligator... unscathed! Where do you find people like that?</span></em><br />
<em><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">~ Larry Csonka</span></em><br />
<br />
In my DVD set 'America's Game: The Super Bowl Champions - 1972/1973 Miami Dolphins' there is a segment showing that during his down time, Manny Fernandez liked to go out into the Florida Everglades and catch alligators.<br />
<br />
On the DVD, we are treated to some footage of Manny and his Florida buddies doing exactly that. Manny reaches into a swampy spot and pulls an alligator out by its tail.<br />
<br />
Is that "Real Man" enough for ya? (I sure as hell wouldn't try something like that, as alligator's can be hazardous to violin-playing fingers!) <br />
<br />
But what actually elevates that manly Manny act to <u>GREATEST</u> Moment In "Real Man" history is the fact that while Manny is capturing that alligator with his bare hands, he's wearing shades and <span style="color: #cc0000;"><u>he has a cigarette dangling from his lips!</u></span> Ha! Yeah, it's no big deal to Manny - just another relaxing day in the swamp . . .<br />
<span style="color: white;">.</span><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilCu1_ga0ygor_w1zjUmmQ9N_mz2R5LWhP7GrSRdYMvfNPrKEEbwhEsW8Pw8MW7HnykcgBbk4Pptm7v1bLScJRlIfAlgk0oIo2Od3AJz23fxNX7cVnb2ZUAWKKzIHD3m7AsplS2A6yKgw/s1600/MuchoMachoManny1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" rea="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilCu1_ga0ygor_w1zjUmmQ9N_mz2R5LWhP7GrSRdYMvfNPrKEEbwhEsW8Pw8MW7HnykcgBbk4Pptm7v1bLScJRlIfAlgk0oIo2Od3AJz23fxNX7cVnb2ZUAWKKzIHD3m7AsplS2A6yKgw/s1600/MuchoMachoManny1.jpg" /></a><br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnrk4NjoTJ_UC06DR3pdoEv8ZSrzoSWZLhFXH_S-NSD1PnczqiOQSMmrnfyx-RJIVRPhOTajgebrovlK8HyG2utQrTjaN3bNEjla3itYTmCxxpmxsJaljbriPxSgKgrkMP19cmtyjeRlE/s1600/MuchoMachoManny2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" rea="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnrk4NjoTJ_UC06DR3pdoEv8ZSrzoSWZLhFXH_S-NSD1PnczqiOQSMmrnfyx-RJIVRPhOTajgebrovlK8HyG2utQrTjaN3bNEjla3itYTmCxxpmxsJaljbriPxSgKgrkMP19cmtyjeRlE/s1600/MuchoMachoManny2.jpg" /></a><br />
<br />
<em><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">["Don't you make me drop my cigarette, boy!"]</span></em><br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQJEVNzaZpF-Z9LFBONMWyc2m16WRrMnsCTeofzgk2raOXnCcBm-JlZyblqeGetnxtIvSrnGxxGmJX1HWgidexw0cFeLLP7BrzasNwIL4RYJNb-qtKLfzisg_nVhvlaJU6S7aR39how-4/s1600/MuchoMachoManny3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" rea="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQJEVNzaZpF-Z9LFBONMWyc2m16WRrMnsCTeofzgk2raOXnCcBm-JlZyblqeGetnxtIvSrnGxxGmJX1HWgidexw0cFeLLP7BrzasNwIL4RYJNb-qtKLfzisg_nVhvlaJU6S7aR39how-4/s1600/MuchoMachoManny3.jpg" /></a><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia;"><span class="" dir="ltr" id="eow-title" title="1972 Miami Dolphins"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">You can watch the cigarette-smokin' Manny pull an alligator out of the swamp by fast-forwarding to the <span style="color: #cc0000;">18:30</span> mark in the video below:</span> </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia;"><span class="" dir="ltr" title="1972 Miami Dolphins"><strong>1972 Miami Dolphins</strong></span></span><br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/MpdA9LSFNc0?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe><br />
<br />
<em><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Link to a mo' bigger screen:</span></em><br />
<em><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MpdA9LSFNc0"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MpdA9LSFNc0</span></a></em><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia;"><span class="" dir="ltr" id="eow-title" title="Miami Dolphins - Perfect Season"><span class="" dir="ltr" id="eow-title" title="Miami Dolphins - Perfect Season"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">And finally, here's a brief video with both "Real Men" - Manny & The Zonk! - reminiscing about what that undefeated 1972 Dolphins season meant (and still means) to them:</span> </span></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia;"><span class="" dir="ltr" title="Miami Dolphins - Perfect Season"><span class="" dir="ltr" title="Miami Dolphins - Perfect Season"><strong>Miami Dolphins - Perfect Season</strong></span></span></span><br />
<br />
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<br />
<em><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Link to a mo' bigger screen:</span></em><br />
<em><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mC4Gnxt_2V4"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mC4Gnxt_2V4</span></a></em><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Well, thanks for readin' 'n' watchin'.</span> <br />
<br />
I gotta go practice my violin lesson now or my teacher, she gonna rap me on the wrist with my bow, and that <em><span style="color: #cc0000;"><u>really</u> <u>hurts</u></span>!</em> <br />
<br />
<em>~ Stephen T. McCarthy</em><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">YE OLDE COMMENT POLICY: All comments, pro and con, are welcome. However, ad hominem attacks and disrespectful epithets will not be tolerated (read: "posted"). After all, this isn’t Amazon.com, so I don’t have to put up with that kind of bovine excrement.</span><br />
<span style="color: white;">.</span>Stephen T. McCarthyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00249125637725791567noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-557564794535751440.post-4299140850074323742011-12-26T00:14:00.008-08:002011-12-26T19:25:29.881-08:00"THERE’S A SADNESS IN THE HEART OF THINGS"<span style="color: white;">. </span><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkFqBlHuE3qNYXsQQGDlZG89LjTkq4MsCgeGqUcSY32Z403uxRRFzZRJAh9JP50DQhytUakTkX9M16HXnhBswEAdUeAcBPBETx_SNojtfGMP612LeFPDye7ubgkZKbIv-hRM4xcekUvAw/s1600/XMAS4.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" rea="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkFqBlHuE3qNYXsQQGDlZG89LjTkq4MsCgeGqUcSY32Z403uxRRFzZRJAh9JP50DQhytUakTkX9M16HXnhBswEAdUeAcBPBETx_SNojtfGMP612LeFPDye7ubgkZKbIv-hRM4xcekUvAw/s1600/XMAS4.bmp" /></a><br />
<br />
Doggs & Doggettes ~<br />
<br />
Christmas 2011 ended here in Phoenix, Arizona, a little over an hour ago. For a number of reasons – which I could explain in excruciating detail, but which I’m sure you’re not the least bit interested in – Bobby Darin’s song ‘Christmas Auld Lang Syne’ makes me think of my dear departed Ma, who returned to her Creator in the Summer of 2005.<br />
<br />
Darin recorded this song on August 18, 1960, exactly one year and ten days after my birth, and it did not do very well on the Billboard music charts. Nevertheless, it has become my custom to close every Christmas Day by listening to it.<br />
<br />
For a number of years, it has also been a tradition of mine to remove all of my outdoor Christmas decorations on December 26th (my Brother’s birthday), to send the message that what I have been celebrating is not Happy Holidays or Winter Solstice or Winter Wonder or Season’s Greetings or Frosty’s Fruitopia or any other euphemism for “The Birth Of Jesus Christ”. <br />
<br />
My lights and decorations were meant as a symbol of Christ’s birth. And after December 25th, the Birthday Party has come and gone, and my celebration has ended.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkBJDoClesieUR82ohXri-XHd5gjOzUKUmI9lt3zzxYpY9EMKqt2tO_ihEt1nLEtQ7UBQkv6DNPigGsBJH0ZH8MaCBGqK3QdQdUYzFJoIaBaPG5SIZQFag12qbqjGfTNp7TWaFF4hEnUM/s1600/Image029.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" rea="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkBJDoClesieUR82ohXri-XHd5gjOzUKUmI9lt3zzxYpY9EMKqt2tO_ihEt1nLEtQ7UBQkv6DNPigGsBJH0ZH8MaCBGqK3QdQdUYzFJoIaBaPG5SIZQFag12qbqjGfTNp7TWaFF4hEnUM/s1600/Image029.jpg" /></a><br />
<br />
But, I fear I have gotten a bit sidetracked, as I often do. <br />
<br />
What I really meant to say here is that Bobby Darin’s song, ‘Christmas Auld Lang Syne’, is a window into my soul. Not that anyone will or should care to know. <br />
<br />
Every Christmas ends with me honoring my Mother by playing Darin’s Christmas song and acknowledging that, indeed, "there’s a sadness in the heart of things". <br />
<br />
<strong><em>Bobby Darin - Christmas Auld Lang Syne </em></strong><br />
<strong><em>(lyrics and slideshow + good quality)</em></strong><br />
<u>Link:</u> <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vfXYSb-KsSQ">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vfXYSb-KsSQ</a><br />
<br />
<em>~ Stephen T. McCarthy</em><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">YE OLDE COMMENT POLICY: All comments, pro and con, are welcome. However, ad hominem attacks and disrespectful epithets will not be tolerated (read: "posted"). After all, this isn’t Amazon.com, so I don’t have to put up with that kind of bovine excrement.</span><br />
<span style="color: white;">.</span>Stephen T. McCarthyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00249125637725791567noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-557564794535751440.post-68640374446512352792011-12-23T00:38:00.005-08:002011-12-23T11:16:34.933-08:00THE WORLD’S SILLIEST CHRISTMAS TRADITION! (Won’t You Please Join Us?)<span style="color: white;">.</span><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbMP58-vZVIPb5ytkUcg5s_cXSb4dsCFbNtyNZjw3uO3C791dbpt-boRU0Kyj0-LDjIfABhhbqup6-imGmwoAhNKMy-J0s7d7nhfI-7pZC46w219qyavQOXGECtjvNPhDUSHY83HDz4Wc/s1600/TinyXmas.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" rea="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbMP58-vZVIPb5ytkUcg5s_cXSb4dsCFbNtyNZjw3uO3C791dbpt-boRU0Kyj0-LDjIfABhhbqup6-imGmwoAhNKMy-J0s7d7nhfI-7pZC46w219qyavQOXGECtjvNPhDUSHY83HDz4Wc/s1600/TinyXmas.jpg" /></a><br />
<br />
Who cares about <em>"shopping days"?</em> What matters is <strong><em><u>"blogging</u> <u>days"</u>!</em></strong> And two <strong><em><u>"blogging</u> <u>days"</u></em></strong> were lost to me due to a bug in the Blogspot system which prevented me from accessing my Dashboard. That means I was unable to approve, post, and respond to comments left for me; unable to post new blog bits; and unable to read YOUR blog bits.<br />
<br />
Thanks to the same someone who saved my blog earlier this year, it seems I am back in the <em><strike>saddle</strike></em> sleigh again! But this particular blog bit shoulda been posted here the day before yesterday. <strong><em>DOH!</em></strong> <em><strong>Don'tcha hate it when that doesn't happen?</strong></em><br />
<br />
If you feel I have been ignoring your blog bits, please know that I have neglected you only because I WAS BUGGED-OUT! But I am determined to read the blogs that I “Follow” as soon as possible. In the meantime, there’s this wonderful opportunity I am making available to you:<br />
<br />
I am a collector of quotations and I actually copy and store my favorites. I love all sorts of quotes, from the spiritual and religious (think: Yeshua, C.S. Lewis, and Joel Goldsmith), to the inspirational and patriotic (think: Booker T. Washington, Henry Thoreau, and Patrick Henry), to the humorous and super-silly (think: Mark Twain, Cheech Y Chong, and that Wino Woman on Venice Beach).<br />
<br />
If I were asked to select what, to me, is the all-time most amusing quote, I believe I’d have to run with this:<br />
<br />
<strong><span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;">“Most of all, I’d love to see Christ come back to crush the spirit of hate and make men put down their guns. </span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;">I’d also like just one more hit single.”</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">~ <span style="color: magenta;">Tiny Tim</span></span></span></strong><br />
<em>[Interviewed by Harold Ramis for</em><br />
<em>Playboy magazine, June, 1970]</em><br />
<br />
If you don’t find that funny, then I guess you and I are just different. As in apples & oranges different, as in cats & dogs different. Different as in Laurel & Hardy, Jane Fonda & Ann Coulter, Karl Marx & George Mason.<br />
<br />
<em>George Mason?</em> Uhm . . . well, don’t worry about it. Never mind - he really doesn’t matter much anymore.<br />
<br />
Anyway, the Tiny Tim quote brings us to the purpose of this blog bit and my appeal to you to join what is almost certainly the silliest, long-running Christmas tradition <em>"in</em> <em>the whole United States of Georgia!"</em><br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg05gS1zYIiiMyU5jIIFUBW2pPEmCtwKwPOtWr9RUXAnJxdhnm3IP63kZcutLL8rF_qQqmDZ7-revnFkiDeuoiF7R0zCgLDAe0lo0uvhXMKCDyI_lspMzfKyjDjtu0-o1S_Kty-t3bEQ2I/s1600/TinyTimBobbleHead.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" rea="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg05gS1zYIiiMyU5jIIFUBW2pPEmCtwKwPOtWr9RUXAnJxdhnm3IP63kZcutLL8rF_qQqmDZ7-revnFkiDeuoiF7R0zCgLDAe0lo0uvhXMKCDyI_lspMzfKyjDjtu0-o1S_Kty-t3bEQ2I/s1600/TinyTimBobbleHead.jpg" /></a><br />
<br />
I’ll keep this short, and provide links at the bottom if anyone really wants to learn the history of this tradition and its preposterous details. But in a Tiny Nutshell, here’s what I’m asking you to do:<br />
<br />
Sometime on Christmas Day (December 25th, in your time zone), please drop a coin, <strong><em>any</em></strong> coin (penny, nickel, dime, whatever) into a body of water and <em><span style="background-color: lime; color: magenta;">MAKE A WISH FOR TINY TIM</span></em><span style="background-color: lime; color: magenta;">.</span> (Yes, Tiny Tim, the One-Hit Wonder who gave us the song <span style="color: magenta;"><u>Tip-Toe Thru The Tulips With Me</u></span> back in 1968.) <br />
<br />
Just say something along the lines of: <em><span style="color: magenta;">“I wish Tiny Tim will score just one more hit song.”</span></em> <br />
<br />
<em><u>That’s all there is to it.</u></em> <br />
<br />
From year to year, lots of people say they’re going to do this but, sadly, very few actually remember to. However, so far, seven people really have done it properly and have had their names added to <em><span style="color: magenta;">‘The Tiny Tim Wish Fulfillment Team’</span></em> roster. <em>[See the link below.]</em><br />
<br />
In the past, there have been some minor misunderstandings and I want to clear those up right now, because unless you do it correctly, I am constrained from adding your name to the <span style="color: magenta;">‘Tiny Tim Wish Fulfillment Team’</span> list - much as I'd like to. There are only 2 rules and they are very simple:<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #cc0000;"><strong>1)</strong></span> The wish must be made sometime (day or night) on Christmas Day, wherever you are. <strong><em><u>Not</u></em></strong> on Christmas Eve, <strong><em><u>not</u></em></strong> on the day after Christmas, not on any of the other 362 days in the year. It can <strong><em><u>only</u></em></strong> be made on Christmas Day, December 25th. <br />
<br />
<span style="color: #cc0000;"><strong>2)</strong></span> Also, you must drop a coin into a body of water when you make the wish. You can’t just say or think, <em><span style="color: magenta;">“I wish Tiny Tim would have one more hit song”</span>;</em> you <strong><em><u>must</u></em></strong> simultaneously drop a coin in water while you are saying or thinking that wish. And I don’t care what sort of body of water you use - a wishing well, the ocean, a lake, your swimming pool, a puddle of rain water formed against the curb of Garden Grove Boulevard <em><span style="color: #cc0000;">[that was for you, Karen!]</span>,</em> a glass of tap water – It’z all good . . . provided it’z wet.<br />
<br />
That’s all there is to it, friends. Make the wish, do it right, let me know you did it right, and I will immediately add your name to the <span style="color: magenta;">'Tiny Tim Wish Fulfillment Team'</span> honor roll. <br />
<br />
Someday, when Tiny Tim “miraculously” scores that second hit single, we will all know that it was <strong><em><u>really</u></em></strong> us - <span style="color: magenta;">‘The Tiny Tim Wish Fulfillment Team'</span> - that made it happen for him! <br />
<br />
Who will join <span style="color: magenta;">The Team</span> next? Who will be #8? <br />
And then who will be #9... #9... #9... #9...?<br />
<br />
C'mon, people, come out an' play with me! <br />
<br />
<span style="color: magenta;">Ukulelely Yours . . .</span><br />
<br />
<em>~ Stephen T. McCarthy</em><br />
<br />
<strong><u>Related Links:</u></strong><br />
<br />
<em><a href="http://stephentmccarthysstuffs.blogspot.com/2009/12/makers-of-mother-croakers-hemorrhoid.html"><strong>THE MAKERS OF ‘MOTHER CROAKER’S HEMORRHOID OINTMENT’ PRESENT . . .</strong></a></em><br />
<em>[See the heading ‘<u>Here’s The Gig</u>’]</em> <br />
<br />
<em><a href="http://stephentmccarthysstuffs.blogspot.com/2009/12/blog-post.html"><strong>TINY TIM'S CHRISTMAS ALBUM [Join The Tiny Tim Wish Fulfillment Team!]</strong></a></em><br />
<br />
<em><a href="http://stephentmccarthysstuffs.blogspot.com/2010/01/original-tiny-tim-wishing-site-photo.html"><strong>ORIGINAL 'TINY TIM WISHING SITE' [<u>Photo Gallery</u>]</strong></a></em><br />
<br />
<em><a href="http://stephentmccarthysstuffs.blogspot.com/2008/12/make-wish-for-tiny-tim.html"><strong>MAKE A WISH FOR TINY TIM - The Early Years</strong></a></em><br />
<em>[How And When It All Got Started]</em><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">YE OLDE COMMENT POLICY: All comments, pro and con, are welcome. However, ad hominem attacks and disrespectful epithets will not be tolerated (read: "posted"). After all, this isn’t Amazon.com, so I don’t have to put up with that kind of bovine excrement.</span><br />
<span style="color: white;">.</span>Stephen T. McCarthyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00249125637725791567noreply@blogger.com4