Saturday, June 20, 2015

The Saturday Picture Show, June 20, 2015

Quick!  Name a sandwich that inspired a hit record!  Sometimes, you just have to have a hot pastrami sandwich.  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=50wYkq8DaVQ

This is a home owned by a practical joker who lives right in the flight path of a major city airport.  That city, of course, is Milwaukee, Wisconsin. Imagine looking out the window of your flight and having that horrible feeling that you are about to land in Cleveland, Ohio.
 
This New Yorker cover from 1986, by Arthur Getz, shows everything that's good about America...a volunteer fire house, members washing the pumper on a Saturday morning, and a local kid hanging around to help, dreaming of the day when he'd be a member too. Wistful autobiographical moment...

The members of the Byrds posed for this great album cover in 1965 - 50 years ago - and except for the goofy cape that David Crosby is sporting, the same kind of clothing still looks pretty cool today!
Jerry Colonna was a fine musician (trombone) who provided laughs as a sidekick to Bob Hope.  You can hear him in action on this old record: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R3JdXvJKpzY   Simpsons fans: Jerry was the first person to make "Ay caramba!" a popular quote.  And there is one of those "life coaches" by the same name as JC.  No relation. Ay caramba!
I know I prefer winter to summer, but there are some good things about summer. Grilled corn on the cob on the grill on the plate is a good thing!
This Norman Rockwell painting was called "The Rookie," and is shows a rube showing up for spring training with the big club, clearly not as daunted as he should be to be in the same room as Ted Williams.  By the way, you could have bought a copy of the magazine for 15 cents when it came out in 1957.  The original sold at auction last year for $22 million-something.  By the way, the picture is supposed to represent Mickey McDermott, a mildly successful pitcher whose checkered career led him to becoming a drinking buddy of Paul Gleason, the actor who played Mr Vernon in The Breakfast Club and the officious police lieutenant in Die Hard.  In fact, Gleason always played a self-important, bumptious oaf.
I always knew I was going to be a big fan of Orioles third baseman Manny Machado, and here is why:  a great player is prepared for everything, even if that means wearing a pair of batting gloves and having another pair in your pants pocket, just in case.

Friday, June 19, 2015

Molly bloomed too soon

Everyone in town said there was something about that Molly Shattuck. 

"Aren't I just sinfully fabulous?"
There just seemed to be a little too much of her.  Molly, the trophy wife of the bigshot who was head of Constellation Energy Group, former corporate parent company of public utility Baltimore Gas & Electric, was just everywhere! Molly the cheerleader for the Ravens at age 40! Molly, author of books about being all vibrant! Molly, Committee member for the United Way of Central Maryland and the American Diabetes Association! Molly, one of The Daily Record’s Maryland Top 100 Women award-winners for 2012! Molly, winner of a Girl Scouts Distinguished Women Award last May! Molly on a FOX TV reality show called "Secret Millionaire," showing her going back to the hardscrabble Pennsylvania town she strutted away from many years ago, handing out money to those who didn't have the high heels or lack of moral fiber she possesses! Molly having sex with a 15-year-old boy!

And then the merry-go-round suddenly clanged to an abrupt halt.

We all know the deal.  She started diddling some kid who went to school with one of her kids at her beach place in Rehoboth, and the kid, who after all is underage and therefore illegal to be chosen as a sex partner, went to Baltimore County police, who notified Delaware, and Molly went from flaunting her figure to flouting the law.

It must be remembered that if this case involved a 47-year-old male doing the horizontal bop with a 15-year-old girl, the streets would be filled with people preparing tar and feathers, and rightly so.  People who say, "It's the best thing to happen to this kid!" apparently have no concept of how this will affect his sexuality for a long long time.

Meanwhile, Molly's outfits changed from splashy spandex to buttoned-up-with-a-tiny-cross necklace, and she put on some eyeglasses and a facial expression that merged dourness, penitence and crazed bewilderment.

The other day, she pleaded out, after being indicted on three charges in a Delaware court.  The deal that her attorneys cobbled out had her plead guilty to one count of fourth-degree rape. Charges of providing alcohol to minors were dropped.  Her earlier plans to plead not guilty and show the world how distraught she was were tossed aside like the empties that her staff cleaned up from her beach house after her Labor Day get-it-on party with this child.

Not so vibrant
Everything about Molly always seemed to say, "Pay attention to me!"  Or, "Pay alimony and child support to me!" as her divorce became final just at the same time these charges came out.  Now Molly is the one who is going to pay.  She is not allowed to have contact with any minors except her own embarrassed children, she has to register as a sex offender, and she faces up to 15 years in the calaboose at her sentencing in August.

What a pity, that a woman blessed with everything that some hold dear in life (looks, money, position in society) will be the one to pay in the end, with every last measure of her dignity.


Thursday, June 18, 2015

The Dunning-Kruger Effect

If you're like me, and thought that David Dunning and Justin Kruger were the shortstop/second base combo for the Minnesota Twins, don't feel too awful.  They are brainiacs from Cornell University who did all the research behind what people called the Dunning-Kruger Effect.

In short, what their finding is, is that people who are really stupid don't even know how stupid they are because they are too stupid to understand how stupid they are, and conversely, people who are really intelligent underestimate how really intelligent they are, which is why they don't understand how other people aren't as smart as they are.

Examples of this can be seen any time you think of some gozzlehead picking up what he (and it's ALWAYS a 'he') thought was a dud firecracker, only to have it go off in his hand, or the guy who gets a severe injury at work from fooling around with the paper cutter and then, returning after a period of recuperating, demonstrates for his boss just what had gone wrong 5 weeks ago on his first morning back, resulting in another trip to the hand clinic.

(Then there was the guy who got injured by fooling around with the paper cutter when the paper cutter's husband showed up.)

Cletus from The Simpsons.  He was once beaten in tic-tac-toe by a chicken.
Great baseball players seldom turn out to be great baseball managers, because they expect that every raw-boned rookie out of Ashtabula, Albuquerque and Ahoskie carries with him the same hustle and determination that make the great so great.

You can see a video of John Cleese explaining all this.

I heard a wise man opine that there are four kinds of people: Those who know, and know they know; those two know, but don't know they know; those who don't know, and know they don't know; and those who don't know, and don't know they don't know.

That last group is supposed to be the worst to be around.  I don't know.










Wednesday, June 17, 2015

Deep in the heart of Text-us

They say it's a joke, but I don't know.  Many a truth is spoken in jest, as someone once joked, and maybe these "text walking lanes" are serious business.

Chongqing, China and Washington, DC both have streets with narrow paths set aside for people who just have to be on their phones while they're walking along.  And right in my neighborhood, we kept seeing a woman walking along a rather busy road with her face down and her hands holding a an open book.  And since I was riding along in my automobile at the time, I couldn't stick with her to see what happened when she encountered driveways or intersections.  I do know that if she saw someone driving illegally, she was in a good position to play judge and really throw the book at them.

But here is a picture from Antwerp, Belgium, of their street with a clearly-marked lane for those who just can't wait to get home to tell their friends what "totally just happened like OMG!!!"

A local smartphone company over there, MLab, is paying for this as a promotion.  I don't think it's working very well; I can't remember the last time I got a text from Antwerp.

Tuesday, June 16, 2015

It's not just here

Apparently, the rest of the world has decided to become as goofy as America, so rest easy.  We are still the worldwide leader in nonsense legal proceedings.

Zhao Wei, seen here, is one of the most popular actresses in China. She is revered there for having large eyes, but it's those eyes that are the subject of a recently-filed lawsuit.

Her new show, which premiered in May on Chinese TV, is called "Tiger Mom," and, as the name suggests, it's about a "strong-willed disciplinarian mother" who pushes her daughter to excel in all things, especially school.

The unnamed litigant watches the show, and, as a result, has filed suit against Ms Wei, alleging he has suffered "spiritual damage".

The crux of his argument, which seems a touch flimsy, is that the actress stares at him too intensely through his TV, and that's why his spirit is damaged, but a little of her money will make it all better. A lot of her money will make it just great. She looks at him, and he is mesmerized.

There are new laws in China that make it easier to file crazy lawsuits (again, everyone wants to be like US!) and so the case has been filed in the Shanghai Pudong New District Court.

I have but two thoughts on this (don't sue me):

a) The rest of the world watches American shows and then deduces that all our moms are like June from Honey Boo Boo or Michelle Bob Duggar. Actually, they are all like either June Cleaver or Clair Huxtable.  Or Morticia Addams or Kitty Forman or Peg Bundy or Marie Barone. Or your wonderful mom (too numerous to mention!)

Once he looked at a lady with
these eyes, she was
Mesmerized!
2) We use the word "mesmerize," often forgetting that a real person gave his name to the term. Franz Anton Mesmer (1734 – 1815) was a German doctor who also studied the moon and the planets.  He claimed that there is a "natural energetic transference" that occurs between us. He called it "animal magnetism," and over the years, we have started calling this hypnotic attraction cast upon us by some beguiling someone "mesmerism."

This is how he got Mrs Mesmer to be his ever-loving honey child!  You can bet she was one satisfied customer.


Monday, June 15, 2015

Ch-Ch-Ch-Changes

Not all that long ago, lovable TV imp Bart Simpson was being blamed for knocking down stuff with a bulldozer that he had appropriated for inappropriate use.  Since mothers know everything, his mom, Marge, accused him of the whole caper, and Bart, playing the innocence card, said, "I don't know anything about that bulldozer! I can't explain things I don't know anything about! I'm not cable news!"

I bring that up to say that I am about to talk about things that are none of my business.  Not that that ever stopped me before, but this is about other people changing, and, well, I just feel they have the right to, AS LONG AS they apprehend the simple truth that they will have to deal with the changes they make.

It's like the right of free speech that we all enjoy so much, and how people need to remember that they can still be held responsible for the things they say freely.  Go ahead and say false things, but plan to pay for it in court.  Tell the insurance company that someone stole your diamond ring, but when they find out you never owned one, they will get every nickel back with interest.

Changes. Like Caitlyn Jenner.  I haven't a nickel in the debate as to whether Olympic champ Bruce was doing the right thing to pole vault from one gender to another.  If that was the right thing for her, go be happy.  And the furor over whether she deserves an athletic award for bravery needs to be argued with the people giving the award, not with her.  I'm sure she didn't go through all this just for a plaque at a banquet.

Like Joyce Mitchell.  She's been employed at the Walled-Off Astoria in upstate New York, part of the team of people charged with keeping inmates on the inside of the walls. Now she's charged with aiding the escape of two murderous misfits of society. So, one day, she's working at the prison and married to a man who also worked there.  Then the next day, she's getting tools and supplies to convicts Sweat and Matt, because she changed her mind about what side she was on.  Then she changed her mind again and failed to show up with the getaway vehicle as promised. Now she is changing her garish yellow top for a nice orange jumpsuit. Whatever changed her and made her want to dump her husband to run off with two murderers is between her and him; the part where she breaks the law to arrange to do so is our business.

But the person of change whose story is really none of my beeswax is Rachel Dolezal, the most talked-about person in America this past weekend. She is, of course, the woman who seemingly changed her appearance and has been passing as African-American in order to work for the cause of civil rights and justice.  Noble ambitions, for sure, and even the NAACP says that her innate ethnicity is no barrier to work or membership there. It's up to her and the local and national offices of that organization to determine whether her ends were all right all despite her means.  That's their business. 

Caitlyn will thrive in the show business life, and Rachel may well have her dignity and privacy restored.  They made choices to change, but broke no laws.  Joyce is going to find out that orange is the new orange for quite a few more years.






Sunday, June 14, 2015

Sunday rerun: Way Back When

We use the term "Neanderthal" to disparage a brute, a boor, an unsophisticated knave.  "Oh, he's just a Neanderthal!" we exclaim as a guy races by us in his jacked-up pickup, throwing beer cans and caution out the window.  "Irv wouldn't stop and pick up dinner for Grace on his way home; what can you expect from a Neanderthal like him?" we say.

What do we really know of Neanderthal man?

We know his brain was bigger than ours, which has to mean something! And for another thing, he was European, and today we associate that with grace and élan.  To us, a European drives a race car, drinks the finest brandy, wears a beret, says witty things while eating tidbits of cheese and sipping champagne.  Or she's a slinky fashion model or actress walking a pet ocelot along the beach at Cannes. 

To be technical about it, these folks are known as Homo sapiens neanderthalensis,  and they paraded around from about 100,000–40,000 BC, at which time they were replaced by the Eurasian early modern humans known as Cro-Magnon man, although it is widely felt that a small contingent of Neanderthals still live in the Oakland, California area (photo left).

There are small hints here and there in the research into Neanderthals that lead one to believe that these people were maybe a couple pineapples short of a luau.  For one thing, we have uncovered their primitive cell phones, and they apparently knew nothing of taking selfies, their playlists were redundant, relying heavily on the throbbing disco sounds of the 45,000 BCs, and they could not for the life of them figure out how to add new names to their contact list, so everyone, to them, was "Ogg." 

Neanderthal skull, still waiting
to be seen in a Neanderthal HMO.
And there was this: The very name "Neanderthal" was first proposed for forerunners of us brainy Homo sapiens by the Anglo-Irish geologist William King in 1864, and it's a good thing he came up with the idea to name them after a German river valley, because two years later, one Ernst Haeckel proposed calling them Homo stupidus.

Saturday, June 13, 2015

The Saturday Picture Show, June 13, 2015

This just looks like a great place for a vacation - it's got everything! Swim in the lake, camp in the woods, go mountain climbing!
If there were no Ravens, and I had to choose a team to root for based solely on their colors and uniforms, I would choose the Cleveland Browns.  I love orange and brown - I have those colors of towels in my bathroom - and the colors say "fall" to me. But I hold no brief for Cleveland.  Did you know that if their basketball team wins the NBA Championship, that will be the first championship for a team from that city since 1964, when the Browns beat the Baltimore Colts for the NFL title?  Let's go, Golden State!
I thought that this showed the celebration in Cleveland when the Browns won that championship game, but no.  It's by an artist named Jan Steen, and it's called "Gamblers Quarreling" (1665.) You bet.
I used to prefer string beans to these guys, but now, I will take a pea any chance I get.
This is a picture from 17 years ago, and it shows Firefighter Mike Hughes, of the Wenatchee WA Fire Dept rescuing a little baby named Dawnielle Davison.  A classic reminder of what heroism really looks like.
This is a picture from one week ago, and it shows retired FF Mike Hughes at Dawnielle's high school graduation.  The two connected on Facebook and have remained friends with a great story to share!
Tony Bennett never sang all that well, for my money, but here is what his record company did for him in the 60's when the hits stopped coming his way: they made him record some songs currently popular for other people and slapped them onto an album with genuine Pop Art graphics designed to sell Tony to the young hip set, none of whom were interested in the slightest degree.  Is that really all there is?
This is one of those Magic Eye © photographs.  If you stare at the very center of the picture and sort of let your eyes go all kittywampus, you will eventually see the image of a horse appear!

Friday, June 12, 2015

Roman through your hair

What's cool about Baltimore is that just about everything here is cool.

People here take their hair very seriously.  Go to any deli or bakery on a Saturday afternoon, when the ladies of the town have been to Hairy Shearers for a dye-and-blowout, and see them protecting their bouffants with a plastic Rain Bonnet.

Or see a kid with an elaborate coiffure that takes an hour to arrange into something that looks like he or she just got out of bed.


Former Representative 'Sonny' Bono, (R, CA)
Back in the day, kids from all over tuned in for channel 13's Buddy Deane Show dance party to see the latest in duck's ass hairdos for the Vitalis generation, and of course, John Waters, he of the pencil thin mustache, did movies called Hairspray about how AquaNet kept young Baltimore girls six inches closer to Heaven.  If not more.

More to the current point, we have a lady in town named Janet Stephens, a hairdresser at Studio 921 Salon and Day Spa.  She's not just a cut, curl and dye lady; she is a forensic hair archaeologist. She visited the Walters Art Museum downtown, and while gazing up at the Greek and Roman statue busts, she realized that there was logic and construction in those elaborate hairdids...and that, contrary to popular belief, they were not wigs, but were spun from the actual hair on the actual heads of the ancients.

And Ms Stephens didn't just do some cursory noodling on this. She did deep research and found that at the old time hair salons way back then (I guess they were called Curlus Et Dyus) the stylists used, not a single-pronged hairpin, as had been believed, but a needle and thread to weave those locks into intricate formations. 

This is the bust of the Empress Julia Domna (170 AD –217 AD, but she looks much younger).  As the wife of Roman Emperor Lucius Septimius Severus, she had all sorts of hair personnel ready to fix her up for a big night out at the Coliseum. "It was amazing, like a loaf of bread sitting on her head," says Ms. Stephens of her first look at old Julia's melon.  She set out to recreate the look, first with mannequins and then with real human volunteers.  And she wrote up her findings!


She submitted a report to the Journal of Roman Archaeology. "It's amazing how much chutzpah you have when you have no idea what you're doing," she says. "I don't write scholarly material. I'm a hairdresser."

That's Baltimore modesty at work.  We realize that most people don't know what they're doing, but we all just do it.


Journal editor John Humphrey realized that Ms Stephens's specialized knowledge of hair stuff, blended with her research, set her apart from other archaeologists who don't know a French Braid from a baguette.  "I could tell even from the first version that it was a very serious piece of experimental archaeology which no scholar who was not a hairdresser—in other words, no scholar—would have been able to write," he says. 

Ms Stephens continues to transform 21st Century Americans into 2nd Century Romans at Studio 921, with one problem.  Mullets are out, and one crazy 'do from back then, on a sculpture called the Fonseca Bust, boasts a tall, horseshoe-shaped pile of curls in the front that would involve cutting the model's hair. "It's like a mullet from hell," she says.

I'm no archaeologist or historian, but that sounds like the Emperor Billyus Rayus Cyrus to me.


Thursday, June 11, 2015

Driving the future

I can't say it with certainty, but I'm pretty sure that in the program of instruction for every high school in the land, there is an assembly or two in which the student body is herded into the auditorium to hear a beefy traffic cop spin tales and show films and pictures of gory accidents he or she has seen in a 27-yr career.

And the movies they see in Driver's Education are still there, I suppose.  I remember one with Desi Arnaz narrating, voicing over the blood and carnage and mangled metal and bodies with somber warnings about the consequences of drunk driving or speeding.

And then it happens every spring.  It happened not that far from us last Friday night, in fact.  Two young men, just graduated from Perry Hall High School, were in a car that left the roadway and struck a tree.  The passenger died at once; the driver, on Sunday.

For all I know, there were driving at 30 mph and a deer ran out in front of them.  Does it really matter how they died?  What's so awful is that they did. All the guessing and figuring what happened is in full gear now, and the families are making funeral plans instead of planning to take the youths to college, and two lives that should only have been just beginning are over for good.

I've been spending some time at my old high school, Towson High, mentoring as a volunteer, and I can't say that today's kids are that much different than how we were back in the olden days.  When they find out I'm an alumnus of the school, they ask when I was graduated, and when they hear "1969" I see the calculators going off in their heads, and the mental jotto subtracting 1969 from 2015, and they see before them a true relic of the Johnson/Nixon days, and they peer at me as if I were a museum display from a traveling exhibit called "The Civil War: America Divided Against Itself." 

Listen, if some geezer from the class of 1923 had shown up there in 1969, I would have looked at him like a rusting artifact, too. The students of 2015 are kind and cool and they don't seem nearly as nervous as we were.  For all their sophistication and online access and familiarity with technology that we only dreamed of, they're still kids, and kids are going to make mistakes. 

But I digress, and it's obvious that it's a lot more fun to ruminate on the good old days than to figure way to tell people their days might come to a sudden end if they don't start being careful. These kids today have heard a million times how dangerous life is, and how important safe driving can be.  And yet...

If all the best and the brightest in the fields of law enforcement, automotive technology and education haven't found a way to remind kids that driving is serious business, who will?

Wednesday, June 10, 2015

How are things in Dannemora?

To all of us who never studied penology (pause for laughter) there is a certain confusion about how two murderers in New York State were able to walk out of what they call a maximum security prison in the town of Dannemora.


Sweat and Matt
The whole sorry episode reminds us of all the episodes of a really cheesy tv show like "Prison Break," in which a guy deliberately gets sent to prison to free his brother, wrongfully convicted of a crime He Did Not Commit. And the hero had all the architectural plans for the Big House tattooed on his body, so as to provide a road map of the way to freedom.

And that show was reminiscent of the movie "The Shawshank Redemption," in which Tim Robbins chips his way to freedom underneath Rita Hayworth, Marilyn Monroe, and Raquel Welch. Sort of.

But this real life caper has everything going for it.  And I'm writing this yesterday, so by now, convicts Matt and Sweat (which makes it sound like a high school wrestling movie) might be back in a hoosegow somewhere.  NY officials have cleverly narrowed the search area to the United States, Canada and Mexico.

And the leader of the NY State Police squad looking for them is named Major Guess.

And just like in the movies, they think that maybe a prison employee might be in on it, so they are interviewing a woman who works there.  She is a supervisor (or, was) in the industrial services department at the Ironbar Hilton.  These two gentlemen, Sweat and Matt, were serving long sentences for murder. Matt kidnapped a man and beat him to death in December 1997. His sentence was 25 years to life for three counts of murder, three counts of kidnapping and two counts of robbery. Sweat was serving a life sentence without parole in the killing of Kevin Tarsia, a sheriff's deputy, in 2002.

Just like in every bad movie, the pair left decoys stuffed beneath their covers to trick guards into thinking they were asleep in their bunks -- and a yellow sticky note with a smiley face. It read, "Have a Nice Day!"

So, since prison makes sense, these two model citizens were deemed "honor prisoners" and allowed to wear civilian clothing and carry power tools around the pen in a guitar case, because prison should be more like a college dormitory.

No one asked me, but how about let's say you kill someone, especially a cop, and we will send you to jail forever and ever, and you will wear stripes or orange jumpsuits and you will not have a guitar case or access to power tools and we will make your life almost as unpleasant as it is for the families and loved ones of the people you killed while you were out on the street.  How does that sound?

And if prison officials say that's easy to say, now that the escape happened, I will tell them I would have told them the same last week at this time, while Matt and Sweat were still where they are supposed to be.






Tuesday, June 9, 2015

Right up your ally!

There used to be a PSA - a Publicly Scary Announcement - that said something along the lines of "One of the next three drivers coming your way is drunk.   Not just drinking.  Drunk."

And then you'd think twice about driving in Jim Irsay's neighborhood anymore.

Well, if you want something to worry about, consider that you are living in a world in which some people cannot distinguish between the phrases "Christie ally" and "Kirstie Alley."

The New York Times had a story the other day, you see. It was about one of New Jersey Chris Christie's shady friends and coworkers who was about to cop a plea in the Bridgegate Scandal that the adipose governor knew NOTHING about, no sir.  (Traffic was tied up on the first day of school in the town of Fort Lee, NJ, by Christie operatives as retaliation for that town's mayor refusing to back the obnoxious governor's reelection campaign.  But the governor, who on one hand makes a big point of claiming that he's involved with everything that goes on in his kingdom, said he knew nothing about the whole deal.  Uh huh.)

So the newspaper headline said CHRISTIE ALLY TO PLEAD GUILTY IN NEW JERSEY BRIDGE SCANDAL.

And there are people on this planet, people driving cars, operating machines, owning property, walking around thinking the headline said that Kirstie Alley was about to plead guilty to involvement in the scandal.

Kirstie Alley.  The actress from "Summer School" and "Cheers" and spokesperson for Pier One and Jenny Craig.

Kirstie Alley.  And they tweeted and bleated about it:


 Whoever Philip Winn is, he lost.




Monday, June 8, 2015

When you go to a ballgame

You really have to pay attention at the ballpark, and it's also helpful to have lightning reflexes.  Or sit way up high or behind the screen.

You probably heard about the unfortunate woman at the Red Sox game on Friday night who was struck and hurt badly by the fat part of a broken bat that went flying into the stands.  As of late yesterday, the woman, Tonya Carpenter, 44, of Paxton, Mass, was still in serious condition at a Boston hospital.

This, of course, has led to a discussion among Bostonians about having more screens and walls and I don't know what-all else between the fans and the game.   The Red Sox are in the business of selling tickets to people who want to watch them play ball, and they built these extra seats about 2 feet from the third base coach's left hip pocket, so the danger factor is high, sitting there.

Major League Baseball   expressed “the utmost concern” for the victim.

“We will continue to keep her and her family in our thoughts and prayers. We appreciate the efforts of the Red Sox, the first responders, the Boston Police Department and Beth Israel Deaconess Medical Center,” said the MLB statement. “Fan safety is our foremost goal for all those who choose to support our game by visiting our ballparks and we will always strive for that experience to be safe and fan-friendly.”

Maybe they should hand out helmets and riot shields for those close seats.

As we hope for the best for Ms Carpenter, here's a bit of history for you.  Bob Feller was an Iowa farm boy who became a great pitcher for the Cleveland Indians in the 30s, 40s, and 50s.  For years, he tried to get his mother to come down to Cleveland from Iowa to see him play ball, but she demurred.

Because Mother Knows Best!  Bob sent Mrs Feller a train ticket and a front-row ticket for the Mother's Day game in May, 1939, and late in the game, Marv Owen of the opposing Chi White Sox came up to bat, swung on a Feller pitch, and knocked a foul ball into the stands –  right in the face of Mrs. Feller, breaking her glasses and sending her to the hospital. Devoted son Bob finished out the game and the Indians won 9-4.  No word on whether he gave Mom the game ball later.









Sunday, June 7, 2015

Sunday Rerun, June 7: Check This Out

Check This Out

As a former member in good standing of Retail Clerks International (Local 692, Baltimore MD) I have always disliked those self-checkout lines at the Food Clown. I thought it would put someone out of work, replaced by an optical scanner and a grating recorded voice.  ("Please move your VINE RIPE TOMATOES off the belt!")

But no!  We were using one of them last night down to the Giant, and OF COURSE it got all screwed up when my VINE RIPE TOMATOES got in the way of my EGGS JUMBO DOZ.

And two clerks had to come over and sort the whole thing out.  Adding to the confusion was the way the deli guy put my roast beef in a baggie and charged me for it at the price of ham, which to me is like ordering a Rosie O'Donnell movie and getting Vince Vaughn. The two clerks were looking at the bag full of roast beef and a ham price tag, the VINE RIPE TOMATOES that the disembodied voice kept hollering about, and it took no more than half an hour to get me on my way.  Well, maybe not that long, but what's time to a man who is keeping two clerks busy doing what one could have done in 1/2 the time?

Good thing I didn't cut myself during all this. I hate to think of going to the hospital and finding that they have the same sort of thing for an incision, only to find that they have a "suture self" station.

Saturday, June 6, 2015

The Saturday Picture Show, June 6, 2015

This old album shows Frank Sinatra at his peak. He had his vocal shortcomings (I thought he hit flat notes all the time, and prefer Bing Crosby and Perry Como) but he sure knew how to wear a fedora.
A fascinating early 50's prom picture shows young Buddy Holley (before he dropped the 'e') and his girlfriend at the time, the wonderfully-named Echo McGuire.  I love Buddy's music, and I love "Echo" as a first name.
A bonus album cover for you this week...Buddy and his band.
I did not know of this habit, but it seems I am the only person in the world who didn't know that people in Paris like to snap a padlock onto a bridge as a token of their unbreakable love.  But when it gets to where tons and tons of extra metal are hanging from the bridge, that's where the bridge might have some structural safety issues, so they are being removed.  Next time, lovers, try a sticky note!

Raspberries, blueberries, blackberries, huckleberries...I love most berries, but, even as pretty as they are, I am not a fan of strawberries.  If they had a Facebook page, I would not "like" it!
I have used the expression "since Hector was a pup" for a long time, but I never heard of this old dog food until I found this picture.
Sea gulls, the flying pooping aerial shows at beach resorts, like ice cream.  Just so's you know.
Christian McPhilamy is 8 yrs of age and lives in Melbourne, FL.  He put up with bullying for 2 1/2 years while growing his hair long, and he produced four 10-inch long sections that the family sent to Children With Hair Loss, a charity that provides free wigs to kids who have lost their locks for any reason, including cancer, alopecia and burns.  No one can do everything, but everyone can do something.  Awesome, indeed.


Friday, June 5, 2015

If you're not at Burger King, you can't always have it your way

A friend of mine has a relative who took her children to one of those farm stand places where they have Apple Festivals in Autumn, and cider and doughnuts and hay mazes and hayrides. They arrived too late; the hayride tractor was being put away and the employees were closing up everything, but this person, an attorney, loudly and publicly clamored for her children to be able to have a hayride.

The employees said they were sorry, but the sign posted said that hayrides were over at 5 PM, and they should have come earlier, and they tried to be as kind as possible, but this person, an attorney, would not hear of it.

"I DEMAND a hayride for my children!" she shouted.

And don't you know, they got that tractor back out and loaded up the kids and took them on what must have been a helluva happy hayride.

Lion Park is a wildlife center in South Africa's Gauteng province, where one can drive along the roads and see all sorts of animals, including lions, zebras, giraffes and wild dogs. Upon entering, visitors are given a piece of paper with the rules, the main one being that the car windows have to be rolled UP at all times, which only makes sense.  But the other day, a 29-year-old woman, Katherine Chappell of Rye, New York was killed at the safari outside Johannesburg. She was taking pictures of a lioness, with her car window down to get a better picture, and the lioness, who was with her cubs, reached in through the window that should not have been open, and killed her.

We see this all the time...people jumping into the cages of large cats and other dangerous animals at zoos and parks.  Sometimes, they are sadly deranged individuals bent on suicide, sometimes, they are under the delusion that getting closer to our animal kin is good for the soul, and sometimes, they just want to take photographs.
This is not a housecat

And of course, there is this curious human tendency to demand that things be done the way we want them - or else!

Unlike the people who operate hayrides and apple festivals, animals don't operate with the same sort of logic that a rational human employs in making decisions.  A mother lion sees her offspring being encroached upon, and responds the only way she knows.

And that's the way it's going to be, until animals evolve to the point at which they have attorneys to resolve these matters.  So until then, I urge each and every one of us to follow the rules of animal engagement.  They're in place for a reason.


Thursday, June 4, 2015

Do what you do do well

Sammy Davis, Jr.
I get a daily feed from Delanceyplace.com, which sends interesting snippets from interesting books every day. The other day, it was a section from Paul Shaffer's autobiography, "We'll Be Here For the Rest of Our Lives: A Swingin' Show-biz Saga." And the story concerned Paul's effort to get Sammy Davis, Jr, booked as a guest on the Letterman show, to sit down and listen to the arrangement of "Just Once In My Life" that Paul and his band had worked out.

By this time in his life, Sammy was getting older, and was frail, and busy, and tired, yet he finally gave in and listened to a cassette recording of the tune after Paul begged him time and again.  When the tune was over, Sammy had this to say:
"It's swinging, man, but think of how much more fun we could have had if I hadn't heard this tape."
What was Sammy, in his wisdom, saying, ever so gently? Something like, "If I don't know how to sing 'Just Once In My Life' by now, then grits ain't groceries."

Sammy Baker Davis, Jr.
Now, Sammy was not a modest man. Rarely are people with his level of talent and achievement self-effacing and overly humble. I often quote him saying, "It's gotten to the point where there are only three important people in the world:  Sammy, Davis, and Junior."  So he was not shy about his many gifts, but one gift he surely had was the confidence to do what he did with those gifts, such as get out in front of an audience and perform.  He knew that song, and unless Paul had planned to have the band playing the tune to "God Save The Queen" while Sammy sang, Sammy was going to do just fine.

I bring this up because I just finished reading an excellent book, "Man In Profile," by Thomas Kunkel.  It's about Joseph Mitchell, the great writer for The New Yorker who has been one of my favorite authors for years.  He wrote about people who didn't get written about...saloon keepers, vagrants, fishermen, movie ticket ladies.

His writing style was, in a word, thorough.  Mitchell came to New York from his native North Carolina and found work as a newspaper reporter in the heyday of that medium, and there was a lot to write about in the 1920s, and he batted out three or four stories per day back then.

When The New Yorker hired him to write Profiles - long biographical sketches - he slowed down the pace of his writing, and first spent long periods of time with the subject of his story, getting to know them, and then writing and re-writing and editing dozens of times.  And this was in the days before the computer, so he typed and cut with scissors and pasted with glue and did so over and over before finally finishing.  From three or four completed stories in a day, he was down to three or four per year.  And then, after he wrote of how he was bamboozled by a man named Joe Gould, who claimed to have written a long and detailed history of our times, but who had, in fact, not written any such thing, Mitchell went behind a writer's block.  That was 1964, and he still went to work every day until his death in 1996, and never finished another story.  He typed and he thought and he planned new works, but nothing bore fruit.

Joseph Mitchell at his favorite restaurant
So there you have them. Two ways of approaching one's life work: do it on the fly, or do it over and over and over and never get anything done.  I have to believe that even Mr Mitchell would give it up to Mr Davis, Jr, and let it fly, had he another chance.



Wednesday, June 3, 2015

Walk a mile in your shoes

I've never been to Lake County, Ohio.  Never even been to Ohio, but I like this judge they have there, Judge Michael A. Cicconetti, who is really great at making the punishment fit the crime.

I have whiled away many an hour, often while being paid for doing something else, imagining myself as a judge.  Black robe, gavel, stern bailiff, the whole deal.

And in every courtroom scenario that unreels in my mind, I always hand down sentences  that the entire court finds just perfect - even the person I had just found guilty - because I would take driver's licenses away from people who abuse that privilege by driving drunk or too fast, make vandals repair whatever they damaged, and send big business moguls who cheated widows out of their meager homes off to hard time on a rockpile for 20 years.
OK. The moguls did not like it, but everyone knows, when a kid breaks a window with a rock, the child learns a lesson by having to give up his allowance to pay for the new window.  Sure, it's a "pane," but you gotta learn, right?

I'll bet that Victoria Bascom learned her lesson.  Ms Bascom is a resident of Lake County who recently found herself in need of a lift from Cleveland to Painesville.

(Ohio must be the sort of state where people willingly go to a town called Painesville.)

She called a cab, rode in the cab, and, upon arriving at her destination, got out of the cab, which is all standard procedure, except that she got out and ran like a thief in the night, which she kind of is, for doing that....

Ms Bascom
Apparently the cab driver could run just as fast as she, and she was caught and taken before His Honor Judge Cicconnetti, who reasoned that she took the cab on a 30-mile ride, so she should take a 30-mile walk to think about what she did, or serve 60 days in the Ironbar Hilton.

And pay back the cab company the $100 fare she tried to beat, and serve four months of probation.

She strapped on a GPS device and some good walking shoes and started hoofing around the Lake County Fairgrounds on Friday.

Joe Walsh and The James Gang were from Cleveland, right? Maybe she's heard their big hit, "Walk Away."


Tuesday, June 2, 2015

Cut it into six slices; I don't think I can eat eight

Everyone knows of the great inventors such as Thomas Edison, Bill Gates, and Henry Ford.  Ford had such a nimble mind that he figured out ways to make money out of making money, such as taking the wood scraps from the process of making wheels for the Model T and turning them into charcoal.  Along with a relative named Kingsford, old Henry did for the grilling industry what he also did for the auto industry.

But Tom, Bill and Henry will all bow deeply to Sean Berthiaume, a man of vision and taste, a man whose notion will soon transform the way we all eat, a man employed by Vinnie's Pizzeria, of 148 Bedford Ave, Brooklyn, NY.

We have all yearned for and sought after new toppings for pizza. Pepperoni, sausage, mushroom, Canadian bacon, ham, fried eggs, spinach, artichokes, asparagus, sun-dried tomatoes, baby arugula, mature arugula:  all have been tried, with or without extra cheese.

There's a place near us that offers a cheese steak sub pizza.  They sizzle up the steak 'n' provolone 'n' onions that they normally would put on a roll, but instead, they lovingly slide it atop a cheese pizza, which they then top with another crust and bake until you just can't stand it no more.

But Sean has seen the future of pizza and it is a pizza pizza.  That's right, a pizza topped with cut up pieces of another pizza. Here is what this slice of heaven looks like:
Bill Gates, the man who gave the world the ability to sit down in front of a screen and see pictures of dancing babies and Mitt Romney boxing with Mike Tyson, once said, "Until we're educating every kid in a fantastic way, until every inner city is cleaned up, there is no shortage of things to do."

Thomas Edison, without whose light bulb we would be watching television in the dark, once said, "When I have fully decided that a result is worth getting, I go ahead of it and make trial after trial until it comes."

Henry Ford, who got the nation out of horse-and-buggy days and into broken-down Ford cars, is famous for saying, "Thinking is the hardest work there is, which is the probable reason so few engage in it."

These great minds and thoughts are all reflected in Sean Berthiaume, who will be remembered for saying, "I see inspiration all around, in the hearts and minds of the customers that frequent Vinnie's everyday (sic). Their eyes seem to say, ‘Pizza, I like it, I would like more of it.' That, and I was bored on my break."

If you can be ready by 9, we could be at Vinnie's for lunch!

Monday, June 1, 2015

When you're wrong you're wrong

For those who still enjoy what they call country music these days, you should know that what you hear on the radio is the product of people sitting around at computers, figuring the "metrics" and the positive flow of what people think about the songs, and calculating what records to play when, just like your tax accountant figures out how to hide your income behind a computer.  It used to be, the deejay would have a stack of records and would choose the music based on what he or she knew the audience wanted to hear, and some requests, and a hunch or two.

Whether you're in Sheboygan, Brattleboro or Kankakee, what you hear on your local radio is programmed days in advance by people far away, people such as a man named Keith Hill, who modestly calls himself “the world’s leading authority on music scheduling.”

Picture him in 7th grade as Ms O'Hoolahan asks him what he wants to be when he grows up.

"I want to tell disc jockeys what records to play."

Anyway, that's what he does, and he kicked up a tempest in a teapot the other day by dishing out this advice for country radio stations : Don’t play too many songs by female artists.

Hill says he has data to back his sexism up, and says (in that "Some of my best friends are _____ " voice) that he happens to like female singers, but recommends against playing them on the radio because other people don't like them enough to keep listening.

He says no more than 15 percent of the songs a station plays should be by females.

“If you want to make ratings in country radio, take females out,” he told industry publication Country Aircheck. He says it's because more of the listeners of country radio are women, and his statistics show they prefer hearing males over women. “Trust me, I play great female records and we’ve got some right now; they’re just not the lettuce in our salad. The lettuce is Luke Bryan and Blake Shelton, Keith Urban and artists like that. The tomatoes of our salad are the females.”

Now here is where he ran into trouble.  He seems to have spent too much time with his research and his computers and his calculations and not enough time with real women, most of whom do not prefer to be called salad ingredients of any sort.

Miranda Lambert, Martina McBride, Jennifer Nettles and Terri Clark were among the females of Nashville music to fire back at his foolishness, and social media lit up with the outrage.

So...guess what Hill did?  Did he say he was sorry for calling women tomatoes?

He did not.  He dug his heels right into the pile of dogma he was burying himself in, and said he was misunderstood and he's not supposed to care about who gets played, because his job is to get the ratings.

“All I have done is read a dashboard of metrics and read a suggestion to an internal part of the industry," he said. And he also said he's like a radio doctor and he diagnoses what ails a station and how to fix it.  

“Now, that may come off as arrogant. I share this information, and just because it doesn’t fall into the natural break of the gender that populates our country or the globe, seems like that’s an issue. To me, it’s not a gender issue at all. It’s a marketing issue.”

Still holding to his own supremacy, Hill goes on to say:  “When I say ‘the sun rises in the east,’ that’s not controversial in any way.”
And what has he learned, besides all this about the sun and the moon and the stars above?
Allison Krauss

“There are a lot of uptight women” out there.

He just doesn't seem to understand that sometimes, it's better When You Say Nothing At All.  Hey! That was a song by Allison Krauss.

I guess he didn't play it.

Sunday, May 31, 2015

Sunday rerun, May 31: Surrender "Dorothy"!


Surrender "Dorothy"

Seems to me that no one ever likes their hair, what there is of it.   Compliment a woman's long flowing curls, and she will likely say, "I worked for hours to straighten it!"  And then a woman with straight hair will tell you they rolled it and curled it and wadded it up in italics for hours, only to have it go straight again.

Most men, as long as their bangs don't block their view of whatever screen they're looking at, do not care.

But how about their names?  Do people like their first names? Well, the high school class of 2032, 18 years from today, will have a lot of boys named Noah ( a whole flood of 'em!), Liam, Jacob, Mason, William, Ethan, Michael, Alexander, Jayden and Daniel. Noah just bumped Michael out of the top spot for the first time since 1960.

Over in the girls' locker room, they'll be answering to Sophia, Emma, Olivia, Isabella, Ava, Mia, Emily, Abigail, Madison and Elizabeth.  Sofia with an 'F' is # 13 and moving up fast, especially among viewers of Modern Family.

Now, a hundred years ago in 1914, the top boy names were names by which every person my age knows a dozen of each, at least: John, William, James, Robert, Joseph, George, Charles, Edward, Frank, and Walter.  For girls in the nineteen-teens, you had Mary, Helen, Dorothy, Margaret, Ruth, Anna, Mildred, Elizabeth, Frances and Marie.  All lovely names, worn by some mighty wonderful people.  #100 that year for boys was Irving, and you don't meet too many of them anymore, but Sophie was #100 for girls then and it's still around in various iterations.

Tito Puente
What names made the biggest jumps in popularity, you're asking me?  Well, say hi to Jayceon (#262).  That's the birth name of the rapper known as The Game, and he has a reality show on VH-1, so his name is out there and being given to lots of little Jayceons.  For girls, it's Daleyza (#585), the name of the young daughter of Larry Hernandez, a Mexican-American singer with a show called "Larrymania."

Tito Tito
All I know is, I wished my folks had named me either Leon or Tito. How cool would that be, to call somewhere and go, "This is Tito.  I'm on the way over.  Have everything ready."

And you know, they would!
Toriano "Tito" Jackson


John Patsy "Tito" Francona