Tag Archives: Mr. Blog’s Tepid Ride

Christmas Time, Goodwill Toward Mankind

11 Nov

from April 30, 2007

Walking through New York City during December can be a joyous experience. Look at the Christmas tree in Rockefeller Center, and the lights and decorations. Look at the skaters, young and old, all spinning, skating, or at least trying to stay upright as the throngs of holiday shoppers look down and smile. See the displays at Macy’s, the lights of Times Square, the sounds of Chinatown. Experience Little Italy. People from all across the globe come to New York this time of  year, all helping to bring the season to a wonderful crescendo, whether you celebrate Hanukah,  Christmas, or just love the whole magical aura of this time of year.

But keep away from me. I’m staying in Brooklyn.

Who needs all these people? Most of them come from Podunk Iowa or Grabass Wisconsin and just walk around with their jaws hanging open and “gee whiz” looks in their eyes as they block traffic, slow down the lines in stores, and ask stupid questions. Tourists. People from New York are just better than everyone else. You know it too. Go anywhere and you’ll see. People in other cities are all hayseeds, jerks, or French. It isn’t too bad if you, Mr. or Miss New Yorker, are the tourist. A well-planned group of New Yorkers can take over any town, burg, or city in this country. But we are merciful and let them think they count so we don’t take over. Yet.

But let thousands of tourists come here and they screw it all up. Christmas time comes and suddenly it takes 45 minutes for my pizza to be delivered. Go into a bagel store and there’s a line of rubes buying flavored cocoa. Try to walk down a street and there’s a smelly guy in a Santa suit begging me for money. He’s not a tourist, just a Salvation Army guy, but he pisses me off too.

Just last week I was trying to buy a newspaper in lower Manhattan and some family of tourists, with a pair of cute little twin girls, asked me for directions to FAO Schwartz. They were from Dayton Ohio, they explained, and were here for the holidays. It was little Suzie and Sally’s first Christmas in the city and they wanted to buy them something special. “Get out of my way,” I said. “You’re going to make me miss my train.”

But none of this is to say that I hate the holidays. No, no, I hate people, not holidays. The holidays are great. The lights, the sounds, the spirit. I even like gift giving. Sometimes I even do it. There is nothing better than the look on someone’s face when they open the present I’ve carefully picked out (the day before at the 99 cent store) and wrapped (thrown into a bag from the 99 cent store) and  maybe I got someone to pick out and sign a card for me. Of course, there is actually one thing better than gift giving and that’s gift getting. (I’ll get back to this on December 26th and let you know how this turned out.)

Holiday season is also when teachers get a week off. Trust me- it isn’t enough time. There is so much to do- TV, DVD, CD, MP3, sleeping, reading. How can I fit it all into one measly week? And sometimes I even have to see other people.

So as this amazing festival of love and peace approaches, please remember a few simple rules.

1- Don’t cut me off in traffic.

2- Have your money ready at the checkout. I am not going to wait while you find your little bag of pennies, grandma.

3- Remember that New Yorkers are not all rude. But I am so leave me alone.

4- It does not matter if I haven’t given you a gift. The holiday spirit is the spirit of giving, so give me stuff. (And I don’t do thank you notes.)

5- Special rules for unmarried women and mistletoe apply. Please see addendum 14.

So I wish you all Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukah, Kooky Kwanzaa, or whatever else all this multi-cultural nonsense has thrown our way.

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Here’s what America will be talking about tomorrow.

11 Nov

from April 22, 2007

Here’s what America will be talking about tomorrow.

America will be talking about hats.

Hats are cool. Not baseball caps. Those are functional, keeping the sun off your face and saving a bad hair day. And they look stupid with the stickers still on, the brims unbroken, and facing the wrong way. WHY DON’T PARENTS TEACH THEIR KIDS HOW TO WEAR BASEBALL CAPS NOWADAYS??????? YOU CAN SEE THE RIGHT WAY TO WEAR THEM AT ANY BALL GAME!!!!! But I digress. I’m talking about old-fashioned hats. Homburgs, bowlers, fedoras. Old-school head gear.

It is totally true, in the case of hats, that clothes make the man, and I’ll prove it with three examples.

#1- INDIANA JONES  That’s a cool fedora. Nobody can deny that with the beat-up leather jacket it’s a great look. But take off the hat and what are you left with? Harrison Ford. Now the guy has starred in some great films and has a pile of dough the size of Barry Bonds’ head, but the last few years he’s been banging Calista Flockheart, so I guess being Harrison Ford isn’t what it used to be, if you know what I mean.

#2- COL. HENRY BLAKE Yeah, I’m going for the easy one here. (Stick with me- I’ll make up for it with number three.) One of the stars M*A*S*H, one of the biggest shows of the time. With that fishing hat, Blake was funny. OK, he wasn’t cool, but Henry Blake was the cash cow that McLean Stevenson rode to stardom. (Yeah, he rode a cow. So it’s not a mixed metaphor. He actually saddled up and rode a cow.) Ever see him on Match Game, hatless? He’s pathetic! Ever see him on another show? No one has! That hat was like Samson’s hair- it contained all his power. And I think he was repeatedly audited by the IRS too. (I may have made that up.)

#3 WALTER WINCHELL A few words from Wikipedia (I’m ashamed to use it, but it’s easy) about the broadcasting legend: “It would be difficult to overestimate the effects Walter Winchell continues to have on American politics and popular culture.” I would point out that the man insisted on braodcasting the news while wearing a snappy hat. That is, broadcasting RADIO news! Look it up! The guy had a hat glued to his head.

“Winchell began his radio broadcasts by pressing randomly on a telegraph key, a sound which created a sense of urgency and importance. He then opened with the catch phrase ‘Good evening Mr. and Mrs. America and all the ships at sea. Let’s go to press.’ He would then read each of his stories in a staccato delivery at an average rate of 197 words per minute, noticeably faster than the typical pace of American speech.” Try that at home!

And today, without his hat, where is Walter Winchell?

Walter Winchell is dead.

He died 35 years ago. Think about it.

(By the way, “Walter Winchell is Dead” would make a gret name for an album.)

America will be talking about Boulder Creek Steak House.

That place features a steak called “The Outlaw.” It is at least 138 ounces of steak served on a platter carried by two waiters. It is so heavy that the last time they served it it dented the table. The thing is as big as a toilet seat, and probably tastes even better.

When I was there a few months ago, this steakzilla was ordered by an elderly gentleman. This spry old statesman of 97 was totally unprepared for what he got. I was three or four tables away, but from the look on his face this mega-meat was the culinary equivalent of viagra. Though his wife would have to corroborate that.

I don’t know what they charge for that thing, but God Bless America. Any country that can have such outrageous excessess of beef at any restaurant I can afford is A-OK in my book.

America will be talking about Rosie O’Donnell.

When will America wake up and realize that she is illiterate and stupid? i will now typ this the way she typs her blog. i luv u but i h8t to red a bok dont u?

Will someone show her how to turn her spell check on?

America will be talking about Richard McBeef

No offense to anyone who might be offended, (and maybe I should rephrase that) but that name is funny. Think about it. “Dick” McBeef. Could there be a more obvious gay porn name? Let’s think about this. There’s Hugh G. Rection, from Beavis and Butthead. There’s wrestler Val Venis, who claimed to be a porn star. Yes, a wrestling porn star. Where did he find the time? There was The Swinging Schwantz, also a wrestler.

But Dick McBeef is too damn funny. It’s number two on my list of Great Aliases Not Made Up By Me. Number one is Ron Mexico. Also high on the list is Dude Evil.

And while we’re on the subject, that guy was an English major? I’d sooner believe Major in the English army. He writes almost as bad as my students. Almost.

Someone claimed that “McBeef” is based on “MacBeth.” Yeah, if MacBeth was written by a depraved Shakespeare who stalked the Globe Theater like a mute beady-eyed weirdo bent on wiping out the troupe with his totally legal crossbows. (Hey, I think I like that idea. There’s a really good really bad movie in that.)

America will be talking about the infield fly rule.

An INFIELD FLY is a fair fly ball (not including a line drive nor an attempted bunt) which can be caught by an infielder with ordinary effort, when first and second, or first, second and third bases are occupied, before two are out. The pitcher, catcher and any outfielder who stations himself in the infield on the play shall be considered infielders for the purpose of this rule.

When it seems apparent that a batted ball will be an Infield Fly, the umpire shall immediately declare “Infield Fly” for the benefit of the runners. If the ball is near the baselines, the umpire shall declare “Infield Fly, if Fair.”

The ball is alive and runners may advance at the risk of the ball being caught, or retouch and advance after the ball is touched, the same as on any fly ball. If the hit becomes a foul ball, it is treated the same as any foul.

If a declared Infield Fly is allowed to fall untouched to the ground, and bounces foul before passing first or third base, it is a foul ball. If a declared Infield Fly falls untouched to the ground outside the baseline, and bounces fair before passing first or third base, it is an Infield Fly.

Rule 2.00 (Infield Fly) Comment: On the infield fly rule the umpire is to rule whether the ball could ordinarily have been handled by an infielder—not by some arbitrary limitation such as the grass, or the base lines. The umpire must rule also that a ball is an infield fly, even if handled by an outfielder, if, in the umpire’s judgment, the ball could have been as easily handled by an infielder. The infield fly is in no sense to be considered an appeal play. The umpire’s judgment must govern, and the decision should be made immediately.
When an infield fly rule is called, runners may advance at their own risk. If on an infield fly rule, the infielder intentionally drops a fair ball, the ball remains in play despite the provisions of Rule 6.05 (L). The infield fly rule takes precedence.

I hope this clears things up.

America will be talking about the theme from Hawaii Five-O

 And well they should. That’s a cool theme song.

America will be talking about some of the phrases in this blog.

“A pile of dough the size of Barry Bonds’ head.”

“Walter Winchell is dead.”

“The thing is as big as a toilet seat, and probably tastes even better.”

“The culinary equivalent of viagra.”

“Outrageous excessess of beef.”

“Dude Evil.”

“Totally legal crossbows.”

America will be wondering why it wasted it’s time.

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