Internet Adventures #1

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.

RIP Michael Jackson

Often the object of ridicule, sometimes deservingly, the self-proclaimed King of Pop Michael Jackson died suddenly, yesterday, in LA. I was never a big fan of Michael, but I recognized his talent. I’m sure his family will miss him since for the most part they all rode on his coattails – they shared his name but not his talent. He was their meal ticket. Any recognition that came their way was directly or indirectly because of him. Jackson was the consummate entertainer – he could really put on a show. His passing at such a young age is tragic as was his life.

The Listener - Mental - Medium

It's summer. There's not much to watch on TV as regards dramas. So, I'm trying to like The Listener.

Granted, I've only seen two episodes, but here's my problem. It's hard to think "drama" when the show's main character, Toby Logan played by Craig Olejnik, bears a striking resemblence to Dana Carvey, one of my favorite funnymen. Just to be sure, I ran this notion past my wife, and she too had observed the similarities.

Still, aside from that, I'm liking the show so far. I like what's going on between Toby and his ex-girlfriend Dr. Olivia Fawcett, and Detective Charlene Marks portrayed by ex-model Lisa Marcos. And there's something likeable about his partner/buddy/regular guy Oz Bey.

Admittedly, the EMT thing doesn't thrill me, but, for now, during these stark days of summer TV viewing, I'll put up with it.

While we're talking about shows meant to rival The Mentalist, we should talk about the FOX offering Mental. This show might be of interest to students of Psych 101, but probably not to the rest of us who have learned long ago that psychotic people are not very much fun. Personally, I've had my fill of them.

Then there's Medium starring Patricia Arquette. A favorite of my wife and me, it was dumped by NBC and immediately picked up by CBS for the fall season. Thank God. I thought this last season had some of the best episodes of the entire 5 year run. Reportedly, NBC thought the show was "aging, as we were getting younger." Yeah, sure, as can be verified by the torturous Law and Order trilogy. There's a good reason why NBC is last in the ratings - it's being run by a bunch of idiots. And here I am holding 700 shares of parent company GE. Talk about idiots.

Googling My Story

I’m 62, so, if I’m ever going to write this thing, I’d better get started. That makes sense, doesn’t it? After all…

I’m googling “mental acuity at age 62.” The top result is for an ultra intelligence program guaranteed to boost your mind power “like nothing else.” The second refers me to a patent for an energy-enhancing supplement. The third hawks Ginkgosense, claiming it should be taken by anyone “concerned with mental acuity and vision as they age.” That’s definitely me, but no thanks. The fourth yielded research funded by The Himalaya Drug Co on their product Geriforte which is touted as a comprehensive compound of Rasayana drugs, the major component of which is Chyavanprash. Nothing like a couple hits of that to put your mind back in gear.

Obviously, this search is getting me nowhere. I refined the parameters to “research on mental acuity and aging.” Results: More crap. Is this what Al Gore had in mind when he invented the internet? Result number 4 links to an article about computer games that bring brain fitness to the aging. Well, I already spend too much time on computer games – my current game of choice is Pathwords which I access through facebook – and that habit is one of the many things working against me as I try to complete this. Oh, screw it!

My cat died, recently…

Back to google… anxiety disorders, chronic pains, eating disorders, depression, gastrointestinal distress, asthma, obesity, insomnia, panic attacks, sexual dysfunction, substance abuse, mental health problems, suicidal ideation or behavior, pseudo-neurologic symptoms, antisocial traits, self-injury, abuse their own children – hm, not one word about causing habitual procrastination.

My mother died back in March of 2006. She was 81. I know the paper said 82, but that was a mistake – my mistake. She would have been 82 on May 1st. My father died in August of 1990.

Anyway, I’m pretty sure I have enough marbles left to write this. All I have to do is start, which I already have, and stay at it, which is always the hard part for me.

What compels me, you might wonder. I’ve given that quite a bit of thought over the years. I assure you, it has nothing to do with getting even, or whining, or making excuses… well, maybe a little bit of that. Best I can figure is it’s a normal reaction to the great lengths my parents went to to keep everything secret. I want people to know what went on back then, what I went through, how it affected me. I feel obligated to let them know.

Of course, I wouldn’t want anyone to think I’m a pity glutton.

Let me google that… there are only two references to “pity glutton,” the earliest refers to my short story “The Kid Who Beat Mosconi,” which I wrote several years back. The second is from a blog posted by some other guy dated January 1, 2009. I use the term to describe one who gets off on telling people their personal hard luck story in an effort to elicit sympathy and pity. The pity glutton is so eager to arouse the sympathetic response that he or she will resort to anything, including bending the facts, deviating from them completely, and desperate fabrications.

I’m closely related to more than one pity glutton, but I believe that’s coincidental rather than genetic. Regardless, I would never want to be mistaken for one of them.

So, that’s about it. Once again my efforts to tell my story have been thwarted. I might as well give up on it, at least until next time…

3 Hours Earlier: They Surrendered Their Creativity

I don’t know about you, but nothing turns me off quicker than a plot that starts off, seemingly, at a critical moment, and then recedes to an earlier time with a “3 Hours Earlier” tag on the screen. I’ve run into a few of these in the last couple of weeks. Flashbacks, I guess you’d call them. Overused, is how I see them.

C’mon writers, do some research. If one show on any network has used this ploy during the last 9 seasons, then you should opt to refrain from torturing your faithful audience who, most likely, continue to watch your show despite a myriad of other shortcomings. Give us a break.

A little research revealed that the flashback, a.k.a. analepsis, was employed by writers as long ago as the 8th Century B.C. in the Sanskrit epic Mahabharata.

I also found that more recently, in the 1927 book The Bridge of San Luis Rey, the progenitor of the modern disaster epic in literature and film-making, Thornton Wilder takes the victims of a single disaster and intertwines their stories with events leading up to the disaster by means of flashbacks.

So, enough already. If, as a writer, you find yourself typing anything that even narrowly resembles the dreaded “3 Hours Earlier,” immediately hit control + A, then delete. Thus, you will prove yourself to be a true humanitarian.

The Thrill Is Gone

I’m still a baseball fan… a Yankee fan; but, I’m not anything like the baseball freak I was once upon a time. It’s no wonder I was something of a math whiz when I was a kid, the way I used to pour over the daily box scores and monitor the stats wars. By the time I was 10, I had memorized the Red Book, the encyclopedia of baseball stats and records, cover to cover. And, although my enthusiasm for the game lessened over the years, I remained a dedicated fan.

But, now, in the wake of the steroid/performance-enhancing-drug scandal, I find my interest in ye olde national pastime has fallen to new depths. The endless revelations regarding McGwire, Sosa, Palmeiro, Clemens, Bonds, A-Rod, Giambi, Ramirez, not to mention scores of fringe players, have made me an unabashed skeptic, distrusting the performances of all players.

Now, if someone’s knocking the snot out of the ball, I know they’re on the juice. It’s obvious. Contrarily, if they are mired in a slump, like Big Papi has been thus far in the 2009 season, I automatically think that their prior success was the result of steroid use and that, now, they are off the juice. That’s just the way it is.

While I was watching a game the other day, the players suddenly appeared to me stripped of all magic, lure, and charisma. There was nothing special about them at all – they were just a bunch of pitiful old men getting paid big bucks for playing a little kids’ game.

Will baseball ever recover from this mess?

Will I?

Trump’s Kind of Girl

Maybe it’s just me, but I couldn’t help noticing a resemblance between Miss USA Runner-up and Miss California Carrie Prejean and former Mrs. Trump Marla Maples. It’s no wonder Miss Prejean has The Donald’s full support following the revelation that she had posed for topless photos when she was a teenager.

"We've reviewed the pictures carefully," he claimed, probably while he was fondling himself. "We've made a determination that the pictures taken were acceptable. Some were risque, but we are in the 21st century."

It’s been more than four years since his marriage to Melania. It’s about time to trade her in for a new model… pardon the pun.