Ray Bendici – Page 17

the friday five: the kids’ (shows) are alright

Jul 202012

Okay, like most parents, I’ve been exposed to more than my share of child-focused television programs, many of which have been unwatchable dreck. I mean, really horrible, even from a kid’s point of view—crap like “Teletubbies” and their even freakier inbred British cousins, “The Boobahs.” (I’d post a picture of them, but they still gives me the shivers!*)

On the plus side, there have been a few absolutely terrific shows that I didn’t mind watching with the boys, things like “Between the Lions,” “Hi-5” (super crush on Jennifer—saw her in person at the mall once, and I’m pretty sure I was more excited than the kids), “The Secret Show,” and of course, one of my all-time favorite shows, “Teen Titans.” (I want to be excited that they’re bringing back “Teen Titans” as a new series, but it’s not the same team doing the new one, so I don’t think it’ll be the same tone-perfect mix of action, drama and comedy—it really was a terrific show.)

Anyway, those shows are either no longer on or my kids have outgrown them. But they still watch TV—and I still watch with them, and now, I have a new batch of

Top Five TV Kids’ Shows That I Sort of Don’t Mind Watching

1. “iCarly“ – I know this is about to end its run, but it’s on enough in reruns—and my house. This is one of the many shows created by former child actor Dan Schneider (the heavy kid from “Head of the Class” and “Ricky” from Better Off Dead. He’s become a kid’s TV mogul, creating his own mini-empire with shows like “Drake & Josh,” “Zoey 101,” and “The Amanda Show,” and now, “Victorious.” The acting on “iCarly” is pretty decent (there’s plenty of painful, horrible kid actors—Zack and Cody, I’m looking at you) and the show is actually laugh-out loud funny at times. In one interview, Schneider said that he’s been able to make good children’s sitcoms because the reality tv boom has caused a lot of good comedy writers to be unemployed; he’s hired them for his shows, and truthfully, some of the stuff he turns out stands toe-to-toe with many network comedies.

2. “Good Luck Charlie“ – Another live-action sitcom, this one produced by Disney, but with a cast that’s pretty solid, especially the parents on the show. (How you know you’re an adult, reason # 12,457—realizing you have a crush on the main character’s mother on your kid’s show.) Now, no one is going to get nominated for an Emmy here, but for a kid’s show, it’s remarkably watchable. And funny.

3. “Phineas and Ferb“ – If you don’t know about this one yet, I’m not going to be able to help you. Probably the most popular Disney show at the moment by far—as I make my way around the web and in life, I’m always struck by how many other parents (and even non-parental adults) all say the same thing: “I really like this show.” It’s produced by two guys, Dan Povenmire and Jeff “Swampy” Marsh—Povenmire, who also does the voice of the nefarious Dr. Heinz Doofenshmirz, worked on “Family Guy” while Marsh is a veteran of “The Simpsons” and “King of the Hill.” With such pedigrees, it’s not a shock the show is as good as it is.

Besides, how can you hate a program that has given the world this bit of ear candy:

4. “Avengers: Earth’s Mightiest Heroes“ – It’s no “Teen Titans,” but it’s pretty good. We started watching it about a year ago in preparation for the movie this summer (yeah, total comic book-super hero nerds), and it actually turns out to be fairly decent. For a kid’s show, it’s impressive how well they weave multiple story lines into the ongoing story arc. Only criticism: Hulk no smash enough!

5. “Gravity Falls“ – Okay, this is a new one, but it’s growing on me quickly. It might have to do with the fact that each episode is a bit quirky and that there’s some sort of Fortean-like aspect involved, be it a ghost, a sea monster or murderous lawn gnomes. I also like that they hang out at a place called “The Mystery Shack” (and also have Linda Cardellini doing one of the voices, who was Velma in the live-action Scooby-Doo movies), and that they have a crazy uncle who always wears a fez. Plus, there’s a secret message at the end of each episode hidden in the credits—I like puzzles like that!

Enjoy the re-runs!

there’s a jerk born every minute: p.t. barnum

Jul 182012

All right … it’s exactly two months to Sept. 18, the official publication date for Speaking Ill of the Dead: Jerks in Connecticut History—available for pre-order from Amazon, in case you’ve forgotten—you can expect me to try and ratchet up the hype machine!

Of course, those of you who know me know that I am absolutely terrible at promoting myself, but I’m hoping to be better at it by the time this book is actually out. Heck, I may even be able to acknowledge that I am a “published author” by then.

In the meantime, I thought I’d put another little snippet out there for you to try, this time an excerpt from Chapter 9, entitled “P.T. Barnum, Prince of the Humbugs.” (Again, as with the Benedict Arnold chapter, this was not the title I chose, but the one the publisher picked. My original was “P.T. Barnum, Prince of the Jerks,” for what it’s worth.) That’s ol’ P.T. peeking down from the top of the book, by the way—and my name in tiny print by the bottom.

In case you’re wondering, I stretched the definition of jerk a bit so I could include a wider range of stories that I thought people would enjoy reading. Barnum is definitely in the category of lovable jerk, a guy who enthusiastically embraced the huckster and con persona in the pursuit of entertainment—and fantastic wealth! His is one of the most amazing stories in Connecticut history, and one certainly worth including.

I picked this short section in honor of the fact that I’m traveling back to Cortland, New York, for a few days at the end of next week for New York Jets training camp. (I like to say that I’m going as an envoy of thejetsblog.com, but the truth is that I’m big football nerd.) A few years ago when I went, I made a side trip to the Farmer’s Museum in Cooperstown specifically to see the Cardiff Giant, which was one of the biggest hoaxes of the 19th century.

Here’s Barnum’s part in the story, from an uncorrected proof of the book. Enjoy!

Barnum is credited for saying, “There’s a sucker born every minute” (a jerk-like proclamation if there ever was one), but as it turns out, the great showman may never have said it—although it may have been said about him and his unmatched ability to separate people from their money. In this particular instance, Barnum was actually hoaxing a bunch of hoaxers, and in turn, hoaxing everyone else.

In 1869, a remarkable discovery was made at the farm of William “Stub” Newell in upstate New York, near the small town of Cardiff. While having a well dug on his property, the farmer claimed that workers had unearthed the petrified remains of a human being who measured over ten feet in height! Dubbing the find the “Cardiff Giant,” Newell set up at tent and charged twenty-five cents a head to see the amazing sight. Thousands showed up, and before long, he was able to sell a portion of the rights for $30,000 to a group of investors led by David Hannum, who moved it to Syracuse so even more could witness the wonder.

As soon as Barnum heard about the fantastic artifact, he sent an agent to investigate. The agent reported the details—including the size of the crowds lining up to see it—to Barnum, who then immediately made an offer of $50,000 to Hannum for the rights to display it in his New York City museum. The offer was rejected.

Being a jerk—and recognizing a scam when he saw one—Barnum knew exactly what to do. He had his own ancient behemoth carved and put it on exhibition in his museum. He then told people that he had acquired the real Cardiff Giant, and that the other one up in Syracuse was a fake!

With the full fury of Barnum’s media might behind it, his Cardiff Giant was soon outdrawing the original one, which didn’t sit well with Hannum. Knowing that Barnum’s was phony, he allegedly made the enduring “sucker” comment about those going to see it.

Hannum then sued Barnum for libel for suggesting that his Syracuse Cardiff Giant was a fraud. When the case went before a judge, however, Stub Newell, the farmer who originally discovered it, was forced to admit under oath that he and a partner had created the figure, and then had planted it to be found by the unsuspecting farm hands. It had been a hoax from the start, thus the charges against Barnum were dismissed since he had been accurate in calling the other giant a fake.

doomsday: the bright side

Jul 152012

So this week I heard about the Doomsday Faire 2012 in Hartford this October, which sounds like an awesome event.

According to the event’s site: “A Renaissance Fair of a whole different kind! Doomsday Fair 2012 is an apocalypse themed fair and disaster preparedness convention that invites everyone to time travel forward into a New England of the near future.”

On the site, there’s links to apocalart, a zombie fest and more. Sounds like it should be a good time, which got me to thinking: With all the talk about 2012 being the end of the world according the Mayan calendar, why is there so much gloom and doom?

Seriously, talk about the apocalypse always seems to be talk about the glass being half empty. Has Monty Python taught us nothing?!

If anything, Doomsday seems like the perfect time for opportunity. As such—

The Top 14 Benefits to the End of the World

14. No more “Toddlers & Tiaras,” “Dance Moms,” “The Jersey Shore,” “Bad Girls Club” or “The Real Housewives of East Bumblefrack.”

13. End of famine, disease, pestilence and partisan politics, which is especially good, I guess, for those who are not fans of any of that.

12. More days off from work, and no more unpaid overtime.

11. Won’t have to replace the furnace or roof, or take care of all those other pesky home repairs. No more shoveling the driveway in winter!

10. No chance of Sarah Palin, Hilary Clinton, Donald Trump or Chris Christie becoming President of the United States, or my next-door neighbor.

9. Never hear Fran Drescher’s voice again.

8. More chocolate chip muffins available at Koffee in New Haven … you know, at first.

7. The Yankees and Patriots will never win another championship, and Bill Belichick will never be inducted into the NFL Hall of Fame.

6. Shorter lines at DisneyWorld. The DMV, too.

5. Dramatically less demand for and use of fossil fuels, which should positively affect climate change and keep those danged tree huggers quiet.

4. Nancy Grace will be out of a job.

3. No Ghostbusters 3 or Teletubbies reunion tour.

2. Any questions about which god (if any) is the True God should be sorted out.

1. Less traffic and highway congestion as well as fewer idiots on the road, plus lots of spots at the mall during the holidays!

Here’s hoping the Mayans got it right!

the friday five: summer fun

Jul 132012

As you read this, please picture me in shorts and high black socks, standing on my front lawn and shaking my fist at the kids sitting in their houses as my mind drifts back to—

Five Things I Used to Do During My Summer Vacations

1. Stay outside – Maybe it was because we didn’t have central air or Xboxes or Nickelodeon or Disney Channel or even Commodore 64s that we were happy to spend our days out-of-doors. Usually I’d be out of the house by 9:30 a.m. and out playing around the neighborhood, come back around noon for a quick lunch, go back out until dinner around 5:30, and then go out until after dark most nights, probably around 9 or 9:30 p.m.

Yeah, that’s almost 11-12 hours outside a day—and because it was the 70s, I never wore sunblock, either! Although, having had a solar-fed precancerous growth sliced off my face, it may not have been a bad thing to have a little lotion from time to time. Ooopsie!

2. Ride my bike – From the time I moved to Connecticut at age 7 until I got my license at 18, a bike was my primary means of transportation. (I did experiment with thrashing on a skateboard a little, but it wasn’t really practical for covering long distances.) My friends and I rode our bikes everywhere—to each other’s houses, to the baseball field, to the Game Room and Milford Amusement (okay, so there were some video games, but we had to go out to play the really cool ones like Zaxxon, Tempest, Asteroids and Journey!), to the ice pavilion (a cool place to hang out in the A/C-challenged 70s, literally), to the beach and even to the legendary Wanda’s Sugar Shack. I used to treat mine like it was the Millennium Falcon—”the fastest hunk of junk in the galaxy.” (Obviously, an early indicator of my love of speed!)

As you might guess, I wasn’t quite as cool as Han Solo, but it wasn’t from lack of imagination or want.

3. Play ball – Back in the day, we played some variation of baseball every day—if we didn’t trek over to the diamond next to Kennedy School in Milford for real hardball, we would play tennisball baseball (usually in the Tartaglia’s backyard until we hit one too many homeruns into the neighbor’s garden, wrecking his tomato plants and thus shutting down the stadium) or even “off-the-cellar ball,” which consisted of throwing a tennis ball at a dormer and trying to get it to fly over a clothesline for an automatic homer—I’m pretty sure this is what ruined my throwing arm and my potential million-dollar pitching career, not the fact that I was born with a rag arm. (Yeah, that’s the ticket.)

And of course, there was lots of hours dedicated to wiffle ball (the home of which is now about a mile from my house—I’m convinced the factory is manned by Oompa Loompas, but that’s a post for another day)! We used to set up a chair as a strike zone and had different automatic hits—a hit past a fielder on the ground was a single, one on the deck was a double, off the side of the house was a triple and on the roof was a homer. We played wiffle ball well into my college years, and had some marathon games.

I would say that this also ruined my arm, but I was a junkballer and never threw hard. My out pitch was a slow, sweeping curve ball that would look like it was headed for the batter’s head and then dramatically turn in and drop into the middle of the chair. Nothing more embarrassing for my friends than striking out looking at a 2 mile-per-hour pitch that they thought was going to plunk them.

Oh, and if it rained, my buddy Milo and I would play APBA Baseball, which involved cards and dice. We would play out entire seasons and keep stats. Yeah, funny how we struggled to get girls early on …

4. Swim – As I mentioned, home A/C wasn’t as prevalent as it is today, so to cool off, we’d spend hours in pools. We had a great neighborhood for this as there were at least a half dozen pools that we’d rotate through, although the best one belonged to my next-door neighbor Rick, whose parents had installed a full in-ground pool with a diving board!

I remember how we’d try and angle for it: “Wow, my parents are at work,” I’d say, “so we can’t swim at my house.” And everyone would agree. Then Milo would say, “Well, my house is too far away.” And everyone would sort of nod. Then someone would say, “Well, Nicky’s dad just put chlorine in, so we can’t go there.” And everyone would nod again. “Roger’s parents are out, so we can’t swim there, either.” And then we’d all sit there quietly for a few seconds, looking at each and looking to Rick, watching his wheels turn. Finally, he’d say, “Hey, I could ask my mom!” And of course, we’d all agree that was a great idea!!!

Rick, if you’re reading—we also liked you for other things besides your pool … you know, like your cool toys!

5. The beach – This didn’t really become popular until we were older and could get there on bikes, but definitely by high school, Milo and I were spending much of our days at Walnut Beach in Milford, along with our buddy—and Frisbee master—Bobby, and other assorted characters. Occasionally, we’d go over to Silver Sands, although there was no fancy schmancy boardwalk between the two like there is now. Back then, we had to pick our way over rocks, garbage and sewage, and past The Chicken Lady, who was this eccentric squatter who lived in a makeshift trailer on the beach after the city knocked down her beachfront home and, yes, she kept chickens as pets.

Of course we were always interested in meeting girls, which we did on occasion. One summer I thought I had a chance with the girl who ran the ice cream truck, but that …. well, melted away like a popsicle in the sun. There were other ones—maybe a post for another day.

Ultimately, we spent much of the day just hanging out and soaking up the sun. We used to laugh at a sign on the beach that proclaimed in large letters, “NO LOITERING.” As if you did anything else on a sunny beach during a carefree summer.

steve-a-thon 2012

Jul 122012

The scene: A TV studio with a wide glitzy stage, a live band and a large, enthusiastic audience. To one side is a bank of phones manned by celebrities; on the other is an electronic tote board. In the middle is a lone, almost-desperate figure …

Ray [*wearing a blue ruffled tux and mopping his brow with a white neckerchief*]: Thank you for all again for stopping by Steve-a-thon 2012, our special benefit post where we are all getting together to try to help the beloved spiritual leader of Damned Connecticut—and my close personal friend and literary inspiration—Steve Frank!!!

[*cue “Applause” sign*]

Yes, Steve, who is suffering through a crippling physical ailment. No, he’s not the friend who has cancer that I wrote about recently, but I can assure you that Steve’s malady, although not nearly as life-threatening as cancer or a man cold, is a serious one nonetheless, and one that needs our support. Somehow, for the past few days, he’s been using every extra bit of his energy to e-mail and text me pictures about his brave battle against this physical blight, and how it would’ve utterly destroyed a lesser man. As you may or may not know, Steve, with his iron constitution and even harder musculature, is not a lesser man in any way.

His courageous wife Kate has kept me in the loop as to his struggles—just last night he thought he might possibly be knocking at death’s door, so he had her tweeting some of his transgressions to clear his conscience. How he’s carrying on is … well, just beyond me. I only hope that someday my sons are half the men he is. (You know, as long as it’s the non-afflicted half.)

Anyway, as you know, we’ve been going for the past 72 hours in support of Steve, putting together all-star entertainment and internationally renowned acts to help raise awareness of the situation. Heck, just the last hour saw right here on this stage the startling return of this TV legend …

Just an amazing moment. I’m still wiping away the tears …

So here in our final push, we have a special surprise featuring many of the important people in Steve’s life, all gathered to record a special song—one that I specially composed at Kate’s suggestion, and one that I hope Steve will be able to sing himself some day, but only if that golden voice of his is strong enough. Please, sit back and enjoy, and once you get the chorus, feel free to join in.

Oh, and of course, I am proud to present here, for the first time anywhere, the Steve-a-thon Against Shingles All-Stars!

[*A curious group shuffles on the stage to wild clapping and cheering, and when the audience calms down, a elderly woman with her hair pulled tight in a bun steps up to the mic. The band starts playing and she starts singing*]

Lorraine Warren: “It’s supposed to happen to the other guy,
Some jerk who makes the people cry
Not to a real man, who’s so undeserving
Whose Yankee loyalty is so unswerving—”

[*Lorraine steps back, waves her hand and the apparition of a familiar man appears*]

The ghost of Ed Warren: “At scout camp, he peed in the lotion
At the beach, he drank from the ocean
At a party, he wore invisible fence
But this time, it just makes no sense”

[*Ed dissipates, and two men in RotoRooter jumpsuits step forward—the crowd goes wild as they realize they’re seeing a special reunion. Each man sings alternating lines*]

The Ghosthunters, Jason and Grant: “Like Jeebus, he stands up to the pain
Like Gandhi, he mans up to the strain
Like Colbert, he’s incredibly brave
Like Busey, it’s him we need to saaaave—”

[*They step back and everyone joins in the chorus*]

“So we sing this shingle jingle
Before Steve gets it on his dingle
Let’s all sing this shingle jingle
To stop that uncomfortable tingle
So we sing this shingle jingle
Before Steve gets it on his dingle
Let’s all sing this shingle jingle
Before Kate ends up being single”

[*A large, hulking creature steps to the front, brushes back the hair from his eyes and sings with the voice like Andrea Bocelli*]

Bigfoot: “But a virus doesn’t know what it’s doing
And a virus doesn’t know who it’s screwing
So if it goes after a guy who’s an inspiration
It’s up to us to stop the devastation”

[*Next up is another guy with crazy hair and even crazier eyes, plus a little gray humanoid who signs along like the alien from the end of Close Encounters*]

Giorgio A. Tsoukalos: “It all started with a tiny red dot
But now his skin looks like festering rot
It all started with a tiny red rash
But now his skin looks like bloody hash”

[*Two guys clad all in leather step up together to alternate lines*]

Dan W. DeLuca & Don Johnson: “Like Chestnut, he can eat it all
Like ARod, he likes to ball
Like Mulder, he can believe
Like Bieber, the shingles gots to leeeave—”

[*The whole group hits the chorus again; to the side, Kate and Steve’s children wipe away their tears*]

[*Three guys with douchey haircuts step forward*]

“Ghost Adventurers” Zak, Nick and Aaron: “SPAM and blisters
More pain than a thousand titty-twisters
Mystery meat and puss
Good thing he never likes to fuss”

[*Finally, another apparition appears, a flowing, haunting vision*]

The White Lady of Union Cemetery: “How can one man stand so much pain?
How can one man stand so much pain?
How can one man stand so much pain?
He is THE man, that’s how”

[*Everyone is back on stage, plus all of Steve’s friends and family, Gene Gene the Dancing Machine, Kelly Clarkson and the original Broadway cast of (Fisher) Cats*]

[*Music fades as the credits roll ….*]

GET WELL STEVE!

the truth about bullies

Jul 082012

Okay—the (the imagined) demand has been overwhelming for a sequel to my much beloved (it *almost* went viral!) and original attempt at a children’s book, You Are Not. (Which was totally ripped off—pretty sure this guy stole from my blog, which came first by two months). Unlike the real entertainment world, I wanted to make sure I had a proper subject and story rather than just bang out a You Are Not 2: Electric Boogaloo.

Anyway, I’ve been thinking about this for a while, and finally hit upon something that I can address from (lots of) personal experience. Hope you, and your children, enjoy!

(And as always, illustrations by my son Zane.)

The Truth About Bullies

If you’re like most people, you are not special.

Yay, indeed.

However, it also means that at some point, you have been probably minding your own business, either at school or on the playground, when you’ve been accosted by a person, usually bigger, who has been mean to you, tried to take something from you by force, or even beat you up for just existing in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Congratulations! You have been bullied.

And it sucks.

If you were lucky, the only hurt to you was physical, as that usually heals pretty quickly. If your bully made you scared or feel really bad about yourself, then it’s going to take you years to get over it, probably with the need of some expensive therapy where you also find out that you suffer from self-esteem issues, you’re borderline OCD or that all the other kids probably don’t fantasize about removing the skin from their dog and wearing it over their head like one of the Lost Boys from Peter Pan ….

Anyway, you’ve most likely already been inundated with info about the steps to take when you’re bullied, so being a good, rule-following student, you first try to ignore it, but when that doesn’t work (and it almost never does in grade school), you go to your teacher to tell her what happened. And she says, “It’s okay, I’ll take care of it!”
Which is code for “Chillax, little dude, I’ll get the bullying to stop.”

But it won’t.

the friday five: having a moment

Jul 062012

Okay, I was inspired this week by Independence Day, but I wasn’t quite sure where to go with it. I thought about my favorite moments in American sports history, but that’s too wide a category, so I then went to my favorite moments in American sports movie history, but there wasn’t quite enough there …

Call this one a mash-up, I guess, as I share

Five of My Favorite Real/Fictional Sports Moments

[*Warning: Spoilers—of old movies—ahead!*]

1. Rocky knocking out Clubber Lang

Let’s start with some fiction!

Being a kid of the ’70s-’80s, I loved the original trilogy of Rocky movies, and saw all three in the theater. So many great and memorable scenes throughout—the “Gonna Fly Now” training sequence in the original film essentially gave birth to the film montage, and inspired thousands of people to run up the 72 stone steps of the Philadelphia Museum of Art (which, yes, I did on one visit).

Although some may say it was the most commercial of the trilogy, Rocky III was one of my all-time favorites, probably because I was an impressionable teenager when it came out—I still remember getting pumped up to exercise by “Eye of the Tiger.” I also remember how that song came on the radio right after I asked my buddy Milo if I should go talk to a girl at the beach—it cinched my decision and provided a soundtrack as I confidently strode across the hot sand. (She said no. “Gonna crash and burn now …”)

Anyway, lots of great moments in the film (“He’s just a man, Rock. Just a man … Be *more* man than him!”), although for any true Rocky fan, the best part is the final fight. I love the whole sequence of the final round; I’ve come to realize the real key to it is around the 1:48 mark of this clip when the orchestral music sort of completely changes, going from high soaring strings to reverberating low woodwinds, which marks Rocky’s final comeback.

I know the franchise has had high and low moments, but that entire last round is a terrific film-making sequence.

2. Do You Believe In Miracles?

Now to real life.

For any of you reading this who were too young to remember this shining moment in American athletic history—heck, American history—I can’t explain what an impact the 1980 U.S. Olympic hockey team defeating the U.S.S.R. team had on the entire nation. I know it’s hard to believe today, but in the late 1970s, the U.S.A. was in a down spot. Between Richard Nixon’s resignation, high inflation, the energy crisis, the Iran hostage crisis and disco, the eagle was flying slow and the flag was flying low, to paraphrase Charlie Daniels.

The USSR was still together and was still a big, bad empire at this time, and nothing personified that more than their heralded and undefeated national hockey team. The Soviets had exploited a loophole in the Olympic rules that allowed them to put a team of veteran players on the ice—their players “served in the military,” which preserved their amateur status but also allowed them to be paid indirectly. Push come to shove, they were actually excellent, seasoned pros. Team USA, on the other hand, were a bunch of true amateur college kids, and heavy underdogs in the Olympic tournament.

The Olympics were a big deal in 1980 because they were in the U.S. at Lake Placid, New York, and because there wasn’t much else to get excited about. I saw every game (no football or baseball on at that time), and I’ll never forget watching the historic game against the Russians in my bedroom—I was afraid to leave for fear of jinxing them. Clearly, it worked, so you’re welcome, America!

Trivia bonus: Although it certainly felt like it, this game wasn’t for the gold medal, but to get into the gold medal game. It was certainly a bit anticlimactic after this, but the U.S. beat Finland 4-2 to win the gold.

3. Secretariat Winning the Belmont Stakes

This may be the single greatest athletic performance of all time. Period.

I know most people aren’t horse-racing fans, but what Secretariat did in the biggest race of his career—the contest to be the first Triple Crown winner in 25 years—is nothing short of staggering. Not only does he blow away the field by 30-something lengths—which included Sham, a horse that had actually given him close races in the Kentucky Derby and Preakness—but he destroys the records for that race and that distance by more than 2 seconds (a huge amount of time in horse racing), setting marks that still stand today. Actually, he was getting faster as the race went on. Un-fracking-believeable.

It’d be like winning the Super Bowl by the score 100 to 0. It was that dominant.

I especially love that as “Big Red” starts pulling away, you can hear the buzz in the crowd as they realize they are witnessing something for the ages. No matter how many times I watch this, I always get goosebumps at the 2:27 mark when Secretariat passes the American flag and you can hear the absolute shock and awe in announcer Chic Anderson’s voice as he exclaims, “He is moving like a tremendous machine!”

Amazing.

4. Position of the Crane

I remember when I saw The Karate Kid in the theater—how at the end of the final match against Johnny, when Daniel strikes that pose, it was one of those moments when I literally slid to the front of my seat, grabbed the person next to me and was like, “IT’S THE POSITION OF THE CRANE!!”

The thing that really sells it is the little nod by Mr. Miyagi at the :53 mark. And by the way his head snaps back, I’m pretty damn sure William Zabka really gets kicked in the face in that scene.

5. Roy Hobbs’ Game-Winning Home Run

The climax of my all-time favorite movie, The Natural, still gets me choked up, even though I’ve probably seen it about 100 times, and it’s been parodied probably 1,000 times. The home run into the lights, the shower of sparks, the slow-motion rounding of the bases …

Everyone who has every picked up a baseball bat wants to hit the game-winning home run, and after everything that happens to Roy Hobbs, it’s even more poignant. I remember I went to see this with a few of my friends in the theater, and I noticed a few of them were crying like little girls by the end—or I think we were. I couldn’t see them because … uh, it was dusty in there. Yeah.

Anyway, this movie is so well made and the cast so amazing—Robert Redford, Glenn Close, Robert Duvall, Darren McGavin, Kim Basinger, Richard Farnsworth, Wilford Brimley. I also love the staggering attention to detail, from the gloves being left on the field (which is what they did in the early part of the 20th century) to the flashbulbs that need to be changed with cloths.

But of course, the real key to this scene is the music—the score was written by Randy Newman, and doesn’t feature any lyrics about short people or having toy friends. It’s been used so many times and in so many ways, it may lose its impact for some. But not for me—it still gives me chills every time I hear it.

america, f*** yeah!

Jul 022012

Okay, as a True American, I will be busy this week celebrating the birth of the greatest nation on Earth by engaging in Constitutionally protected activities such as eating lots of greasy cheese-covered hamburgers, watching other people injure themselves while they try to blow stuff up and (if I had a gun) shooting things.

But before I fully engage in the revelry that is my birthright as a native of this fine nation, I thought I’d exercise another one of my basic freedoms—of speech—to share with you:

Ten Things I Love About America!

1. Last time I checked, this was still an option (crank it up and leave it on while you read!):

2. Freedom! I don’t take it for granted for one second that we have the right to say what we want, worship—or not—worship how we want, or generally live how we see fit as long as I don’t infringe upon the rights of others. Want to dress up and live your life like a vampire, fabulous! Want to worship the Flying Spaghetti Monster (Ramen!), feel free. Want to live in a (properly registered) van down by the river, fine. Want to blow things up, either on TV or at home this week? Bombs away! Want to have a blog where you regularly do and say stupid things? No problem, go right ahead! Yay!

3. Rednecks!

Obviously, I’m not down with the hate, racism and bigotry aspects of the stereotype, but the fact that the U.S. is a place tolerant of all groups, cultures and proclivities makes it awesome. Besides, there’s plenty of qualities of Deep South that help make us a more diverse nation and that I find to be entertaining, you know, like Jeff Foxworthy, NASCAR, “Hillbilly Handfishin‘,” and my good ol’ boy, Shelby Stanga. Also, lots of the food—such as real barbecue and fried chicken. Now if we could work on that obesity problem (say swap in the occasional non-deep-fried salad)—oh, and the rampant prejudice—it’d all be good to go!

4. Despite a few well-documented, high-profiles misses, in general, our judicial system works. Now, I’m not saying it’s perfect—far from it in some cases (although even this one works out)—and it could certainly be more efficient, but at least we have a system that despite the charges, guarantees that you will get a day in court to have your say, as opposed to many other places on Earth where you can be accused of imaginary crimes, tried without actual evidence, testimony or logic and summarily executed on the spot.

5. Unlimited access to the internet. Sure, that may not seem like a big deal to some, but better than half the Earth has some sort of restriction—sometimes significant—when it comes to trying to access everything from Facebook and Fark to TheBlogess and Damned Connecticut or even watching ankle sprain fetish videos. (I’m not going looking for any as examples, I just remember them from the ridiculously entertaining “International Sexy Ladies Show” on G4.)

6. Kaitlin Olson.

Kaitlin, Kerri Kenney, Tina Fey, Zooey Deschannel and other smart, quirky, all-American comedian/actresses just remind me that we’re a country that constantly encourage our female population to be whatever they want to be, not what we tell them to be.

We also treat our women like the equal human beings they are. Sadly, again, much of the world can’t make this claim.

7. Despite the media-generated sensationalism and terror-inducing headlines, the United States is among the safest places to live on the planet. Our crime rates are currently at historical lows—seriously, the violent crime rate is below where it was half a century ago—and our police forces are the model for much of the planet in that they actually serve and protect the citizens rather than exist as hired guns to do some tyrant’s bidding as we’ve seen in many countries during the Arab Spring.

Yes, there are bad spots in the country and occasional random acts of violence, but in general, we go about our lives in a peaceful, fear-free manner. No one drives tanks down our streets, throws molotov cocktails through our windows or randomly abducts our family members to never be seen again or be held as a slave on a Thai fishing boat for years.

8. Having choices!

From places to eat to things to do to stuff to buy, America is the Land of Plenty, and as long as you can pay, it’s yours. Think about it: Not only do we have dozens of different supermarket chains and food stores from which to choose, but in each store, there are hundreds of unique brands and products—can you imagine someone from a destitute country like Zimbabwe, North Korea or Afghanistan walking into the local ShopRite just looking for a box of cookies? Oreos, Chips Ahoy, Fig Newtons, Lorna Doones, SnackWells, Pepperidge Farm, Little Debbie, Famous Amos—their brains would a-splode from the options.

And the dizzying array of choices doesn’t just stop at commercial products: hospitals, nursery schools, private schools, colleges, clown colleges, TV channels, movies, music, museums, banks, lawyers, proctologists, phlebotomists, botanists, dentists, construction companies, plumbers, exterminators, nursing homes, funeral homes, crematoriums, cemeteries …

From cradle to grave, the average American enjoys a never-ending smorgasbord of choices. And it is good.

9. Turducken!

Just another example of American ingenuity, which has helped to make this country the capitalist dream that it is. If you have an idea or invention, be it great (like electricity) or not, like wall-mounted singing fish, you can pursue it here and either profit greatly or fail miserably from it. Or in the case of the aforementioned turducken, both succeed (in creating something unique) and fail (at creating something even remotely healthy) in the same fell swoop.

10. Again, freedom of speech. Sure, narrow-minded people who think they know better try to censor others from time to time, but where else (aside from maybe Canada), would people like Matt Stone and Trey Parker be able to mock and celebrate (but mostly mock, and that’s okay) the good ol’ U.S. of A?

Enjoy, but not the original video because of copyright laws, which we respect (when we have lawyers) here in America—

[Not Safe For Work language, of course]

Enjoy the holiday, muthafrakkers!

the friday five: words of wisdom

Jun 292012

So as my wife likes to say, it’s great to have a freshly minted 13-year-old in the house because now we have a being in our midst That. Knows. Everything! Who’s luckier than us, you know, other than Colorado Springs homeowners?

Anyway, despite what my son likes to think, I believe there’s a thing or two that he just might *not* know yet. To help, here are

Five Things I Wish I Knew When I Became a Teenager

1. Very few people are good at keeping secrets – I always come back to something I heard at the Spy Museum in Washington: “We’ll never know who the world’s greatest spy is because they’ll never spill any secrets.” As someone who has earned the nickname “The Vault,” I have learned the hard way that the majority of people out there are incapable of keeping secrets. Not that they don’t want to—I’m just saying it’s human nature to share stories and secrets, and they can’t help themselves.

And if you think other 13-year-olds can keep secrets, well, trust me, they absolutely cannot. For example, you may want to believe that when you tell your friend Milo what classmate you have a crush on in 8th grade, he’ll never tell anyone, yet when he writes “Ray loves [Name of girl who sits behind you]” on the brown paper cover of your math book and Mr. Betzig walks by and sees it and shouts, “RAY LOVES WHO?!!!” and the whole world hears it and the Earth doesn’t instantly swallow you up no matter how badly you wish it would, you learn that … well, the best way to keep a secret is to keep it to yourself.

You will also probably always take the dust jackets off your books for the next 33 years or so.

2. People don’t really change; situations thankfully do – I know this might be a pessimistic world view, but as much as you want to believe it, very few people are capable of true change—in other words, those kids who seem like the popular kids but are jerks to you in middle school and, say, make fun of your large nose in 3rd period English class, will pretty much be jerks who make fun of other people’s noses when they grow up, too.

The good news is that middle (and high) school isn’t forever, and when you get to college and the world beyond your educational enslavement, you have more freedom to choose who you hang out with as well as the opportunity to make new (real) friends who generally don’t care about the size of your nose because they’re not clueless inbred jerks who probably sniff their sister’s underwear when no one is looking.

Chances are that most of those panty-sniffing losers’ best days will have been in high school, and when you’re reaching your stride in Life, they’ll be thrice-divorced and looking how to make the payments on their van down by the river.

3. Do it the right way – Right now, it might seem like taking short cuts or cheating are the easiest ways to succeed, but trust me, the only person you’re cheating is yourself. Not to go all “After School Special,” but putting in the effort and time to actually learn things and do assignments correctly will only benefit you in the long run. (Really. No jokes here. … move along.)

4. “Friends come and go, but family is forever” – My grandmother actually told me this when I was about 13 and wanted to go somewhere with my friends rather than hang with them, and I laughed at her. Turns out she was right, sort of. I mean, yes, there will be relatives who turn out to be douches and you never want to see again, and you will also certainly have very good friends who you will probably know for the majority of your life, but in general, your family will be around you from cradle to grave, like it or not. That means figuring out how to deal with them, how to love them and even how to survive them in some cases—I always think about how as kids my sisters used to kick the crap out of each other and now that they don’t share the same room any more, they’re besties. I’m not saying that always happens, just that if you work at it a bit, it can, which means you have someone to torture for decades.

5. Love at 13 isn’t forever – You know that brand-new $50 video game that you *have* to have? Yeah, in two weeks, it’ll be on the shelf with the other 23 you *had* to have. Ditto that person you meet in middle (or high) school that you don’t think you can possibly live without. Sure, they may seem like the most amazing thing in the world right now, but life isn’t lived in middle or high school, and when you get beyond that, relationships (and situations—see No. 2) change, as will your tastes. Crushes will come and go, and you owe it to yourself to keep an open mind and heart until you reach an age (probably over 20) where you are capable of finding “true” love … although chances are you’ll still have to kiss a few frogs until you find the right person …

And even then, you might kiss a few more because when you ask them out the first time (after they’ve been flirting with you for a week), they’ll tell you that they’re suddenly dating someone else. Then you’ll have to wait a few months before they lose that loser and realize that you’re the right person for them, too! (No really, this can happen. Ask anyone *cough cough* your mother *cough*)

remember the night

Jun 272012

A little fiction?

I should’ve known that my commute home was going too fast—I got to the exit for the connector in what seemed like record time, only to find a parking lot spilling back out onto the interstate. Rather than force my way in among the other lemmings, I went past to the next exit, which although meant it would take more time for me to get home, would also take me past the house in which we lived during my high school and college years.

It’s more than a quarter century later, and yet I still expect to see a familiar face or two as I turn down my old street. But there’s no one I know here any more; most of the houses look different, and all the landscaping is completely changed—the place looks more overgrown, maybe because all those young maples that we used to play around have grown larger and become mature specimens. Maybe the maples would think the same thing about me, you know, if they recognized me …

The only thing that seems right is the gentle curve of the street as I approach old number 14. I’ve driven past more than once over the years, and have noticed the changes—the stockade fence, the colors (it was a dreadful 1970s sort of Chinese restaurant gold with red trim for about a decade), the loss of the above-ground pool and most of those hedges that my dad used as an excuse to spend a Saturday with an electric trimmer and a six pack of Michelob (or two) …

The back porch is still standing, with new screens that reflect the late afternoon sun. That porch … a lot of good times on that porch. Barbecues, family reunions, birthday parties, post-softball get togethers, just hanging with friends knocking down beers …

Her.

I slow the car down and put the windows down, all the way. A warm summer breeze rolls in and my mind drifts back to another warm summer night …

“Did she see you leave?” I whisper as she slides the door shut and she steps onto the porch. It’s dark, but my eyes have gotten used to it, and in the moonlight, I can see she’s wearing an oversized sleeping t-shirt and not much else.

“No,” she whispers, rubbing her bare arms. “Pretty sure she’s out cold.”

“Come here,” I whisper, nervously sliding over on the old couch.

She crosses over the porch and sits next to me. Close. I turn to her and our knees touch, and although we’ve touched each other over the years—playing football in the yard, goofing around in the pool, hanging out in the basement—this time, it’s different. Way different. She’s not a scrawny, goofy, brace-face kid any more, and neither am I. We’re both old enough to realize that there’s now more between us.

Electric needles.

“I shouldn’t be out here,” she says.

“I know,” I say, sorta shrugging. “But you are.”

“If your sister ever found out, she’d probably kill me.”

“Probably. Or she might be okay with it. You know, her best friend and her brother. Yay?”

She tips her head down slightly and raises one eyebrow.

“Yeah, she’d probably kill you,” I agree.

“Still, I’m here.”

I feel like I’m in a Springsteen song, and the moonlight is truly magic. Her eyes are glittering, her toothy smile radiant, and for a flash, I realize that I’ve never been closer to a more beautiful . . . creature—she’s that extraordinary right now, like we couldn’t possibly be of the same species. Actually, this whole moment truly doesn’t seem possible after all these years. I nearly stop breathing.

“Sooo …” I venture.

” …. buttons,” she says.

It takes me a second, but then I laugh. Not too much, though. Don’t want to break the spell.

“Look,” I say, “You know.”

“Know what?” she counters, attempting to open her eyes wide and keep a straight face.

“Nice try. You know. I know you know. You wouldn’t be here now otherwise.”

“Yeahhh … that’s probably true, whatever it is you’re talking about.”

“Gonna make me work for it, huh?”

“You know I am.”

“Right. Of course. Why would—”

Suddenly, the porch is a bit brighter, and we both freeze like deer in the headlights. When my pulse comes back down to only somewhat elevated, I realize that someone has switched on a light in the house. It’s in the upstairs bathroom off of my parents’ bedroom. After a few seconds, it goes out.

“Okay, that was a little scary,” I whisper.

“So’s this,” she says, holding up her hand. Mine’s attached to it, our fingers interlocked.

“Huh. Look at that.” I give her fingers a little squeeze.

“Yeah, look at that.”

We stare at our hands for a few seconds, and then I turn to her and realize that our faces are now closer than they’ve ever been, even closer than that time a million—maybe two million—years ago when I tried to spit in her mouth back in the pool. (Long story.) Oddly enough, even though I’m looking in her eyes, I’m suddenly very conscious of her mouth. “Hey,” I whisper.

“Hey,” she whispers back.

I’m not exactly sure how we got here, all I know is that we’re here now, and it seems as though we were always destined to be here, right now. All the longer, eyes-locked glances of late, bigger grins and deeper conversations . . . .

It’s time.

I’m terrified that I may have somehow misread everything, but nonetheless, I start to lean toward her . . .

. . . and (YES!) she leans toward me.

I want to be able to describe exactly what’s going through my mind as our lips touch, how the adrenaline is crackling through my veins and my heart is about to a-splode out of my chest, but all that seems cliched and silly. I’ve kissed other girls, but this is something different. Better. Special. Amazing.

I gently put my free hand just behind her ear and under her hair, brushing her neck. I pull her closer. She reaches for my shoulder and squeezes. I don’t even know what to think any more, so I don’t.

After about five hours (okay, it might’ve been five minutes, but really, I think it was five glorious hours), we pull back for a breath.

“Wow,” I say.

“Yeah, I was thinking that, too,” she says. She smiles and squeezes my shoulder again, like she needs to convince herself that she’s awake, too.

“So now what?” she asks.

“How about this?” I say, and kiss her again, for like, another seven hours. We pull apart and even though it’s still dark, I can tell that she’s officially beaming.

“Wow,” she says. “Who knew?”

“We both do,” I say.

“Yeah, for now,” she says, glancing over my shoulder and at the slider back into the kitchen. “As much as I want to stay here, I should probably get back in the house before your sister wakes up, finds us and murders us both.”

If you knew my sister from back in the day, you understand why I quickly agree that this is probably a good idea. Still, it takes about another half hour of lingering kisses before we are able to properly separate from each other. We both stand up together, and just stare at each other, smirking like fools.

“Yeahhh …” she finally says, and then throws here arms around me and presses her entire body against me. Even after she pulls back, I can feel her warmth on my skin. “Ohhhkay,” she sigh. “We’re going to have to tell her, and soon. I don’t know how I’m going to be able to stay away from you now.”

“Right?” I say. “All she has to do is see me looking at you and she’ll know instantly.”

“Well, we’ll figure it out tomorrow,” she says, and gives me one last quick kiss. “I think we have time.”

“I hope so,” I say.

She goes back into the house, into the dark, and carefully into a misty water-colored recess of my mind. Funny how some things work out.

I turn the corner at the end of my old block and head to my real home.

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