Andy Kaufman lived 35 years. He has been dead nearly that long. Yet...Andy's legacy lives on. As is the case with most entertainers, performances transcend time. Andy's is a different case: there are people who think he didn't die at all. It would be something he would do, wouldn't he?
For the first 10 years of his death, this statement was said, almost wistfully; a roundabout remembrance of a talent gone too soon. It culminated in an NBC special about Andy, and then it ended....until 1999. '99 was Kaufman's best year since, oh, 1981. A movie (which, sadly, was not successful) and two books shared the life and inside tales of the man. It was at a sneak preview screening of Man on the Moon that I noticed the narrative had changed. Bob Zmuda was in attendance and took questions from the audience. Someone asked "So, is Andy still alive?" The audience laughed, and Bob said something along the lines of "you never know," and further stoked the fire.
Maybe this was just to help promote the movie, I don't know. But weird for him to say...
And in this internet age, the rumor, however inane, continues to resurface like a mushroom. Andy is still alive! Andy is going to come back 20 years after his death! No, 25! Wait, I meant 30 years! Hey, that gave Zmuda another chance to remember his friend and make a few bucks.
Did I say make a few bucks? No...this is about legacy. A legacy that could be simply maintained with a website of clips and writings, shared anecdotes...or, in this case, a book of such items. Of course, such a book was already published in 1999, so 15 years later, let's do it again. Maybe Bob made up more stuff - joke's on us! I bet Andy would have loved that. Hey, I bet you and Andy would have even DONE a joke like that!
In the book, Zmuda states that this was written not for attention or personal gain, which is the kind of thing you'd hear from a Beatles tribute band in a casino or any other celebrity impersonator. Having not spoken in private to Zmuda, I don't know if his love of Kaufman has reached Robby Krieger levels...I met him at a bar once where, dressed as Tony Clifton, he entertained us all.
In a recent interview with the Washington Post, Zmuda states "He said to keep a lid on it for 30 years. It's 30 years now...What I'm doing is sending a telegram to Andy: it's time to come in from the cold."
(Telegram?! I'm dying)
The same article quotes Andy's brother, Michael, who wonders why people continue such "conspiracy theories" about his sibling. "They might be attention-hungry, or more likely in need of money. Who knows?"
We know. In Andy's day, we (the audience) were sometimes the last to know, but we all know now. We've known for a while. And we're being told the same joke once again.
Tuesday, December 02, 2014
Wednesday, November 05, 2014
Fear on Saturday Night Live: Hazy Memories
As with any holiday, traditions come to mind. For Halloween, beyond The Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown and various horror movies, I watch the Halloween '81 episode of Saturday Night Live. You know, the one hosted by Donald Pleasence. Oh, you don't remember that episode? Maybe you remember the musical guest: Fear.
Here and there you can find clips of this show, particularly of their second performance. But what interests me most is the differing tales of what happened that night. 30+ years is a long time, and yet the memories seem to change. You forget something, roughly 50% comes back to you, and then that's the reality. My sister thinks one 4th of July there was a fire in the yard. In truth, a fallen bottle rocket set off a fire no larger than the rocket itself, and I put it out quickly (and with minimal dramatics) with a garden hose. But ask her about it now, and you'd think the house was in danger. There - do you grasp the concept?
Let's compare people's memories: a video interview with John Joseph of the Cro-Mags (who still looks and talks like a longshoreman), and multiple descriptions of the day's events by Ian MacKaye (One even came from NPR...one of the 20 shows they have where people just talk in front of an audience with acoustic guitar and mandolin music). Both were there that night. I'll also include information from the 1985 book Saturday Night by Doug Hill and Jeff Weingrad, and the book Mr. Mike by Dennis Perrin. For magazines, let's go even further back: a November 1981 Billboard Magazine, and a New York Magazine article from November of 1981 as well, written by Roger Director.
Why the punks were invited to "slam dance"
Mr. Mike: Not only did O’Donoghue want Fear, he wanted to project the chaos of a punk club into America’s living rooms, and to this end he and Belushi brought in some forty skinheads from Washington DC to slam dance and stage dive while the band performed.
Saturday Night: Belushi and O’Donoghue had arranged for thirty-five or so of Fear’s rowdy fans to take a bus up from Washington so they could slam dance in 8H as the band played.
John Joseph: "I bump into Ian MacKaye and he's like 'Yo! Fear is playing on Saturday Night Live tonight. You know, show up at Rockefeller Center at this time. Everybody's gonna get in!'"
Ian MacKaye: "I got a call around 10 in the morning...and a voice said 'Lorne Michaels office, please hold.' And I had no idea what that meant."
Now, the reason I wrote the example above was for this very quote. In print recollections as well, Ian drops Michaels' name. Lorne's produced, what, 88% of all SNL episodes? But he wasn't there for this episode, and I kind of think Ian forgot and just assigned Lorne's name to it. In fact, it was that incorrect first fact that lead me to wonder what else might be wrong. (This is unfortunate, I know, Shit, I was just a kid when this was on the air, but if you don't remember something, no one will fault you for saying you don't know)
The dress rehearsal
Why have the punks also slam for the dress rehearsal? You can think of reasons why and why not to, but...
Ian MacKaye: "We were talking and I said 'Listen. Don't blow it. Because, if we blow it, we won't be on the live show." So we're dancing, and we're trying to keep it cool, but someone knocked into a camera and it fell over. It was an accident. So we're led back into the Green Room and they said 'You have just caused $100,000 worth of damage.' So they locked us in the Green Room."
John Joseph: "There was a piano in there, we pulled all the strings out. We were fucking...we get out, slam dancing in the room. Went out in the hallway, broke the sinks. Fucked the whole place up."
Saturday Night: During dress rehearsal, some of the slam dancers got carried away, cursing and tumbling off the set, banging into one cameraman and nearly colliding with some of the others. The song was stopped in the middle to cool them down. When dress ended, members of the technical crew complained vehemently to Davey Wilson, and Wilson told Dick that the crew was threatening to walk off the show unless the slam dancers were dropped. Dick told him the dancers would go on, but he went up to see them in the Green Room to lay down some rules. O’Donoghue went with him, but only to watch. Dick didn't mention it, but for the air show, during Fear’s song, he took the precaution of turning off all the mikes in the studio except the singer’s.
As arranged during the dress rehearsal, Fear plays their first song, "I Don't Care About You" without the punks.
Each time I view this episode, I get a sense of anticipation. I can only imagine some of those involved dreading this segment, but there was no going back.
Here and there you can find clips of this show, particularly of their second performance. But what interests me most is the differing tales of what happened that night. 30+ years is a long time, and yet the memories seem to change. You forget something, roughly 50% comes back to you, and then that's the reality. My sister thinks one 4th of July there was a fire in the yard. In truth, a fallen bottle rocket set off a fire no larger than the rocket itself, and I put it out quickly (and with minimal dramatics) with a garden hose. But ask her about it now, and you'd think the house was in danger. There - do you grasp the concept?
Let's compare people's memories: a video interview with John Joseph of the Cro-Mags (who still looks and talks like a longshoreman), and multiple descriptions of the day's events by Ian MacKaye (One even came from NPR...one of the 20 shows they have where people just talk in front of an audience with acoustic guitar and mandolin music). Both were there that night. I'll also include information from the 1985 book Saturday Night by Doug Hill and Jeff Weingrad, and the book Mr. Mike by Dennis Perrin. For magazines, let's go even further back: a November 1981 Billboard Magazine, and a New York Magazine article from November of 1981 as well, written by Roger Director.
Why the punks were invited to "slam dance"
Mr. Mike: Not only did O’Donoghue want Fear, he wanted to project the chaos of a punk club into America’s living rooms, and to this end he and Belushi brought in some forty skinheads from Washington DC to slam dance and stage dive while the band performed.
Saturday Night: Belushi and O’Donoghue had arranged for thirty-five or so of Fear’s rowdy fans to take a bus up from Washington so they could slam dance in 8H as the band played.
John Joseph: "I bump into Ian MacKaye and he's like 'Yo! Fear is playing on Saturday Night Live tonight. You know, show up at Rockefeller Center at this time. Everybody's gonna get in!'"
Ian MacKaye: "I got a call around 10 in the morning...and a voice said 'Lorne Michaels office, please hold.' And I had no idea what that meant."
Now, the reason I wrote the example above was for this very quote. In print recollections as well, Ian drops Michaels' name. Lorne's produced, what, 88% of all SNL episodes? But he wasn't there for this episode, and I kind of think Ian forgot and just assigned Lorne's name to it. In fact, it was that incorrect first fact that lead me to wonder what else might be wrong. (This is unfortunate, I know, Shit, I was just a kid when this was on the air, but if you don't remember something, no one will fault you for saying you don't know)
The dress rehearsal
Why have the punks also slam for the dress rehearsal? You can think of reasons why and why not to, but...
Ian MacKaye: "We were talking and I said 'Listen. Don't blow it. Because, if we blow it, we won't be on the live show." So we're dancing, and we're trying to keep it cool, but someone knocked into a camera and it fell over. It was an accident. So we're led back into the Green Room and they said 'You have just caused $100,000 worth of damage.' So they locked us in the Green Room."
John Joseph: "There was a piano in there, we pulled all the strings out. We were fucking...we get out, slam dancing in the room. Went out in the hallway, broke the sinks. Fucked the whole place up."
Saturday Night: During dress rehearsal, some of the slam dancers got carried away, cursing and tumbling off the set, banging into one cameraman and nearly colliding with some of the others. The song was stopped in the middle to cool them down. When dress ended, members of the technical crew complained vehemently to Davey Wilson, and Wilson told Dick that the crew was threatening to walk off the show unless the slam dancers were dropped. Dick told him the dancers would go on, but he went up to see them in the Green Room to lay down some rules. O’Donoghue went with him, but only to watch. Dick didn't mention it, but for the air show, during Fear’s song, he took the precaution of turning off all the mikes in the studio except the singer’s.
Ian also states that "they" said the punks would NOT go on, but then Belushi said HE wouldn't make his cameo in the show. Either way, it's on.
Each time I view this episode, I get a sense of anticipation. I can only imagine some of those involved dreading this segment, but there was no going back.
"Hotel accommodations for most guests of Saturday Night were furnished by Berkshire Place." I truly hope Fear was put at this hotel and not somewhere else. They deserve it. I envision Lee walking up to that couple and asking if he can join them for dinner.
Showtime for the punks
Ian MacKaye: "Actually, there were fights breaking out between audience members and the kids."
John Joseph: "Even before the band played, people are just fucking, you know, slamming into each other."
(Donald, doing his best to introduce Fear and warn the audience)
John Joseph: "You know, Fear comes on and it was like BOOM!"
(Fear begins "Beef Baloney")
John Joseph: "John Belushi's going nuts."
There is conflicting evidence on whether Belushi DID dance or decided at the last minute not to. You'd think a camera would be trying to find him if he was in the crowd.
(Punks enjoying "New York's Alright if You Like Saxophones")
Saturday Night: (Dick) heard somebody yell “New York sucks!” and saw one of
the dancers heading toward the singer’s microphone. Frantically, Dick got up and ran as fast as
he could into the control room and shouted at Dave Wilson “Fade to black!”
Ian MacKaye: "You'll hear one moment, where the microphone stand falls into the crowd, you'll hear, very clearly someone shout 'NEW YORK SUCKS!' And that voice belongs to me."
John Joseph: "Ian MacKaye grabs the mic and he's like 'Fuck New York! New York sucks!' On Saturday Night Live! And Lee Ving's immediately like 'Ah, he doesn't really mean that.'"
Lee's actual quote was "He's just kidding. We want to make friends."
Lee then introduces "Let's Have a War" with "For anyone who voted...this is for Republicans and Democrats alike. 1-2-3-4 1-2-3-4!"
The giant pumpkin, part of that night's set, is being led onto the stage the very moment the screen cuts to a pre-taped segment from the season premiere. Fear's segment ends, and everyone's memories clash:
Saturday Night: When the slam dancers, supposedly berserk, saw the stage
lights go out and realized they were no longer on-air, they immediately stopped
dancing and peacefully walked off set.
Mr. Mike: In the studio, Fear ceased playing and the skinheads walked
off the set.
Ian MacKaye: "As we were lead off the set, Eddie Murphy said "FUCK YOU!" We were then locked into a producer's room, where we were making phone calls. It seems like a thing to do."
John Joseph: "Security realized this ain't their dancing, these motherfuckers are fighting, they came out to the dance floor to, like, get us out of the studio. But we was like 'Yo.' People were, like, slamming them to the ground. The head of Security gets on the mic and is like 'Everyone has to get out of here! That's it! The show's over! We want you guys outta here! So my friend picks up a pumpkin, cause it's Halloween, and he just fucking launches the pumpkin, smacks the fuckin' guy right in the head, the guy fuckin' falls on the ground, and the next thing, that's when the shit hit the fuckin' fan."
Was Ian up in the office at that point? Why didn't this anecdote make the books? Hard to say, huh?
The Aftermath
John Joseph: "Finally, the NYPD shows up, with billy clubs, fuckin' like, fucking...people up and we're like 'Oh shit!"
Ian MacKaye: "After being told that chargers were going to be pressed, we were then let go. I had to pay for parking, which was expensive. But no charges were pressed."
If this truly was O'Donoghue's and Belushi's idea, the charges would have involved THEM, and NBC likely wouldn't want that out in the open. Speaking of, it didn't take long for the beacon of journalism that is the New York Post to report on its findings.
New York Post's "inside" story
Saturday Night: A few days later, (Dick) was further incensed when the New
York Post reported, completely inaccurately, that there had been a riot in the
studio causing $200,000 worth of damage.
In truth, a plastic camera-case lock worth something like $40 had been
broken.
Mr. Mike: “inside” sources spoke of “a riot, mindless,
out-of-control destruction of property.”
“This was a life-threatening situation.
They went crazy. It’s amazing
that no one was killed.”
John Joseph: "The next day, the New York Post, it says 'Riot on the set of Saturday Night Live causes, like, a quarter of a million dollars worth of damage"
The book Live from New York - Ebersol: Anyway, the total damage that was done in the
studio was about $2,500.
Ian MacKaye: "The $100,000 camera was just a $20 piece of plastic."
Billboard Magazine: "As far as we can tell, there has been no $200,000 worth of damages. We had to pay $40 worth of labor penalties. That was the extent of it." - SNL spokesman Peter Hamilton
Billboard Magazine: "In point of fact, nobody was hurt and nothing was smashed." - Lee Ving, who, according to Billboard, was "unaware of any controversy until the Post story was read to him."
New York Magazine: "I’m really not mad at the band. I’m mad at those kids that were slamming." - Ebersol.
(The actual headline from the Post: "Fear Riot Leave Saturday Night Glad to be Alive.")
Final Thought
John Joseph: [C]ause we was just kicking camera over, screens, anything that looked like it costs money...Bam! Next!"
Well, in the words of Robert Evans, there are three sides to every story: Your side, my side, and the truth. And no one is lying. Memories shared serve each differently.
Thursday, October 30, 2014
The Waiting Game
It seems another day in Goldland: talking deals, with statuses and plans laid before everyone. The waitress was appeased with a polite smile and large tip, so I had all the time in the world to continue my focus. Industry speak only lasted so long because this time of year, this kind of place, you get to what you desire: the action.
The man across from me knew my lingo, and perhaps even more so. Conference TV contracts, polls, the lines. "That time in Laughlin, after I cashed in from the Belmont, I said what the hell, drove up there..." You'd be hard pressed to even get a glance from 99% of the bevy of beauties or oh-so-serious shades-wearing crowd with that kind of talk. But here I am, delicious meal and drink in front of me, nodding, taking it all.
Pleasantries abound, quick eye contact made around me (the kind where neither acknowledge it) and back to the subject. The World Series is over (its result continued junk shots to Dodger fans) so there is simply one mission. I've soon realized it isn't even so much about all deals happening, a victorious parlay, or even a push. It's about the deal itself. Ask anyone what's more fun: having gold or the day you find it, and the answer is as plain as the brown shades on your face.
Done there, we wander up Camden. I had little time to discuss "work" as it is, but there's always time for action. I returned to find that my surroundings were still stuck on discount costumes and planning events that, a week later, they likely won't recall. Well, carry on. I'll continue the hunt.
"I got the job done. Kind of." You know by the description alone there's a story. Go for it...
The man across from me knew my lingo, and perhaps even more so. Conference TV contracts, polls, the lines. "That time in Laughlin, after I cashed in from the Belmont, I said what the hell, drove up there..." You'd be hard pressed to even get a glance from 99% of the bevy of beauties or oh-so-serious shades-wearing crowd with that kind of talk. But here I am, delicious meal and drink in front of me, nodding, taking it all.
Pleasantries abound, quick eye contact made around me (the kind where neither acknowledge it) and back to the subject. The World Series is over (its result continued junk shots to Dodger fans) so there is simply one mission. I've soon realized it isn't even so much about all deals happening, a victorious parlay, or even a push. It's about the deal itself. Ask anyone what's more fun: having gold or the day you find it, and the answer is as plain as the brown shades on your face.
Done there, we wander up Camden. I had little time to discuss "work" as it is, but there's always time for action. I returned to find that my surroundings were still stuck on discount costumes and planning events that, a week later, they likely won't recall. Well, carry on. I'll continue the hunt.
"I got the job done. Kind of." You know by the description alone there's a story. Go for it...
Monday, September 29, 2014
A great moment for the future while stuck in neutral
Sitting in this monitoring cell, the sun begins to blind while those outside squawk their jolly thoughts. Deal making in progress, however, which reminds me...
The Kansas City Royals deserve your respect
It was all but set coming into this weekend: Kansas City was in there for the first time in nearly 30 years. If not, it would be Seattle, for the first time in 13 years. Instead, we are given the encore of a season's-worth of Jeter tributes, nearly all written by old, overfed oafs. Fox did the same for their afternoon game, a Yankees-Red Sox match-up that was last relevant in May. The Red Sox also gave him a "tribute" inasmuch a reminder to its fan base to allow it - we just won the title last year, so temper your alcohol intake, please? Even for an hour?
Beast or Burden
I'm old now, you know, so perspective creeps in when a "new season" begins on the tube. The viewing experience is so different these days, and yet we still see the same concept. This is because of money, sums greater than many may ever know. The other side of the scale is time, which is tight. My reaction is quicker now: going for the gut. "I like the set, but that writing..." Hey, I made it to the first commercial break. Sometimes, even more. Why eat a meal you don't want? I don't have to look far in any direction to find a junkie.
I've got it bad, and I've got it good
It was a fine, even entertaining Saturday of college football, but the more research I have since completed, the more I see a slew of even larger games comin' at ya next weekend. That's all well and good, but when the forecast for next Saturday is a Santa Ana Son of a 93??!! Look, I appreciate these random hot breaths from Mama Earth every now and then, but this is supposed to be a day of successful relaxation. Cooperation is the word; isn't that all we ask for in life? From the weekend weirdos that populate Beverly Drive, the hi-fi in the background, hell, even the parlays...we're keeping up our end of the deal.
Looks like the mug could use a refill. Back to it.
Wednesday, August 27, 2014
There's plenty to do here!
Hold still...let me take the picture.
All right. Should we try the Golden Gate? Maybe they have some pinball games you can play. Dad just wants to spend a little time on the black jack tables.
Sure, we can get some food. Whatever you'd like. How about a shrimp cocktail at-- I know you had one yesterday. Hey, how about a nice prime rib! That's even better...I think we can get a hamburger. OK, let's go for hamburgers.
You know, a hamburger does sound good. Maybe they have some in the Golden Nugget. Let's take a look inside. Follow me. Yeah, there's...I know where the restaurant is, I'm just going to ask this cocktail waitress. Excuse me, are you still doing the black jack tourna-- OK, I know! Sorry, you are? Great.
Two please. Thank you. Non smoking if you have it. Oh, she said you can't bring in the soda. Don't worry, I'll get you another. Thanks, I'll...oh, you don't have that. Is 7UP OK? Yeah, 7UP and I'll have...do you have Busch? I'll take a Busch.
Do you have to look so bored? What? Nothing to do here? We just have to find it. They have to have stuff for kids. Otherwise, why-
Thank you. Yeah, he'll have a hamburger and fries. I'll have...do you still have the special for the T-Bone steak and eggs? Oh, for lunch, sure, medium-rare...yeah, baked potato is fine. Uh...Thousand Island. Thank you.
I tell you what. After lunch, we'll call information and see which casino has pinball. I'll give you a roll of quarters. But you have to promise me...Donny...promise me that you won't play the slots. If they catch you, they toss you out and they don't tell me. We don't need a repeat of what happened at Vegas World yesterday, right?
Yeah, I understand, but if you didn't like the show at Circus Circus, it makes no sense to go back there. It isn't going to be any better. The Hacienda has some? That's great, thank you, ma'am. We'll try there after lunch for some pinball.
Hey...how about that? Looks good! Excellent, thank you. If you have A-1, sure. And, could I get a cup of decaffeinated coffee? Sanka's fine. Thank you.
I'm hungry, I bet you are, too. Mmmm. Here we go. Does your hamburger taste good? We'll get our strength up and then we'll go to the Hacienda. Nothing to do here? Come on - look around!
All right. Should we try the Golden Gate? Maybe they have some pinball games you can play. Dad just wants to spend a little time on the black jack tables.
Sure, we can get some food. Whatever you'd like. How about a shrimp cocktail at-- I know you had one yesterday. Hey, how about a nice prime rib! That's even better...I think we can get a hamburger. OK, let's go for hamburgers.
You know, a hamburger does sound good. Maybe they have some in the Golden Nugget. Let's take a look inside. Follow me. Yeah, there's...I know where the restaurant is, I'm just going to ask this cocktail waitress. Excuse me, are you still doing the black jack tourna-- OK, I know! Sorry, you are? Great.
Two please. Thank you. Non smoking if you have it. Oh, she said you can't bring in the soda. Don't worry, I'll get you another. Thanks, I'll...oh, you don't have that. Is 7UP OK? Yeah, 7UP and I'll have...do you have Busch? I'll take a Busch.
Do you have to look so bored? What? Nothing to do here? We just have to find it. They have to have stuff for kids. Otherwise, why-
Thank you. Yeah, he'll have a hamburger and fries. I'll have...do you still have the special for the T-Bone steak and eggs? Oh, for lunch, sure, medium-rare...yeah, baked potato is fine. Uh...Thousand Island. Thank you.
I tell you what. After lunch, we'll call information and see which casino has pinball. I'll give you a roll of quarters. But you have to promise me...Donny...promise me that you won't play the slots. If they catch you, they toss you out and they don't tell me. We don't need a repeat of what happened at Vegas World yesterday, right?
Yeah, I understand, but if you didn't like the show at Circus Circus, it makes no sense to go back there. It isn't going to be any better. The Hacienda has some? That's great, thank you, ma'am. We'll try there after lunch for some pinball.
Hey...how about that? Looks good! Excellent, thank you. If you have A-1, sure. And, could I get a cup of decaffeinated coffee? Sanka's fine. Thank you.
I'm hungry, I bet you are, too. Mmmm. Here we go. Does your hamburger taste good? We'll get our strength up and then we'll go to the Hacienda. Nothing to do here? Come on - look around!
Thursday, July 31, 2014
This time, for real?
(The 1979 Los Angeles Rams, Pacific Gold's official team)
Though it's been 20 years since Dealville had an NFL team, we've heard bullshit from other teams over the years ever since. First it was the Seahawks, then the Colts, then the Jaguars, and most recently the Vikings (even on this blog, no less). Each time, the city was used as bait for stadium negotiations, forcing the public to turn their head and cough up the bucks to ensure "their" team stayed in town. Some less than others, but the conclusion was the same: no NFL team. Those of us living here simply moved on, while so many transplants meet at designated bars to root for their old hometown's team. (Fan-dom never leaves, but the town's residents? Goodbye.)
I think I can speak for the majority of the sports fans in this town saying that receiving any of the aforementioned teams would have been a perk...a nice addition...but it wouldn't mean much. Just another way-station until the team's owner is dissatisfied with the "stadium situation" and they leave. The Raiders? No one here wants all the baggage that comes with the team: their fans, their level of success the last 20 years being a very LA reason, but it's mainly because of LA's other team...the first who really left in 1980...
Look, I won't lie. My arrival out here in Dealville was a constant quest for LA Rams gear: hats, glasses, you name it. Everyone I asked (NFL fans) never seemed to mind the loss of the Raiders. But the Rams...it was as if they lost a love and it moved to Orange County (can't blame them for not following them) and then it's gone.
But then Rams owner (and Burt Reynolds imposter) Stan Kroenke buys land on the Hollywood Park site. (Name ready, too) Each passing month hasn't seen an end to this trend: a return of the Rams. This week, Inglewood's Mayor Butts went on KJLH (which is, I've been told, is a radio station in town), and said what he could tell the public. "We are working diligently to make this happen." He said the official world likely wouldn't be until the 2015 owners meeting, but we all know this gets done...spending all of this season handing out envelopes to all other owners.
This post just might be a historical document of pre-LA Ram insanity...or just plain insanity. Nothing new around here.
Friday, June 20, 2014
Hail to the...uh...
With the removal of the Washington Redskins trademark this week, sports fans are hearing and reading a lot of hot sports takes on the issue. Players say it should be changed, players and oafish members of the media say it shouldn't, former players mock the whole idea. But what I haven't heard that much about in the din of opinions is that of the fans of the team. Fans buy the merchandise, follow the team, likely say the name more than anyone else in public. Are any giving up their fandom? Sticking with the team?
Well...I'm a fan of the team. They won Super Bowl XVII (lord, I'm old) and I said they're my new favorite team. Had Miami won, well, Go Dolphins. But I was a kid and that's what I said. Unknowingly, I had integrity: I WAS a Redskins fan, and have been ever since. Simple as that. It helped that my parents followed different teams, and I could never get interested in the bumbling franchise in the dome.
So, when you're a kid, you get a lot of merchandise as a gift. A Redskin maroon satin jacket. (Hello 80's!) Redskin caps, jerseys, knock-off T shirts (which we'll see again, it seems), trash cans. If they had it, I was for it. Then one year I got this as a gift:
This was the NFL's idea to market to kids...maybe even those not interested in football. Each team's doll is literal: the New York Jets is a cartoon plane wearing a helmet. So, they went all-in and in my childlike mind, I liked it as I did the rest. He's smiling because yay, football! He's not "stoic" like the guy on the helmet, which I took to be the guy in the anti-pollution ad (who, I found out later, was actually Italian...but that's showbiz).
Move forward a year or two, and in Social Studies class a flighty substitute teacher talked to us about how cultural norms change through time. "Stanford used to be called the Indians! All these things say Indians at the school. What happens to that stuff?" Being a sports nut, I offer that it becomes a new word I'd learned but can't spell, "memorabilia." "YES! It's all the past." It makes me wonder if the Redskins would be changed...but considering I only read the Sports and Cartoons sections of the newspaper, I had no idea if this was actually being discussed.
A successful decade for the team culminated in Super Bowl XXVI at the old Dump Dome. Through wheeling and dealing, I'd be attending the game. My clothing of choice was a simple Redskins sweatshirt with a supposed old team photo. The logo on the shirt was the size of a quarter, and I feared I should make a bigger deal...even if I was in the end zone, upper deck. For every band-wagon fan there, you'd see an old guy in the full-on Native American gear. What also tempered my outfits were the known facts of a planned protest by Native Americans in front of the stadium. And believe me, you couldn't miss it entering the dome.
Game day, my father and I deftly tried to pass the group and walk up the concourse. Soon, I was accosted by a young protester, Native American, and larger than me. All that was showing was my cap, but that was enough. "Hey!" I'm grabbed by the jacket. "Redskins are gonna lose." Before I can respond, my father (not a sensitive man in nearly any way) grabs me and yells "Go play some bingo." A fight is avoided due to the sheer amount of people getting into the stadium but the whole event (the accosting and my dad's response) stayed with me for weeks. I'm just a fan...am I doing something wrong? What should I do differently? My next hat purchase was a 60's styled R with two arrows at the bottom. I still wear it and like the look, but no one knows what team it is. And yes, I guess it means my dad is a jackass in nearly any situation.
The following season, Washington played at Kansas City, and the anticipated protest arrived in full force. After that season, however, you didn't hear about this issue or see as many protests. This was aided by the fact, I think, that the team turned to absolute dogshit when Joe Gibbs retired. They aren't good, they aren't on TV, and it's put to the back burner of cultural issues.
20 years later, it ramped up again, louder than ever. Why the quiet and then the ramp-up? I'll never know. The trademark removal this week isn't the tipping point, because if you're expecting either Redskins owner Dan Snyder or NFL Kommissar Roger Goddell to "make the right decision" about anything you're out of your mind.
So do I think the name should be changed?
Sure. Change it back then, change it now, change it five years from now. My question back is: We're not going to have a STUPID name going forward, are we?
The Washington Federals. What the fuck? No! We tried that once already...
The Washington Americans. Well...all NFL teams are American.
Do you see what I'm getting at here? There would be a new problem, on a much smaller scale, of course...but a problem. If the new name was awful, people would STILL WEAR REDSKINS STUFF...maybe even call them that forever. Can't you see some middle-aged guy? "Well, I grew up in Wheaton and I've always called them the Redskins. I'm not changing."
My suggestion: the Washington Razorbacks.
Well...I'm a fan of the team. They won Super Bowl XVII (lord, I'm old) and I said they're my new favorite team. Had Miami won, well, Go Dolphins. But I was a kid and that's what I said. Unknowingly, I had integrity: I WAS a Redskins fan, and have been ever since. Simple as that. It helped that my parents followed different teams, and I could never get interested in the bumbling franchise in the dome.
So, when you're a kid, you get a lot of merchandise as a gift. A Redskin maroon satin jacket. (Hello 80's!) Redskin caps, jerseys, knock-off T shirts (which we'll see again, it seems), trash cans. If they had it, I was for it. Then one year I got this as a gift:
This was the NFL's idea to market to kids...maybe even those not interested in football. Each team's doll is literal: the New York Jets is a cartoon plane wearing a helmet. So, they went all-in and in my childlike mind, I liked it as I did the rest. He's smiling because yay, football! He's not "stoic" like the guy on the helmet, which I took to be the guy in the anti-pollution ad (who, I found out later, was actually Italian...but that's showbiz).
Move forward a year or two, and in Social Studies class a flighty substitute teacher talked to us about how cultural norms change through time. "Stanford used to be called the Indians! All these things say Indians at the school. What happens to that stuff?" Being a sports nut, I offer that it becomes a new word I'd learned but can't spell, "memorabilia." "YES! It's all the past." It makes me wonder if the Redskins would be changed...but considering I only read the Sports and Cartoons sections of the newspaper, I had no idea if this was actually being discussed.
A successful decade for the team culminated in Super Bowl XXVI at the old Dump Dome. Through wheeling and dealing, I'd be attending the game. My clothing of choice was a simple Redskins sweatshirt with a supposed old team photo. The logo on the shirt was the size of a quarter, and I feared I should make a bigger deal...even if I was in the end zone, upper deck. For every band-wagon fan there, you'd see an old guy in the full-on Native American gear. What also tempered my outfits were the known facts of a planned protest by Native Americans in front of the stadium. And believe me, you couldn't miss it entering the dome.
Game day, my father and I deftly tried to pass the group and walk up the concourse. Soon, I was accosted by a young protester, Native American, and larger than me. All that was showing was my cap, but that was enough. "Hey!" I'm grabbed by the jacket. "Redskins are gonna lose." Before I can respond, my father (not a sensitive man in nearly any way) grabs me and yells "Go play some bingo." A fight is avoided due to the sheer amount of people getting into the stadium but the whole event (the accosting and my dad's response) stayed with me for weeks. I'm just a fan...am I doing something wrong? What should I do differently? My next hat purchase was a 60's styled R with two arrows at the bottom. I still wear it and like the look, but no one knows what team it is. And yes, I guess it means my dad is a jackass in nearly any situation.
The following season, Washington played at Kansas City, and the anticipated protest arrived in full force. After that season, however, you didn't hear about this issue or see as many protests. This was aided by the fact, I think, that the team turned to absolute dogshit when Joe Gibbs retired. They aren't good, they aren't on TV, and it's put to the back burner of cultural issues.
20 years later, it ramped up again, louder than ever. Why the quiet and then the ramp-up? I'll never know. The trademark removal this week isn't the tipping point, because if you're expecting either Redskins owner Dan Snyder or NFL Kommissar Roger Goddell to "make the right decision" about anything you're out of your mind.
So do I think the name should be changed?
Sure. Change it back then, change it now, change it five years from now. My question back is: We're not going to have a STUPID name going forward, are we?
The Washington Federals. What the fuck? No! We tried that once already...
The Washington Americans. Well...all NFL teams are American.
Do you see what I'm getting at here? There would be a new problem, on a much smaller scale, of course...but a problem. If the new name was awful, people would STILL WEAR REDSKINS STUFF...maybe even call them that forever. Can't you see some middle-aged guy? "Well, I grew up in Wheaton and I've always called them the Redskins. I'm not changing."
My suggestion: the Washington Razorbacks.
- Same team initials.
- You can even keep the "R" helmets from the 70s (though the feathers would be debated).
- The offensive line is still referred to as the Hogs, another tie-in.
- The name is nearly as long as the current name.
The Washington Razorbacks. Love them Hogs. Go Hogs!
There...everyone happy? What - Arkansas fans are pissed off? Eh...
Tuesday, June 10, 2014
"I think we're on the right spot"
(Editor's Note: while looking through a box of paperback books at a yard sale in Los Angeles, Trip Darvez found what appeared to be the diary of a teenage girl. "How much are the books?" he asked, before finding out for just a quarter, he could share this diary with the Pacific Gold audience. As a matter of disclosure, he also bought a copy of The Deep by Peter Benchley.
"This isn't an attempt to invade anyone's privacy; I couldn't find anyone's full name. It's also written on what appears to be the family moving to California. The first part I can make out is from Iowa. All grammar has been reprinted intact.")
6/13/77
I think we're in the middle of the USA right now. This part of the drive has been boring. I hope the whole ride isn't like this. I wonder if we have to stop somewhere but we can't because there's nowhere to go. Dad is at least letting us move around the radio a bit. I missed the end of Shawn Cassidy's song which he knows I LOVE! Mike said he had to hear the scores of something but it wasn't even the right game or whatever.
I wonder what you do around here in Demoin. (Des Moines -ed.) I don't know if we're in it. Dad let me sing along to You Make Me Believe in Magic. At least I have the back seat to myself. That's what Mom keeps saying. I thought we were on Highway 80 but it's really 35. I don't know how you figure this out. Oh well, we have a ways to go before Kansas City. I don't want to drive after dinner but it's staying light out for a long time.
6/14/77
We're in Kansas City and relaxing a bit today. It's really nice outside. Last night I think we were all kind of tired. I was but I couldn't fall asleep. I had my little earphone in and Mom didn't notice. We ended up driving around a bit just looking for a restaurant that looked good and now it's kind of hard to tell if we're going the right way.
Okay now I'm writing later but we are lost. I don't want to say anything but mom and dad keep fighting back and forth. The only other map isn't of where we are I guess. We went over to ask someone at a gas station and he was so stupid. "Where you off to?" Dad kept saying California and the number of the road but then Mom said "Henry, don't tell a stranger that stuff" I want to just hide and die.
It's now later and I think we're on the right spot. We had dinner in Topeka, they were nice, and I thought we'd stay there at a Howard Johnsons but dad wanted to drive more. He is unexplainable!
We're in Junction City. I think we all want to just sleep. I'm tired and if it's like this the rest of the move I'll be tired then, too.
6/15/77
Just went to Silina (Salina, -ed.) This radio station we have on is good. Even Mike and I are singing the same song. We can tell Dad doesn't like it! Har har har.
It's now in the afternoon and we'll get into Colorado. I hope we see the Rocky Mountains. The drive so far has been so boring. I thought we'd stop but we haven't since some random town from the highway and all there was is a gas station. Dad got me a Reese's Peanut butter cup. I think he's in a better mood now because we're just driving a lot.
OK we're way later than we thought. I think he thought we'd make it earlier. We wanted to see Pueblo but it's taking longer because of the farm roads. I woner who lives in these places. It's getting dark but it said Pueblo is close. I bet we'll eat and then sleep. I hope we get to see the mountains tomorrow. Good night!
6/16/77
It's supposed to rain and be muggy! So instead of going west we're going up to Denver! Then we'll go through I guess. Puebo and Colorado Springs were fine.
We're in Denver and I think we're going to be here for the rest of the day! Mom kept saying that Dad needs a break and we all do I think. We're looking for a hotel that's not too expensive but then we can go around and stuff. It's pretty here!
Well it's warm but it's raining and it's hard to get around here. I think we will go see a movie or something. Maybe we can see Star Wars again. I have to leave this in our room.
Okay now it's nighttime and we did see Star Wars again. I like it. The radio is playing that song from Fleetwood Mac and I'm starting to have that as my new favorite song. So the TV says the storm is bad through where we were gonna go so we're going to go north a bit. I swear Dad better make sure he knows where he's going.
There is a midnight movie The Rolling Stones and Mike tried to go see it. Good luck, dork.
6/17/77
OK we're going north and we're in Fort Collens but at least it's pretty here. If there's nothing to do but not drive in rain at least it's pretty. Mike isn't talking to Mom or Dad. Did you really think they'd let you out? They won't let me out!
So now we're in Wyoming? I didn't know we'd be here and I guess now we're heading west. Mom said "Why are we in Wyoming! Turn around!" but then Dad found the road. I had a hamburger and a milkshake. I should have not eaten the fries. I'm just sitting in the car all day and getting fat.
Some guy on the radio is giving away a Shawn Cassidy poster! I can't even call and even if I did, where would they send it?
We're still CONFUSED. We passed through Shyann (Cheyenne - ed.) and somewhere else I don't remember and they guy on the radio keeps saying Casper but the map says we're not in Casper. The only thing I know is that the drive is totally boring now. I guess we could have gone to Yellowstone but we're already screwed up on our road right now.
We're having dinner in Evanston Wyoming! I asked people if they know Evanston Illinois and none of them did. Don't you think I should get some free money for that? I
6/18/77
Oops I had to stop writing yesterday because the food was there.
Guess tomorrow is Father's Day and we'll be in Utah to start the day. The route back doesn't have to go to Salt Lake City, so we wen't around and are in Jordan for the night. You can see some mountains here but it's still Dullsville.
We're driving past the Salt Lake, at least it's nice out here. We asked Dad what he wanted for Father's Day and he said "Get the hell out of Utah!" Hahaha! Mom was mad. So much for Father's Day in Lake Tahoe.
OK we were going to stop in Elko for the night but now I don't think so. We're in Nevada now and I'm SICK of the car! Dad keeps trying to ask other people about the storm but they all look at him like he's crazy. Like everyone else on this trip! PLEase GOD, can we get to California? Even if we're theyre forever to get there, get me out of the car!
(The following page was ripped, and we could not discern where this trip was on the page. The back of the page wrote about Sacramento and then San Francisco, so it is possible to theorize that they went west on 80 through Reno into California. -ed.)
"This isn't an attempt to invade anyone's privacy; I couldn't find anyone's full name. It's also written on what appears to be the family moving to California. The first part I can make out is from Iowa. All grammar has been reprinted intact.")
6/13/77
I think we're in the middle of the USA right now. This part of the drive has been boring. I hope the whole ride isn't like this. I wonder if we have to stop somewhere but we can't because there's nowhere to go. Dad is at least letting us move around the radio a bit. I missed the end of Shawn Cassidy's song which he knows I LOVE! Mike said he had to hear the scores of something but it wasn't even the right game or whatever.
I wonder what you do around here in Demoin. (Des Moines -ed.) I don't know if we're in it. Dad let me sing along to You Make Me Believe in Magic. At least I have the back seat to myself. That's what Mom keeps saying. I thought we were on Highway 80 but it's really 35. I don't know how you figure this out. Oh well, we have a ways to go before Kansas City. I don't want to drive after dinner but it's staying light out for a long time.
6/14/77
We're in Kansas City and relaxing a bit today. It's really nice outside. Last night I think we were all kind of tired. I was but I couldn't fall asleep. I had my little earphone in and Mom didn't notice. We ended up driving around a bit just looking for a restaurant that looked good and now it's kind of hard to tell if we're going the right way.
Okay now I'm writing later but we are lost. I don't want to say anything but mom and dad keep fighting back and forth. The only other map isn't of where we are I guess. We went over to ask someone at a gas station and he was so stupid. "Where you off to?" Dad kept saying California and the number of the road but then Mom said "Henry, don't tell a stranger that stuff" I want to just hide and die.
It's now later and I think we're on the right spot. We had dinner in Topeka, they were nice, and I thought we'd stay there at a Howard Johnsons but dad wanted to drive more. He is unexplainable!
We're in Junction City. I think we all want to just sleep. I'm tired and if it's like this the rest of the move I'll be tired then, too.
6/15/77
Just went to Silina (Salina, -ed.) This radio station we have on is good. Even Mike and I are singing the same song. We can tell Dad doesn't like it! Har har har.
It's now in the afternoon and we'll get into Colorado. I hope we see the Rocky Mountains. The drive so far has been so boring. I thought we'd stop but we haven't since some random town from the highway and all there was is a gas station. Dad got me a Reese's Peanut butter cup. I think he's in a better mood now because we're just driving a lot.
OK we're way later than we thought. I think he thought we'd make it earlier. We wanted to see Pueblo but it's taking longer because of the farm roads. I woner who lives in these places. It's getting dark but it said Pueblo is close. I bet we'll eat and then sleep. I hope we get to see the mountains tomorrow. Good night!
6/16/77
It's supposed to rain and be muggy! So instead of going west we're going up to Denver! Then we'll go through I guess. Puebo and Colorado Springs were fine.
We're in Denver and I think we're going to be here for the rest of the day! Mom kept saying that Dad needs a break and we all do I think. We're looking for a hotel that's not too expensive but then we can go around and stuff. It's pretty here!
Well it's warm but it's raining and it's hard to get around here. I think we will go see a movie or something. Maybe we can see Star Wars again. I have to leave this in our room.
Okay now it's nighttime and we did see Star Wars again. I like it. The radio is playing that song from Fleetwood Mac and I'm starting to have that as my new favorite song. So the TV says the storm is bad through where we were gonna go so we're going to go north a bit. I swear Dad better make sure he knows where he's going.
There is a midnight movie The Rolling Stones and Mike tried to go see it. Good luck, dork.
6/17/77
OK we're going north and we're in Fort Collens but at least it's pretty here. If there's nothing to do but not drive in rain at least it's pretty. Mike isn't talking to Mom or Dad. Did you really think they'd let you out? They won't let me out!
So now we're in Wyoming? I didn't know we'd be here and I guess now we're heading west. Mom said "Why are we in Wyoming! Turn around!" but then Dad found the road. I had a hamburger and a milkshake. I should have not eaten the fries. I'm just sitting in the car all day and getting fat.
Some guy on the radio is giving away a Shawn Cassidy poster! I can't even call and even if I did, where would they send it?
We're still CONFUSED. We passed through Shyann (Cheyenne - ed.) and somewhere else I don't remember and they guy on the radio keeps saying Casper but the map says we're not in Casper. The only thing I know is that the drive is totally boring now. I guess we could have gone to Yellowstone but we're already screwed up on our road right now.
We're having dinner in Evanston Wyoming! I asked people if they know Evanston Illinois and none of them did. Don't you think I should get some free money for that? I
6/18/77
Oops I had to stop writing yesterday because the food was there.
Guess tomorrow is Father's Day and we'll be in Utah to start the day. The route back doesn't have to go to Salt Lake City, so we wen't around and are in Jordan for the night. You can see some mountains here but it's still Dullsville.
We're driving past the Salt Lake, at least it's nice out here. We asked Dad what he wanted for Father's Day and he said "Get the hell out of Utah!" Hahaha! Mom was mad. So much for Father's Day in Lake Tahoe.
OK we were going to stop in Elko for the night but now I don't think so. We're in Nevada now and I'm SICK of the car! Dad keeps trying to ask other people about the storm but they all look at him like he's crazy. Like everyone else on this trip! PLEase GOD, can we get to California? Even if we're theyre forever to get there, get me out of the car!
(The following page was ripped, and we could not discern where this trip was on the page. The back of the page wrote about Sacramento and then San Francisco, so it is possible to theorize that they went west on 80 through Reno into California. -ed.)
Wednesday, May 14, 2014
Location, Location, Location
Check it: I'm writing this and it's One Hundred and One degrees (101) outside. Sweet mercy me, that is hot. It's hotter than it gets in September when lunkheads start to talk about "Fall" around here and you walk outside and the sun smirks down at you. "Nope!" You didn't even get to ask it a question. It's terse glare consumes all you do that day. This is twice the high of a large majority of the country, but I temper my consideration in trading my location. It fucking snowed in Denver the other day. What in the...
Your author isn't writing about the climate. I'm writing about location. I viewed a recent movie where the shy (or...likely disordered) boy moves to a new place. In a stunning turn of events, one of his neighbors is a sweet girl, one that may look like the others in that town, but her behavior is rooted in complete positives. I'm aware that you've probably seen this movie, or a situation like it. Maybe it was the film "A Nerdy Writer Writes About His Daydreams at 15" which as I understand it was released by Fox Searchlight (under different nom de plumes) every other year since 2001.
I started becoming an annoying viewer maybe 30 minutes in, and roped Smiley into my complaints. "Look, he's purposely ignoring her! She's on a platter! What the fuck?" Yeah, it's a movie. My street beef wasn't that I knew what was going to occur; we all know where this path ends. It's not that the real life likelihood of this tango was non-existent. It was that we knew what good fortune this dunce had in store, and it was barely mentioned by any character his age (and if so, it was a slam): it was the location. And his luck, of course, but he wouldn't have that "luck" if he wasn't in the right location.
Does where you live cause trouble? Geography or home? Does going on a vacation mean leaving a place where most people don't vacation? Does your school warm you with asbestos? Did your grandpappy buy land somewhere for next to nothing and now everyone realizes what he did long ago?
Does your office have a window? Is it near the new girl? Is it next to the new girl? Is that how you met?
Did you stay in the left lane? Did you get an aisle seat at the stadium so you could catch the foul ball?
From the inconsequential to the life-changing (for better or worse) I arrived at the realization that skill and logic only run on one track: location. Sometimes it makes it easy...seem like that "luck" I mentioned above. Sometimes it makes it harder...or appear impossible. Where you are and how you're feeling...I guess that makes up the gold quotient, huh?
Your author isn't writing about the climate. I'm writing about location. I viewed a recent movie where the shy (or...likely disordered) boy moves to a new place. In a stunning turn of events, one of his neighbors is a sweet girl, one that may look like the others in that town, but her behavior is rooted in complete positives. I'm aware that you've probably seen this movie, or a situation like it. Maybe it was the film "A Nerdy Writer Writes About His Daydreams at 15" which as I understand it was released by Fox Searchlight (under different nom de plumes) every other year since 2001.
I started becoming an annoying viewer maybe 30 minutes in, and roped Smiley into my complaints. "Look, he's purposely ignoring her! She's on a platter! What the fuck?" Yeah, it's a movie. My street beef wasn't that I knew what was going to occur; we all know where this path ends. It's not that the real life likelihood of this tango was non-existent. It was that we knew what good fortune this dunce had in store, and it was barely mentioned by any character his age (and if so, it was a slam): it was the location. And his luck, of course, but he wouldn't have that "luck" if he wasn't in the right location.
Does where you live cause trouble? Geography or home? Does going on a vacation mean leaving a place where most people don't vacation? Does your school warm you with asbestos? Did your grandpappy buy land somewhere for next to nothing and now everyone realizes what he did long ago?
Does your office have a window? Is it near the new girl? Is it next to the new girl? Is that how you met?
Did you stay in the left lane? Did you get an aisle seat at the stadium so you could catch the foul ball?
From the inconsequential to the life-changing (for better or worse) I arrived at the realization that skill and logic only run on one track: location. Sometimes it makes it easy...seem like that "luck" I mentioned above. Sometimes it makes it harder...or appear impossible. Where you are and how you're feeling...I guess that makes up the gold quotient, huh?
Thursday, April 24, 2014
Piling it on
Back in the old days of this blog, I wrote about how the gigantic portions of restaurants and society at large was too much for my slim cowpoke body. And this continues to be true, but there has recently been a change in my living situation that altered everything. I don't know if it was sudden so much as it was the 3rd time in as many weeks where I was told I looked thin (more than usual and/or healthy) that I started to review my weekday eating schedule:
Breakfast: I'm asked on a regular basis from Smiley if I want to "eat breakfast" with Sweet Pea...this is usually limited to 4 spoon-fulls of cereal while trying to occupy her attention span. An orange or something else can be brought to work, though not eaten leisurely as one would surmise.
Lunch: Did I use the word "leisurely?" While I am fortunate to visit everyone at home due to sheer LA Luck, and having "lunch" with the Pea is an absolute highlight, my own eating time is condensed to roughly 5 minutes. You couldn't even enjoy a beer in that amount of time. Not that I'd know, of course.
Cocktail Hour: "Do you want to watch her while you have a snack?" Another non-question question, as I get in as many chips, crackers, or handfuls of popcorn I can while playing on the floor with the little lady.
7:45/8PM: "Are you exhausted? I bet you feel like cooking and making an elaborate dinner from scratch! You don't?" Who would? And, be that as it may, whatever's easiest to eat, to get the job done, there it is. Tired, I dream of an extravagant steak dinner. And repeat.
Beyond becoming Potsy, I'm not sure how to properly solve this dilemma. Snacking helps but only to exist in a "next?" kind of assembly line. There's a lunch wagon that sneaks between Rodeo and Beverly, but one can only eat so many burritos. It's a problem to word carefully around here, too: tell someone you lack energy and they'll give you Daffy Dust.
Breakfast: I'm asked on a regular basis from Smiley if I want to "eat breakfast" with Sweet Pea...this is usually limited to 4 spoon-fulls of cereal while trying to occupy her attention span. An orange or something else can be brought to work, though not eaten leisurely as one would surmise.
Lunch: Did I use the word "leisurely?" While I am fortunate to visit everyone at home due to sheer LA Luck, and having "lunch" with the Pea is an absolute highlight, my own eating time is condensed to roughly 5 minutes. You couldn't even enjoy a beer in that amount of time. Not that I'd know, of course.
Cocktail Hour: "Do you want to watch her while you have a snack?" Another non-question question, as I get in as many chips, crackers, or handfuls of popcorn I can while playing on the floor with the little lady.
7:45/8PM: "Are you exhausted? I bet you feel like cooking and making an elaborate dinner from scratch! You don't?" Who would? And, be that as it may, whatever's easiest to eat, to get the job done, there it is. Tired, I dream of an extravagant steak dinner. And repeat.
Beyond becoming Potsy, I'm not sure how to properly solve this dilemma. Snacking helps but only to exist in a "next?" kind of assembly line. There's a lunch wagon that sneaks between Rodeo and Beverly, but one can only eat so many burritos. It's a problem to word carefully around here, too: tell someone you lack energy and they'll give you Daffy Dust.
Monday, March 31, 2014
TV Sleuthdom and its expectations
Last week, I had a...shall we say "spirited discussion" with a co-worker on the HBO series True Detective.
(and if you haven't watched the show but plan to, you might not want to read this post)
He said he enjoyed the show but thought the writing was bad. Pressed for examples for some insight, he added that the crime and ultimate resolution was "like Law & Order: SVU." Now, if you know me, you know saying such a comment is a heavy insult. You could find deeper characters in what's left of the Sunday comics section of your newspaper than any of the L&O shows. But I did my best (read: a poor job) of calming down and then heard this key nugget:
"There were too many twist and plot things that made me think it would go another way. I thought Rust was going to be behind it, or Marty's wife, but it..."
Ah, the viewer detective nature of crime shows these days. That's the problem. And just how many are out there in the audience?
These are the folks who play right along with the game as if they're right by the main character's side. Talking to the TV, texting their friends that they just KNOW who did it and why. I think I've watched, read about, and worked in entertainment (particularly TV) long enough to ask: is there anything wrong with just being entertained? Even if you do guess correctly, do you think the channel or writer is going to show up the next day with a congratulations balloon and an ice cream bar? Way to go - here's your "Junior Adventure pin" - wear it with pride!
Interesting to me that you rarely if ever hear this about comedy...maybe because so many sitcoms are conditioned to end on a note that "it's over." And even in movies, you can be entertained (or not) on how it was done since you've invested money and some sort of emotion. Dining out, same thing. (Well, for some people...others know exactly what the Fish Filet combo meal includes each and every time)
All these amateur sleuths who think they know how things will end possibly started this skill watching Dodgers games. (Turns to wife) "Honey, I think they're going to blow this one...late innings." (Wife nods, goes back to People Magazine)
(and if you haven't watched the show but plan to, you might not want to read this post)
He said he enjoyed the show but thought the writing was bad. Pressed for examples for some insight, he added that the crime and ultimate resolution was "like Law & Order: SVU." Now, if you know me, you know saying such a comment is a heavy insult. You could find deeper characters in what's left of the Sunday comics section of your newspaper than any of the L&O shows. But I did my best (read: a poor job) of calming down and then heard this key nugget:
"There were too many twist and plot things that made me think it would go another way. I thought Rust was going to be behind it, or Marty's wife, but it..."
Ah, the viewer detective nature of crime shows these days. That's the problem. And just how many are out there in the audience?
These are the folks who play right along with the game as if they're right by the main character's side. Talking to the TV, texting their friends that they just KNOW who did it and why. I think I've watched, read about, and worked in entertainment (particularly TV) long enough to ask: is there anything wrong with just being entertained? Even if you do guess correctly, do you think the channel or writer is going to show up the next day with a congratulations balloon and an ice cream bar? Way to go - here's your "Junior Adventure pin" - wear it with pride!
Interesting to me that you rarely if ever hear this about comedy...maybe because so many sitcoms are conditioned to end on a note that "it's over." And even in movies, you can be entertained (or not) on how it was done since you've invested money and some sort of emotion. Dining out, same thing. (Well, for some people...others know exactly what the Fish Filet combo meal includes each and every time)
All these amateur sleuths who think they know how things will end possibly started this skill watching Dodgers games. (Turns to wife) "Honey, I think they're going to blow this one...late innings." (Wife nods, goes back to People Magazine)
Wednesday, February 05, 2014
Talkin' Deals
Excuse me, do you mind if we talk deals for a moment?
"Sure, I have a minute. Deals? Well, we have our own company. We do work in various aspects of business. We do some entertainment, some commercials, some, uh merchandising."
(Looks away, and looks back)
"You know, everybody asks that, but there's so many layers behind the scenes that we don't need to get into here. It would take way too long, and you probably haven't heard of a lot of it. But to give you an example...Olivia Newton-John, I know her personally. I mentioned entertainment...we've have some talks with the Starwood to-"
(The man behind him clears his throat)
"I don't know if you've seen that Huffy bicycle commercial...it's on TV nationwide. Got that Christopher Cross song on it. We were part of that."
(Checks digital watch)
"Thinking about having dinner at the Bonaventure tonight."
(Turns around to look at man behind him)
"What time you got?"
(Man behind him buttons his sport coat)
"Excuse me."
"Sure, I have a minute. Deals? Well, we have our own company. We do work in various aspects of business. We do some entertainment, some commercials, some, uh merchandising."
(Looks away, and looks back)
"You know, everybody asks that, but there's so many layers behind the scenes that we don't need to get into here. It would take way too long, and you probably haven't heard of a lot of it. But to give you an example...Olivia Newton-John, I know her personally. I mentioned entertainment...we've have some talks with the Starwood to-"
(The man behind him clears his throat)
"I don't know if you've seen that Huffy bicycle commercial...it's on TV nationwide. Got that Christopher Cross song on it. We were part of that."
(Checks digital watch)
"Thinking about having dinner at the Bonaventure tonight."
(Turns around to look at man behind him)
"What time you got?"
(Man behind him buttons his sport coat)
"Excuse me."
Friday, January 24, 2014
Time Passages
It helps the daily jungle gym of life to be realistic
about the status quo, I find. I can
dream always and forever, I can plan, aware of the stakes. I can walk down the street listening to the
theme from Black Caesar and envision myself in another time and
surrounding. (Tip: Keep this in mind
when you meet someone where delusion reigns supreme, and you’ll find out just
how well adjusted you live.)
So I suppose I am an adult, yes? My responsibilities are now categorized as such
and typical for someone my age. I feel
youthful, but that’s about all it is: a feeling. I can
be on a roll of comedic material with new, younger employees, and then make a
fatal fuck-up: a reference before their time.
History, Pop Culture History, an old athlete…makes no difference:
“What? Oh…was that
in the 80’s?”
Yes it was…but come on, I know about shit from before I
was…aw, forget it. The joke isn't on
them – it’s on me. So, I guess I’m old.
Then I have lunch with a retired dealmaker who is telling
of current life. “She wanted me to make
dinner!” Is this an unacceptable
request? “Yes! That’s how it works. I mean, I go the butcher, you know, but she
does the shopping, the cooking.
Sometimes I’ll clean the wine glasses, because those are done by hand.” Mighty thoughtful of you, I suppose. Is my situation the same? No, it’s not.
I don’t mind doing some of the work, as long as—
I was interrupted (politely) and told the game plan from
another generation.
“Look, Trip, you know what I told her? I said ‘I can find plenty of women in the
county who would like to cook me dinner, OK?
And I don’t have to set the table or any of that bullshit.’ ” You don’t have to do anything? That’s a pretty good life. And I think if I tried to find a lady my age
or younger who’d do exactly this request, I would probably get a zonk in my
chops. So, I guess I’m young.
The pendulum of life always swings, but it is a mighty
leaden tool…and it feels like it’s just hangin’ there; a giant disco medallion,
stuck in fur.
Wednesday, January 08, 2014
The Dome finally goes to the Dump
(Editor's Note: Writer Trip Darvez mentioned that this story is "likely the least Gold topic there is" but felt it was worth sharing all the same.)
From the 50's to 1981, Metropolitan Stadium was the major sporting venue in the Twin Cities. By first and all glances, it isn't much. As the general sports scene grew up in the area, the volume of sports fans increased. The stadium game at the time dictated little change beyond "maintenance," so things like "indoor bathrooms for half the stadium" were never implemented. And yet, football fans continued to pack the place. When the Metrodome was built, fans had to accept the inevitable: the fun, the home field advantage enjoyed...it's all gone.
Before the final game, it hit tailgaters like a bottle to the head: this was it. When you move to your new stadium, Duane and Carl, you can't tailgate. This was no reason to give up, though: they were there to make the best of the situation.
At this point, the Vikings were out of the playoffs. Nothing to do but play out the string. Knowing that, look at these folks...
They are having a fantastic time, already on Schmidt #2 and it's not even 11AM. Doesn't matter. Well, hours later, it was game time, and the mood ebbed and flowed per usual, but the celebratory toasts went all afternoon. How else are you supposed to stay warm?
NBC Sports was there to cover the game, and they milked it for all it's worth. It's tough selling a game the last week of the season with two teams out of it. Montages of the park's building...all the highlights to Frank Sinatra.
Two exclamation points. We're live!! The game: boring. Vikings tease a comeback but lose (there's a shock). And yet, throughout the game, there were shots of what everyone was feeling...we're saying goodbye to a friend. Life as a fan is changing, and change in Minnesota is difficult. It's especially so when it's change that seems to be for the "better" but is so far from "the same" that nostalgia pours through the veins.
With the game over, despite the increased security, fans stormed the field. In the stands, they took everything they could. You're taking away "my" stadium? Well, then I can pick this carcass clean. What do you think about that, Mr. Politician? I'm not going to buy anything. I was here in the cold for years. I deserve this. This is mine.
And then, as the drunks slowly sobered up, and reality '81 was setting in, a banner flew from fans among the debris:
The definition of being a fan was changing. You were to pay increased prices, buy merchandise, and cheer when the big scoreboard's clapping hands told you to. I'm not sure if this was the prevailing mood of everyone at the time, but a vintage news clip held this nugget: a fan, tailgating outside before the game...
"The dome is beautiful, something we gotta have, but...(looks around) this is the best."
Progress, Metrodome style, meant:
Built to budget withOUT adjustments to inflation (which was sky high at the time)
No air conditioning because "it's built underground"
Cheap astroturf with minimal padding
1 sheet of turf for all sports.
So, now in 2013, the Blunderdome is finally getting the ax. I mean, look at it:
The roof looks worn and...whoa - I'm sorry, that's a photo from 20 YEARS AGO. As newer stadiums went for either bang or bang for your buck, the Metrodome was neither. It's complete lack of amenities (and comical attempts to make up for it) glaring to each visitor made it almost embarrassing to enter. This didn't stop the Metrodome from hosting major events, but it was rare that the major event ever returned for a 2nd go around...they saw all they needed to see.
With the stadium long-overdue for the wrecking ball, I asked former Pacific Gold writer Drew Boatman for his thoughts. He, too, suffered through the stadium as the only game in town, and together we present you a summary of this stadium as a venue:
The stadium itself:
Football:
"People called it a dump,” Lonke said as he looked around the stadium. “But it was our dump. And we loved it.”
Even someone who loved it called it a dump. Or maybe it was this quote that sums it up:
"I am going to miss the Metrodome,” Tom Tolve of Brooklyn Park. “I usually come at least once a year for a monster truck rally.”
From the 50's to 1981, Metropolitan Stadium was the major sporting venue in the Twin Cities. By first and all glances, it isn't much. As the general sports scene grew up in the area, the volume of sports fans increased. The stadium game at the time dictated little change beyond "maintenance," so things like "indoor bathrooms for half the stadium" were never implemented. And yet, football fans continued to pack the place. When the Metrodome was built, fans had to accept the inevitable: the fun, the home field advantage enjoyed...it's all gone.
Before the final game, it hit tailgaters like a bottle to the head: this was it. When you move to your new stadium, Duane and Carl, you can't tailgate. This was no reason to give up, though: they were there to make the best of the situation.
At this point, the Vikings were out of the playoffs. Nothing to do but play out the string. Knowing that, look at these folks...
They are having a fantastic time, already on Schmidt #2 and it's not even 11AM. Doesn't matter. Well, hours later, it was game time, and the mood ebbed and flowed per usual, but the celebratory toasts went all afternoon. How else are you supposed to stay warm?
NBC Sports was there to cover the game, and they milked it for all it's worth. It's tough selling a game the last week of the season with two teams out of it. Montages of the park's building...all the highlights to Frank Sinatra.
Two exclamation points. We're live!! The game: boring. Vikings tease a comeback but lose (there's a shock). And yet, throughout the game, there were shots of what everyone was feeling...we're saying goodbye to a friend. Life as a fan is changing, and change in Minnesota is difficult. It's especially so when it's change that seems to be for the "better" but is so far from "the same" that nostalgia pours through the veins.
With the game over, despite the increased security, fans stormed the field. In the stands, they took everything they could. You're taking away "my" stadium? Well, then I can pick this carcass clean. What do you think about that, Mr. Politician? I'm not going to buy anything. I was here in the cold for years. I deserve this. This is mine.
And then, as the drunks slowly sobered up, and reality '81 was setting in, a banner flew from fans among the debris:
The definition of being a fan was changing. You were to pay increased prices, buy merchandise, and cheer when the big scoreboard's clapping hands told you to. I'm not sure if this was the prevailing mood of everyone at the time, but a vintage news clip held this nugget: a fan, tailgating outside before the game...
"The dome is beautiful, something we gotta have, but...(looks around) this is the best."
Progress, Metrodome style, meant:
Built to budget withOUT adjustments to inflation (which was sky high at the time)
No air conditioning because "it's built underground"
Cheap astroturf with minimal padding
1 sheet of turf for all sports.
So, now in 2013, the Blunderdome is finally getting the ax. I mean, look at it:
The roof looks worn and...whoa - I'm sorry, that's a photo from 20 YEARS AGO. As newer stadiums went for either bang or bang for your buck, the Metrodome was neither. It's complete lack of amenities (and comical attempts to make up for it) glaring to each visitor made it almost embarrassing to enter. This didn't stop the Metrodome from hosting major events, but it was rare that the major event ever returned for a 2nd go around...they saw all they needed to see.
With the stadium long-overdue for the wrecking ball, I asked former Pacific Gold writer Drew Boatman for his thoughts. He, too, suffered through the stadium as the only game in town, and together we present you a summary of this stadium as a venue:
The stadium itself:
- That it took almost 10 years to get a video board. Video replays attempted to be played on the black and white scoreboard, which was clearly incapable of doing so. Canterbury Park had a better video board at its start.
- The cups for drinks at the start...a soda said "cold drink" (blue) and beer said "Beer" (yellow) Reusse says "At least the pop says it's cold...they can keep the beer any temperature they want"
- One sheet of turf meant chalk lines...on turf...we can't have PAINT in the end zone, that would cost too much. Chalk. Chalk yard lines...chalk end zones. Cheap, cheap, cheap...
- The Met concessions sold cigarettes and cigars (!) but the Met was proudly "No Smoking!" When enough of a fight was put up, They converted an entryway into a smoking lounge and piped in the radio call..
- The "We Like It Here" banner, put up as if to deflect attention, likely written by Sid Hartman.
Football:
- When the Super Bowl was at the dome, instead of replacing the worn astroturf, they just painted it to "look new."
- Heading to the bathroom during Super Bowl XXVI (which most people only did at the end of quarters/halftime to not miss anything) and seeing hookers in the concourse. (Editor's Note: not a slam against the stadium per se, but something they should have included going forward)
- "Security" only seemed to exist to help old people find their seats
Baseball: Minnesota got indoor baseball to combat cold and rain-outs. Be careful what you wish for...
- The Twins (awkwardly shoehorned into a football stadium) played "Talking Domeball" during the 80's after a Twins loss, a god-awful song.
- The Hormel Row of Fame promotion during Twins games. The winning row won a free hot dog. As the song goes, "Great for lunch, great for dinner, you could be a wiener winner in the Hormel Row of Fame" People were embarrassed every time.
- The Twins band-wagon fan base swelling during World Championship runs, turning it into an "advantage" - an advantage that went away when they weren't playing good...
Basketball?! Yes, basketball was played there. No one wanted to play at the Met Center or St. Paul Civic Center...so it was the dome. A decision made over and over again...the wrong decision.
- An awful place to watch a game. You had to have GREAT seats...otherwise, you're screwed. The great seats were about 8,000 total.
- The 1st NCAA tournament games in 1986 (sitting on the 3rd base side about 20 rows up) and still not being able to see anything.
- 1996 regional finals, and my seats were further down the 3rd base line...FACING OTHER SEATS. You had to turn completely to your right to see the court. The fact that these seats were sold without any sort of discount tells you something about the Metropolitan Stadium Commission.
- Sitting in the upper deck for a basketball game, Drew thought " there is absolutely no worse place on planet earth to watch a basketball game."
And yet, realities gave the Metrodome a much longer shelf life than it ever deserved (if it should have been built that way in the first place). So, with it finally gone, I searched far and wide to see if I could find the same thoughts by fans on this stadium going away. Not memories of teams...of missing the stadium. The same way people missed and loved the Met. Any video or photo evidence would be included.
Well, as of this writing, 10,000 seats have been sold (not taken, sold, with accepting fans) so there is some nostalgia...but still I searched. I wanted to find someone who said they loved the place. Someone who enjoyed the whole environment of the dome. After reading nearly a dozen articles (and scanning video footage), I found a quote:
Even someone who loved it called it a dump. Or maybe it was this quote that sums it up:
"I am going to miss the Metrodome,” Tom Tolve of Brooklyn Park. “I usually come at least once a year for a monster truck rally.”
Tuesday, November 26, 2013
Just Deserves
It's one of the oldest tricks in the entertainment industry: a well-liked performer needs to pay the bills. So many are "working actors" and you find them in something that might be, to someone's personal eye, beneath their talent. During the predictable trashing of a review, a critic will add "and poor ________, she/he deserves better!" Because, of course, the person didn't audition or approve doing the role, and went through the whole production. How does a person in either a large studio movie or airing TV series "deserve better?"
I don't know. I also don't know why this phrase can only apply to actors and actresses. Why can't it apply to people in my world...my place in society (such as it is)? Hell, why can't it apply to me?
The possibilities are endless:
Look at Trip in his beat up, old Saturn. Sure, it still runs just fine, but why drive such an old car? He can't use outdated safety methods these days! He deserves better! Get him a Mercedes!
Looks like Trip is sweating through another hot Summer day. Why hasn't he found the right house yet? Get him somewhere that has central air instead of window units. He deserves better: temperature control at the touch of a button. End his private hell!
Yes, that is a stylish 70's beer stein Trip is drinking from, but it IS a bit unwieldy. It's a chore to properly clean as well. He deserves better! When will today's fine ceramic beer mug makers create something for such a man?
Writing those phrases, let alone reading them aloud, looks stupid. Just as stupid as demanding "better" for folks who make more in one episode than I'll make in months.
I don't know. I also don't know why this phrase can only apply to actors and actresses. Why can't it apply to people in my world...my place in society (such as it is)? Hell, why can't it apply to me?
The possibilities are endless:
Look at Trip in his beat up, old Saturn. Sure, it still runs just fine, but why drive such an old car? He can't use outdated safety methods these days! He deserves better! Get him a Mercedes!
Looks like Trip is sweating through another hot Summer day. Why hasn't he found the right house yet? Get him somewhere that has central air instead of window units. He deserves better: temperature control at the touch of a button. End his private hell!
Yes, that is a stylish 70's beer stein Trip is drinking from, but it IS a bit unwieldy. It's a chore to properly clean as well. He deserves better! When will today's fine ceramic beer mug makers create something for such a man?
Writing those phrases, let alone reading them aloud, looks stupid. Just as stupid as demanding "better" for folks who make more in one episode than I'll make in months.
Thursday, October 24, 2013
A Bitter Pill for Halloween '82
(Editor's Note: With Halloween around the corner, Trip Darvez releases another old column from the defunct L.A. Reader. This story is from October 28th, 1982)
Here at the Thrifty Drug on Magnolia Blvd., the kids are going through the usual paces: looking at the costume accessories, ogling the candy, staring through the glass case at the ice cream. In that respect, nothing is new. But ask their parents, or go a few aisles over, and you'll get a different story.
A handwritten sign is on shelves on both sides of Aisle 9: "PLEASE ALERT US IF YOU SEE ANY TAMPERED MERCHANDISE." And while people are telling store manager Mike Cristofano "They'd rather just have a headache than die." he thought he'd only have to deal with Asile 9. But as Halloween approaches, the parents are out in full force. Not just with Tylenol, Bufferin, Anacin, and the like...but with Brach's?
A mother, Julia, says "See...these don't have anything on the label." So what? "Anyone could put something in the candy. Pins, poison, whatever." Couldn't 'they' do that to anyone? "Yes. That's why we're having a party instead." That idea was brought up to the kids who couldn't have disagreed further. "No! We're going out trick or treating." said one whose name I can't print, lest he get caught. "I am. We already have our route. I'm going as Pac-Man. He's (a friend next to him, also nameless) going as an LA Ram. Hey, what did my Mom say?" I wasn't going to get into the middle of this, but each side made their point.
Most people giving out candy (if you're lucky to have a house...for now) didn't seem to care if kids ate it or not, but it turns out I was shopping at the wrong time. At the Lucky market a mile or two down the road, a housewife was stocking up. "I can't, in good conscious, hand out those fun-size treats." She, too, was afraid...almost of herself. "I don't want to accidentally poison someone." Her response was to make and hand out snacks that kids would eat off paper plates in front of the house. "I found an apricot cheesecake recipe in Family Circle. Let's see, I need unflavored gelatin." Aren't parents stressing that kids not take unwrapped candy this year? "Well, I would never...are you saying that kids won't..I don't know why..." She pushed her cart away.
It appears that Sunday night will tell us how much the hysteria hits the actual kids - about 2/3rds told me they eat the candy while trick or treating, thus less to carry down the road. Their one complaint of all the adults making changes this year: raisins as a substitute. "My mom won't let me take apples because of razor blades in them, you know? But raisins suck." I hope they don't go to Ramona's house: she was stocking up on raisins when I met her. "Kids have enough candy as it is. It's safer to give them raisins now. Who's going to poison raisins?" Why stop there? Why not just pour from a big bag of rice? How about samples of linoleum...or maybe a pack of smokes?
One other aspect worth reporting was the merry pranksters of the high school set, but the lone response I received seem to sum up the whole experience. "Halloween...it's on a Sunday, so...man, this year I'm just gonna get drunk."
Here at the Thrifty Drug on Magnolia Blvd., the kids are going through the usual paces: looking at the costume accessories, ogling the candy, staring through the glass case at the ice cream. In that respect, nothing is new. But ask their parents, or go a few aisles over, and you'll get a different story.
A handwritten sign is on shelves on both sides of Aisle 9: "PLEASE ALERT US IF YOU SEE ANY TAMPERED MERCHANDISE." And while people are telling store manager Mike Cristofano "They'd rather just have a headache than die." he thought he'd only have to deal with Asile 9. But as Halloween approaches, the parents are out in full force. Not just with Tylenol, Bufferin, Anacin, and the like...but with Brach's?
A mother, Julia, says "See...these don't have anything on the label." So what? "Anyone could put something in the candy. Pins, poison, whatever." Couldn't 'they' do that to anyone? "Yes. That's why we're having a party instead." That idea was brought up to the kids who couldn't have disagreed further. "No! We're going out trick or treating." said one whose name I can't print, lest he get caught. "I am. We already have our route. I'm going as Pac-Man. He's (a friend next to him, also nameless) going as an LA Ram. Hey, what did my Mom say?" I wasn't going to get into the middle of this, but each side made their point.
Most people giving out candy (if you're lucky to have a house...for now) didn't seem to care if kids ate it or not, but it turns out I was shopping at the wrong time. At the Lucky market a mile or two down the road, a housewife was stocking up. "I can't, in good conscious, hand out those fun-size treats." She, too, was afraid...almost of herself. "I don't want to accidentally poison someone." Her response was to make and hand out snacks that kids would eat off paper plates in front of the house. "I found an apricot cheesecake recipe in Family Circle. Let's see, I need unflavored gelatin." Aren't parents stressing that kids not take unwrapped candy this year? "Well, I would never...are you saying that kids won't..I don't know why..." She pushed her cart away.
It appears that Sunday night will tell us how much the hysteria hits the actual kids - about 2/3rds told me they eat the candy while trick or treating, thus less to carry down the road. Their one complaint of all the adults making changes this year: raisins as a substitute. "My mom won't let me take apples because of razor blades in them, you know? But raisins suck." I hope they don't go to Ramona's house: she was stocking up on raisins when I met her. "Kids have enough candy as it is. It's safer to give them raisins now. Who's going to poison raisins?" Why stop there? Why not just pour from a big bag of rice? How about samples of linoleum...or maybe a pack of smokes?
One other aspect worth reporting was the merry pranksters of the high school set, but the lone response I received seem to sum up the whole experience. "Halloween...it's on a Sunday, so...man, this year I'm just gonna get drunk."
Friday, September 27, 2013
Fanatics at the Gate
When it comes to the Dodgers / Giants rivalry, its apparent there are two sides now. You have the in-game baseball aspect, and everything else. The everything else is the problem, and the "rivalry" is becoming less and less about baseball.
Your writer spent years in Boston (pre-World Series victories) and saw a team with a desperate inferiority complex. Beyond that, there was a unifying hatred of the Yankees...really, the fact that the Yankees were a close (geographical) team that tended to not only win often, but defeat the Red Sox. There would be anti-Yankees apparel, and folks wearing Yankees clothing (purely to act as a shit-stirrer in public) would be booed and threatened. If you think it is & was limited to sports fans around the stadium or bars, you're wrong. I had an older, female teacher in a college class tell me (solemnly) that anyone wearing a Yankees cap would receive a lower grade. This was said along side the class curriculum and assignment workload. I was surprised, but would soon grow accustomed to the scorn.
The difference between that rivalry and the Dodgers and Giants is different, and the recent murder makes any sort of "progress" made all for naught. With the Brian Stow beating in the Dodger Stadium parking lot, the focus was on the out of control nature of the post-game LA fan. It was LA's problem (regardless of how a Dodger fan would be treated outside Telephone Park) and often used as symbolism of Frank McCourt's inability to be nothing but a moron.
But now, 2 years later, a Dodger fan (son of a stadium employee) is killed just outside the stadium. People wearing one team's apparel, someone wearing the other's confronts them...and then this. "This" (thankfully) doesn't happen often...but it's the same 2 teams, and here we go. "Words exchanged" - doesn't help whoever started the talk, but it's all the shit afterward. Or that there's any "shit afterward."
Folks, the Dodger and Giant teams are thankful for their fans, but that's where it ends. You can pay to see them in person, pay to eat their food, pay to wear their clothing. All they do in return is take your money. When I ended years of frustrated Cub fandom, I received no letter or phone call of apology from the team. They didn't notice. The Dodgers didn't notice I became a fan. So it goes.
And this is just a rivalry between two teams - there are entire groups of a team's fans who uniformly "don't respect" other team's fans because...they're "rivals." Who are? The fans? Does that make you the "Best Fans in the League?" Because you care more? Shit, on the streets of Beverly Hills this morning, I saw a woman wearing a New York Yankees cap. The odds would be good that, if pressed to name a starting pitcher for the team, she could not...or would say "Mariano Rivera?" But even if she did that, or did name one, or the entire rotation...who cares?!
You're a fan of a team? OK. You're a fan of a team that is a rival of my favorite team? My mind will reflex and claim to "not understand why you would" but there it ends. And that's all it should be, because you don't play, own, or even work for the team. As an excuse for anything beyond a "look" is apparently the state we in this state are in now...and there's no joy in Dealville.
Your writer spent years in Boston (pre-World Series victories) and saw a team with a desperate inferiority complex. Beyond that, there was a unifying hatred of the Yankees...really, the fact that the Yankees were a close (geographical) team that tended to not only win often, but defeat the Red Sox. There would be anti-Yankees apparel, and folks wearing Yankees clothing (purely to act as a shit-stirrer in public) would be booed and threatened. If you think it is & was limited to sports fans around the stadium or bars, you're wrong. I had an older, female teacher in a college class tell me (solemnly) that anyone wearing a Yankees cap would receive a lower grade. This was said along side the class curriculum and assignment workload. I was surprised, but would soon grow accustomed to the scorn.
The difference between that rivalry and the Dodgers and Giants is different, and the recent murder makes any sort of "progress" made all for naught. With the Brian Stow beating in the Dodger Stadium parking lot, the focus was on the out of control nature of the post-game LA fan. It was LA's problem (regardless of how a Dodger fan would be treated outside Telephone Park) and often used as symbolism of Frank McCourt's inability to be nothing but a moron.
But now, 2 years later, a Dodger fan (son of a stadium employee) is killed just outside the stadium. People wearing one team's apparel, someone wearing the other's confronts them...and then this. "This" (thankfully) doesn't happen often...but it's the same 2 teams, and here we go. "Words exchanged" - doesn't help whoever started the talk, but it's all the shit afterward. Or that there's any "shit afterward."
Folks, the Dodger and Giant teams are thankful for their fans, but that's where it ends. You can pay to see them in person, pay to eat their food, pay to wear their clothing. All they do in return is take your money. When I ended years of frustrated Cub fandom, I received no letter or phone call of apology from the team. They didn't notice. The Dodgers didn't notice I became a fan. So it goes.
And this is just a rivalry between two teams - there are entire groups of a team's fans who uniformly "don't respect" other team's fans because...they're "rivals." Who are? The fans? Does that make you the "Best Fans in the League?" Because you care more? Shit, on the streets of Beverly Hills this morning, I saw a woman wearing a New York Yankees cap. The odds would be good that, if pressed to name a starting pitcher for the team, she could not...or would say "Mariano Rivera?" But even if she did that, or did name one, or the entire rotation...who cares?!
You're a fan of a team? OK. You're a fan of a team that is a rival of my favorite team? My mind will reflex and claim to "not understand why you would" but there it ends. And that's all it should be, because you don't play, own, or even work for the team. As an excuse for anything beyond a "look" is apparently the state we in this state are in now...and there's no joy in Dealville.
Monday, August 26, 2013
No Amount of Preparation
I can read weather reports and try to remember the feeling...one that left my brain almost immediately. I can listen to old radio ads from the 1970's to "get ready" but it won't really help. I can try to remember where I'm going, but all I own are memories...fleeting at that. I likely remember the vibe of the Summer of '84, driving down France Ave, than I do "good restaurants." How the sam hell would I know? I don't, and even if I try to prep it won't make a difference at all.
I looked at the weather, and I swear to you this was the headline: "Record Heat Engulfs Midwest." That's wonderful! How about you just add some humidity for zest? Bugs, too...be sure to include a lot of flies and skeeters. We want to take outdoor enjoyment out of this visit. Folks, last Saturday I sat poolside, on a temperate Valley night, drinking a margarita, talking deals. This group concurred that any thoughts of leaving Goldville are shot down on nights like this. I'll remember that, having been told to "come outside, Trip" for the 50th time, swatting mosquitoes and pulling my shirt from my now-damp skin as I have to respond to "when I'm coming to visit again." Because, you know, I'm not right there in the moment.
Oh, activities could be planned, though mostly outside...but add weather to the new travelling companion and it is even tougher. I'm attempting to harness a young mind - how dare I expose her to such depravity? I'd love to loiter at a mall, but there's Smiley giving me a look and a fake-question, such as "You want to take her for a minute?" So, leisure, plenty of space...that's our preferred mode.
This makes the planned carnival even more intense. In the past, large amounts of unknowns wouldn't be an issue at all (except when you get cornered), but not anymore. My priorities lie in ol Puddin' Pop. Here are more randos wanting to look at you, poking and prodding. I bet you'll love that. Oh, you don't? I'm not surprised. "Trip, why is she upset? My friends from a Super 60's booze cruise want to meet her. Just bring her out...remember, they sent you the bibs?"
Long before the details were given to us, we agreed that we had to hit the Fair. Smiley needed to see the state condensed into one area. No words or descriptions will do it justice, and when you add the weather I mentioned above, I am anticipating...nay, demanding some MN oddities. Thankfully, we know the Fair will deliver.
And then...that's it. Finding and searching for time with those we haven't seen in years, those who we really want to see and enjoy? Sadly, the time might be limited to an hour. Some will understand, and some who don't will still be sympathetic. It's all we can ask. I can take someone, show them the battleground, and do as I wished someone would have to me 20 years ago: send em back to Goldland.
Not trying to sound harsh or above it, but if you knew the difference, you'd agree.
I looked at the weather, and I swear to you this was the headline: "Record Heat Engulfs Midwest." That's wonderful! How about you just add some humidity for zest? Bugs, too...be sure to include a lot of flies and skeeters. We want to take outdoor enjoyment out of this visit. Folks, last Saturday I sat poolside, on a temperate Valley night, drinking a margarita, talking deals. This group concurred that any thoughts of leaving Goldville are shot down on nights like this. I'll remember that, having been told to "come outside, Trip" for the 50th time, swatting mosquitoes and pulling my shirt from my now-damp skin as I have to respond to "when I'm coming to visit again." Because, you know, I'm not right there in the moment.
Oh, activities could be planned, though mostly outside...but add weather to the new travelling companion and it is even tougher. I'm attempting to harness a young mind - how dare I expose her to such depravity? I'd love to loiter at a mall, but there's Smiley giving me a look and a fake-question, such as "You want to take her for a minute?" So, leisure, plenty of space...that's our preferred mode.
This makes the planned carnival even more intense. In the past, large amounts of unknowns wouldn't be an issue at all (except when you get cornered), but not anymore. My priorities lie in ol Puddin' Pop. Here are more randos wanting to look at you, poking and prodding. I bet you'll love that. Oh, you don't? I'm not surprised. "Trip, why is she upset? My friends from a Super 60's booze cruise want to meet her. Just bring her out...remember, they sent you the bibs?"
Long before the details were given to us, we agreed that we had to hit the Fair. Smiley needed to see the state condensed into one area. No words or descriptions will do it justice, and when you add the weather I mentioned above, I am anticipating...nay, demanding some MN oddities. Thankfully, we know the Fair will deliver.
And then...that's it. Finding and searching for time with those we haven't seen in years, those who we really want to see and enjoy? Sadly, the time might be limited to an hour. Some will understand, and some who don't will still be sympathetic. It's all we can ask. I can take someone, show them the battleground, and do as I wished someone would have to me 20 years ago: send em back to Goldland.
Not trying to sound harsh or above it, but if you knew the difference, you'd agree.
Friday, July 26, 2013
The Perils of Programming: KCBS, July 20-21, 2013
Just how easy is it these days to program the weekends on a local station? Well, you can forget about having to schedule aggressively, or even concern yourself with anyone else. If anything, you'd be fighting a collective 6 share. Doesn't seem worth it, does it? And, as long as the FCC continues to let you do whatever the hell you want, well, you could just sit back and make money. How? I'm glad you asked.
I'm sure you've seen stations do this, but I hadn't seen such a give-up attitude from a network affiliate (let alone an owned network affiliate) than what KCBS put up this past weekend. CBS Sports offered no programming over the weekend, so KCBS just opened the grid and made it a paid programming festival.
Saturday, 10-11AM, 11:30AM-4:30PM
Yes, folks, that's 6 hours of "I give up, just pay me" scheduling. (The bump in the road was a completely random rerun of NewsRadio at 11AM, ranking 3rd in the time period) How did it work out? Well, as long as someone is watching it means people will want to be on the station, particularly on a good time of day. Never mind that 3 of the 6 hours literally no one watched. Cash on the barrel.
KABC's kids coverage, a show called "Recipe Rehab" and tape-delayed coverage of the British Open registered up to a 2.4 rating. Outside of some tune-in of another Yankees-Red Sox game on KTTV, it was channel 7 or nothing for those not wanting to be outside on a summer afternoon.
This must have been KCBS's thought. There's no need to go dark - let's do it again!
Sunday, 9:30-11:30AM, 1:00-5:00PM
Out of Face the Nation, the run of paid programming continued. Lucky for them, Face the Nation's median viewer age hovers near 80, so the audience held a small percentage as they attempted to find the remote. However, with sister station KCAL airing the Dodgers/Nationals game, KCBS' interruption from dicers and hair growth systems was the solid gold movie "Back to School."
"Do you look at a menu and say 'O.K.'?"
It was enough to outperform the paid runs on independent stations KTLA and KDOC. Reality did begin to set in at 1PM, so as with the day before, half of this run saw no one watching. Beyond the Dodgers, the LA viewer was left to wander. "Doc told me to stay outta the sun, so I'm just flippin around."
The "give-up attitude" I mentioned above isn't so much an indictment to KCBS' blase-faire attitude as it is a clear view that, for them, the bottom line is the bottom line. Regulations get weaker and weaker, and on the weekend turning a profit is really the only goal. Of course, if you asked anyone at the station, they'd speak of their attempts to have a "TV-everywhere" app to play on all platforms...which is well and good until they realize no one will be watching "everywhere" either if there's nothing to see.
I'm sure you've seen stations do this, but I hadn't seen such a give-up attitude from a network affiliate (let alone an owned network affiliate) than what KCBS put up this past weekend. CBS Sports offered no programming over the weekend, so KCBS just opened the grid and made it a paid programming festival.
Saturday, 10-11AM, 11:30AM-4:30PM
Yes, folks, that's 6 hours of "I give up, just pay me" scheduling. (The bump in the road was a completely random rerun of NewsRadio at 11AM, ranking 3rd in the time period) How did it work out? Well, as long as someone is watching it means people will want to be on the station, particularly on a good time of day. Never mind that 3 of the 6 hours literally no one watched. Cash on the barrel.
KABC's kids coverage, a show called "Recipe Rehab" and tape-delayed coverage of the British Open registered up to a 2.4 rating. Outside of some tune-in of another Yankees-Red Sox game on KTTV, it was channel 7 or nothing for those not wanting to be outside on a summer afternoon.
This must have been KCBS's thought. There's no need to go dark - let's do it again!
Sunday, 9:30-11:30AM, 1:00-5:00PM
Out of Face the Nation, the run of paid programming continued. Lucky for them, Face the Nation's median viewer age hovers near 80, so the audience held a small percentage as they attempted to find the remote. However, with sister station KCAL airing the Dodgers/Nationals game, KCBS' interruption from dicers and hair growth systems was the solid gold movie "Back to School."
"Do you look at a menu and say 'O.K.'?"
It was enough to outperform the paid runs on independent stations KTLA and KDOC. Reality did begin to set in at 1PM, so as with the day before, half of this run saw no one watching. Beyond the Dodgers, the LA viewer was left to wander. "Doc told me to stay outta the sun, so I'm just flippin around."
The "give-up attitude" I mentioned above isn't so much an indictment to KCBS' blase-faire attitude as it is a clear view that, for them, the bottom line is the bottom line. Regulations get weaker and weaker, and on the weekend turning a profit is really the only goal. Of course, if you asked anyone at the station, they'd speak of their attempts to have a "TV-everywhere" app to play on all platforms...which is well and good until they realize no one will be watching "everywhere" either if there's nothing to see.
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