Tampa Bay Media Watch

Friends in Bad Places (A Parody)

2011-12-21T16:04:00.000-08:00

Most mornings I head over to the park and walk around the mile circuit a couple times and while I walk I listen to my mp3 player. This morning, while listening to Garth Brooks, this song came to me.

Jesse's Girls: A Short Story by Ace Toscano

2011-08-10T11:08:00.000-07:00

Jesse’s Girls

By Ace Toscano

There were no signs of wasps. So, Johnny March reached up between the rafters, the second and third from the shed’s southwest corner, and felt around. As he probed blindly without success, he wondered how many other people had known about this secret hiding place. Somebody else could have easily beaten him there. Cousin Walter. Then, he found them - the keys. They were right where Jesse said they would be.

As he made his way to the trailer, he spotted the garbage can, one of the things Jesse had been concerned about. He gave it a little kick and could tell it was full. Knowing better than to remove the lid, he carried it out to the road.

“They won’t pick up trash again ‘til Tuesday,” a woman called from the trailer across the lane. He could barely make her out through her screen door.

“Thanks, ma’am, but I probably won’t be here Tuesday.”

“Then, who’s going to put the can away?” she asked.

He thought about that for a moment. “I’ll make arrangements,” he called back, though he really didn’t give a shit.

*****

Jesse Ruggiano and I grew up together in the small town of Putney, New Jersey, located 40 miles west of NYC just off Interstate 80. Though the general sentiment in our working-class neighborhood had probably been sympathetic to Jesse and his mother, Mathilda, as far as I can remember, no one ever thought it their place to step forward and intervene.

Renaldo Ruggiano, Jesse’s old man, was a vicious little bastard with an ugly disposition. He worked for the Erie-Lackawanna railroad replacing ties and laying track and, each night, the whistle signaling the approach of the eastbound train from Netcong served as a warning that he would soon come charging up the hill. It probably wasn’t a coincidence that my mother would use the whistle as a signal to call me in from play. And, if Jesse was close by, she’d admonish him, “You better head home, now, Jesse. It’s getting late.”

When he appeared, it was as if a black cloud had descended on the neighborhood. Conversations ceased, children took cover - all eyes watched warily as the evil monster with the determined stride bore down on the big double-house on the corner. With a pissed-off scowl darkening his face, it was certain that someone was going to pay. Someone always did.

*****

According to the police, the doors had been wide open when they got there. Jesse knew who was coming; what was coming. Johnny hadn’t. When Jesse had emailed asking him to contact the police if two days went by without his hearing from him, Johnny had no way of knowing that he had been two weeks without dialysis.

Someone must have locked up, maybe one of the cops, or one of the EMT’s, after they removed his body. Johnny used one of the keys to unlock the door to the enclosed porch. It was like an oven inside, a hundred and twenty degrees or higher. There were no chairs or furniture of any kind, just a vast concrete floor, painted gray. To the right were three steps leading up to the trailer’s front door. To the left was a silver bicycle. Johnny lifted it off the floor. It weighed next to nothing. He could use a bike like that but there was no way he was going to load it into his car and haul it all the way back to Jersey. Maybe, he'd give it to Fitness Girl, if he ever found her.

*****

Most evenings, Jesse made it a point to be seated at the table when the old man arrived home for supper. Not being there would have earned him a merciless two-fisted pummeling. Not that being there meant he was home free. It didn’t. His father didn’t need a specific reason to haul off and hit him. Most times, he did it just for the hell of it. Still, Jesse’s strategy was to put the beatings off as long as possible.

Not long after Renaldo entered the house the screaming would begin. His voice was powerful - it carried throughout the neighborhood. Though I was safely removed from the battle zone, it struck me with fear. I can only imagine what it was like for Jesse and his mom. It was fairly common for him to throw his wife down the cellar stairs - we could actually hear her falling - and then lock the door. For hours we could hear Mattie pleading with him, “”Rennie, please open the door. Rennie? Rennie? Please.” Jesse told me once that he would wait for his father to fall asleep, then sneak down and unlatch the door.

It wasn’t unusual for Jesse’s arms and back to be covered with bruises. He told me, once, he was happy to take a beating if it meant his mother would be spared a punch or two. Yet, in all those years, I never once heard her intercede on his behalf. It was always, “Please, Rennie. No. No. Don’t hit me. Don’t hit me.”

Most people on High Street kept their distance from the Ruggianos. I was the only local kid who was allowed to play with Jesse and, even so, my mother never once allowed him into our house.

I can’t help thinking that in today’s world, a situation like that would attract more agencies and social workers than a truckload of dead babies.

*****

He opened the door to the trailer. The a/c was on full blast, thank Buddha. He’d been worried that there might be a lingering odor, but there wasn’t. Straight ahead was the sofa. “We found him dead on the sofa,” the sergeant had told him. “Looked like he went in his sleep.” Two pillows, one deep red in color and cylindrical, the other an ordinary bed pillow, were at the foot of the sofa, the foot being the end closest to the TV. Two blankets, one blue, one cream colored, had been thrown over the back. On the floor were a half glass of water and the TV remote. This is where Jesse had made his last stand.

Just to the left of the sofa, facing the wall, was a desk with a monitor on it. The Microsoft logo was floating around the screen. “Where you wrote those emails from, huh, Jesse?” he thought as he pulled the door shut behind him. He looked around, quickly, taking in the rest of the space. Just beyond the foot of the sofa was a big-screen TV. At least forty inches, he figured. To the right of the doorway, facing the TV, was a pea green vinyl recliner. Alongside it was a brass pole lamp.

Johnny entered and moved to the left, beyond the PC, to a small round kitchen table that obviously hadn’t been used as a place to sit down and eat. The table’s surface was dominated by medicine and pill bottles, a 14 day pill holder and three stacks of papers. One, it appeared, was for bills. One was medically related - appointment notices, blood work results and like that. The last looked like junk mail.

The rest of the kitchen appeared remarkably well kept when you considered Jesse was a bachelor who had lived alone. There were no dirty dishes in the sink, no mess on the counters. The floor was clean. He was, however, detecting an odor which seemed to be coming from under the sink. He pulled open the cabinet and found a sack of potatoes and another of onions. Holding his breath, he grabbed them up, one in each hand, and, holding them away from his body, carried them outside.

Back inside, he peeked into the refrigerator. “Oh, brother!” There wasn’t much in there, just eggs, milk, butter, a plate of something crawling with mold, maybe it was chicken... maybe it was ribs, but the smell was enough to turn his stomach. He slammed the door and made a mental note to take care of that later.

*****

There had been a time, when we were eleven and twelve, that me and Jesse had been inseparable. Together, every day, we would walk to and from school through the woods that surrounded Baker’s Pond. And most afternoons, after school, we would head down to the Y where we amused ourselves playing ping pong, pool, checkers, chess and basketball and snacked on root beer and frozen Reese Cups and Milky Ways. I would head home around 4:30; my family ate supper at five o’clock. But, Jesse, who avoided going home as long as he could, would stay by himself till 5:30. Then, he would tear ass up the hill to his house arriving just in time to beat Renaldo.

One day, when I was walking home through one of the downtown neighborhoods, a Fuller Brush man stopped me and asked if I wanted a job. He needed someone to deliver catalogs to the areas he’d be canvassing later in the week. It was a chance to make some real money. I told him I’d like to do it, but I would first have to check with my mom, which I did that night. Next day, I went to work. Jesse and I didn’t see as much of each other after that. I often wondered if things might have turned out different for him had that Fuller Brush man not crossed my path.

*****

Johnny made his way down the narrow hallway, past a small bathroom, to the bedroom. He wondered if Jesse had been habitually neat, or if he had straightened everything out just for his benefit. It bothered him that he didn’t know. A true friend would know, should know. Jesse had invited him down several times, saying they could go to the Hard Rock Casino, or the track, or take the Casino cruise out of Port Richey, but Johnny, not being much of a gambler, had always bowed out. He chided himself, now. What would it have cost him to come down for a few lousy days? Absolutely nothing.

Standing in the corner were a couple black leather cue cases. An avid pool player, Jesse had been very concerned about the fate of his favorite sticks. “My fuckin’ cousin, Walter, from Winter Haven has his eyes on them,” he had emailed. But, Walter, apparently hadn’t been interested enough to make the trip. Tied to the straps of each case were tags bearing Jesse’s scrawl. “Johnny, Top of the line Predator!” read one. “Johnny, the Vintage McDermott. An antique,” read the other. Like he hadn’t been told so many times it was etched in his brain.

At the foot of the bed was a bureau, painted white. Johnny opened the top drawer. Behind the socks, right where he said it would be, was the checkbook. The account was in Jesse’s name and Johnny’s. Jesse had gone out of his way to keep things simple. Johnny sincerely hoped they stayed that way.

*****

I had worked for the Fuller Brush man for two years, delivering catalogs for a penny and a half a piece, through rain and snow, sweltering heat and freezing cold, when one of the neighbors, Mr. Archangel, the produce manager at our local A&P, informed me they were looking for someone to help out after school a couple hours a day. The pay was minimum wage, a huge step-up for me.

The Fuller Brush man, who for years afterward whenever he called on my mother, never failed to assure her that I was the best helper he had ever had, asked if I knew anyone who might want to take my place. I set him up with Jesse who lasted about two weeks before he got fired for disposing of large chunks of his daily quota of catalogs by throwing them in sewers, dumpsters, vacant lots, the woods and even the river. During my two years, it had never once occurred to me not to deliver every last booklet. I often wondered, was I honest? Or, just dimwitted?

Jesse and I drifted farther apart. I had heard he was hanging out with the Nickerson brothers, two boys who were virtual strangers to school though they were familiar faces around the police station, and wasn’t too surprised when he was busted for his part in a string of B&E’s. Because an elderly man had been assaulted during one of them, Jesse, a first-time offender, didn’t get off with probation and was sent away to the juvenile detention facility in Menlo Park for twelve months.

One day, when I was marching up the hill from the A&P, Jesse’s mother came running out into the street waving a slip of paper.” Jesse wants you to write to him,” she said, handing me his address. “He misses home awful.” So, we started to write back and forth. Over the next several years, I would be addressing my letters to places like Jamesburg, Annandale, Bordentown and Leesburg. Jesse was spending a lot of time away from home.

*****

It was a short walk, through Jillie’s parking lot and across Main to the pool room. Chalky’s sat at the west end of a little shopping plaza, next to a Thai restaurant which made, according to Jesse, “dynamite eggrolls.” Johnny walked in, noting it was cool, but not freezing. Jesse had complained repeatedly about one particular barmaid who kept the a/c so low he couldn’t stand it. On days she worked, he stayed away and went instead to another pool room down the road in Holiday. “She’s always hot,” Jesse had deduced, “because she’s fat. She’s got an ass like an elephant.” Understandably, it wasn’t Elephant Ass Johnny was looking for.

The pool room opened up to the right; only one table was going - an old man sporting thick glasses and a squinty scowl was playing alone in the corner. Proceeding along the left wall and up a short ramp, Johnny made his way to the counter. On duty was a young woman with curly reddish hair tied back in a ponytail. She was chatting and blowing smoke at a lanky well-inked young fellow with a clean shaven head.

“Can I help you?” she asked, smiling. Her dazzling blue eyes knocked him off stride.

“Judy?” he inquired.

“That’s me,” she said.

“Hi,” he said, extending his hand, “I’m Johnny. I’m... I was a friend of Jesse Ruggiano .”

“Oh, hi,” she said. Genuine sadness washed over her features. “We were sorry to hear about him... dying.”

“Yeah,” echoed the tattoo, “That was fucked up.”

“Guess it was,” agreed Johnny. “You knew him?”

“Jerry used to help Jesse,” said Judy, Jerry being the tattoo laden young fellow.

“I drove him around and that.”

“Ah, Jerry.” Johnny extended his hand. “Jesse told me about you. He appreciated all you did for him.”

“Cool.”

Jesse, had, in fact, directed him to give his car to Jerry. But, that wasn’t his first order of business. “And you work at the restaurant, right?”

“Yeah.”

“And, you used to bring him egg rolls.”

“He loved them fuckin’ things. Used to buy four or five at a time.”

“Are they open, yet?” asked Johnny, nodding his head toward the restaurant.

Jerry said they were.

Johnny drew a twenty from his wallet and held it out toward Jerry. “How ‘bout running over and getting us four or five of those world famous egg rolls.” When the kid hesitated, he added, “C’mon, I have to talk to Judy in private.”

*****

Jesse stayed out of jail, once, for about 18 months. That’s when he hooked up with that barmaid, Myra, with whom he had a little girl. Jessica. I was going to college in Greeneville, Tennessee... Tusculum, at the time and stayed there mostly, but I did manage to run into Jesse once when I came home for Christmas. His father was dead by then, and he, Myra and Jessica were living up the street with his mother. He called to me one day when he saw me and motioned for me to stay put. Then, he set down his beer and ran into the house and came out with the baby. As he introduced us, he was beaming. With her sitting on his shoulders, he looked so proud I really thought for a moment that this could be the point where he turns his life around. Just wishful thinking, I'm afraid.

It wasn’t long after that he got into a fight with one Darryl Cloitre behind Rollie’s Jukebox. From what he wrote me afterwards, Darryl Cloitre, a complete stranger, had approached him inside the bar, introducing himself as the nephew of Leonard Holtzman, an old drinking buddy of Jesse’s father. Cloitre confided to Jesse that Uncle Lenny was “queer as a three dollar bill.” Then, he added, “What the hell do you think him and your old man were doing out to all hours of the morning? You can bet your ass they weren’t chasing pussy.”

Lord knows, there was no love loss between Jesse and his old man, but, still, this was a matter of family honor. Jesse hauled Darryl Cloitre out back of the Jukebox, kicked the living shit out of him and, in the process, knocked him down the river bank. Unfortunately, it had been raining heavy seven days straight and the river was raging. Mr. Cloitre slipped into the current and was swept downstream. Three days later his body was found in the vicinity of Dead Man’s Curve tangled in the branches of a fallen willow. The police immediately drove up the hill to his mother’s house and collected Jesse. Without much ado, he was found guilty of manslaughter and sentenced to twenty years to be served in that plush penal resort known as Rahway State Prison.

*****

“Jesse left something for you and your daughter,” Johnny volunteered.

“You’re kidding, right?”

“No, I don’t know you well enough to kid you. He wanted me to give you a check.”

“Why would he do that?”

“Because he liked you, I guess.”

She considered that prospect, then suddenly she was on the brink of tears. “I thought he was mad at me.”

“What made you think that?”

“He stopped coming around, for one thing.”

“I’m sure that had nothing to do with you. The dialysis was rough on him. He didn’t feel very good toward the end.” No need to mention Elephant Ass, he thought.

Johnny gave her a moment, then asked her to write her full name on a slip of paper. He’d come back later, he said, with a check.

“How much is it?” she asked.

“Ten thousand dollars,” he said.

She brought her hand to her chest. Thankfully, it was just a reflexive action. “Ten. Thousand. Dollars!”

“Like I said, he liked you.”

Jerry returned with the egg rolls and change.

“You going to be here later, Jerry?”

“Probably.”

“Good, I have to talk to you.” He pivoted toward the door, then turned back. “Jesse said you used to poke him?”

Judy nodded. “On facebook,” she said, smiling through her tears. “We poked each other back and forth.”

“Ohhhh,” said Johnny, not knowing what the hell she was talking about.

*****

The incident with Darryl Cloitre revealed not only Jesse’s penchant for violence but also a basic insensitivity when it came to the subject of homosexuality. These points were brought home when, one day, a fellow inmate made unsolicited advances toward him in the kitchen. Jesse responded to the amorous attention by beating the inmate into a coma which resulted in another seven years being tacked onto his sentence. When he wrote me about it, he said only, “I’ll probably never get out of this fucking hole.”

Soon after, Myra divorced him and ran off to California with a drug dealing pimp and little Jessica. He asked me to look them up if I ever got out that way and I told him I would, though I never made it west of Pennsylvania.

The letters and cards slowed down after that, but never stopped, and every time I got one, I sent one back.

I even went down to Rahway to visit him once. The visit ended badly when he asked if I might be willing to smuggle in some drugs next time I came. Not for his use, he said, but for bartering. The plan was for me to stick a balloon full of blow up my ass, pardon my french, then remove it in the visiting room lavatory. I was married by then and not criminally inclined. I would never have put my happy life on the line just so he and his friends could get high and I told him so. He understood and said he wasn’t mad. But, that was the last time I visited, though, like I said, we kept on writing.

*****

Things were moving along - as thrilled as Judy had been to receive her check, Jerry was off-the-meter ecstatic over getting the bill of sale for Jesse’s beat up red jeep, along with the thousand dollars for expenses. He insisted on giving Johnny a “man hug” for his part of the deal.

Basically, all he had left to do was deliver the balance of Jesse’s savings to “Fitness Girl.” Of course, first he had to find her.

*****

Jesse avoided parole by serving his entire sentence. When he was released, he was 53 years old. “I can’t believe it,” he wrote. “I’m free.”

First thing he did was hop a bus to California. While he was still in the joint, someone had traced his daughter, Jessica, to Eureka, a city situated in the heart of Redwood country in northern California just south of the Oregon border. When he knocked on her apartment door, he rousted up a yapping dog and a young man who said he was her husband. The husband explained that Jessica was at work, but she’d be off the next day, which was Sunday, if he cared to come back. Jesse said he’d return and he did, but, when he got there, there was no yapping dog, no husband and no Jessica, just a note taped to the door. It read “Fuck off!” Figuring he deserved that and more, Jesse turned and walked away and hopped the first bus out of town.

The bus made a stop in Billings, Montana, and with no real plans he decided to stay for a while. He spent the next four years working as a welder, welding being one of several skills he had picked up in the “joint,” and living in a rooming house at 1406 Mitchell Avenue. Then, he discovered he had liver problems. He didn’t elaborate, but noted his problems were related to previous drug use. “The shit you do when you’re a kid can come back some day and bite you in the ass.” Next I heard, he was living in Florida. Best thing about being an ex-con, he told me, was that you automatically qualified for all kinds of freebies, including disability. I didn’t investigate; I just took his word for it. Anyway, with his disability, plus money from his mother’s estate, he bought himself a trailer in one of those 50-plus trailer parks on the gulf. Was there almost twelve years. He thought of taking up golf, but he found he didn’t like the people who played golf very much, so he took up pool. He asked if I remembered playing with him at the Y all those years ago. Of course, I did.

“Guess what?” he wrote me one day. “I’m a diabetic. They’ve been choking me with all kinds of pills, none of which did much good. So, they put me on insulin. That seems to be working, but it’s a real pain in the ass. You have to keep asking yourself ‘Is this life really worth it?’ For now, I guess it is.”

*****

Johnny sat on the bench watching the parade of passersby. He had a print out of a picture Jesse had emailed him a few weeks back. “This is Fitness Girl,” he had written. “She has perfect posture when she walks. When she runs she runs with a fluid grace. But, above everything, you’ll know her by her smile - it lights up the world.

*****

It was the diabetes doctor who started him walking, every morning, through the park for a mile and a half. “The doc wants me to walk two or three, but a mile and a half is all I’m good for.” He used to go on about the birds he saw during his walks - hawks, woodpeckers, parakeets, osprey and eagles, and the people - Mustang man, the hand holders, Fat Ass, Jogging Girl and, his favorite, Fitness Girl. He told me you were like a daughter to him.

*****

He said hi and she smiled.

It was a lot to absorb. She sat their silent for a while, leaning forward, her face buried in her hands. She turned to Johnny, her eyes still moist. “We used to talk, always about me. He’d ask about my kids, their school, their swim meets, my husband. He never talked about himself. And I never asked. Then, he’d say I shouldn’t let him hold me up and send me on my way.”

“Did you ever call him Pop?”

“No. Why?”

“Just wondering.”

“The last time I saw him,” she continued, “he was sitting on his bench, the bench where I usually met him. I asked if he was walking that day, but he said he wasn’t. He said he was going away for a while and he wanted me to know. ‘Don’t forget me while I’m gone,’ he said. I told him I wouldn’t.” He took a picture of me with his cell phone.

Johnny explained that Jesse hadn't forgotten her either and that he had left her the bulk of his estate - $250,000.

“And what am I supposed to do with $250,000,” she asked.

“He had faith that, if I told you his story, you’d be able to figure something out.”

She reflected a long moment. “You know, I could have been nicer to him.”

“Believe me,” said Johnny, “I know the feeling.”

*****

Mr. March,

I thought you’d like to know that this past summer our fund, The Jesse Ruggiano Children’s Assistance Fund, sponsored trips to the YMCA summer camp for ten inner city youths plus five from our local domestic violence safe haven. Not only were we able to coax the Y into giving us a special rate, but through various fund raisers, including our Jesse’s Walk Through The Park, we more than made up for the cost. Also, our JRCAF vans are finally in operation shuttling kids to and from after school programs at the Y. Looks like we’ll be helping kids for a good many years to come. I am currently in the process of developing a scholarship program, too. It looks promising. I hope this is the kind of legacy Mr. Ruggiano would have wanted.

Yours truly,

Tracie Williams
“Fitness Girl”

I’m sure it is, thought Johnny. I’m sure it is.

The End

Book Talk With Ace Toscano - Kindle, Books, Stephen King's List, Movies

2011-07-06T18:35:00.000-07:00

Ace talks about dis 'n' dat, off the top o' his head. He addresses the kindle issue and explains why, up to now, he's been resistant to the change over. He reports on his progress working through Stephen King's 10 Best Reads of 2010. He reveals what books he's been reading and what he's going to read next. Plus, he talks about two movies, Barney's Version and Blue Valentine, that he's recently seen

How You Doin? I'm Talkin' To You! - Episode 1

2011-06-20T21:15:00.000-07:00

This is the pilot for another video series, How You Doin'? I'm Talkin' To You! In it, I flash my junk. Future content will vary according to what my fragmented mind and dwindling mental capacity can focus on. Episode 2 is already in the works.

Book Talk With Ace Toscano

2011-06-16T07:47:00.000-07:00

To make a long story short, I bought myself a Toshiba mini-notebook which has a built in webcam and microphone. So, screwing around, I made a couple videos of myself reading my pool poems. It was rather involved, getting them on the internet, because I don't have wireless service and all the neighbors I used to leach off of have moved back north for the summer. I had to save the videos on a zip drive, then transfer them to my pc which is hooked up to the internet. This seemed like a lot of work, so I got it into my head to get myself a webcam and hook it up to the pc. I looked on eBay and found a listing from China for the "20.0 Mega USB 6 LED Webcam Web Camera PC Lapton + Mic pho" for the reasonable price of $4.95. It was an adventure getting the thing to work, but eventually I found the free version of Debut Video Capture Software and along with Solid Video Converter Ultimate everything got to working just fine. Anyway, here's the first video shot with my new webcam. Its just me speaking off the top of my head, trying things out, so don't get excited if there's not much substance.

Tiger Woods: Running Without Juice

2011-05-16T20:58:00.000-07:00

Let's put this issue to rest once and for all: The reason Tiger can't play any more is that he's no longer taking the juice, a/k/a PEDs, performance enhancing drugs.

Remember back to Wednesday, June 18, 2008 when el tigre announced that he was having season ending knee surgery? If you need to refresh your memory as to the reported details try this online article: Tiger Tamed: Surgery Will End His Season

Poor Tiger!

But, what wasn't reported at the time was the remarkable coincidence that PGA drug testing was going to begin thirteen days later on July 1, 2008. Related articles: PGA Tour drug testing should begin in July 2008 and Drug testing a necessary decision by PGA Tour.

Not to say that Tiger's ailments were mythical, they probably were not. But, it could very well be a testament to the efficacy of PEDs that he was still able to win despite these ailments. In any case, I propose that the reason he decided to drop out of competition at that particular time had more to do with the upcoming commencement of testing than it did with his ailing knee.

And his failure to regain his previous dominating form would seem to support that. So, let's end the debate about whether or not he will ever regain his former greatness or whether or not he will break Jack Nicklaus's record. The answer is simple: without the juice, he will not.

Who's the Dummy? Sun Toyota Can Tell You -- It's Me!

2011-05-04T06:35:00.000-07:00

It's been a bad week. Hell, it's been a bad year. In addition to the speeding ticket I recently wrote about, there's this thing I've got going with the Hudson Water Works. Like a dummy - yeah, I admit it - I recently reported to the girl who takes your money at the window that our last couple bills were unusually low. She said she'd send someone out to check the meter. Well, this month we get a water bill for $58, more than double any other bill we've received in the eleven years we've been living here. When I went down to the office to pay it, I just happened to let slip that this bill was double what we usually paid. Another girl informed me that they had installed a new meter, and that this bill represented an estimate based on our previous months usage. That made, and still makes, absolutely no sense, on multiple grounds. First, how can you determine the previous months usage if the meter wasn't working properly? And, secondly, if you have a new meter, why do you need an estimate. But, there's no winning with these people, so I decided to wait for the next bill and hope they don't break the bank. Meanwhile, I'm trying to forget that it was I who reported that my bills were too low.

Regarding the speeding ticket, it's true that the particular instance of speeding that led to the citation was caused by a representative of the vast Silver Mange, a disease that effects all Florida roadways but, upon reflection, I can trace the cause of the ticket back to Sun Toyota of New Port Richey, the people who sold me the p.o.s. 2009 Corolla I'm currently driving. These people are the scum of the earth. Of course, by these people, I'm referring primarily to the salesman who sold me the shit wagon, though a few others did collude in the swindle.

I know, you have to be on your toes whenever you're dealing with a used car salesman. But, it's so easy to be deceived, especially when the deceivers have carefully honed their craft through years of flagrant deceptions. For some of the signs that the salesman you're dealing with is a swindler, check out this article: The Used-Car Salesman's Training Manual: 25 Tricks They Use to Charge You More

Though many of these apply to my experience, I guess number 4, Making Friends, is the ploy that did me in. I forget what, but the salesman finally convinced me we were brothers with a lot in common. Of course, it wasn't our bad knees that bolstered our kinship. With him limping around and me insisting that I needed a cruise control to relieve the pain that invariably struck when I was driving, with the two of us thinking as one in regards to this topic, you'd have a hard time believing that we drove out of Sun Toyota in a car that didn't have cruise.

This is how my good buddy pulled this one off. After taking several test rides in different cars up and down Hwy 19, my wife spotted this black Corolla. He went over and glanced inside and, instead of shaking his head "no," and saying “no cruise,” he called into play a different strategy. When we took it for a ride, he made sure we avoided 19 and took us, instead, into a development where we couldn't go over 25 mph. One wouldn't normally think of "cruise control" at that speed. At least, I didn't.

There were other things, too. Like an extra set of keys. If you pay 12 grand for a car, you have a right to expect an extra set of keys. Well, he hemmed and hawed on the issue, letting me know he was working on it, but he never came through. Eventually, I had to have one made. It cost $100. BTW, that was the last time I returned to the dealership. They've contacted me numerous times telling me it's time to get serviced. All I can think is they have to be kidding.

And when I asked if there were any unresolved recall issues with the car, he went somewhere and checked and then came back saying there were none. Not long after I purchased the car, I started getting bombarded with recall notices. A little research showed that the actual date of the recall was January 27, 2010, several months before the purchase. Why not make the corrections before you sold me the heap of crap?

Anyway, for the first ten and a half years here in Florida I avoided speeding by arriving at a safe speed and then applying the cruise control. I used it wherever I went. As soon as I realized I had been duped into buying a car without cruise, I knew I'd have to watch my speed. It's all too easy, if you're not vigilant, to exceed the speed limit. Tell me about it.

While I’m flinging blame around, I mustn't forget Hyundai of New Port Richey. My old car, the car I was trading in, was a 2003 Hyundai Elantra. All in all, though it didn't take bumps that well, it was a good car. It got great mileage, 34 mpg on long trips, it was fully loaded with a fantastic sound system, and it had cruise. So, we went to the Hyundai dealer first. We walked around the lot for about ten minutes without attracting one salesman. There were a couple standing around smoking cigarettes and chatting, but we didn't seem to set off their sucker alarms. So, we left. I mean, I’m not going to beg somebody to take my money. Someone who works there later informed me that it isn't their practice to automatically descend on potential customers with the sales rap. Why not? I replied. Any moron should know we were there to buy a car. Why else would I come to a car lot? Free hotdogs? Anyway, a little initiative on their part, and I would not have had to suffer at the hands of those crooks at Sun Toyota.

Speaking of the ticket, I went to the post office, got a money order, and mailed it out to the Clerk of Court the same day I received it. When I called the Clerk's office to inquire about taking the online course so I don't get any points, I was told to go online and fill out the form and send it in. I informed the girl I talked to that I was familiar with the form, but I didn't make note of the citation number which was required information. She advised me to call back in a week. But, when I called back in a week, another girl informed me that by sending in my payment I had settled the matter and, now, could not take the online course. I tried to explain what I had been told previously, but she didn't want to hear it. Finally, she handed me off to a superior who was more inclined to help me and, hopefully, straightened the matter out.

Jeez!

And, Osama thought he was having a bad week.

Criminal Intent: Goren and Eames Return To Say Good-Bye

2011-05-02T16:55:00.000-07:00

Season 10 of USA network's Law and Order: Criminal Intent began with a bang, or, actually, with a couple bangs as, once again, murder was on the menu.

First to meet the reaper was call girl Sara Bell who met her bad end shortly after an appearance at a party at fashion designer Nyle Brite's pad winds up wrapped up in a rug in her apartment with two bullet holes in her. Witnesses noted that the site of Ms Bell so upset the drugged up party animal Brite (Jay Mohr) that he ended the party on the spot and ordered everyone out of his house. This morsel instantly placed him on Goren and Eames's list of suspects but a little due diligence soon revealed that the reason Brite was upset was the fact that Sara Bell was his daughter. He admitted to clocking her up aside the head but swore he didn't kill her. Brite was removed from suspicion when he, too, was found dead.

I have to admit, the resurrection of CI caught me by surprise. A big fan of the Goren and Eames version, I thought the series had breathed its last. Then, I caught a promo and a front page preview on the Sunday paper's TV insert and my pulse started to race. But, alas, I soon learned that this is being billed as "The Final Season," and I couldn't help wondering "Why bring it back only to kill it again."

TV execs seldom make sense to me.

Florida State Troopers: Cracking Down on Speeders

2011-04-23T07:49:00.000-07:00

Much appreciation to Florida State Trooper J. Johnson who was vigilantly at work yesterday making highway 19 in North Pasco County safe for motorists by clamping down on speeders hell-bent on impeding the orderly flow of traffic. Unfortunately, the speeder he clamped down on was yours truly while I was making my daily run up to Capone's on County Line Road in Hernando County.

A cheerful chap, Trooper Johnson introduced himself by inquiring, "Do you know why I pulled you over?"

Taking a wild guess, I responded, "I was going too fast?"

"You were going 72 miles per hour," he said. "Any particular reason why?"

"Yeah," I said, "That guy in the car from the used car lot was all over the road, so I wanted to get around him."

"I'm talking about when you passed that tractor trailer."

"Oh," I recollected, "That was earlier."

He didn't want details, but what happened was I was behind this tractor trailer in the center lane going about 60 when this old fart in the right lane decides to swing over right in front of me for no good reason except maybe he liked the view better from there or maybe he was planning on getting in the left lane ten or twelve miles down the road. Anyway, he was only going 45 so I decided to pass him and while I was in the process of passing him I decided I might as well pass the tractor trailer, too. Did I get up to 72? Well, to be honest, I wasn't watching the speedometer since it didn't seem like a good time to take my eyes off the road. But, I doubt it. I'm usually pretty good at spotting speed traps. I didn't see this guy hiding on the southbound side of the road, so I have to think he was camped out along the northbound side, which means we were separated by the tractor trailer, begging the question of how did he clock me when I was shielded by the big truck? Of course, in the excitement of the moment, I didn't think to contradict him but on reconsideration I'll say I was going about Sixty-five, maybe a little more. But, not 72.

"Do you know what the speed limit is?"

"Sixty?" I knew it was 55, but I figured I'd play dumb. I knew there was no chance of getting off with a warning no matter what I said, not with his lights flashing like it was Christmas and him having followed me around the corner onto County Line Road.

"Fifty-five," he informed me. "May I have your license."

I dug it out of my wallet while he watched, hoping, I guess, that a pound of pot or a kilo of heroin might fall out. Sorry, Trooper, I don't indulge. I haven't even had a beer since Y2K.

I must've represented Trooper Johnson's quota for the day, because after presenting me with my citation, he drove across the median, headed back to 19 where I, not feeling much like shooting pool, anymore, was also headed, and rocketed south at an appropriate speed for someone in a big freakin' hurry to get somewhere.

Understandably, I'm wasn’t feeling too chipper just then, getting a ticket because some brain dead octagenarian all of a sudden decided he preferred the real estate in the center lane. I mean, do you think it's fun driving in Florida, the place where the dead and nearly dead can still get drivers' licenses? It's not uncommon to pull up along somebody who's on life support. I'm serious! Hey, if public transportation down here wasn't so crappy, I'd be it's biggest proponent. Unfortunately, it sucks.

I'm heading south, today, to DJ's. The roads going in that direction are so clogged with old fogies that it's just about impossible to speed. Not that I was speeding, mind you, but if I was so inclined.

Seaside Cleaners, Hudson, FL: They Took US to the Cleaners, Literally

2011-04-22T17:18:00.000-07:00

Back home, we had a dry cleaner, let's call them Lupo's Dry Cleaner. The owners, good friends of many people in town, were nice people and standup members of the community. We went to the same church and even had morning coffee at the same luncheonette. When we needed something dry cleaned, it was automatic - we went to Lupo's. And, as friends of ours, they went out of their way to give us good service.

Nowadays, on the western edge of Pasco County, things are a lot different. To tell you the truth, an experience we had several years ago caused us to lose all confidence in local dry cleaners. My wife brought something to the cleaners with pleats and they proceded to press the pleats right out of the garment. She brought the item, a jacket, back, but to no avail. She eventually had to iron in the pleats herself. Right then and there, she swore off Florida dry cleaners.

But, with the passing of several years, her resolve dissipated. We were coming out of our favorite pizzeria, Leo & Joe's, when she notice that next door in the strip mall was a cleaners, Seaside Cleaners. Dare she give them a try, she wondered. Why not, I said. So, a couple days later I brought down three of her jackets.

I picked them up this morning and set them on the bed where my wife could inspect them when she got home. Within seconds of checking them out, she came charging out of the bedroom with her just-cleaned white jacket in hand. Look at this, she said, pointing to a pattern of black marks on the front that covered an area 8 inch square. These weren't on there. Then she pointed out the dirty cuffs which were the reason she wanted to have the jacket cleaned in the first place. They were still dirty. She wanted to bring it back, right then.

So, we hopped in the car and returned to Seaside Cleaners. What would have been nice and, frankly, what we expected, was a promise to have the jacket recleaned for no charge. Unfortunately, that was not going to happen, not without a lot of perseverence, anyway.

The girl who was manning the store was very noncommital. Before a decision could be made on how to handle my wife's jacket, someone else had to inspect it and then call us up at home next week, after the weekend. Pardon me, but the jacket's not just dirty, but dirtier than when we dropped it off. Now, you expect us to suffer through some kind of insane process whereby it is confirmed that there is a problem. Don't be silly, folks, just reclean it.

Out of patience, my wife says, Forgetabout it. Just give me my money back. Not so fast. Once again, before any money can be refunded, the jacket would have to sit there over the weekend until someone in authority arrived on the scene on Monday who would determine if the refund was warranted. Give me a freakin' break! The damn thing's dirty, you don't have to be a rocket scientist to see that. You had your chance... and failed. Just give us our money. No, she wasn't in a position to do that. Well, call somebody who is! No, she couldn't do that either.

Finally, figuring we had already wasted enough gas, we said the hell with the $5 and took the jacket home swearing, once again, never to go to a local dry cleaner. Upon arriving home, my wife threw all three jackets into the washer because, in truth, none of them had come out very clean and in minutes they came out spotless. If your clothing is washable, I suggest you follow her lead and wash it. If it's dry clean only, then I suggest burning it, or donating it to Good Will. But, please, don't get taken to the cleaners.

It's My Fantasy

2011-04-15T06:33:00.000-07:00

My Ace's Web World team finished first in the Yahoo Fantasy Basketball League: ROUNDBALL, having eked out a victory over Brooklyn USA in the finals; I finished third in the League: Miami Street Hoops playoffs after having been first in the standings all season long. Anything can happen in the playoffs - coaches rest key players, thereby, decimating your team.

There was a similar story in my ESPN leagues. I finished first after a down-to-the-wire tie-break decided final in league "big ballers." Team Wagoner had had me on the ropes and, in fact, took the lead with just a handful of games left on the final day of the season. But, players in the late games came through for me, gave me a tie, which, with tie-break considerations, turned out to be enough.

Of course, with the NBA fantasy season over, I can now give more attention to my fantasy baseball teams, all eight of them - 4 on Yahoo, three on ESPN, and one at MLB.com. Nothing much to report; many of my best players, pitchers and hitters, are off to a slow start. Check back with me in June.

Last season, in response to an invitation issued by someone I've clashed with in various fantasy leagues, I joined Underworld Baseball, a so-called Yahoo Keepers League which I quickly learned meant that each manager got to keep ten players from last year's roster going into the new season. Other spots were filled through a draft. I battled all season, dropping duds and picking up replacements from free agency, and made it to the two-week head-to-head finals. I led after the first week, but injuries and the all-to-familiar resting up players for the play-offs wasted my offense and I wound up coming in second to Texas Express, just by a whisker.

I picked my ten keepers for 2011 and prepared for the draft, even made my first round selection. Then, the draft order was brought to my attention. As a reward for his Championship in 2010, Texas Express was given the first pick in the draft. Second pick went to the team that had finished first in the regular season, before the playoffs started. My team, the team that had finished second by an eyelash in 2010, was given no special consideration. In fact, all that my efforts from the previous season had earned me was the last pick in the first round. I mean everybody, those who finished ahead of me, and those who finished behind me, drafted ahead of me. It just didn't seem right and the more I thought about it, the more I felt like the league commissioner had given me the shaft. So, I dropped out and moved on with my life. Hey, screw me once - shame on you; screw me twice - shame on me.

The only other thing I have going in the fantasy world is one ESPN Fantasy Stock Car team. Let's just say, thus far, I'm not tearing up the competition.

Dana Delany's Body of Proof: Two Pollexes Up

2011-04-10T11:11:00.000-07:00

Back in the late 1980s when she was in her early 30s and co-starring in China Beach, who would have thought Dana Delany would still be going strong at 55? Well, she is. And, at 55, she's still looking pretty good. I'm sure some Botox is involved, but, at least, she doesn't have any of that catwoman stuff going on.

When I first heard about Body of Proof, this new series on ABC, I immediately thought to myself "channeling Kay Scarpetta," the world's foremost fictional female medical examiner. And, even though I'm a big Patricia Cornwell fan, I wasn't enthusiastic about the prospect. The last book in the series I read, The Scarpetta Factor, was so steeped in melancholy and depression that I have yet to recover. Thankfully, three episodes in, I'm happy to report Body of Proof isn't anything like that. Sure, the characters have some emotional issues, but their brooding is interrupted often enough with light-hearted quips that we are pleasantly distracted from the murder and death that TV M.E.s characteristically deal with.

Also in the cast are Jeri Ryan, a soap opera veteran, and John Carroll Lynch who has successfully played many roles but who for me will always be duck-painting Norm Gunderson, Margie Gunderson's husband in the classic film Fargo.

Anyway, I've seen three episodes so far and enjoyed each one of them. I only hope this series doesn't get whacked by those network geniuses who knock promising new shows off the air.

Blockbuster Express: Black Swan Gouging

2011-04-08T10:59:00.000-07:00

If we're at the WalMart, I usually check out what's available on DVD from the Red Box. If we're at Publix, I go to the Blockbuster Express Kiosk (BEK). We were at Publix the other day, so I pressed the "Rent" button to see what was available on the BEK. Placed first among the available movies was "Black Swan." Now, I hadn't been going out of my mind in anticipation of seeing this highly touted flick, but, since it was available, I clicked on it to go to the detail screen. First thing that popped into my eye was the price, $2.99.

Now, the great thing about getting movies at these kiosks is the price which usually is one day for a dollar. There's no better deal. I screwed around with Netflix for a while but all that mailing back and forth can turn into quite a hassle after a while. Red Box, et al, are da bomb.

But, $2.99? What the hell's that about? It's like when I go into a second hand store and find that instead of one price for all books, like Hard Covers for $1, somebody has attempted to place a value on each individual book with prices ranging from $1 to $10. I mean, that's plane ridiculous. What do these people know about books and their content? Absolutely nothing. Basically, they're all the same, just pages with words on them.

DVDs should be the same - they contain movies. Granted some are better than others, but that often is an individual determination. Heck, last week we rented "Due Date" with Robert Downey Jr. and Zach Galifianakis because someone my wife knows said it was funny. Based on the summary, I had passed it over several times because it sounded to me like an inferior version of "Planes, Trains and Automobiles," a movie starring Steve Martin and John Candy which I liked a lot.

Well, to make a long story short, "Due Date" sucked. There was nothing likeable about the Galifianakis character and I wouldn't have minded of Downey had murdered him in scene one. But, like I said, there are people out there who liked it.

We've since rented "The Fighter" from Red Box and enjoyed that one a lot.

Anyway, at $2.99, I wasn't interested in "Black Swan" nor, apparently, was anyone else since the DVD was still available the next day when we stopped by Publix for the Sunday paper. I struck up a conversation with an older woman who was returning a movie and led her to the Black Swan detail page showing her the massive $2.99 price tag. "My God," she said. "I've never seen that before."

"Me, neither," I said, adding, "I hear the company's doing lousy. Maybe, that's the reason."

"Yes," she said. "They just closed down the store down on 52."

"I saw that," I said, referring to the old Blockbuster retail store where you'd have to take out a mortgage to rent a movie.

"I think I'll stick with Red Box," I told her. "There's a new one across the street at Walgreens."

"Oh, I'll have to give that a try."

I don't think either of us will ever be comfortable with Blockbuster Express again.

One Tank Lunch Excursions: Jackson's American Grill, Venice, FL

2011-03-20T07:14:00.000-07:00

I told my wife that since we usually head on home shortly after lunch we should from now on refer to our day trips as One Tank Lunch Excursions. She agreed.

Our latest foray took us to Venice, Florida, a beachside community on the Gulf Coast just south of St. Pete. We arrived early and took in some of the downtown sights, including the Farmer's Market, several touristy shops and, after what seemed like a mile and a half walk westward, Venice Beach. It's a lovely town.

That's me dwarfed by some well-rooted members of the community.

By the time we returned to town center from the beach, having stopped briefly at a garage sale where I picked up a Porche cap which I needed to cover my bald head having left my Yankee cap at home along with my sunscreen, it was lunch time. Lunch time for me, that is, since controlling my diabetes requires me to eat at regular intervals.

Researching the local eateries, my girl had discovered that Jackson's American Grill had been highly rated by various sources. "Five Star," she told me. So, knowing I craved the occasional burgher, fries and milkshake combo, she had pre-ordained Jackson's as our lunchtime stop.

Jackson's American Grill

We arrived there at about ten after eleven when, it was evident, they were still in the midst of a brisk breakfast trade. And, to be totally honest, the breakfast plates that were flying by were filled with the most mouthwatering specimens of breakfast fare I have seen in some time. Unfortunately, we had eaten our breakfasts at home at around 6:30 AM, before we had headed out. So, a second breakfast seemed to go against our private code.

We inquired if it might be too early for lunch but were assured it wasn't. Service was very good - our server was a young lad named Will - as was our lunch. Among the shortcomings was the fact that shakes came in only one size. Ever carb-conscious, I usually prefer a small shake. Also, I chose not to go for the 8 oz burgher, opting instead for the 5 ouncer, but, though nicely presented with lettuce, tomato, bacon and a pickle, it was absolutely dwarfed by the bun which seemed more suitable for an 8 oz burger or larger. Too much unneccesary bread!

Another thing I'm forced to mention is the attendance of dogs. Among the people eating at tables out front on the street were several dog owners whose mutts were on their laps, in their arms, tied to their chairs, sniffing here and there, or otherwise preoccupied. In fairness, the entire town of Venice should be tagged as Dog Friendly. During our earlier trek to the beach, we had been passed by a girl runner, a look of "screw you" plastered on her smug face, who had been followed closely by her faithful, unleashed pit bull. Just down the road, we were confronted by a little old white-haired lady out walking her unleashed poodle. All through town, dogs were angrily confronting other dogs, as I detoured out into the street to avoid their little yelping matches. I understand the love people have for their pets - I still miss my two cats dearly - but, I would never subject friends or strangers to them against their will. Not so with the people of Venice. There's even a downtown dog wash. And, of course, people collecting for a new dog shelter were set up in the farmer's market. So, if you are not a dog person, I'd say Venice isn't a place for you.

Anyway, getting back to Jackson's American Grill, because of the mismatch between burgher and bun, I'm going to give it four stars. But, if I'm ever in the neighborhood, I'd love to try them for breakfast.

Ron's Pizzeria & Cafe, Naples, FL: A Zero-Star Rating

2011-03-04T10:05:00.000-08:00

With spring break giving us a few days off, my wife decided, after a winter of my complaining that it was just too cold in central Florida, that it might be nice to go on a little excursion to Naples, Florida, to see how life was in the tropics.

We took off bright and early, following Mapquest's simple directions, and drove into Naples by eleven. After locating our hotel, we headed out to one of the trendy touristy districts my sweety had found via Google. It was lunchtime for me, and luckily, there were more restaurants on 5th Avenue South than parking places.

As a diabetic, when I'm traveling, I usually load up a syringe ahead of time for lunch in order to simplify things. This strategy, deciding on an insulin dosage ahead of time, means I have to order an amount of food to fit the dosage. On this day, it seemed to me two slices of pizza could fit the bill nicely.

We were perusing the menu outside of McCabe's Irish Pub when I noticed Ron's Pizzeria & Cafe across the street. “How 'bout some pizza?” I asked my wife. “Good answer,” she replied. Ron's had pizza on the menu displayed outside, but I couldn't find it listed by the slice. “Let's go inside and ask,” suggested my tour director. So, we entered.

We were immediately accosted by shiny headed waiter hellbent on leading us to a table. We weren't ready for that, yet – we just wanted to know if they sold pizza by the slice. No, said the waiter, his shaved head glistening with perspiration, they did not. He obviously surmised it was a financial decision on our part. I didn't think it was any of his business that I was only carrying a two-slice dose of insulin or that my cholesterol-conscious wife would never eat more than one slice of pizza whatever the occasion.

Then, he told us they offered a ten inch pie. As I tried to conger up an image of a ten inch pie, he added, somewhat snidely, that we might want to get it “to go,” as though he preferred we didn't stay on the premises. “Why? You mean we're not good enough to eat in this place?” I snapped. I mean, seriously, where in hell were we going to go? “How much is a ten inch pie?” I asked, hoping for a ballpark figure of the price. “Well," he sneered, "that depends on what you want on it.” That's when he made his fatal mistake. He opened a menu, extended it toward my wife, pointing at its contents, and began “If you can read...” With that, I shoved the menu back toward him and suggested he shove it up his f#$*ing ass, not, mind you, to cast aspersions regarding his sexual proclivities, but just to let him know I'd had enough of his shit. As we left, he offered up a wimpish retort in his native tongue which, he should be thankful, I couldn't understand. Please note: This dirt bag, along with the last nine generations of his inbred heritage, and all his progeny as well, are not, on their best day, worth one one-thousandth of my wife's last sneeze. Were this the old west or even Sicily, and not Florida - last stop before the hereafter, I would've shot the bastard.

My wife later suggested that our rude treatment may have been due to assumptions the grease ball had made about our socioeconomic status. I guess that could be true. We were both rather casually dressed. But, what kind of people get all dolled up to take a stroll around town? I mean, besides hookers, octogenarians whose cosmetic surgery lets them pass for 75, and other phonies.

I briefly considered buying the restaurant just so I could fire the slimeball, but my wife, ever the pragmatist, pointed out that with all the restaurants in the area he could easily lie his way into another job.

Anyway, the zero-star rating can be attributed to the fact that due to a discourteous staff I didn't have an opportunity to sample the offerings of Ron's Pizzeria & Cafe. People who have had that opportunity have spoken out here. Not even a few favorable reviews apparently submitted by Ron's employees can improve the ugly portrait painted by past customers.

Luckily, just down the street we found Cafe Luna which offered pizza by the slice, though I opted instead for a meatball sub which was out of this world, and courtesy in the ten plus range. If you're ever in the neighborhood...

All in all, Naples is a nice place to visit. The Gulf down that way is beautiful. These 3 pics were taken from Naples Pier.

And we enjoyed looking at homes with their well-kept yards in the old historic neighborhoods. But, as for a place to settle, there are far too many people for us, too many cars, and way too many tourists. I think we'll stay put for the time being and tough out those occasional dips below 50 degrees.

Note: It appears that we may have received a response from someone representing Ron's Pizzeria, though they identified themselves simply as "otch." Telling is the fact that the details of my experience as I reported them are not disputed. Their argument apparently being that my wife and I deserved the treatment we received because of our audacity to think that pizza might be available there by the slice. Though I would like to post the comment, the language and sentiment expressed in it are too vile for public viewing. Besides, there's always the possibility that whoever sent me this comment, replete with its misspellings and greenhorn grammar, are not representatives of Ron's Pizzeria at all, but, rather, a party or parties who wish to make the crew at Ron's look like a bunch of idiots. Meanwhile, I'm trying to see if blogspot can trace the comment back to an IP address.

My Colonoscopy: Unpleasant and More Unpleasant

2011-01-25T17:15:00.000-08:00

Colonoscopies are not fun. I don't think CBS newsman Harry Smith who had one performed live on The Early Show last year would disagree with me there. His on-air procedure was his second; my recently performed colonoscopy was my third or fourth. I remembering Harry observing that the only "pain in the neck" about the experience was the prep the patient has to endure the night before which consists of drinking a lot of stuff that's designed to flush out your colon. I agree. Usually, you get knocked out by an anaesthetist and when you open your eyes, it's over and you're in recovery. The doc comes over, tells you how you fared, then, relieved that you won't have to go through that again for four or five years, you get the hell out of there and go find something to eat.

At least, that had been my experience prior to last Friday's adventure at Bayonet Point Surgery and Endoscopy Center. As usual, the anesthesiologist injected a cocktail of drugs into my IV and the next thing I know I was waking up in recovery. But, as I awakened, I became aware that the roof of my mouth was sore. As the anesthesia wore off, the pain increased and expanded to the point that my teeth and jaw were also hurting. When I got home, I discovered it was too painful to eat regular food and I had to limit myself to soft foods for five days.

Before I left Bayonet Point Surgery and Endoscopy Center on Friday I had asked the girl who was in charge of releasing me about the pain in my mouth but she said she had no idea what went on during the procedure. On Monday, when someone from the center called to see how I was doing, I reported the lingering pain in my mouth and the difficulties I was having eating. This girl said at times it might be necessary to shove something in a patient's mouth to aid his breathing while he's under anesthesia, but she did not know if that had been necessary in my case.

Well, I would like to know. And I would like to know what the urgency was that made it necessary to shove the damn thing in there in such a brutal and sadistic manner rather than inserting it gently so that there would be no lasting effects.

I'm just saying, a colonoscopy, by nature, is an unpleasant experience. Why go out of your way to make it more unpleasant.

Stephen King's Ten Best Reads of 2010

2011-01-22T04:42:00.000-08:00

I was sitting in the waiting area of a local clinic, yesterday, leafing through magazines, when I came upon this list. Being an avid reader, I was immediately interested. Admittedly, I'm not a connoisseur of fine literature. Sure, I have an undying love for Dickens and Dostoevsky, but, nowadays, I read just about anything that comes my way. Realizing that Stephen King is more knowlegdeable about books and a much more discerning reader, I was happy to come across this montage which, incidentally, does not contain one book I have read. While I do recognize several of the titles from the N.Y. Times Bestsellers list, I've spent my reading time following the exploits of Jack Reacher, Mitch Rapp and Harry Bosch. I am, now, going to make it a point to elevate my reading horizons by getting into the following:

1. Infinite Jest by David Foster Wallace
2. Freedom: A Novel by Jonathan Franzen
3. I'd Know You Anywhere: A Novel by Laura Lippman
4. Savages: A Novel by Don Winslow
5. Last Night in Twisted River by John Irving
6. Matterhorn: A Novel of the Vietnam War by Karl Marlantes
7. Blood's A Rover by James Ellroy
8. Swamplandia! by Karen Russell
9. The Help by Kathryn Stockett
10. City of Thieves: A Novel by David Benioff

My Progress:
Well, I dove right in, starting with David Foster Wallace's Infinite Jest, and, all apologies to Mr. King, thought it sucked. For 980 pages, it leads somewhere. Then, it ends without ever getting there. The only list it belongs on is a list of books to avoid. Here's an archived N.Y. Times Review. To be honest, I gave up on the footnotes early on. That was probably a mistake. Still, on a scale of 1-10, I rate it a 5.5.

The second book I took from the list was I'd Know You Anywhere by Laura Lippman. This was a real page turner. Cleverly interwoven were the perspectives of several characters united by their involvement with a past brutal crime. I'll give this one a 7.5.

The third book I read from the list, and the best so far, was The Help by Kathryn Stockett. It's not that I was unfamiliar with the book - it was on the times Best Sellers list most of last year - but it's presence on King's list compelled me to read it. And I'm happy I did. I give this novel a 9.

The further I get into it, the more appreciative I am of Mr. King and his list. Last Night In Twisted River by John Irving and Savages by Don Winslow were the next two novels I checked off. Though very different, I rate them both very highly, I'd say an 8 and a 9, respectively. I'm taking a break from the list right now, I'm reading a Kinky Friedman adventure I may have read before, but I've purchased two more from the list.

I'll try to work my way through this list and report on my progress, but be forewarned, I frequently divert my attention to graphic novels like Superman: Earth One. I'm happy to report that it appears certain that I'll never grow up.

Best Steppin' Videos

2011-01-10T17:29:00.000-08:00

Weather permitting, I go to a nearby park and walk a couple miles every morning. Unfortunately, even here in Florida, there are days when it's too cold or too rainy and I'm not one to brave the elements. Still, I have to exercise. So, I opt instead to do some steppin'.

There are many different step platforms available. Mine is a Stamina Aerobic Step I purchased at amazon. With it, I picked up a beginner's DVD, Everybody Steps with Gin Miller. This enabled me to learn enough basic moves that I now feel confident free-styling to the on-demand videos available to me through Brighthouse on channel 368.

Right now, I like to start my workout with Bruno Mars' Just the Way You Are. It's not too fast and serves as a good warmup.

If I'm in a Bruno Mars kind of mood, I might back it up with Grenade.

Then, I get hummin' with some Black Eyed Peas.

Let's keep it rolling with David Guetta - Sexy Chick (Featuring Akon).

I usually cool down with a replay of Just The Way You Are. Exercise aside, it's a great video.

Top Ten Rock Albums of All Time

2010-12-25T07:59:00.000-08:00

A lot of joggin' with the noggin' to come up with this one. Regrettably, two of my personal all time favorites, Cheap Thrills by Big Brother and the Holding Company with Janis Joplin, and American Beauty by The Grateful Dead just missed the top ten but I still play the hell out of 'em.

1. Led Zeppelin IV, Led Zeppelin

2. Revolver, The Beatles

3. Pet Sounds, The Beach Boys

4. Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band, The Beatles

5. The Dark Side of the Moon, Pink Floyd

6. Exile On Main Street, The Rolling Stones

7. Led Zeppelin II, Led Zeppelin

8. Abbey Road, The Beatles

9. Back In Black, AC/DC

10. The Doors, The Doors

Classic Rock Posters or T-Shirts at AcesWebWorld.com

Top Ten Metal Albums of 2010

2010-12-22T16:46:00.000-08:00

There are several Best Metal Albums lists available online and, one thing's for sure, there's not much agreement among them. Such is life. Here's my Top Ten:

1. Axiom Ethica Odini, Enslaved

2. Marrow of the Spirit, Agalloch

3. Eparistera Daimones, Triptykon

4. The Final Frontier, Iron Maiden

5. Addicts: Black Meddle Part 2, Nachtmystium

6. Diamond Eyes, Deftones

7. Crisis in Utopia, Holy Grail

8. Option Paralysis, Dillinger Escape Plan

9. After, Ihsahn

10. At the Edge of Time, Blind Guardian

Top Ten Jazz Albums of All Time

2010-12-22T16:30:00.000-08:00

There are several All Time Jazz Album lists out there in cyberspace. Among sites I've perused are those presented by thejazzresource.com, Piero Scaruffi, buzzle.com and Jacob Teichroew. Here's my list:

1. Kind of Blue (Miles Davis)

2. A Love Supreme (John Coltrane)

3. Night Train (Oscar Peterson Trio)

4. Time Out (Dave Brubeck)

5. Blue Train (John Coltrane)

6. The Way Up (Pat Metheny Group)

7. Jazz at Massey Hall (Charlie Parker)

8. Secrets (Allan Holdsworth)

9. The Black Saint And The Sinner Lady (Charles Mingus)

10. The Standard Joe (Joe Henderson)

Check out my picks for Top Ten Jazz Albums of 2010

Top Ten Jazz Albums of 2010

2010-12-20T12:35:00.000-08:00

My taste in music is eclectic. On any given day, you might catch me groovin’ to a diverse mix that might include B.o.B, Bruno Mars, The Black Eyed Peas, and Dianna Krall. Of late, though, I’ve been mostly into Jazz. In the process of checkin’ out which albums to add to my stash, I came across several diverse 2010 Top Ten Album lists. Among those listers are Spinner, Slate, Jazzology, Mike Luriguen and Geoffrey Himes. Let's add my Top Ten Jazz Albums of 2010 to the mix.

1. Jason Moran, 'Ten' (Blue Note)

2. Rudresh Mahanthappa & Bunky Green: Apex (Pi)

3. Marc Ribot, 'Silent Movies' (Pi)

4. Maurice Brown "The Cycle
Of Love"

5. Keith Jarrett/Charlie Haden, 'Jasmine'

6. Guillermo Klein, 'Domador De Huellas'

7. Steve Coleman and the Five Elements "Harvesting Semblances and Affinities"

8. Geri Allen, 'Flying Toward The Sound'

9. Dave Douglas & Keystone: Spark of Being (Greenleaf)

10. Fred Hersch, 'Whirl' (Palmetto)

10. Matthew Shipp, '4D' (Thirsty Ear)

There was a tie for tenth place on my list, so I guess, technically, it's a top eleven list. You might want to check out my Top Ten Jazz Albums of All Time.

Today's News: Government Leaks & Name Changes

2010-12-11T22:33:00.000-08:00

Changing Names. I was thinking, "What kind of name is 'The Situation'?" It's not all that, if you know what I mean. Then, I see some preacher changed his name to "Captain Awesome." Duhhhh. How 'bout Captain Douche Bag. Me, not to be out done, I'm changing mine, too. Here's my new driver's license:

That's Me - Man Witha Plan

Government Leaks: I know I may soon be facing charges of Treason, but what the heck. With all the talk lately about the deficit, I thought I might expose you to a bit of reality - the deficit goes up every year regardless of who's president and what party they represent. Here're some stats going back to 1975 when the deficit was just over half a trillion dollars.

09/30/2010
09/30/2009
09/30/2008
09/30/2007
09/30/2006
09/30/2005
09/30/2004
09/30/2003
09/30/2002
09/30/2001
09/30/2000
09/30/1999
09/30/1998
09/30/1997
09/30/1996
09/29/1995
09/30/1994
09/30/1993
09/30/1992
09/30/1991
09/28/1990
09/29/1989
09/30/1988
09/30/1987
09/30/1986
09/30/1985
09/30/1984
09/30/1983
09/30/1982
09/30/1981
09/30/1980
09/30/1979
09/30/1978
09/30/1977
06/30/1976
06/30/1975

13,561,623,030,891.79
11,909,829,003,511.75
10,024,724,896,912.49
9,007,653,372,262.48
8,506,973,899,215.23
7,932,709,661,723.50
7,379,052,696,330.32
6,783,231,062,743.62
6,228,235,965,597.16
5,807,463,412,200.06
5,674,178,209,886.86
5,656,270,901,615.43
5,526,193,008,897.62
5,413,146,011,397.34
5,224,810,939,135.73
4,973,982,900,709.39
4,692,749,910,013.32
4,411,488,883,139.38
4,064,620,655,521.66
3,665,303,351,697.03
3,233,313,451,777.25
2,857,430,960,187.32
2,602,337,712,041.16
2,350,276,890,953.00
2,125,302,616,658.42
1,823,103,000,000.00
1,572,266,000,000.00
1,377,210,000,000.00
1,142,034,000,000.00
997,855,000,000.00
907,701,000,000.00
826,519,000,000.00
771,544,000,000.00
698,840,000,000.00
620,433,000,000.00
533,189,000,000.00

See ya soon on the 6 o'clock news.

Best Gift for Children: The Gift of Reading

2010-12-05T07:27:00.000-08:00

Sure, I sell books and children's books online at aceswebworld.com, but I've given more books away than I'll ever sell. Simply put, I believe that kids should be encouraged to read. Regardless of what kind of environment children find themselves in, books can impact their lives positively. Whether books are read to instruct, to illustrate or simply to escape, the offshoot of an acquired love for reading is an improved ability to read and communicate with words, an ability that will serve children well througout their lives. Below, I've gathered quotes by people more well known than me on the subject of reading. Enjoy.

"Children are made readers on the laps of their parents." — Emilie Buchwald

"Reading aloud with children is known to be the single most important activity for building the knowledge and skills they will eventually require for learning to read." — Marilyn Jager Adams

"There are many little ways to enlarge your child's world. Love of books is the best of all." — Jacqueline Kennedy

“To learn to read is to light a fire; every syllable that is spelled out is a spark.” - Victor Hugo

"No entertainment is so cheap as reading, nor any pleasure so lasting. She will not want new fashions nor regret the loss of expensive diversions or variety of company if she can be amused with an author in her closet." — Lady Montagu, on raising her granddaughter, 1752

The more that you read, the more things you will know. The more you learn, the more places you'll go." — Dr. Seuss, "I Can Read With My Eyes Shut!"

“It is not enough to simply teach children to read; we have to give them something worth reading. Something that will stretch their imaginations--something that will help them make sense of their own lives and encourage them to reach out toward people whose lives are quite different from their own.” - Katherine Patterson

"You may have tangible wealth untold. / Caskets of jewels and coffers of gold. / Richer than I you can never be – / I had a mother who read to me." — Strickland Gillilan

"Oh, magic hour, when a child first knows she can read printed words!" — A Tree Grows in Brooklyn, 1943

“Everyone probably thinks that I'm a raving nymphomaniac, that I have an insatiable sexual appetite, when the truth is I'd rather read a book.” - Madonna (1991)

"There is more treasure in books than in all the pirate's loot on Treasure Island." — Walt Disney

"We shouldn't teach great books; we should teach a love of reading." - B. F. Skinner

“The nonreading children are the greatest problem in American education.” — Glenn Doman, "How to Teach Your Baby to Read"

"There is no substitute for books in the life of a child." - May Ellen Chase

“I find television very educating. Every time somebody turns on the set, I go into the other room and read a book.” - Groucho Marx

“Any book that helps a child to form a habit of reading, to make reading one of his deep and continuing needs, is good for him.” - Maya Angelou

So it is with children who learn to read fluently and well: They begin to take flight into whole new worlds as effortlessly as young birds take to the sky.” - William James

"I would be most content if my children grew up to be the kind of people who think decorating consists mostly of building enough bookshelves." ~ Anna Quindlen

"TV. If kids are entertained by two letters, imagine the fun they'll have with twenty-six. Open your child's imagination. Open a book." - Author Unknown

"A house without books is like a room without windows. No man has a right to bring up children without surrounding them with books... Children learn to read being in the presence of books." - Horace Mann

"Babies are born with the instinct to speak, the way spiders are born with the instinct to spin webs. You don't need to train babies to speak; they just do. But reading is different." — Steven Pinker

Spotlight On Hiroshige, Lynch, Pollock, Johns and Klee

2010-12-03T16:17:00.000-08:00

The number of artists featured at AcesWebWorld.com just increased by a five-spot. Check out our pages dedicated to Hiroshige, Brent Lynch, Jackson Pollock, Jasper Johns and Paul Klee.

Artist Brent Lynch in renown for his passionate imagery and fearless originality create the fascinating mystery woman in “Evening Lounge.” A powerful figurative and landscape artist, Lynch defies convention with bold strokes of deep reds, blacks and grays cast in shadows and light. His vivid technique weaves a smoldering storyline around his subject. Pairs intriguingly with its sister painting, “Cigar Bar.

Famous Japanese Ukiyo-e artist, Ando Hiroshige (1797 – 1858) is known for his poetic interpretations of ordinary landscapes. Assuming his father’s firefighting job when he was orphaned at age 12, Hiroshige was inspired to become an artist when he saw the works of the rennowned Hokusai. Starting out as a protrait artist, he ultimately achieved fame for his landscapes. His artwork, including his masterpiece, “Fifty-Three Stations of the Tokaido,” used unique perspectives, bold colors and realistic depth. When tourism boomed, Hiroshige was inspired by his own travels to create an incredible 5,400 prints.

Abstract Expressionist pioneer Jackson Pollock (1912 – 1956) poured and dripped paint onto canvases, challenging the traditional use of an easel and brush. Deceptively childlike, Pollock’s work was actually astoundingly complex and sophisticated. Compelled by inner turmoil, Pollock used dramatic movement to pour, drip and hurl paint onto huge canvases attached to the floor. Pollock, who was influenced by Picasso, Miró and the Surrealists, expressed subconscious thoughts through his motions, and revolutionized a style of painting in which the work has no identifiable parts or focal point.

Jasper Johns was an important 20th century artist instrumental in the development of Pop Art, Conceptual Art, and numerous other movements in Europe and the US. Though a series of flag and target images that outraged the art world, Johns transformed ordinary objects into fine art. Johns, who began his career in commercial art, challenged and altered the basic principles of painting, and has explored countless unconventional art forms. He often repeats the same subjects with different techniques to examine the relationship between an image and its medium.

Paul Klee (1879 – 1940) was an ingenious modern art master with an extensive stylistic range. Klee created small, delicate works, filling them with traces of dreams, music, poetry, and stylistically blended primitive art, Surrealism, Cubism and children’s art. Klee’s initial pen-and-ink drawings were transformed after he visited Tunisia and became smitten with the color and light he found there. Fusing abstraction with reality, Klee fills his work with complex symbols derived from the unconscious. Klee’s work and innovations profoundly influenced 20th century Surrealism, Abstract and Nonobjective art.

Veterans Park: Going To The Dogs

2010-10-27T06:44:00.000-07:00

I enjoy walking and jogging around Veterans Park off Hicks Road in Hudson, Florida. It’s part of the Pasco County park system:

I’m not alone – others enjoy it, too.

By 7:45 AM, many people have already hit the trail:

During my walks, I’ve seen Bald Eagles, Pileated Woodpeckers and, of course, Sandhill Cranes:

Of course, there are rules:

But, as they say, rules were made to be broken or, in this case, changed:

To: Frederick J. Buckman, Parks and Recreation Director,
Martha S. Campbell, Administrative Services Manager,
Brian W. Taylor, Parks & Recreation Mgr (Area I & II)

Subject: Dogs at Veterans Park
When my wife and I arrived at the park this morning, at about 7:45 AM, for our walk, we immediately observed people walking around the park with their dog. Since, as they often are, a sheriff car was sitting in the parking lot, I approached the officer and asked if it was within his power to do something about the dog. He advised me to find a county park employee and inform him of the dog's presence. There was a man in the main building cleaning up so I informed him. He advised me that the policy had changed and that people were now allowed to walk their dogs as long as they stayed on the asphalt. If that's true, it's a sad day for park regulars who already have to deal with discourteous bike riders and roller bladers. Now, we have to dodge dog droppings, too. Anyway, the dog in question was being allowed to run all over the place. The park employee didn't seem to care about the dog. As for me, I've always taken comfort from the signs that inform visitors that the policy is "no alcohol and no animals." If this is no longer the case, I'm sorry to hear that.

The Reply:

Dog in park at Veterans Memorial Park
Mr. Toscano:
I am Terry Hamby, Park Operator at V.M.P. and have been asked to address this with you. At the present time, dogs are allowed at V.M.P. only on the trail, and signage is in the process of being created to define areas where they are permitted, while the current signs will be modified to reflect the change in policy. Dog owners have approached the county and requested that they be allowed to walk their animals at this facility, the results of which you have witnessed. However, dogs must remain leashed, and the owners are expected to clean up any mess their pet may leave laying around. In the near future we may be able to provide pet bags for this purpose, but until then pet owners are responsible for their own clean up supplies.
In the case this morning I also saw the dog, and did nothing about it due to the change in policy and the fact that the dog was leashed, although it was a very thin retractable style leash that from a distance looked near invisible.
When I am asked by pet owners where they can take their dogs, I recommend to them Crews Lake or Jay B. Starkey Parks, both of which are better suited for this activity and have pet stations. When they ask if they can come to V.M.P. I tell them they must stay on the train and clean up after the pet.
I am sorry you had this experience, but rest assured we are trying to maintain a clean facility for use by our citizens, and will endevor to keep this park clean and dog dropping free.

Regards,
Terry G. Hamby
Park Operator II
Veterans Memorial Park
Pasco County Parks and Recreation department

The thing with those retractable leashes is that owners can let their dogs roam off the path when they think no one is around, then reel their dogs back in when someone approaches. I’ve seen it already, on three occasions.

Doggy does its business.

The woman, seen above allowing her beloved bow-wow to run, restrains her dog everytime I pass by. Afterwards she praises her mutt by chanting “Good girl, good girl,” as though the act of not attacking me was praiseworthy. This, btw, is the same "leashed" dog Terry G. Hamby referred to in his email.

Of course, I have questions. Like, what was the decision-making process? Was there a decision-making process? Or, is asking all it takes? If so, I'd like to have my car washed and waxed on Wednesdays. And, how many inquiring dog owners does it take to get the policy changed? Who, exactly, are these dog owners? And, who do they know? Did anyone consider polling those of us who are already using the park before they changed the policy? And, how many bike owners will it take before the signs are changed to read “Pedestrians Must Yield To Bicycle Traffic?” Two? Three?

No Dogs. No Bull.

I’m not happy about this change, mainly because I know dog owners. Back when I was a telephone man, time and again when customers let me in their house they’d tell me not to mind their dog because it didn’t bite. Guess what – they didn’t bite their owners, but they sure as hell didn’t mind sinking their teeth into me. Up to now, I’ve seen three people at Veterans park walking their dogs. Two of them have violated the rule about allowing the dogs off the path. It’s only a matter of time before the dogs start lunging at people and barking at the cows and the cranes and all the other wildlife. After all, that’s what dogs do.

The Story Continues… Unfortunately

2010-10-08T17:18:00.000-07:00

I watched Blood Bloods once. The new CBS cop series featuring Tom Selleck revealed a continuing story line dealing with who and why one of his sons was killed. Boring. Not interested. Show me a crime, solve it in one episode or you’re going to lose me.

Even the Red John bullshit involving Patrick Jane of The Mentalist is starting to turn me off to what was once my favorite show. I mean, I can accept some continuing nuances like Temperance Brennan’s relationship with Booth in my current favorite series Bones. Or, in a new favorite like The Defenders, starring Jim Belushi and Jerry O’Connell, I can live with the fact that Belushi’s character Nick Morelli is going to mix it up with the wife he is enjoying a separation from. Well, he’s not really enjoying it, but it looks like he better get used to it.

Anyway, Back to Bones, the series keeps getting better and better. The frank, literal and always honest Temperance is one of the funniest characters on TV, even though the show is not, strictly speaking, a comedy. I tried to read a couple of the Kathy Reich novels upon which the series is very loosely based and found them completely boring. The Temperance Brennan of the novels bears very little resemblance to the unique and brash Temperance of the Fox series. Thank goodness.

Lone Star: Channeling George Clooney

2010-09-29T07:07:00.000-07:00

Josh Lucas

This is weird: I decided to give the new Fox series Lone Star a shot, mainly because I didn’t see anything too appealing up against it, and recorded it along with the NBC show Chase. Well, we, my wife and I, weren’t far into the first episode of Lone Star when an actor pops up who strikes me as familiar. “Hey,” I said, “isn’t that the guy who played Reese Witherspoon’s husband in Sweet Home Alabama?” My wife said she didn’t know. Well, from another angle, it was obvious that this was not Josh Lucas, the guy I had been thinking of.

Cole Hauser

Next, we watch Chase. As soon as character Jimmy Godfrey appears on the screen, I say to my wife, “Well, I’ll be damned! There he is. That’s the guy who played her husband. Can you beat that? I thought he was in the other show and, now, he turns up in this one.” “That’s weird!” she agreed. Of course, as it turns out actor Cole Hauser was not the guy who played Reese’s husband, either. But, like I said, it’s weird. In my defense, Looking at their pictures, it looks like their noses are similar.

Putting aside indications of my diminished mental capacity, we gave the two shows mixed reviews. Before it was cancelled we had already made up our minds not to watch Lone Star again. It just wasn’t offering the kind of story I could get into on a long term basis. The only thing mildly interesting, aside the obligatory hot girlfriend, was James Wolk’s Clooneyesque facial contrivances. What the hell, if you have aspirations of being a heartthrob, who better to mimic.

It’s sort of ironic that the show is being replaced by Season 3 of Lie To Me, another show that me and my honey removed from our potential watch-list after seeing the first episode. Go figure.

And the Emmy for Worst New Show Goes To…

2010-08-31T15:29:00.001-07:00

Covert Affairs. This series from the USA Network has earned our highest grade for unwatchability – a perfect 10. Forget about the farfetched premise and plotlines with more holes than a spaghetti sieve, what brings this series down is star Piper Perabo or, more specifically, her lips. Show after show, shot after shot, pictures Ms. Perabo with the oddest contrivance of attitude to ever effect post-Angelina lips. At times, it looks like she has lost all control and feel of her lips as if she’s been shot up with Novocain. Or maybe they’re frozen. No matter, I can almost hear the director demanding from her “more poutiness, more poutiness.” Whenever the camera’s on her the focus is on her lips. Sorry, I tried to watch a couple episodes but I could not get past the lips, the lips, the lips. God, is it ever distracting. Surrounded by competent actors like Kari Matchett (“24” and “ER” among her credits) and Peter Gallagher (“While You Were Sleeping”), Perabo hijacked the show with her lips. After that, the show never had a chance.

Much Ado About Nothing – Changes at WUSF-FM

2010-08-17T15:26:00.000-07:00

Car Talk, Wait Wait Don’t Tell Me, Morning Edition, All Things Considered and Jazz – that’s all I really want from my public radio station. I’m not really into classical music. I do listen to it some times, when I don’t want to be distracted. For me, it’s sort of like elevator music.

Recently, I learned that my local NPR station, WUSF-FM, was splitting it’s offerings onto two stations. Their acquisition, located at 89.1, will now broadcast classical music 24/7. Big whoop. WUSF, 89.7, will switch to a talk radio format during the day with Jazz still available only to us night owls.

Those talk shows they’ll be throwing at us are already available to me on WUFT-FM out of Gainesville. In fact, I get a stronger signal from Gainesville which is about 100 miles north than I do from the locals which sit 40 to 50 miles south. So, the big expansion that goes into effect September 15th, 2010, doesn’t really excite me. Jazz during the day – now, that’s something I could’ve gotten excited about.

I can’t help thinking that if you invited all those who are thrilled about the new 24/7 classical music station, along with those who will be listening to the endless litany of NPR talk, to a picnic, no one would show up – too boring.

Mel Gibson: Edge of Darkness

2010-06-27T20:50:00.000-07:00

Though I know we can never resurrect the Martin Riggs of the Lethal Weapon classics and I realize the trials of time have forever taken the shine off his star, I was hoping Mel Gibson could recapture some of his former luster as Boston homicide detective Thomas Craven in Edge of Darkness. And he did, but just barely.

Is it the case that we will never again allow the Jew hating, crucifix toting Gibson to emerge as a victorious hero in a modern day police drama? That seems to be what we’re being told here. After Craven’s daughter Emma is killed by a shotgun blast outside his Boston home, it appears at first that the shot was meant for Craven himself. But, in time, it’s revealed that she had gotten on the bad side of a coalition of industrial bad guys, a private security death-squad and your run-of-the-mill government assholes who, in retaliation for her threatening to blow the whistle on their nuclear bomb business, had managed to poison her by slipping some radioactive morsels into her food supply. In other words, she would’ve died even if she hadn’t been blasted.

Unfortunately, we learn how this particular poison works because the avenging Gibson is also poisoned. With nothing to live for and not much time, he manages to kill quite a few culpable people. Enroute he meets his adversaries’ Security Consultant Jedburgh, played by Ray Winstone, whose respect he apparently gains since untimately it’s Jedburgh who eliminates the remaining no-good scum who orchestrated the plot, shooting them at point blank range during a meeting where they were deciding how they should spin Craven’s demise.

As cheery as that ending is, the reality that Craven and his daughter are both dead sort of takes the shine off the moment. The final cut shows the spirits of Emma and her father walking off into the white light. I guess that was supposed to be uplifting. It didn’t work. Everything that precedes that moment confirms that that could not happen, ever.

I think this movie would have been somewhat better if all the good guys hadn’t gotten killed, but such is life. I give it a C-.

Ed Emberley: Children’s Drawing Books and More

2010-06-13T04:52:00.001-07:00

Ed Emberley is the illustrator and author of over 80 books, including the bestselling Go Away, Big Green Monster! and his enormously popular "Drawing Book" series. He has received many awards and accolades, including a Caldecott Honor in 1967 for One Wide River to Cross and a Caldecott Medal in 1968 for Drummer Hoff. Ed Emberley lives in Ipswich, Massachusetts, with his wife, Barbara.

That blurb comes from Ed Emberley's Amazon page. I was drawn there recently when someone purchased several of his drawing books via my site AcesWebWorld.com. Honestly, prior to that, I had never heard of him. That’s probably because I no longer have little children with whom I can share my love for reading and my love of books.

But those who are familiar with Emberley’s work are filled with praise. In fact, customer reviews of his books average 5.0, the highest possible rating on Amazon.

My interest piqued, I googled Ed Emberley and was led to his website EdEmberley.com. What a great site! If you have kids, I suggest you steer them there. If not, go there yourselves like I did. I’m sure you’ll get a kick out of it.

Hip-Hop Grandma and Grandpa

2010-05-08T12:16:00.000-07:00

We’re white, we’re in our sixties, and we love hip-hop. Not that I’ve gone out and bought “B.o.B Presents: The Adventures of Bobby Ray,” I haven’t. But I could listen to B.o.B.’s “Nuthin on You” all day long. “Nut nut nuthin, got nuthin’ on you.” I guess you could say that’s the song I’m most into now. Not long ago it was Jay-Z’s Empire State of Mind. Though it’s not played as frequently as it once was, I’m still not tired of hearing it.

I used to listen almost exclusively to 97.1 FM or 97X, billed as “Tampa Bay’s New Rock Alternative” but there’s little new a bout the music they play and nothing fresh. On any given day, they’ll play Nirvana, Everclear, and the same Killer’s songs they’ve been playing for the last several years. I happened to be listening the other day and they were playing “Somebody Told Me.” How long has that song been around? I mean, if you’re going for nostalgia, why not call yourself an oldies station, not the new rock alternative.

Anyway, back to my wife and I. Not too long ago we were both groovin’ on a recent release by Ludacris. You know it – the voice that belts out the refrain sounds like one of David Seville’s chipmonks. One day, I was rappin’ along with the radio – “I love cookie dough, I love cookie dough. I love cookie dough, I love cookie dough” – when my wife corrected me. “It’s ‘I love Pinky Toe,’” she said. We had an ongoing dialog about it for a week of two. I was actually willing to give in since my hearing isn’t what it once was, but one day I went to google and found out that the actual lyric is “How low can you go.” No love. No cookies. And, no pinky toes.

In retrospect, I find it perfectly logical that someone might love cookie dough. I mean “Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough” is one of Ben and Jerry’s most popular flavors. On the other hand, the love of pinky toes seems to indicate something kinky’s at work in my darling wife’s subconscious.

This morning, we had a discussion about a Black Eyed Peas cut, I Gotta Fillin’. My girl insists it’s about dental work. “You know how proud these kids are about their grills,” she explains. “Yeah, I know,” I say, not wanting to antagonize her. Still, I don’t equate going to the dentist, even a grill specialist, with having a good good night. Sorry.

Patricia Cornwell on Lifetime

2010-04-19T06:18:00.000-07:00

First, let me say, I love Patricia Cornwell’s novels. It was, primarily, her Kay Scarpetta novels that prompted a resurgence in my reading-for-pleasure several years back. That’s why I was particularly eager to see At Risk and The Front, the two movies based on her (non-Scarpetta) novels recently aired on Lifetime.

No problems with the cast. The usually loveable Andie MacDowell stars ably as the slutty, aggressive and ambitious DA, Monique “Money” Lamont, Daniel Sunjata as Win Garano, the still beautiful Diahann Carroll as Garano’s nana, and Ashley Williams as the amputee-detective Stump. Unfortunately, Detective Sykes played by Annabeth Gish was shot dead in At Risk. Such is life. In fact, Stump almost bought the farm in The Front but survived due to poor marksmanship and the heroic intervention of love-interest Garano.

Honestly speaking, I enjoyed both movies and will view anything else Ms. Cornwell (who, BTW, made cameo appearances as a waitress in each of the flicks) serves up. Still, I must say, I enjoyed At Risk the most. The perp, the unsub, the doer, etc. was revealed to us a little too soon in The Front, at least for me, and, though there still existed a bit of suspense, it’s not the same as wondering “who the hell did it?”

Still to come, on TV and at the Theatre, the Kay Scarpetta mysteries. I cannot wait.

Thanks for Caring About My Healthcare

2010-03-17T04:43:00.000-07:00

It’s crunch time or the Obama Healthcare plan and concerned politicians and industry groups are running amuck in attempts to make our lives healthier. I’d just like to thank them for that.

Thank you Americans for Prosperity. You warned that If government takes over health care, recommendations that women not have mammograms till age 50 could become the law of the land. Turns out that’s a big lie according to the Truth-O-Meter, but it’s still nice that you care. BTW, I went to your website and have to wonder ‘Who’s prosperity are you actually concerned with?’ Don’t you think I would be a little more prosperous if I didn’t have to pay more than $400 a month for my healthcare insurance? Just a thought.

Thank you AHIP (America’s Health Insurance Plans). You point out that health insurance companies' costs are only 4 percent of all health care spending and that far larger proportion goes to doctors and hospitals. But, I’m wondering, what exactly do you mean by “insurance companies cost?” Wasn’t it once the case that if you got sick and went to the hospital, your insurance would take care of it and pay everybody? That would be 100% of my cost and that’s the only percentage I care about. Of course, last year when my wife tripped and broke a couple fingers, despite our insurance, we got separate bills from Bayonet Point Hospital, the ER doctor who set her finger improperly, the x-ray technicians, the guys who own the x-ray machine and everyone else we bumped into that day. Next time something like that happens, I’ll bypass the hospital and go straight to one of those emergency care clinics. What a rip! Something’s definitely wrong with the system. How could anyone say it doesn’t need an overhaul?

And, what about the people with no healthcare? Shouldn’t we care about them? I’m not so self-absorbed that I can turn my back on people who can’t afford health insurance, people who are forced to spend long hours in line at clinics or in hospital ER’s when illness strikes. The acrobatics these people are forced to go through are ridiculous. What would be the harm in bringing something resembling a normal package to them?

Yeah, I have health insurance, but I can’t help wondering what’s going to happen in a couple of years. Will my doctors still accept me if I drop my current health insurance? Will a new provider accept me with my “prior condition?” – I’m a diabetic. Will I have to opt out of some kind of treatment because I can’t afford it? I worry about this stuff. That's what being an American means to me.

High School: Do You Really Want To Go Back There?

2010-02-16T05:38:00.000-08:00

A few years back, someone googling my hometown of Dover, New Jersey, tracked me down and invited me to join him and others in a high school alumni chat room peopled by him and his back-home cronies. I soon observed that I didn’t know any of these folks. Why should I? They were all four or five years ahead of me in school. When I was 16, they were over 20. After a few weeks of enduring their scrutiny and inane comments, it dawned on me that as I was 60, these old farts were pushing 70. Deciding I had absolutely nothing in common with these relics of the 50’s, I quickly extricated myself from their society.

You might think that I would have learned something from this exercise in granfalloonery, but, as is so often the case, I soon wiped it from my mind.

I’d been on facebook a couple years, keeping in touch with the pool-shooting world, when one day, out of the blue, a girl I knew from high school sent me a friend request. Though I couldn’t imagine why she’d want to be in contact with me – I was a bit of a hell raiser back then - I remembered her name and, since it didn’t conjure up any negative vibes, I thought being her facebook friend would be kind of nice. After our initial exchange, we had no contact – no messages of any kind passed between us. Every once in a while, I’d see her face alongside an update of some kind, but I never commented.

Just a word about my high school days: Though I started out as a college prep student, a couple of suspensions and minor scrapes with the police succeeded in getting me transferred to the general population. An uncle of mine was a couple years ahead of me and the few good friends I had back then were from his class.

There was a sweetshop I went to before and after school. I was sort of friendly with the others who hung out there, but, for the most part, I didn’t see them outside the confines of the luncheonette. Like the poolroom, Bill’s Luncheonette was a place I hung at to avoid going home. For the same reason, when I was younger I went to the YMCA every day. To give you a quick idea of what my home life was like, one of my most cherished memories of childhood was a three week stay at the Morris County Youth Center following a fracas I was caught up in involving Officer Schebendach and booze and a high school dance. In charge at MCYC at that time was a nice man named Mr. Angie. He was a fair man; he never kicked, screamed at or beat us. And there was Trudy, a fellow inmate - I still remember her though we never met again following our releases as we had pledged.

Anyway, several months following that initial facebook contact, another person who remembered me from the old days must have seen me listed among my high school buddy’s friends prompting them to send me a friend request. Sure, what the hell. The snowball began tumbling, then, and soon I was in touch with a dozen acquaintances, a dozen acquaintances who hadn’t given me a second thought for the last 40-some odd years.

I’d been thrown out of high school my senior year for knocking a teacher, Lightning Le Claire, on his ass. (The asshole deserved it!) But later, after I had received my GED, I was told I would be added to the class of ‘65’s rolls. In 1970, I received an invitation to the class’s first reunion, remarkable only because I had already started losing my hair and no one recognized me. I was never invited to another reunion. Once, when I inquired why, I was told one of the women involved with organizing these shindigs had some kind of gripe with me. Such is life. In truth, I moved around the country a lot and probably would not have ventured back to Dover for the get-togethers, but it would have been nice to be asked.

Anyway, facebook had suddenly put me in touch with my old pals from the Dover Public School System and Bill’s Luncheonette. Facebook was indiscriminate – gathered there were the shy girls, the kind girls, the girls who could light up your day with a smile, the perky girls forever consumed by the most pressing trivialities and the girls who, in the parlance of those times, were for-doing-it. I had no idea what had gone on in their lives since DHS – it didn’t seem to matter. Somehow, we weren’t in the here-and-now, we were back in the 1960’s.

Unfortunately, when you are in touch with facebook friends, you, indirectly, are in touch with all the people they are in touch with. Soon, faces and names of people I didn’t particularly like were popping up on my screen. There was one whacked-out broad who, I had once heard, had never tired of telling people that I was responsible for the breakup of her marriage.

Admittedly, I was a friend of her husband but we hadn’t hung out since high school. In fact, when at all possible I, like most of our friends, had purposely avoided him. You see, he had taken up the guitar and if you let him corner you, he would proceed to torture you for hours on end with his monotonous finger picking. Though he’s passed on, now, and I have many warm memories of him, you can bet I don’t miss his impromptu concerts. Anyway, unless he lied to his old lady, telling her he had been out with me when he hadn’t, I can’t imagine why she would hold me responsible for their marital problems. Hey, maybe he woke up one day and saw the freakin' light!

Then, there’s the broad who claimed I was responsible for her brother winding up in the clink. He was a guy I knew from Bill’s and I don’t think we spent as much as an hour in each other’s company outside the greasy confines of the luncheonette. To this day, I have no idea what he got busted for, and I don’t care.

I don’t know how often these two assholes repeated their spurious claims or if they're still repeating them, but the fact that they fostered these fictions bugged the living shit out of me. Every time one of their names popped up, I felt like spittin' on my monitor. And that's a mess to clean up. So, I decided I had no choice but to drop out of the facebook hometown scene. And I did.

Winter Olympics: Will NBC Cash In On Tragedy

2010-02-13T05:51:00.000-08:00

I did a lot of sledding when I was a kid. When it snowed, the Town of Dover used to close off Segur Street, a fairly steep hill on the north side, thereby turning an otherwise boring snow day off into one packed with thrills and chills. In the fall, there was a grassy hill in Locust Hill Cemetery that we used to slide down while sitting or laying on sheets of cardboard. That’s about a close as I ever got to the insanity known as lugeing.

The idea of Georgian luge competitor Nodar Kumaritashvili flying down the track on his back in such an extremely vulnerable position at 90 miles an hour boggles the mind. I mean, if you have an urge to compete, don’t you think you could find a safer outlet? Still, it’s a recognized Olympic sport and, apparently, it’s gaining in popularity, at least with the athletes.

Now, in the aftermath of the tragic death of Nodar, it appears lugeing will become more popular with tv viewers, too. NBC keeps hammering home the inherent dangers associated with the Olympic track in hopes, I suspect, to make viewers tune in to the luge competition just to see if anyone else crashes.

Australian luger Hannah Campbell-Pegg compared fellow luge competitors to crash-test dummies. ''I think they are pushing it a little too much,'' she said referring to the fast and dangerous Olympic track.”

Let’s see how much airtime goes toward the luge, now. Will people be drawn to it with the same morbid curiosity that bolsters auto racing?

Speaking of auto racing, I’m more interested in watching Danica Patrick at Daytona, today, than anything going on in Vancouver.

Anyway, as I twittered yesterday, if you want to make the Olympics more popular, eliminate opening ceremonies that are geared toward those who would rather go to a Broadway show than a ballgame.

As for Nodar Kumaritashvili, his death is a tragic loss for his teammates, friends, family and for all those who foresaw the Olympics as a wonderful event.

Pearl Harbor All Over Again

2010-02-09T10:46:00.001-08:00

Personally, I’m sorry about what’s happened to Toyota. Over the years, I’ve had more than one of their products and I have to admit they were among the best cars I’ve ever owned. Back when I used to change the plugs and oil on my own cars, Toyota continued to make things accessible when American automakers like Ford were hiding distributors in the rear of engines and placing plugs where you couldn’t get at them. Just last year, I came this close to buying a new Prius. Still, I was born in the 1940’s, a time when opinions on the Japanese were flavored by kamikazes and Pearl Harbor. A lot of folks my parent’s age who had lived through WWII didn’t think too kindly toward the “Japs,” as they were called, and they weren’t shy about making it known. Back then, of course, Japanese cars weren’t an issue. But, as the Japanese auto industry grew, dissension from WWII vets became more prevalent. Once, while parking my Toyota in a supermarket parking lot, I was accosted by an old-timer who cursed me and anyone else who would own a Japanese car. Which reminds me - back when I was a kid the phrase “made in Japan” was synonymous with “crap.” Miraculously, that changed with the ascent of Toyota and Honda. But now we’ve come full circle – the Japanese have once again launched a sneak attack on the United States, this time by firing their inferior and dangerous automobiles at the unsuspecting American public.

Catching up with Brett, Conan and Haiti

2010-02-02T11:09:00.000-08:00

Though I haven’t been blogging, I’ve been watching, observing what’s been going on, and thinking about it. Here a few thoughts on recent and current topics.

Those who blame Brett Favre for the Viking’s loss to the Saints are out of their minds. Let’s face it, if his teammates hadn’t put the ball on the ground with mind-numbing regularity, there would have been no need to throw the ball in the late stages of the game and, thus, no interception. The Viking’s season, with their signing of Favre, was indeed a big gamble and it would have paid off if the rest of the team hadn’t succumbed to big-game pressure. As far as I’m concerned, Favre was the NFL’s MVP this year. I hate to think of where the Vikes would’ve finished without him.

As for Coco, he got a royal screwing, as did the 50 and under viewing public. Well, fellow young people, we still have Jimmy Kimmel, for the time being at least. It’s not that I don’t appreciate Letterman and Leno. I do. In fact, I recently submitted a Fun Fact to Dave which, understandably, was ignored. Here it is:

While Greek Mathematician Archimedes was the first to prove the value of pi around 240 BC, the first person to top it with ice cream was Pennsylvanian Al Lamode.

But, let’s face it, L & L are getting old as are their jokes and senses of humor. Contrarily, Conan is fresh. Different. New. YOUNG!

As for the Idahoan Baby Stealers, the so-called “New Life Children's Refuge,” yes, they belong in jail for committing yet one more atrocity in the name of religion. The world has to be protected from these people just as they have to be protected from terrorists and radicals of every religious persuasion. I’m reminded of something that happened in my home town of Dover, NJ, long ago when I was a kid. A local girl was suffering from cancer. There was a jar in the luncheonette where we hung out in which patrons dropped contributions that were to go toward the girl’s medical expenses. Unfortunately, while many of us looked at the ever-swelling wad of donations with pride, one miserable and worthless drug user viewed it as easy pickings and one day, when all backs were turned, he snatched the jar off the counter and took off with it. Taking advantage of someone else’s misery – that’s what’s going on here.

My Lowe’s Nightmare

2010-01-11T07:26:00.000-08:00

Let me start off by saying the salesman was nice. Of course, salesmen are always nice. They want to be your friend. That must be one of the rules of successful salesmanship. Not too long ago, my wife and I were shopping for a car at the now defunct Gulf Motors when a salesman asked, after learning we were from New Jersey, what part of Jersey I was from. When I told him Dover, he swore that Dover was his home town. No kidding, I said. “Where abouts did you live?” “By the school,” he answered. “Which school?” “You know, the big one.” By then, I realized the guy was full of shit and probably couldn’t find Jersey on a map. Still, he was probably employing tried and true selling techniques.

Anyway, the guy selling appliances at Lowe’s was a nice enough guy. He helped us roll the Samsung refrigerator we were looking at over to the Whirlpool range so that my wife could compare the shades of stainless. Then, he gladly accepted our debit card and we were good to go.

The problems came with the delivery men. They brought in the refrigerator, attached the freezer compartment handle, plugged it in, then, set the temperatures. So far so good. Then came the range. The lead man, in charge of the connections, did a little finagling, then, voila, tried the burners. They worked. Then, he tested the oven. Zap, it threw a breaker. He tried it again. Same result. He told me there was something wrong with the breaker and that I needed a new, updated, version. Then, he and his partner left. Appreciatively, fool that I am, I tipped each of them a fin.

After removing the breaker from the box – it was a duel 30/40 amp breaker common to houses on wheels – I drove up to Lowe’s and talked to a guy in the electrical department. He said they didn’t have the breaker I needed, a 30/50 amp breaker, and directed me to try across the street at Home Depot. The guy at Home Depot, an ex-electrician, informed me that the 30/50 amp breaker recommended by the guy at Lowe’s required heavier wire than what I had in the trailer and that installing one could spark a fire. He advised me to contact an electrician.

Well, it was Sunday afternoon. But, luckily, I live in an old fogies trailer park where the residents are retired from all kinds of occupations. With a few calls, I found myself a retired electrician who was glad to come over. He ran a few tests and determined that the line was okay to the range outlet and through the cord up to the stove. Something’s wrong with the stove, he said.

So, I called Lowe’s, spoke to the same salesman, and was promised I’d receive a new stove, in fact, a better stove, the next day. And I did. They plugged it in, turned on the oven, and everything worked perfectly. No one has gotten back to me from Lowe’s. Guess they think it’s okay that their delivery man had me running all over when he should have known that there was something wrong with the stove. My guess is he was just too lazy to cart it back out to the truck.

Speaking of lazy, I noticed the refrigerator door, when allowed to swing shut, was closing with enough force to jolt the entire hacienda. I got down onto the floor and discovered that neither of the levelers were touching the floor. They just plopped it down and left it there.

I never liked Lowe’s, but my wife did. Let’s face it, as opposed to HD it’s more girly. You know, finished floors instead of concrete, etc. etc. But, I doubt they’ll ever see another nickel of my money.

Little Road and Denton: More Fantasy Traffic With Alicia Roberts

2009-12-21T15:59:00.000-08:00

Gayle Guyardo: Now, let’s go to Alicia Roberts for a report on this morning’s traffic. How are things moving this morning, Alicia?
Alicia: So far, so good, Gayle. That earlier accident on the Howard Frankland has been cleared and traffic’s moving along two-seventy-five both ways without delay. There seems to be a major build-up up in Pasco on southbound Little Road at the intersection of Little and Denton. For a live report, let’s go to Copter Cal. Cal, I guess we can blame the tie-up on that malfunctioning traffic light we’ve been reporting on for the past several weeks.
Cal: Good morning, Alicia. (whup-whup-whup-whup-whup-whup-whup-whup-whup-whup-whup) You’re right about the location of the build-up, but I’ve been informed that the traffic light in question is not malfunctioning as we have been reporting.
Alicia: Not malfunctioning? Then, what’s the problem, Cal?
Cal: Well, I was informed via email by Robert W. Reck, Traffic Operations Manager, Pasco County Traffic Operations Division that the traffic light in not malfunctioning. What is malfunctioning is a sensor. I presume he’s referring to a switch that’s triggered when a car rolls over it.
Alicia: Sounds like he’s splitting hairs.
Cal: Yes, Alicia, I’m with you on that. Traffic is being screwed up by something that’s broken. Still, he was adamant about it, so I thought I’d acknowledge his clarification.
Alicia: Well, I’m sure that brings comfort to those southbound drivers who have to sit and wait for the phantom cars that are turning onto westbound Denton.
Cal: (whup-whup-whup-whup-whup-whup-whup-whup-whup-whup-whup) Do you really think so, Alicia?
Alicia: NOT!
Cal: One more thing, Reck also informed me that the County has a contractor who does their sensor work and that the faulty sensor has been added to his to-do list.
Alicia: Any idea when we can expect a repair?
Cal: No, but with traffic now backed up all the way to 19, I’m sure Pasco’s drivers are hoping it’s real soon.
Alicia: Thanks for the report, Cal. Gayle.

Florida’s US Senate Seat: Vote for Ace

2009-12-17T04:44:00.000-08:00

I, Michael J. “Ace” Toscano, am now throwing my hat into the ring for the U.S. Senate seat vacated by the Republican Mel Martinez. I know Governor Charlie Crist is already on record as a candidate for this seat, but, let’s face it, he’s a “politician” and guilty of all the offenses to humanity and common decency that that word implies.

Me? I’m free of all party affiliations, though I must confess that in the last Presidential campaign I contributed to McCain, Hillary Clinton and Ralph Nader. I was trying to hedge my bets and wound up losing anyway. Go figure.

Anyway, I won’t bore you with a whole list of things I stand for, mainly, because I don’t stand for much. I will take care of my friends. You can count on that. This includes facebook friends, myspace friends, high school friends, poolroom friends, people I met in line at the 7-11, and folks like that.

My main focus is going to be on eliminating health-care benefits for all members of the House and Senate. Why should the taxpayers foot the bill for a bunch of ass-wipes who couldn’t care less about the health-care of their constituents? It makes no sense. Let them scramble for health insurance just like everyone else.

Wars? I believe we should send our kids to war only when they are given the opportunity to fight alongside Sasha and Malia Obama, as well as Joseph, Ashley and Robert Biden. Add to that list all the children of all our dear legislators. Otherwise, it’s a no go. I mean, if their snobby children are too precious to go to war, SO ARE YOURS!

My platform is ever-evolving, but my principles are steadfast. I’m going to look out for you. You can bet your ass nobody else will.

BTW, I won’t be on the ballot – that’s too much friggin’ trouble – so you’ll have to write me in. Bring a pen.

Tiger Woods: Now, He’s Human

2009-12-03T05:21:00.000-08:00

Whoduhthunkit – Tiger’s human. And, come to find out, stupid, too.

Of course, this is no surprise to me since I’ve been trying to convince my friends of this for some time. My contention was and is that Eldrick Tont "Tiger" Woods was a user of performance enhancing drugs, a/k/a steroids. “No, not Tiger,” my Woods worshipping pals would declare. “He would never cheat!”

Blah blah blah… We all know now that that is not the case – he’ll cheat and he’ll cheat again. What makes it worse, now that we know his first response when confronted with the unflattering truth is to lie, he swore time and time again that he did not use performance enhancers. We have to be skeptical here. Add to this the amazing coincidence that he decided to pull the plug on the 2008 season just one week before regular testing was to be implemented. That “bad knee” business that enabled him to play all year up to that point was a pretty convenient excuse for dropping out of sight and cleaning up those vital fluids.

I know there are a lot of golf fans out there who prefer to think of El Tigre as just another Superman. But, if you ask me, he’s only human.

Genius At Work: Spring Training Countdown

2009-12-01T19:25:00.000-08:00

What do Stephen Hawking, Albert Einstein, Thomas Edison, Copernicus and Galileo have in common… besides the fact that they are all geniuses? That’s right, they come from New Jersey. It must be something in the water supply that makes The Garden State breeding grounds for brainiacs. Even I once boasted an IQ of 165 and I can hardly tie my shoes.

Now, you can add my friend Rob Barth, who grew up drinking that same water, to the list of notable brain children. The head honcho at Barth and Co designs, he is well known for a multitude of musical and artistic ventures. You may remember his recent Parkway Johnny series.

He has, now, made another stride toward immortality. An avid MLB baseball fan, himself, he understands well the plight of other diehards who may suffer bouts of depression once the World Series and the subsequent award announcements bring the baseball season to a dead end. He brings them hope, a light at the end of the tunnel, with a website that can only bring golden sunlight to their darkest hours. This is Rob Barth’s crowning achievement: The Spring Training Countdown. Check it out, now. Bookmark it. Send the link to all your baseball loving friends.

Books for Children: The Gift of Reading

2009-11-28T06:32:00.000-08:00

Toys are nice for their impact value and their instant appeal, but soon they lay discarded in the corner gathering dust. But a book, the gift of reading, is something that will enrich a child’s life and carry with it benefits and joys that will last a lifetime. Personally, reading helped get me through a difficult childhood. Many a night, having been beaten by my old man, tears not yet dried, I’d curl up in bed and lose myself between the covers of a book. All my subsequent success as a student was linked to my ability as a reader. Besides, to this day, reading brings me peace and comfort.

But, what do I know? I thought I’d see what others had to say about reading:

"Children are made readers on the laps of their parents."
~ Emilie Buchwald

"Reading aloud with children is known to be the single most important activity for building the knowledge and skills they will eventually require for learning to read."
~ Marilyn Jager Adams

"There are many little ways to enlarge your child's world. Love of books is the best of all."
~ Jacqueline Kennedy

"Oh, magic hour, when a child first knows she can read printed words!"
~ A Tree Grows in Brooklyn, 1943

"There is more treasure in books than in all the pirate's loot on Treasure Island."
~ Walt Disney

"The more that you read, the more things you will know. The more you learn, the more places you'll go."
~ Dr. Seuss, "I Can Read With My Eyes Shut!"

"There is no substitute for books in the life of a child."
~ Mary Ellen Chase

"Any book that helps a child to form a habit of reading, to make reading one of his deep and continuing needs,is good for him."
~ Richard McKenna

"No entertainment is so cheap as reading, nor any pleasure so lasting."
~ Lady M. W. Montague

"It is not enough to simply teach children to read; we have to give them something worth reading. Something that will stretch their imaginations - something that will help them make sense of their own lives and encourage them to reach out toward people whose lives are quite different from their own."
~ Katherine Paterson

"I would be most content if my children grew up to be the kind of people who think decorating consists mostly of building enough bookshelves."
~ Anna Quindlen

I’ve dedicated considerable webspace to books for children and adults. The commissions I receive from the sale of books are meager, but that does not diminish the satisfaction I experience whenever someone buys a book for a child or themselves.

Lose Your Self T-Shirt

2009-11-25T16:31:00.000-08:00

FROM ROAD RAGE TO ENLIGHTENMENT

Lose Your Self: Be the Traffic Heading the Other Way

Driving home from the pool room the other day, I found myself stuck behind a miserable old goat who was driving an ugly oversized gold-colored boat. Not only was the senile fart dragging his ass, he was constantly brake-checking me, hitting his brakes, flashing his brake lights, even though there was no one in front of him for about a mile. I would’ve passed him if I could, but the section of road we were on didn’t offer any safe passing zones.

As luck would have it, he turned off on the same two-lane side road that I was taking. I knew from past observation that the road immediately presented a wide open passing zone with good visibility, so I slid over into the oncoming lane to pass. Unfortunately, for some reason, the ornery son-of-a-bitch didn’t want to be passed. As I drew even with him, he floored it. Suddenly, we were both doing 55 in a 40 mile per hour zone. Thankfully, my ride had a little more power than his boat and I finally managed to get around him. I thanked him for his cordiality by flipping him the bird.

My driving philosophy is simple. If someone wants to go faster than me, I let them pass. And, if someone’s in my way, I go around them. Hey, in brief, everyone should be able to drive at his own chosen speed. This usually works out pretty well for me, but every once in a while you run into one of these assholes who don’t like to get passed. They’d rather see you smack into a Mack Truck head-on than let you back into traffic.

Florida is the premier spawning ground for road rage. I hate to point my finger at old people as the cause, but, honestly, a lot of them should not be driving. I pulled up at a red light not too long ago and found myself alongside an old guy who had oxygen tubes coming from his nose with his head thrown back at a severe angle and his mouth wide open. He looked like he was at death’s door; yet, he was still driving. You can’t go a mile without some old geezer cutting out in front of you. Their minds are shot as are their reflexes. But, they drive.

Anyway, rather than spending all my time behind the wheel with my nerves on edge and my gut tied in a knot, I’ve developed a technique which allows me to lose my self and go with the flow. It starts by my observation of the traffic coming toward me. I’m sure the dramas that are occurring in front of me conspiring to hold me up are also transpiring in the oncoming lane. Yet, since they don’t directly affect me, they are not a source of tension. At the same time, it occurs to me that to those heading the opposite way I am the traffic heading the other way. As such, that occurring in front of me is meaningless to them as it should be to me. From here, I arrive at a peaceful place.

I’m Just Sayin’ and Sayin’ and Sayin’

2009-11-20T04:44:00.000-08:00

Almost overnight, it seems “I’m Just Sayin’” has slipped into our everyday lexicon and this, ya know, leaves me wondering if it’s a phrase I’ve recently picked up or one I’ve always used. Hard to figure.

I find myself employing it more and more, most often when the person I’m talking to, most often my dear wife, takes offense, disagrees or, ya know, somehow responds negatively to something I’m saying.

“Michael Jackson was a pervert.”
“I can’t believe you would say something like that!”
“I’m just sayin’…”

It slips out so naturally that I can’t believe it’s not, ya know, a phrase I’ve been using since… since… since back in the day or, as I prefer, once upon a time. I mean, there are times when I actually think, ya know, that I am responsible for introducing the expression into our vernacular.

I’m just sayin’.

With the help of google, I found out that a sports blog by Danny Picard, a sports writer for Comcast SportsNet New England, is entitled “I’m Just Sayin’.” Similarly, there’s “I'm Just Sayin'! - A Kevin and Bean Show Fan Blog.” Then, there’s “I’m Just Sayin’ Is All” , not to be confused with “I’m Just Sayin’” a personal blog by mom, friend, writer Robyn Passante. Add to these “I’m Just Sayin’” by Ramonassister. There are also a series of blog entries under the heading of “I’m Just Sayin’” at Comic Nexus.

I wondered, ya know, about the origin of the expression and found a lengthy discussion at Pain In The English. Philosophically speaking, it was explored here.

And you might have heard Jon Stewart’s reaction to The CNN segment called “Just Sayin’.”

Not long ago, ya know, during an ESPN interview an athlete peppered his responses with countless repetitions of “know what I’m sayin’?” It’s a word whisker. I’ve decided I like it more than the common “ya know” and pledge to incorporate it into my daily speech patterns.

Know what I’m sayin’?

No Sweat Religion

2009-10-15T07:35:00.000-07:00

If following a religion kills people, it is, by definition, a bad religion and a foolhardy waste of time. An alternative perspective exists within me and I feel compelled to share it with you.

My religion doesn’t require or recommend spiritual retreats. It considers them a waste of time. Every moment of every day, no matter where you are, you are engaged in life and positioned on a spiritual plane. Like it or not, so it is. I would prefer you don’t meditate, or medicate, or, for that matter, pray or prey. These things only cloud and obscure The Truth which we seek.

Love? No, I’m sorry. There’s no place for love in this religion. Nor, hate. Let’s try to keep the emotions in check as much as possible. I have it on good authority that they are merely autonomic responses to our visceral environment, anyway. Abandoning emotion is a necessity for achieving Oneness the goal of Altruistic Aceyteeism. It takes some work, but in time it will become first nature.

For example, take my own path. Because of the circumstances of my early life, for many years upon meeting someone I always took for granted that he or she did not like me. This sense was so ingrained that without thinking I reacted to all strangers as if they were enemies. Of course, now, I realize how wasteful and counter-productive this was and how it prevented me from experiencing what was actually going on. It kept me from The Truth. Now that I meet people without expectations and without activating automatic defense systems, I am able to view them as they are or, in the vernacular or our religion, I can See them.

Now, that I have attained The Oneness, as you will in time, I can glide through the day not hating, not loving, just seeing and being and understanding. Call it Peace, call it Bliss, call it Nirvana, but don't call it Kurt Cobain. Just kidding. So, it is.

Unlike many organized religions, mine does not rely on collection plates or baskets. I do, however, take donations which I accept with no emotion whatsoever.

Stalking Shoeless Joe Jackson

2009-10-05T11:38:00.001-07:00

Sure, I’m a Yankee fan. Always have been. Still, beyond that, I’m a baseball fan which is why, as a kid, I used to pour thru the box scores looking to see how the other stars of the day made out, guys like Ted Williams, Stan Musial, Willie Mays, Sandy Koufax and Duke Snider. So, knowing that, it shouldn’t be too surprising to learn that, during our recent sojourn to Greenville, SC, I made it a point to visit the sites associated with baseball legend Shoeless Joe Jackson.

For those of you unfamiliar with the life and career of Shoeless Joe, there are plenty of sites out there you can reference: The Shoeless Joe Jackson Museum site, Shoeless Joe at Wikipedia, Shoeless Joe Jackson’s Virtual Hall of Fame and Shoeless Joe at the Chicago Historical Society’s site.

In a nutshell, while playing for the Chicago White Sox in 1919, Joe was implicated in the scandal which saw several of his teammates accused of throwing games during the World Series. Though he was acquitted during a subsequent trial, his ban from baseball at the hands of Commissioner Kenesaw Mountain Landis stands till this day. Because of this, Jackson has not been able to assume his proper place in baseball history as a member of the Hall of Fame.

Said Joe on the subject in 1942, “Regardless of what anybody says, I was innocent of any wrong-doing. I gave baseball all I had. The Supreme Being is the only one to whom I’ve got to answer. If I had been out there booting balls and looking foolish at bat against the Reds, there might have been some grounds for suspicion. I think my record in the 1919 World Series will stand up against that of any other man in that Series or any other World Series in all history.”

In actuality, his stats for the series seem to support his innocence. During the 1919 Series, Joe played flawless baseball, hitting .375, the highest on either team. He had twelve hits (a tie for the World Series record at the time); six RBIs and no errors in eight games. He accounted for eleven of twenty runs by the Sox; and he hit the only home run in the Series!

Several of the sites cited above give visitors the opportunity to communicate to commissioner Bud Selig their desire to have Joe Jackson reinstated. Among those who have supported his reinstatement were Bob Feller and, now deceased, Ted Williams.

Regarding Shoeless Joe’s hitting prowess, Babe Ruth said it all. "I copied (Shoeless Joe) Jackson's style because I thought he was the greatest hitter I had ever seen, the greatest natural hitter I ever saw. He's the guy who made me a hitter." - Babe Ruth.

But, I digress. When my better half, Uppy, planned our recent getaway to Greenville, SC, she allowed for the Joe Jackson homage in order to give me something to do. To her credit, she also planned on my touring the local pool rooms but, as luck would have it, by the time we arrived I was in the throws of a miserable cold. I tried to play the part of the happy traveler, but I just didn’t feel like battling a runny nose while bent over the table.

Anyway, the first thing we located was the bronze statue created by Greenville sculptor Doug Young. Dedicated on July 13, 2002, baseball celeb Tommy Lasorda spoke at the ceremony. Here are our pics (please note, if I’m in the pic, Uppy was wielding the camera):

Joe and Me

BTW, Those Bricks Are From Comiskey Park

Joe grew up in the Brandon Mill Community. He started working in the mills at age 7, which is the primary reason for his lack of a formal education. Soon after, his talent for baseball was discovered and he was enlisted to play on the Brandon Mill team which competed against other mill leagues in the area. On March 30, 1996, the field built on the site where Joe played as a boy was named Shoeless Joe Jackson Memorial Park in his honor. We arrived there pretty early in the morning, before the haze had a chance to burn off.

Give Me An S!
Give Me An O!
Give Me An A!
PLEASE.

Field Of Dreams

Infield Of Dreams

Next, we decided to drive out to the cemetery where Joe and his wife Katie were buried. Woodlawn Memorial Park, according to Uppy who knows cemeteries, is a “lovely” place to be buried. Unfortunately, there are no road signs directing visitors to Shoeless Joe’s resting place. Luckily, I spotted a gentleman touring the grounds in a golf cart. When I asked him about Shoeless Joe, he insisted on leading us to the grave. Thank goodness, because we never would have found it on our own.

A Lovely Place

That's Me On Deck

Things Left Behind

Last stop, The Shoeless Joe Jackson Museum. In 2006, the house where Joe and his wife Katie had lived was moved from 119 East Wilburn Street to its present location 356 Field Street, across from Fluor Field. (The "356" pays tribute to Joe's lifetime batting average of .356) Pictures detailing the move can be found on the museum’s website. The museum, a charming little structure, opened promptly at 10 AM, just as we arrived. The guides generously filled us in on the Jackson lore and history and made us happy we had included the stop on our tour. I kicked myself, later, for not taking some pictures inside, but I did snap a couple outside.

I have to hand it to Uppy, she did a good job planning this trip. We’re already looking forward to a return to Greenville.

Monday Morning Quarterbacking

2009-09-28T06:20:00.001-07:00

The Fantasy Baseball season is winding down. Here’s how things stand right now. I have one championship to show for the 4 Yahoo! Leagues I competed in. My one MLB.com team was never in the race even though I had Albert Pujols on my team. As we enter the final week of competition, I’m leading in the run for the championship in the two ESPN Leagues I’m in, though both contests are tight and things could turn on a point here or there.

Meanwhile, Fantasy Football is in full swing. It's early but trends are developing, some good, some bad.

First, let’s look at the four Yahoo! Leagues, three private one public, I’m in. In Joe Willie Nation, a league I started a few years back, I’m 2-1 on the strength of strong performances by Peyton Manning and Maurice Jones-Drew. Jones-Drew, BTW, was listed as Probable before the game, but, luckily, I decided to stick with him. I screwed up in other similar situations, having benched Randy Moss and DeSean Jackson, because of fears related to reported injuries. Both played and played well, thereby costing me mucho points. I lost my first game in Yahoo! Public 123000, falling to 2-1. The loss of Frank Gore and another disappointing performance by the Steelers defense cost me dearly there. The 0-2 Mean Machine knocked me from the ranks of the unbeaten in the Field Of Honor private league. Again, here, I was hurt by the benching of DeSean Jackson. Also contributing to the loss were poor performances by Ted Ginn Jr., Matt Ryan, Isaac Bruce, Darren McFadden, kicker Rian Lindell and the Arizona defense. I ran my record to 2-1 on the strength of Peyton Manning, Ahmad Bradshaw and the New York Giant defense in private league Spies Like Us. I guess, looking back, I’m not doing that bad in the Yahoo leagues.

At NFL.com, in the Central Florida Headbangers League, I was thumped from the ranks of the unbeaten by Eastern Division rival carterandi. Contributing factors were a poor output by Drew Brees who had carried me through the first two weeks, and lousy performances by Darren McFadden, Chansi Stuckey, Visanthe Shiancoe and the Pittsburgh Steelers defense. Without Polamalu, the Steeler’s D sucks. If he doesn’t return on October 11th as prophesized, I’ll have to dump them.

My first venture into the ESPN Fantasy World has been thoroughly and undeniably unimpressive. I’m on the brink of falling 0-2-1 in the Tampa Bay Football League. Actually, before MNF, I’m ahead of the Riverview Weirdos by 7 points. But, I have no one playing tonight and my opponent has Felix Jones ready to go. Jones has looked impressive in the Cowboys games I’ve watched, besides, with Marion Barber’s status questionable, he may even get more carries. I’ve all but conceded this one.

The lackluster Crossville Jets knocked me to 0-3 in the ESPN Italian League. Here I was done in by poor performances by Larry Johnson, Santonio Holmes, Chris “Beanie” Wells, T.O. and Dustin Keller. The loss would have been averted if I hadn’t benched Moss, Greg Olsen or Steve Breaston but that’s how things go. The lesson about paying too much attention to minor injuries is one I’ve learned over and over again, apparently, to no avail. I’m about ready for the cement shoes.

It’s Criminal: The Season Premier of Criminal Minds

2009-09-25T07:10:00.000-07:00

The team solves a case with their usual zeal, resolve, clear thinking and super-deductive reasoning. Ho hum. More importantly, however, is the fact that Hotch’s wife and son have to go into hiding because they are in danger of being killed by the brutal and diabolical attacker and arch-nemisis who carefully, so as not to kill him, stabbed Agent Hotchner nine times and then threw him out of the car at the hospital. I’m hoping against hope that this is not a subplot that’s going to continue all season. Kill the bastard, bring the family home, let’s get on with the next episode. I’m still adjusting to the fact that Garcia’s gay. I mean, what is the poor kid whispering under her breath every time Derek refers to her as “Baby girl?” I wonder. Anyway, I don’t mind a tryst or two that colors the cast, but recurring villains turn me off. Of course, it’s too late now. The scripts have been written. I just might have to change my Wednesday night viewing habits.

From Your Friends At Humana-Medicare

2009-09-21T04:47:00.000-07:00

I usually manage to tune out or fast forward past TV commercials, but a promo for Humana-Medicare popped up during the Emmy Award broadcast the other night and, since I hadn’t noticed it before, I watched it with interest. I don’t recall the particular content, but suffice it to say they were trying to get people to sign up for their program. A blurb on their website makes this promise: “At age 65, you may qualify for Medicare. Enroll in a Humana Medicare plan with additional benefits and more coverage than Original Medicare.”

Thing is, a friend of mine is in their program. Recently, he had a heart attack. The ambulance took him to the closest hospital in New Port Richey, Morgan Plant North Bay Hospital. I visited him several times there and, quite frankly, he wasn’t looking to good. That’s why I was surprised when he told me one day that a doctor, not his cardiologist, who had just been in his room had told him he was being sent to a rehab facility.

Well, though he participated in rehab at Orchard Ridge Rehab, also in NPR, his condition continued to decline. He felt miserable. Finally, I said to him, “Bobby, these people don’t give a shit about you. You’ve got to see your own doctor over at the VA. They don’t even know what’s been going on with you.” So, since he had a regular appointment at the VA coming up, I made arrangements to take him there.

Well, on the fateful day, the VA ran some blood work on my buddy and found, among other things, that his potassium was at a dangerously high level. This condition was no doubt exacerbated by the potassium supplements the folks at Orchard Ridge had been feeding him. The people at the VA encouraged him not to return to the rehab site and made arrangements for him to be admitted to the Cardiac Unit at Bayonet Point Hospital.

He was there a few days when the very same doctor who had released him from Morgan Plant to Orchard Ridge Rehab appeared in his room. Having become familiar with the doctors who were tending to him, he asked the doctor what he was doing there. That’s when the doctor informed him “I work for Humana.”

That explains a lot about my friend’s deteriorating condition and the basics of Humana-Medicare. This doctor had only one interest – keeping down charges to Humana. He wasn’t interested at all in my friend’s welfare.

I hope that the next time you see the ad for Humana Medicare, this story comes to mind. We know that insurance companies are sleazy outfits, but some are sleazier than others.

Blown Coverage by CBS: The NFL & The Emmies

2009-09-20T22:20:00.001-07:00

CBS was celebrating 50 years of NFL coverage. Meanwhile, they played down the fact that their shoddy camera work cost the NY Jets a critical call early in the game because they couldn’t supply the review officials with a shot of a called fumble. To obscure this fact, they refused to refer to the play as “questionable” or “controversial,” they just carried on as though there had actually been a fumble even though it appeared to everyone that the runner was down before the ball was yanked out. That’s pretty much the status quo anymore, on the field, in the workplace – there’s an unwritten law that you must never acknowledge a mistake.

Similarly, I wonder if CBS will own up to producing one of the worst Emmy Awards shows in recorded history. Right out of the gate, they announced we were in store for some changes. Of course, the presumption was that the changes would be somehow beneficial. They weren't. Let's see how they react, now that the broadcast fell flat. Let the tap dancing begin. Thank God, there was NFL Football and MLB Baseball airing at the same time, giving me something to move on to during the most painful moments.

As usual, the awards went to a bunch of shows that few people watch. It’s the TV world’s way of informing us that we don’t know what good television is. If we did, we’d be religious viewers of 30 Rock, Madmen, and the canceled Pushing Up Daisies.

Of the award winning shows, I believe the BBC production of Dickens’ “Little Dorrit” was the only one that I had been a real fan of. I do watch a rerun of “Two and a Half Men” on occasion, but I never catch the original episodes. Regarding “Madmen,” for me, once was enough. I tried to watch “30 Rock” a few times, but couldn’t stay with it for more than 5 minutes.

Neil Patrick Harris is a likeable guy under most circumstances, like when he’s a talk show guest. But, his performance hosting the Emmys can only have given David Letterman renewed hope of hosting the Oscars again. It was that bad.

Anyway, despite all of that, both the Jets and the Giants won on Sunday. So, it turned out to be a pretty good day.

Joe Wilson: Another Hired Goon

2009-09-10T06:44:00.000-07:00

I couldn’t help myself. After hearing about his “You Lie” outburst during President Obama’s speech last night, I had to find out a little more about Addison Graves Wilson, Sr., a/k/a Joe.

For one thing, he was born in 1947, about 5 weeks after yours truly. Had he grown up in northern New Jersey, we might have gone to the same schools, chased the same girls, bonded, been buddies for life… No, that’s not very likely. I probably would have beat him up and sent him home crying. I wasn’t a very nice little kid.

Probably, more to the current point, is the fact that the number one group on his list of campaign contributors, according to maplight.org, is health professionals. His lack of enthusiasm for Obama Health Care could be an offshoot of this warm relationship.

As a former real estate attorney, it’s not surprising that number two among his contributors is the real estate industry. One can only imagine what lengths he’d go to in order to help out his old pals.

In summary, this guy’s bought and paid for – he’s a whore.

Drive-Thru or Walk-In?

2009-08-31T11:29:00.000-07:00

This is one of our modern day conundrums, like yesteryear’s “paper or plastic.” Everywhere, whether you’re going out for burgers, donuts, or perhaps just to make a bank deposit, you have to make the choice.

My wife and I discovered a couple years ago that, even if we were in the mood to enjoy our Checkerburgers outside at one of the tables, we would get our victuals a lot quicker via the drive-thru than if we parked and lined up at the front window.

The bank? We haven’t quite figured that one out, yet. Like this morning I drove down to Bank America on 52 in Hudson. Because I was making what I believed was a “simple” transaction, and since I know the lines inside were tied up by old-timers who went to the bank just to converse with the tellers, I figured I’d try the drive-thru.

It seemed like the right choice, because the third slot from the window was empty allowing me to pull right in. Hastily, I placed my three checks plus the deposit slip in a canister and sent it off. I wanted to get some cash back, $50, so to facilitate matters, I had remembered to sign the slip in the appropriate spot. Quick in and out, I’m thinking.

I had a good view of the two women who were working the drive-thru. One of them pulled my canister out of the shoot and set it down while she completed the transaction she was working on. My turn. I watched as she ran the checks thru the little machine the tellers have. I guess it’s some kind of scanner. Something wasn’t going right - she seemed perplexed. She went thru the procedure again, with no more success. Several minutes went by, then she gave up and carried my checks, etc. to the other girl.

I was familiar with this girl. She has hair down past her ass. The last time she had served me inside, she had greeted me with a “Congratulations, Mr. Toscano, you’ve been selected to…” She was trying to make it sound like I had won something when, in truth, she was trying to sell me something. “No, thanks,” I replied.

Meanwhile, a lady in an SUV who had been sitting behind me, saw an open slot. So, she backed up and slid into it. Needless to say, a couple minutes later, she was finished and on her way. I pressed the “Call” button. “Yes? Can I help you?” girl number one responded. “Yeah,” I said. “How come she’s gone and I’m still sitting here?” “Well, sir, she may have had a simpler transaction that was easy to complete.” “I’m depositing three checks and getting $50 back. I thought that was pretty simple.” “Well, there was a problem with your checks. They have to be scanned individually…” Crapola. I’ve been going to that bank for years. It takes about 2 seconds to scan on check.

Other customers are coming and going. I’m still waiting. Finally, Ms. Long Hair ships the canister back and says, “Thank you, sir, have a great day.” “Yeah, sure,” I bark back. “It’s gonna be wonderful.” “When you want cash back, sir, we have to scan the checks individually…” I got the message: the delay was my fault because I brought them three checks and asked for $50 back. No chance that the fault was theirs. Next time, I’ll see if I can deposit the checks at Checkers.

Off Off Network TV

2009-08-20T15:52:00.000-07:00

‘Tis the season - the networks are showing reruns or crappy summer replacements like NBC’s The Philanthropist or Fox’s Mental. It’s downright depressing to think I’ll never get back the hours I wasted watching those two losers. We don't subscribe to the elite channels, like HBO and Showtime. So, we’ve been sampling the original offerings the cable channels have been producing.

First, let me get this off my chest, after panning The Closer some time back, I have to confess Deputy Chief Brenda Johnson played by Kyra Sedgwick has wormed her way into my heart. In a field that includes few gems, this show stands out. Another show worth watching is the resurrected Law and Order: Criminal Intent now showing on the USA Network. With Det. Zack Nichols, played by actor Jeff Goldblum, joining the distinguished team of quirky crime investigators, the show still packs a punch for diehard fans. To be honest, though, my wife and I always experience a letdown whenever an episode doesn’t feature our favorite tandem, Detectives Robert Goren (Vincent D’Onofrio) and Alex Eames (Kathryn Erbe). But somehow we manage to fight through our disappointment.

Burn Notice, starring Michael Westen, Gabrielle Anwar, with Sharon Gless, has also become one of our favorites. The premise, the writing, the acting are all top of the charts. Though the season just ended, we’re already impatient for the next installment.

Saving Grace, according to my wife, gets a little too silly at times and she abhors all kinds of silliness. Still, there’s something there worth watching, so we haven’t deleted it from our preferred list.

Royal Pains falls into the “okay” category. Somewhat lighter in tone, it’s a nice change from the deluge of heavy material. Speaking of which, TNT’s Dark Blue is too dark for our tastes. Its successor on Wednesday nights, Leverage, is too poorly written and acted and should haunt Timothy Hutton for the rest of his career.

But, it’s mid August and the new season of Network TV is right around the corner. Thanks God for small favors.

The Golf Channel – Are You Serious?

2009-08-16T12:44:00.001-07:00

I was getting ready for lunch the other day, and, since the PGA Tournament was in progress, instead of the usual First Take on ESPN2, I thought I might watch some early round golf action. Too lazy to check out the TV directory, I had been by the Golf Channel enough times to know it was 67 on the dial so I punched it in. Sure enough, the graphics announced that they were covering the PGA Tournament.

Well, I was only half-watching as I messed around in the kitchen making a sandwich. And even when I brought everything into the living room and began to eat I wasn’t paying close attention. Eventually, however, it dawned on me that the Golf Channel’s coverage consisted of shots of the players on the practice tee, periodic expert roundtable discussions, interviews with players and golf dignitaries, scoring updates – basically, everything you might expect except one thing. There was no golf. I’m talking about actual tournament play. None. Nada. Obviously, they didn’t have the rights to broadcast the tournament. I later found some coverage on TNT. They were working in tandem with CBS. Anyway, when I realized I was being duped, I was terribly offended and changed the channel.

It very well could be that avid golf fans already knew about the extent of the golf channel’s coverage. I guess some fans might even find it entertaining. A couple days later, just looking for some background information, I returned to their coverage and who do I see giving a report? None other than Jim Grey. How low can you go, Jim? Jim’s career went into a tailspin shortly after his infamous interview with Pete Rose following Pete’s introduction as part of the All Century Team during Game 2 of the 1999 World Series. Many people, including me, were outraged that he had chosen that particular moment in history to attack one to the greats of the game. His subsequent apology did little to resurrect his career. He gradually became less and less prominent, then, finally, he disappeared. But, now he’s back. On the golf channel! Interviewing groundskeepers and parking attendants. I watched his interview closely. He said nothing the least offensive. Yet, I was offended anyway. He’s performing a job that could just as well go to some worthy Mexican.

Ace's Internet – Forever and A Day

2009-08-11T12:16:00.000-07:00

This is pretty funny… at least to me.

Back in the 90’s, when we were living in Northwest Montana, long before I had harnessed the vast money-making potential of the internet, I had some web pages on space provided by my internet provider.

This was the early going, when I was just learning html, an era when flowery backgrounds were all the rage. To look at them now, my pages would appear crude. Oops, you can look at them, now. Try visiting My Jerks Page.

Someone pissed me off during our last stint in Big Sky Country. We had previously built a house outside Kalispell along side Lake Blaine on property we purchased from our friends, the Andrews. But developers started crowding in on us so we sold out and relocated to Spring Hope, North Carolina where we bought a house from the sister-in-law of Major League ball player Gary Gaetti.

But I digress. I can’t remember who pissed me off… Wait, it’s coming back to me – it was a couple of asshole landlords. We hooked up with them by chance; they were masquerading as hippies, or naturalites, or whatever you want to call the tree-hugging bastards. Anyway, in between granola bars, they managed to cultivate some pretty severe OCDs which I, in particular, having a degree in psychology, didn’t want to be part of. So, we found alternate digs, they kept our security deposit, blah blah blah.

Anyway, they inspired me to create the Jerks page. As you can see from The Jerk’s List, the page struck a responsive chord and in a short amount of time I accumulated a fair amount of fellow gripers.

The thing is, we moved out of there shortly after Y2K, in the spring of 2000. That’s when I closed my account with my Flathead Valley ISP. Yet, these pages are still out there. I no longer have access to them, can’t update them, or change them – but they’re still out there. Just for the hell of it, I googled “Ace’s Cabin Fever,” the title of an online journal I used to keep. Up it came, top of the page.

Thank goodness, I had the presence of mind to delete a lot of the contents before I closed the account. I mean, some of my journal entries were brutally honest. Hey, neither I nor Al Gore had any idea this thing we invented was going to last!

Last year, my pc crashed and I lost a lot of sentimental pics I’d been storing on my hard-drive. Well, guess what I found among my old Montana pages, the Toscano family album. Check it out.

House Hunters – Home Sweet Home

2009-08-10T05:59:00.000-07:00

Staying married for almost 44 years involves more than a little compromising. That’s why I can be found some evenings watching along with my sweeter-half one of her favorite TV shows, House Hunters.

For the uninitiated, House Hunters follows the real-life exploits of a couple or family as they try to buy a house. The show invariably starts off in the buyer's present digs pointing out the dwelling's shortcomings and elaborating on what they are looking for in their new place. Then, a realtor shows them three different places from which they ultimately choose one. That’s the show in a nutshell.

Along the way to hovel happiness, we get to see firsthand the insights and observations of the prospective buyers. Some want yards for their dogs. As if the dogs really care about the place where they lift their legs or squat! Others desire finished basements for their musical pursuits. Recently, a man complained about the narrowness of a bathroom. I couldn’t help wondering aloud, “What’s he want to do in there, practice ballroom dancing?”

And kitchens are very important to some women, and men. Many, nowadays, are disappointed if the countertops are not made of granite and their appliances are not stainless steal. I don’t know what bugs me more, their whining, or their need to keep up with the latest trends. I’ve sold a couple houses and I can tell you that if prospective buyers tried to negotiate the asking price down by citing some perceived shortcoming, I’d simply state “Then this isn’t the house for you. Go look someplace else.”

Another of my wife’s favorite shows involves people who have sold their houses returning sometime later to see what the new owners have done to it. The drama involves the host sharing reactions of the old owners with the new owners. I rate this show a strong Who-the-Hell-Gives-A-Shit. It’s not your house any more! These people can do whatever the hell they want with it.

What I don’t go through for my lady.

Last Chance Harvey Painful To Watch

2009-08-01T15:42:00.001-07:00

Dustin Hoffman as Emma Thompson’s father I could stomach. As her love interest? Where’s the barf bag?

I felt like a flick the other day so I stopped at the Red Box just inside the entrance to our friendly neighborhood Wal-Mart. I’m not a snob, but I have little interest in B movies that bombed at the box office. Unfortunately, when you’re standing in front of the Red Box, you cannot access any critical reviews, just the promotional blurb. Categorized as a Romance, Last Chance Harvey was described like this, “In London for his daughter's wedding, a rumpled man finds his romantic spirits lifted by a new woman in his life. Rated PG-13 by the Motion Picture Association of America for brief strong language.” Not much to go on.

When I got home, my wife seemed to recall she had heard good things about it and a subsequent check with AtTheMovies.com indeed revealed that both Bens, Lyons and Mankiewicz, recommended it, Mank calling it “a really sweet and tender movie.”

For critics, these guys are too easily entertained. This slow paced, plotless, romp to boredom did nothing for me except make me groan in agony. The idea of Harvey and Kate getting together is, for me, as sick as great granddad fondling little girls in the park.

Of course, joining Lyons and Mankiewicz was my wife. She, too, thought the movie was sweet. Could be I’ve suddenly become immune to “sweet.” After all, I am a diabetic.

Patricia Cornwell Goes To The Movies

2009-07-23T07:46:00.001-07:00

On July 20, 2009 Variety reported that two telepics based on Patricia Cornwell's crime novels, "At Risk" and "The Front," will air as Lifetime originals. These novels feature Investigator Winston Garano and his boss D.A. Monique Lamont.

Slated to star in these productions are Daniel Sunjata (Garano), Andie MacDowell (Lamont), Diahann Carroll (Garano's grandmother), Annabeth Gish (Garano's partner), and Ashley Williams (Garano's love interest).

Marking the first time Ms. Cornwell's novels will hit the screen, the announcement comes on the heels of the April 21st report that Twentieth Century Fox has acquired the rights to all 16 Kay Scarpetta novels. Slated to play the good-looking, intelligent, strong-willed-yet-vulnerable and sophisticated Scarpetta is superstar actress and poster girl Angelina Jolie.

The first movie, a thriller, will not be tied to a specific novel but will feature Dr. Scarpetta in her role as Medical Examiner.

The choice of Jolie has sparked an internet debate over her suitability for the role. Some have cited Jodie Foster as a better choice. Let's face it, they're both Oscar winners and great actors, but Angelina is more of a box office draw and, in the end, it all comes down to the money. BTW, more than one source reports that several years ago Foster was approached by Cornwell in regards to the Scarpetta role but Foster declined.

Internet Adventures #1

2009-07-19T12:42:00.000-07:00

Say you’re a travel agent, or, maybe, a snowbird who wants something that will remind him of his winter stomping ground. You go to google and run a search on Florida Posters. What site will be first among the million and a half that google pulls up? Could it be my Florida Posters & Prints page? No, not likely. How about my page dedicated to Miami Posters & Prints? Again, no. Well, maybe, you’ll be directed to my page featuring Vintage Florida Posters, sister page to one presenting Greetings From Florida Posters. Answer: nope and nope.

What you will find atop the list is a site entitled Vintage Florida Posters – Travel, Beach, Seascapes, Travel Tips and Apartments to Avoid. I started this page back in 2001, when I was merely a toddler, using my free ISP provided web space in order to air a grievance against an unscrupulous landlord who had robbed me of a $500 security deposit. I had hoped to add other apartment complexes to the list as visitors emailed me their horror stories, but those stories never came, so, I decided to take advantage of the significant traffic the page was attracting by offering posters. Obviously, it turned out to be a good idea – I have one of those every once in a while.

Anyway, it gives me a good feeling when folks choose to buy their posters through me rather than by going directly to one of those poster super-sites. It’s sort of like them going down to their local mom & pops store instead of the supermarket when they run out of bread.

Top Ten Posters @ AcesWebWorld.com
1. Alternative Music
2. Hustler
3. Legal Action
4. Game of Fate
5. Florida, Go By Train
6. The Night Café in the Place Lamartine in Arles, c.1888
7. Change for a Dollar
8. House Rules - Billiards
9. Behind the 8 Ball
10. Nude and Still Life, c.1931