You can't get what you want 'till you know what you want

This is it.  We're at the "it's not if but when" stage of Ol Bess.  After the mechanic did the last, needed repairs, he sighed and said "It runs."  Wow, thanks.  So, time to really look and get that new car.  Or new to me.  Whatever, I don't care.

That's an honest problem: I don't care.

Well...I DO care, you know.  It's just...in the words of Keith Levene, "I only know what I don't like."  But as for what it should be, what are the options?  Near everything?  OK...um...

There are sales.  Drive-a-thon.  April Showers of Savings.  Memorial Day.  Sell-abration.  Even "I know a guy who..."

An unidentified man is asked in the landmark album Chains and Black Exhaust his most important factors in choosing a car at the auto show.  "It's the color, man, and the monthly payments."  Amen.  At work, my office window faces the Hollywood Freeway from a high distance, and here's what I see, oh, 90% of the time: White, Silver/Grey, Black.  Over and over, an endless Raiders parade.  Occasionally a red car sticks out...but that's it.  Shit, when I got Ol Bess, Black was so UNPOPULAR that Saturn didn't even have a basic black car.  They had "Blackberry" which I took...and I noticed with a little grime, it was 100% black.

Where was I...right, the sniff.  I just saw 5 silver/grey cars cross the freeway simultaneously.  Damn, do people not care about this anymore?  Is it only me?

How are we doing for the following colors, car companies?
Goldenrod
Sunset Dusk
Sunset Musk
Horizon
Burnt Sienna
Burnt Orange
Powder Blue
Chevy Vans with murals painted on the sides
Red with non-optional racing stripe

Do the features include "power" options?  Is the interior plush?  Is cruise control standard?  Is there an antenna?  A USB port?  Does it seat passengers "comfortably?"  Can the navigation screen be changed to reruns of Hardcastle & McCormick?  

This is California.  This'll be easy, just you see.  (silently continues to convince himself of that fact)

Spread Thin

I remember when I used to have a lot of time on my hands...so much so that I'd just shrug my shoulders and wander around town.  I'm sure this sent those around me into some concern, but those times would (on occasion) bring some genuine excitement into my life though the means of discovery.  Stumbling into gold is a hell of a lot more fun than reading reviews online and getting your hopes up.

Nowadays, due to circumstances I did and did not create, there is precious little time like the above...at least for now, of course.  And even when that time arrives, albeit much shorter a range, I know the opportunity will be met with an immediate review: what did you do with that time?  It's an annoyance, to be sure.  You're being bossed around afterwards, so to speak, but there is a layer underneath all that: did you make the best of it?

So you do some shit alone that, one immediately notices, takes little time at all because you're not with "helpers" or other sloth-like distractions.  Now...what?  There ain't shit on TV.  You're on the computer at work enough, so...let's work on that garage.

I don't believe in "caves" just like I don't believe in bachelor parties, because if someone is suggesting that in this life I get one room for "my stuff" or one night for "me" because the rest of life will be a vicious landscape, then I wouldn't go down this path.  Instead, I sought to seek a space on the property that, under no circumstances would anyone but me voluntarily want to hang out for long periods of time.  This hit me around the time when I entered the hardware store, took in the smell in there (a smell that reeks of "let's do shit") that it was perfectly fine by me.  All I need is a beer fridge, and that'll do.

Wait a minute...is this insanity?  Look at this guy, drinking beer in an garage on a warm night...yikes.  Well, let us imagine that that very guy was happy in that element.  Comfortable in his own skin.  A completed decision.  Thankfully, it turns out I was not alone.  Former Pacific Gold writer Steve Simpson said I was actually behind on this development: it's your own personal break room.  I hunger just thinking about it.  And so it shall pass.

(My dream, of course, is a room full of flashing lights and keyboards, like those "computer rooms" or "headquarters" from 70s and 80s movies...levers and buttons, and I have a Mr. Microphone.  In a pinch, this alternative will suffice.)

I see my long term future not having to do this activity much, if at all.  But for now, I nurse the brew, look around, and nod the affirmative.  Enter these gates, and be happy.

You'll Get Nothing and Like It

Well, it's March, time for madness again

But I'm getting a little jaded about all of this.  The reason for this mentality is that, in each passing year, the very reason for why the tournament is as popular as it is slowly drains away.

I guess it actually began in another sport: college football.  They announce a playoff, however small, and I react positively.  Finally, everyone has a realistic shot at this.  Wait...there are 6 bowls involved?  Whatever, I don't care, as long...I'm sorry, "Power Conferences" is...what is that?

Well, what it is is the same lesson being told another way: there's a list of schools we care about.  The rest?  Get bent.  Oh, you're undefeated?  Don't care.  Ok, you can be in one of these 6 bowls, but not the playoff.  Hey, at least we let you in here, right?

March Madness was different.  Everyone in, and the love flowed.  Throughout my youth, seeding (which in the end doesn't matter) was appropriate on an agreed set of circumstances.  And every year, you'd get upsets.  Duke would lose tournament games in North Carolina and we'd rejoice.  Stephen F. Austin and Florida Gulf Coast would wear you down and make it happen.  Ohio would just plain beat the shit out of Georgetown.  I'd even get in the fun, especially when you'd sense a run (like George Mason) and ride the way in picks.  (A team former Pacific Gold writer Dave Blizznewski called Ghetto Magic)

But one time, a tournament started and I didn't make any picks.  No one really cared.  I just sat back and watched, hoping for upsets which didn't occur.  And another year...and another, and since I'm not ensconced in something that I'll foul up anyway, I cast my full gaze to the schools themselves.  I recognized nearly all of them, and this is in a day and age where my basketball viewing time is minimal.

A) We have the usual powers.
B) We have the small conference champions.
C) And we have this at-large pool where the committee would much rather have more schools from the A conferences and not the B.  Why?

As with many sports-related questions that are answered in opinion and not fact, I'm not told a reason.  One new answer I heard this week was "Hey, remember, this is a TV show!  You want the big names for big games!"  We can agree or disagree with that, and considering my former career and knowledge on the subject, it would be useless to tell another windbag how they got it wrong.  It's that the victories of schools from a B conference beating a school from an A conference is WHAT MADE THIS WHOLE THING POPULAR.

The first question people say when discussing the madness is "Who do you have winning the tournament?" - a statement that could cover any sort of athletic competition.  The second?  "What are your upsets?"  The NCAA will tolerate 1, maybe 2...and the rest that aren't upsets really (except in seed) help stir that talk.  Those lovable ratings.  But when those little old schools don't get to play...it's just another weekend in December with "key match-ups."

I'll be watching, of course.  I like basketball, and more importantly, entertaining basketball.  Sometimes I can even coax the Big Scoop to join me, even if the topic turns to uniform color.  It'll mean nothing to her, but I'll watch and think "you're killing what made this great for no reason other than the whims of a very, very few.  I wonder if I'm alone?"

Heat Shaming

Because it was lunchtime, I forced myself to go outside for a walk.  This normally would not be an achievement, but it was a shaky 58 degrees.  It's been that way all week, and will next week, too.  It's Winter, I know...but when the Old Man throws in a hearty gust o'wind as well, this isn't easy. 

So I'm ambling...not struggling, just dealing with it.  You know what load of dung then entered my mind?  (It was actually a tour bus that went by, and I could, at that moment, see what those out of towners were thinking)  "Ha!  You think this is cold?  This is nothing!  Hell, where we're from, you'd be knee deep in a concoction of snow, dirt, water, and gravel!  You gotta get tough!"

OK, but...

If you live here, in Dealville, this IS cold, you see.  Which...

What makes it so that 58 degrees with fun wind is normal to anyone?  Does a person's comfort zone only exist indoors?  I don't know that it's about "rights" and wrongs, and I know I'm not alone.  The scuttlebutt around the office on Tuesday was a guarded agreement that hoo wee, it got really cold, didn't it?  I'm cold.  You're cold, so we agree?  

In my youth, I don't remember ever hearing anyone say that outside, or inside for that matter.  It's been decades, so I could have easily deleted that memory.  Maybe it's too obvious?  Maybe "no shit" would be the answer, and no one wants to hear it.

(But, no one wants to hear from Dealville when it's glorious and others are letting the car warm up, either)

I see March from here.  The sun, basketball, a big stretch.  Lemme hear those horns.

Business (Of All Kinds) is Booming in Southwest Florida

(Editor's Note: Trip Darvez once again reaches into the archives for a very early column...perhaps his first.

"I visited a DJ I'd met at a convention, and I ended up submitting this to the Miami Phoenix newspaper...they turned me down, but when I moved to LA to work at KLAQ, I ended up submitting this to the LA Reader in 1980.  It was enough to get another audition and, eventually, being added to the staff.")

You start noticing it when you get off Interstate 75.  Signs everywhere: "Coming soon!  Lakeland South housing development!  Southwest Florida's newest golf 'community' with fine dining!"  Get closer to the beach, and they change their prose but not their enthusiasm: all major hotel chains are here, along with condos for the snowbirds with enticing names like "Pelican Cove" and "San Carlos Harbor Inn" and "Bayside Estates."  They're here, new, with more on the way.  The reason is that the first real domino fell: the highway, expansion, and all that planning gets everyone jumping.  The new airport will be ready by "the early '80s" (as many remind me) and with said Interstate going from the Canadian border, they're ready to welcome everyone down.

This vibe isn't held by just the tourists, either.  I figured the locals would resent this, but they've embraced it, all for their own reasons.

Building Up

Like Hawaii, this is an early-to-rise part of the world, so construction starts a half-hour early down here, and site manager Nelson Quinones says whatever the extra time might hit him in labor costs, things can get done a week or two early.  "That's really priceless."

We're walking around what will be called "Island Towers" which will be complete with "Sunset Views, Beachfront Fun, and a slice of Paradise!"  Estero Blvd. seemed like a main drag for the island offshoot, but it's connection on both sides is bringing everyone: supermarkets, restaurants, you name it.  For the locals, the ever-increasing amenities for day to day living now here outweigh having to put up with noisy trucks here and there.

"Building this up is really a combination of things.  You want things to blend in."  How does a building aptly named "Tower" blend in with the homes, all exclusively 1 story?  "Well, I could have gone bigger.  They're going to do that on the east side.  Look, 6 stories is not, you know, obscene.  We're not doing a huge parking lot as you'd guess.  But by doing it this way, it's..." (He smiles)  Exclusive?  "You're getting the language down now."  As they are, this whole stretch of Estero will be dotted with similar properties, with churn year round.  Nelson is just one of many here to strike.

"They're loading up!"

If Nelson ready to strike, Lowell Vera of Parkway Liquors is ready for the rush.  The street is actually called College Parkway, but Lowell figured he'd run into trouble if he called it "College Liquors."  Florida's liquor laws prevent hard liquor in supermarkets, but distance has nothing to do with it.  Many locations have a liquor store either in walking distance or conveniently attached...Lowell is here on his own, not far from a House of Pancakes and, if you're coming east, you'll see it before the 7-Eleven.  "I really thought when that went in, that's it for me."  A customer interrupts with a bag of ice and a 6 pack of beer.  "But I got food here...no Slurpees, but I ain't gonna hassle ya." 

"It used to be that we'd get some college kids, and people coming from Cape Coral over the bridge, but..." Lowell fishes out a Kent, tapping it on the counter as if to emphasize his point "the 7-Eleven didn't help, but the slow period, that's what I like to call the Summer, that was strictly locals...it's not as slow.  Lotta construction guys coming in here, even in the morning."

A lady (his wife?  fellow employee?  I never got to meet her and he never offered a name, so we'll never know) rotates and stacks more iced oatmeal cookies on the shelf.  "Some of these guys, they just showed up down here, it's their first time, they have directions but don't really know the area.  So they see us, and I swear they were getting stuff like they'd be out on the water for weeks.  These two guys, remember?  I see em just get a Styrofoam cooler and put it on the counter and just start getting 8-packs and bags of chips, beef jerkey, didn't say a word.  I turned one and said 'you're loading up' and he just smiled.  My kind of sale!"

A "Growth" Business

Having a good time is getting easier in this area.  The boats roam at night, so I've been told, and the daytime business keeps going.  It's the business of feeling good, and business is, well, getting better and better.

"Terry" is a man who makes that his business, and the demands of the business are starting to get in the way of those good times.  "Shit, yesterday...(he takes a long pull of a rum runner and a hit off a joint, so much so that I wasn't expecting him to continue) some of the girls we had in here started just talking and talking.  We'd brought in a shipment, and I spent a day with (names redacted) cleaning that shit.  I just need a day or two to relax.  You know?  And they were just talking and..."  Another drag, and a look off into the sunny sky.

All of this growth in the area is offering a lot of people the same chance: the moment to relax and take stock.  Yet, none of those seem to take the time to do so, whether there is the time, or not.  "I bet you could talk to guys on the east coast, and...well, maybe in..."  (rum runner swig, and a shake of the head)

Terry returned from his office with a store-bought Key Lime pie.  We were both hungry, so we went head first.  "The demand keeps going up" Terry says, removing a crumb from his mustache.  "All this stuff distracting me, ruining my buzz, but I run out of shit more and-"  (more singing by the girls he loathes)  "Would you guys can it already?  You know?"  The music is lowered and "Got it" is yelled back.

"I guess I'm getting to be known, we're moving it out.  It's all going to be legal soon...by 1980, you could probably get high at 7-Eleven."  We both laugh at an idea that, if he's right, isn't far fetched.  Just then, one of the girls comes over with hair that's (so I've been told) dyed blonde.  "It really hurts."  She followed this up with a laugh, and Terry just waved his hand.

I leaned back and wondered...all this change, people busy making it happen.  You can't help but wonder where it will take you (and everyone else) next.

The narrative moved, too

As a sports fan, it's never fun when things don't "go well."  But think about it: how often does it go well?  Is there a hard and fast definition of "going well?"  Don't things have to at least "go well" for you to take time our of your day to involve yourself in some way?

The Dodgers lose game 7.  Georgia loses in OT.  The Rams lose in the playoffs.  It might not have ended the way you wanted, but it was better than expected, wasn't it?  Does that constitute as "going well"?  Sure.  Outdoing your expectations validates your time, right?  It was worth it.

Or...so the thinking goes.

Each team of each sport knows this and thinks this way, too.  Shit, some of them have to because, for some employees, it's their job on the line.  So...if YOU'RE not thinking about the team that way, they'll do their best to get you on their side.  It's how they keep making money.  By not doing that, you can't even convince the hardcore fans all that money and time is worth it.

Now, if I'm talking about a team having to work overtime to keep fan interest (despite the play on the field), you know I'm talking about the Chargers.

The Chargers.  (allows moment for laughs to subside)  A team who bent over backwards to upset their loyal fanbase.  An owner who had no idea on how to use that fanbase to grow it's value.  A "new" fanbase that doesn't really seem to exist.  If it does, you wouldn't see them at their stadium.

A team that now is comfortable being a second fiddle, renting a stadium....until a larger, newer stadium can also be rented from another team.  How do you end up this way?  This decade tells you how: you're just good enough...how you keep people thinking it's about to get better, and how if it's not better now, it's so close to being better, you'd best stick around.  Right?  Hello?!

2010: Coming off a 13-3 season.  A team with the #1 offense AND defense...has 4 punts blocked, gives up 3 kick-offs for touchdowns.  A loss to Kansas City in Week 16, and they don't make the playoffs.  9-7.

2011: For those of us in LA who didn't have Sunday Ticket, you'd be stuck with shitty AFC West games at 1PM more often than not.  (It was this poor viewing audience that windbags would point to and say "see, LA doesn't care about football".)  A season where 3 of the division's teams are 8-8.  Denver wins the division, because the Chargers start 4-1, then slide with a 6 game losing streak.  2 home games are blacked out.  (Back when that kind of thing happened)   8-8.

2012: Typical Norv season.  Never really in it, 0-4 vs. NFC teams this season.  7-9.

2013: A new coach, a strong ending to the season, everyone else losing, so the Chargers make the playoffs!  Better yet, they WIN a playoff game.  A close loss to Denver in the divisional round, but it was a clear improvement.  See, fans?  Things are getting better.  We're looking forward to an even better 2014!  9-7.

2014: They start 5-1.  Look out!  Hey, are they gonna get a new stadium?  I bet if they keep playing good they'll...wait, did I just talk about finishing the season strong?  I did.  In 3 of their last 4 games, they fail to get more than 1 TD.  In week 17, its a win and get in game vs. Kansas City.  Guess how that went down.  9-7.

2015: The middle of the season sees a truly Chargers-style losing streak: 6 in a row.  What makes it Chargers-style?  The first 5 games lost during the streak are by 1 TD or less.  That new stadium talk has swiftly been replaced with moving.  A bad team, bad record, fans hear this news and don't show up.  All this cannon fodder for the owner.  All to see...the team have to stay?  4-12.

2016: A fanbase who has been told the team has one foot out the door anyway (all the while crying poor) sees a 5-6 start end with an artistic 5 game losing streak.  As the caption read before the Week 17 game in San Diego (the last time, for the last time) before a half-full stadium  "This is what being dicked around looks like."  5-11

2017: Hey, we moved!  Not too far away.  And it's...OK, it's a soccer stadium, but look!  We're here, LA!  What?  Oh yeah, another team came here first.  And they play in the big stadium, and they played here for a long time.  But we're here, too! 

An 0-4 start, a stadium on the small side of "MACtion" with empty seats and those filled usually by fans of the other team, and the welcome never shows.  After the bye, the team goes 6-2 (beating only 1 playoff team, and that was the week the Bills decided their back-up might be a good idea).  But those two losses?  To actual playoff teams.  They need "help" to get in and don't get it.  9-7, the eternal Chargers record.

So what's the headline, buried on the site?

"After 0-4 start, Chargers finish strong and build momentum for 2018."

The narrative never changes.  Good start, bad ending, bad start, good ending.  Next year?  Just keep on spinning.

I'm One

Smile.  Head down.  Chop wood.  Quiet.  Check in and out.  Thankful and grateful.

But...I look out the window...the view, me oh my.  Breathe.  Relax.  Lean back.

Arrive.  Sit anywhere.  Take it in.  Listen.  Ask questions.  Get more tea.

Absorb.  Collect.  Look over, again and again.  Learn.

Stand in the sun.  Reflect, but just for a moment.  It's beginning.

All of this, I keep to myself.  Well, 90%.  OK, maybe 85%. 

I wouldn't say I've done a lot of "strange" things for a living.  Most have been at conventional locations, organizations known out here.  When you have to explain it, you can find out right away the kind of person you're talking to: and if that and any other conversations go further.  Shit, that's just the job.  Some places encouraged a healthy happy hour vibe, at work and not at work.  Others, I'd pair off with 1 or 2 people.  We all remember the places where you were the odd man out.

Part of the fun of having real friendships that span time is to see that people can evolve and change, but if they're truly your friend, it takes little for it to "feel like old times."  It doesn't mean things are the same, or that you'd want them to be.  It's the connection.  I wouldn't limit that to a person, either.  Your favorite sport, restaurant, vacation spot, doesn't matter. 

It's not easy when the "old neighborhood" changes and it's not the same as your youth.  Sometimes, awesome restaurants and bars close.  The friends you made there equally disappear.  Your vacation spot is now not as "off the beaten path" as before.  You still like listening to The Best of Heatwave, but now not everyone in the car agrees. 

What's new?  Well, don't you want to find out?  Can we watch college football and eat snacks, like always?  Of course we can.  But once the games are over, we're going for a bike ride?  Instead of drinking more beer on the couch, solo?  Shit, ain't that something?!

Looking Forward

A few years ago, I returned to my monitoring cell in Beverly Hills and saw the sun setting over the swankiest zip code in America.  I was confident in the future, and I was making it happen.  A self-referential moment, I liked where my life was headed.  It was a step up. 

And then, right after I took a step up...I fell down the flight of stairs.

And now, after all of the bullshit, I begin again.  Not doing the items of the past, but the goal all along.  Future-thinking, forward-thinking, all that shines.  I haven't had to live as much of a shell game as right now, but at least it's a game.  At least you get another chance to win...or keep playing. 

As I've said in the past, in this town, what you do is the 2nd, sometimes 1st question people ask (so they can judge and rank you, of course).  But if you want to live in polite company and not tell people to shove off, so it goes. 

It's great being normal again.  Now, on to the list.  New desk chair?  Yeah, but...look, 1984 Stars in Motion LA Olympics T shirt.  And...purchased.

"I wanted to give you an update"

Hey Trip!  I hope this finds you well.  Thank you for reaching out to us about this position.  We'd like to speak to you this week.  Please let us know if the time below works for you. 

Great!  I look forward to speaking with you then.

Trip, thank you for talking with me.  I've passed along my notes to the hiring manager, and they'd like to speak with you.  We do need to fill this position as soon as possible, so we'll be in touch by the end of the week.

Trip, I apologize for the delay.  Would you be free next week for a phone interview?  Please let me know.

I'm glad to hear the phone call went well.  We'd like you to come into the office to meet other folks in the department.  Is there a time later next week or the week afterward that would be best for you?  We do need to fill this position by the end of the month, so the earlier you could come in, the better.  Please let us know.

Terrific.  I'll send you information before the meeting.

Trip, thanks for writing.  I wasn't aware of any delay.  As a matter of fact, I know they liked you.  Let me reach out and I'll get back to you.

I just spoke to the hiring manager, and they said the job is on hold, but just temporarily for now.  I should have an update in 2 weeks. 

Hi Trip.  As far as I've been told, the position remains on hold.  I will definitely let you know if anything changes.

Hello.  I am currently out of the office.  I will write you back when I return next month.

Citizens for the Uprights

After reading about and seeing the wonderful reaction of Oakland Raiders' Kicker Giorgio Tavecchio's performance, and his humble and stoic response, it made me realize how kickers are viewed has changed throughout my life.  Of course, I'm old, so this is a large sample size, but there are clearly different eras.

At first, the kicker looked like and was an everyman:

Did this man just
A: Kick a field goal?
B: Fix your transmission?
C: Place cans of Dinty Moore Beef Stew on a shelf?

This was the look, and as a majority, the straight-ahead style was the norm.  But the"sidewinders" (as they were so derided by old-time jocks) came in...domestically and internationally as well.  Coaches seemed to realize that you didn't really need to have much history in the game as long as you could kick, and kick far.  What does this really mean: coincidentally or otherwise, we started getting NAMES.

Florian is a Philly guy, and an Ivy leaguer as well.  He also split time playing in the NASL!

Zenon's family made it from Germany to Canada, where his excellence in track & field brought a scholarship to UCLA.  Injuries led him to football, and becoming a 2-time All-American punter.  Then, it was back home to Canada for a lengthy career with the Argos.  After a season with Kansas City, it was back to hopping around the CFL.  Of course, when the USFL came around, it was perfect for a guy like Zenon, and here he is about to deliver a little Bandit Ball.

(What, you didn't know Topps made USFL cards?)

Starting your career in the USFL is a good move, and success gets you recognition on coast-to-coast TV.

Kick em, Bojo!

Nowadays, you might get a quick quip or two about a kicker: they're good, they're bad, or the announcer's favorite cliche, they're "head cases."  Whatever the fuck that means.

Quite a detour down memory lane...and while the saying may go that "I never forget a face," if you ask anyone who writes (or wrote) on here, our memories for names are even stronger.  Kickers names?  Right down the middle.

"Whoa! Look at this!"

Wow...this is a great view!  You know, I'm not really sure.  I think that's a movie studio.  Do you have the map?  Let me see.  It says Universal...but I guess there's another one, too.  Yeah...let's see if we can get over this guard rail.

Careful.  Do you want the camera?  (sighs) I wonder what's on the other side.  Is the Star Map still in the glove compartment?  Eh, I'll get it later.

Do you ever think of...

What?  Oh, no, I was just thinking what it would be like to live here.  (laughs)  Yeah, crazy.  I think there's more lookouts if we go up to Mulholland.  I think the Star Map shows that, too.  OK, you ready to go?

I could do lunch somewhere, if you see somewhere you like when we're out.  Wait - before we go, let me get a picture of you.

Super.  You go up there first.

Someone (temporarily) saved my life

All my life, it was "it's not what you know, it's who you know."  And, even in the most minor scenarios, I found that was true.  It was always true.

And then, it wasn't...and it made me think, or realize, that it was all sow shit.  But it took an even longer amount of time realize that no phrase is absolute.  Maybe, just maybe, it was the "who" in the phrase that was the problem.  By knowing them, it didn't make a difference, it seems.  The very people I'd worked with before and would again...weomp?!  Hmm.

So, after more rejection, it took someone I know to end the suffering, albeit temporarily.  In the realm of possibilities, nothing is given.  What's wanted vs. what's expected, but honesty?  Respect?  They'll have none for you...until they want if FROM you.  And that's how things roll, I guess.  You saw them on your way up, you'll see them on their way down.

And when they hand you the receipt from buying new dish towels, tell them you, too, think of the "old days," that we should meet up for lunch, and keep to yourself that you may forgive, but you don't forget.

Half Full

The events of the day, and their resulting wear and tear, left me slouching on the couch in a way that only I can.  I'd even use the phrase "world-weary" if I'd seen the world, which I certainly have not. 

Then, she came up to me, all smiles.  "Let's go to the kitchen and get an ice cream sandwich!"

I shouldn't be buying those for a myriad of reasons, and I rarely go into the supermarket for 2-3 things.  But it's Memorial Day weekend, and the hot dog buns were moldy.  Damn it, I want my money back.  And...well, I do have a coupon, and they are M&M cookie ice cream sandwiches, and it's just about "summer" and...

"OK," I said, and just getting up seemed to keep the machine in motion.

"The first thing you do is open the freezer and get them."  She was "helping," and this was all part of the plan.  I cut it in half, which seemed to confuse and disappoint her.  I told her she was getting the bigger half, which wasn't true at all, but I was managing sugar in the late hours.

Sitting down, she suspected a ruse: "Can I have a bite of yours, too?"  No.  This way we both have some, right?  "Yes.  I got the biggest piece!" 

Well, this worked out perfectly.  Eating, both of us all smiles, she looked at me and said "I'm so lucky!"  No, sweetie.  I'm lucky.  Despite the large lack of good luck in my life, I'm lucky.  Right here and now, there's no doubt I'm lucky.

"Yeah!"

I've got living to do

Stacy, are you ready for cheer practice?

YES, mom.  God, why can't we get a Betamax?

A what?

A Betamax.  I'm missing this new show I like.  OH - LOOK! 

Ugh.  Stupid Mrs. Conover moving it to the night.  If it was after school--

Stacy, watch your language.  

Fine, I'm going.

(One week later)
  
Stacy, isn't your show on now?

Oh my god!  OK, Linda, I'll call you after.  Bye. (pause)  Mom, if you're gonna be in here, you have to be quiet.

(sigh)  Fine, I'll fold the laundry in the kitchen.

WHAT?!  Crap!  Why are they doing this?

Stacy!  Your language!

I'm calling channel 2.  Oh - sorry, Dad.  Let me know when you're off the phone. 

What happened to your show?

It's not on.  Some cartoon thing on instead.

Oh, well...you can help me fold the sheets.

Why do they have to ruin all the good shows?

I don't know, honey.  I don't know.

 

Going Under

Days go fast, in the "blink or you'll miss it" mode.  Weeks, next thing you know, are over.  People excite themselves over the weekend.  Myself?  It's just another day.

The "process" (such as it is) to land somewhere else is not a swift one, so each day only yields so much news.  It might be also described as a "trickle" and all the applying in the world to jobs that actually fit whatever one might call a skill set...you wait.

One of those currently in play is, believe it or not, a job with the city's library department.  My background fit much of what they are looking for, and I was pleased to hear I've made what I thought was "the cut."

This "cut" occurred at, of all places, a fire department training center.  I reiterated that I was not trying to be a fire fighter, but go I went...and before I knew it, I was in a cattle call.  Some were dressed to the 9's, some in what we call "The Summer of George."  But once inside, I sat down and took what can best be described as an "adult SAT test."  Just before I began, I was told that the large group I was in were all there for that job.

40 people can do this job?  The guy in line who said he used to work for LA Metro trains and now "works for his dad, outside" - he can do it?  The lady who said "I just go for everything now" - her too?  Was there any cut at all?

I left more confused than ever, and wondered...just what is the threshold?  Damned if I ever know.  HR departments are no help: it all "went great" and "we'll be in touch."  I hang up the phone, I reply with another thank you and...well, how do you tell someone you can only waste away the day watching old After School Specials until the bills are due?

No more "stuff"

Maybe the cue card guy wasn't there.  Maybe Chuck couldn't see it.  Maybe he couldn't remember.  But he looked in the camera and said "We'll be back with...more STUFF...right after these messages."

Chuck Barris' production career might have been labeled as such now, but then, when the shows were on?  Oh, he heard it all...almost all negative.  He soldered on: the shows (by and large) were hits.  When it all got to be too much (some of which his own doing, he'd later admit) he retired to south France, just as he promised himself he would.

Two books came from that time, one about "himself" and another about himself.  When he returned from France to write even more, he often did the rounds on book tours.  For the book The Big Question (a fiction goof that, in my opinion, was a bit of a letdown) he spoke at Book Soup in an event that turned out-of-control by the end with surprise visits from Milton DeLugg and Rip Taylor.  Answering his own questions at the start, he again pleaded that he did not do drugs during The Gong Show.  He also wanted to be remembered as a great writer, but resigned himself that he'll probably be remembered as the wacky host who finally got gonged.

(And, in an interview 6 years before The Big Question, he said to himself: "My epitaph in real life would be ‘The Man Who Thought of The Gong Show .’ What a horrible thing! But when I was in the hospital, what bothered me was that I had to do something, that the years left in me were going to be a big zero …. I mean, what’s going to happen? Do you take a slow American Flyer ride out? That seems boring as shit!”")

So, Chuck, while your memory is being celebrated as this:

 I'll indulge you, and instead present this:

I do this not as a fan, but out of respect.  Respect for an innovative producer, a fine writer, and giver of advice to me.

Back in my early college days, I searched for career advice low and high, high and low.  I found what was reported to be Chuck's address, so I went for it.  I told him I was toiling away in general classes, waiting to take the fun stuff.  I purposely peppered my letter with phrases from "The Game Show King" such as "star-fucker" and "hero worshiper" while blending the advice demand with a heavy helping of praise.

To my amazement, less than a month later, I received a letter in return.  It was my own, with a small gem of advice from the "King" himself:

A true original, Chuckie Baby.  You were a true original.  This is me saying bye-bye.

Ol Bess hits 100 (thousand)

I had just left the house when a momentous occasion occurred.  I had sensed it coming, and was hoping I wouldn't be stuck in traffic or doing something mundane.  But there it was:

 17 years with ol Bess...and it finally makes the milestone.  I said it early in its life as a goal, later as an excuse, and now as a necessary part of getting by in a perilous time.

In the early days, I remember it being new enough (hell, just from this century) that it occasionally impressed, if for nothing beyond its "new-ness."  I was happy, more so because I didn't have a bad commute.

The first oddity was a unique sound when it idled after the gas was pushed for a while.  It confounded mechanics all over town, changing belts (that didn't do it), changing fluids (a rip-off), or inspecting and leaving confused.  I put up with it, but it wasn't much fun to have a car where everyone can say "here comes Trip" 100 feet away.  That followed with a front mount which seemed to be ever-so-slightly disconnecting, leading to a low-level "hummmmmm" as the car moved along.  Again, I put up with it. 

What I couldn't have possibly known or foreseen was that I'd keep the car in the same condition with same, well, everything, for its first 10 years.  There were a lot of "I should have" moments toward the latter part of last decade, and using my stash for a new car was one of the ideas.  But...what?  And why?  So, I didn't...and Bess didn't meet the "cash for clunkers" threshold, either.  So, we were doing fine, surviving...

Until a morning in the winter of 2010 when, simultaneously, as I was driving, the following happened:
1. The right front tire split
2. The right back tire split
3. The engine frame then got multiple holes in it from...what?  Old age?  Who the fuck knows.

I've never ridden a live bull, so I can't say the comparison is completely accurate, nor have I flown a private plane in a thunderstorm, but it's close.  By the grace of god, I make it to a nearby service station, and it's one of those moments where everyone stops what they're doing to take a look.  All other mechanics pitch in because, well, this is an all-hands-on-deck moment.  I appreciate their technique, but can't help thinking...for this car?!

It's 2nd decade saw trips to the bay area (even sitting in a median while I quickly scanned my phone to figure out what freeway took me into The City, and which one was a direct shot to Mill Valley) and Las Vegas.  The Vegas trip was noted particularly for the shock so many in my family had seeing it.  "Wow, it still works?"

For the next few years, there were large/larger repairs that made me question keeping this going, furthered by the make itself no longer around.  But then, glory be: I get a job 1 mile from home!  Those 2 years bought me more than time, giving Ol Bess plenty of time to rest and store its energy.

Moving over the hill has, for the most part, kept a close commute (back when there was one), but a repair of a giant coolant leak gave me a serious lesson: that's the last time, Bess.  That's the last time I'm forking out that kind of dough to keep you going.  It's too much.  Sorry, but it's true.  When mechanics tell you to just rent a car for the weekend instead of push it to Las Vegas, and you know they're being honest, we have to start to have "that conversation."

But just as that began, I checked the odometer to see 95...then an oil change last October told the truth: the next one will be 100k plus.  Now, it's just a matter of time.  And here we are...

Ol Bess...I don't know how much longer we have, but I hope it's all good.  We hit cruise control, roll down the window forever tainted by apartment building sprinklers, and let you do your thing.  You know these roads as good as I do...where to now?

Face Value

I'm more than willing to admit that I lost interest in the NBA over the past decade.  I'm also willing to admit that, as such, I shouldn't be the one to give advice to a pro team.

All the same, I've seen that they're in the bottom of the Western Conference barrel.  How should they turn it around?

Well, for starters, how about finding players that LOOK like that?

Style cures all in the pros.

More to Come, Part II (The 1960's)

If the analytics on this blog are to be trusted (and it's Google, right?) the most popular individual post here on Pacific Gold is More to Come from April, 2012.  In it, I admired the swank nature of the moved-to LA version of The Tonight Show.  At the time, I only put up 1 bumper card from the New York days.  And, while that era of New York was swank in its own right, what I had as an example doesn't do it any favors.  So why shouldn't that era get its due?

Well, it should...though the further back we go, the harder episodes are to find.  Thankfully, another friendly collector got them from somewhere (who knows if he can't say, won't say, whatever) and I figured this could give another view of the show.

1965.  Middle of the decade, early in John's run, and while not all the famous pieces are in place, it's close.  The show also seems to be an established hit, so the principals are loose as well.  Maybe that's how they were all the time.  Hard to say unless you were there, and I wasn't (as far as I know).

I included this not because it's anything special, but more as a "typical" example for the era.  It didn't have to be anything more than what it said, right?

That's pretty much true, though the show wasn't (or didn't feel) tied to the "more to come" phrase.  View the creativity below:

What's considered the 1960's aesthetic in fashion/design/home furnishing was viable here as well.  Not much art could be done with Johnny or his pictures (especially if he didn't pose for any other photos) but NBC's art department was trying to figure out how to think outside the norm.

Not that the bar was especially high.  See the photo above, which looks like it's already well-worn.  For all we know, this could have been used for Jack Paar, too.  NBC had a vested interest in color programming with RCA as an owner.   CBS and ABC were getting around to broadcasting more shows in color (why, in a round-about way, promote the competition?).

If you had a black and white set, that's how it looks.

With a swing band in the studio and 1 hour and 45 minutes to fill each night, music took up more of the program than usual.  The show also wanted you to stay tuned in case the current guest bored you:

While the bottom photo might seem the kind of art in a jazz club or saloon, the above...how to describe it?  Is it the kind of art that was later in Trivial Pursuit?  Almost early-Trader Joe's?

As we know, the move to Hollywood brought it to another level.  (David Letterman's morning show and then Late Night took it to another, more humorous level)  But in the beginning, the "more to come" cards were as slick and hip as the mid-60s were for Don Draper...and Johnny Carson himself.

Survival of the Smoothest

You know what the problem is with "making it look easy?"  It's that people who don't do it, or know how to for that matter, think it IS easy.

What's going on, Joan?

Look, I've been making bacon all week, it's New Year's.  How bout we let off some steam?  Goof around?  You and me.  Ready?