rbendici

Apr 072019
 

Okay, I recently mentioned that I have a ton o’ content that, for whatever reasons, I’ve never finished or posted, or it’s just fallen through the cracks. While recently reaching into one of those fissures, I found this little foray into foolishness that I can’t think of why I never posted, other than maybe there wasn’t enough for a whole post? But as the Great American Attention Span has shrank, this seems long enough. Right now, at least—come back in an hour and it’ll seem like “War and Peace.”

Anywhoo, it’s from six years ago when my sons were edging into adolescence. As I recently went with my younger son to the accepted student day at the university he’ll be attending this fall [*My baby—hold back tears here*], I’m reminded how quickly it all goes—even if I’m pretty much permanently stuck at 14 in my head.

So maybe think of this as a nostalgia trip and a salute to silly, plus a nod to the goofy kid who lingers in the best of us.

So as I was hanging out with my sons the other day, we got into a silly discussion as we’re prone to do—at the center of it: Villains who would NOT strike fear into the heart of anyone.

Here are that the Bendici boys came up with:

The Diabolical Deli Dude: With his catchphrase “Take a number!” he terrorizes the innocent by making them wait even longer to get sliced meats.

The Sinister Sink Soaker: This twisted maniac gets his jollies by going around and drenching helpless sinks—with water! The fiend.

Leap Year Lunatic: This madman appears once every four years for one day to wreak havoc and throw the universe in chaos by trying to make leap year a permanent annual event!

The Toilet Chameleon: Has the ability to blend in with any commode, often with disastrous consequences—let’s just say you do NOT want to accidentally sit on his lap when you have the squirts.

Shiny Penny: She possesses the proportional strength and abilities of a brand-new one cent piece, and all the horror that comes with that.

The Floppy Disk: Watch out! Outdated technology has a new evil overlord who wants to send us all back to the unsophisticated horror that was the 1990s. How would we survive?

The Terrible Towel Snapper: Don’t drop the soap—or your guard! No lockerroom is safe from this wet terrycloth-wielding menace.

The Window Washer: Sure, randomly cleaning huge panes of glass doesn’t sound particularly diabolical, but when you realize that you can better see the world through a spotless window, well …

Mr. Mime: He doesn’t actually commit crimes—he just pretends to!

A regular … well, not rogue’s gallery … let’s say, assembly of annoyances!

Mar 312019
 

So a few weeks ago, Joopiter and I were at a local watering hole enjoying adult libations when she noticed a banner hanging high and proclaiming happy hour deals for certain menu items. One dish that we took note of was “buff nachos,” which most normal people would interpret as short for “buffalo nachos.”

Yeah, normal people. Immediately we decided that it was clearly meant to be read as [*flex biceps, drop into best Hulkamaniac voice, brutha*] “BUFF NACHOS!” Which, of course, would only be served with … JACKED CHEESE! OHHH YEAH!!

And we were off and riffing.

Before we knew it, we came up with Carbio, the exercise-centric dining spot that we clearly need to open because we ain’t getting rich working for The Man (or The WoMan #hertoo). Before everyone poops, everyone eats, so why not cash in by catering to all those workout-loving freaks? Gym-themed food for the fitness-minded! And of course, all served on weight plates.

On the menu:

  • Bacon FitBits
  • Granola Crunches
  • Stacked Pancakes
  • cREPs SuSETs
  • Meaticine Balls
  • Racked Lamb
  • Plank Steak
  • Spot Roast
  • Zumbaked Ziti
  • Stuffed BarBell Peppers
  • Bench Fries
  • Spin-ach Salad
  • Potato Pilatkes
  • Loaded Potato Wins
  • Swoleslaw
  • PUMPkin Bread
  • Treadmillshakes, in Strongberry, Veinilla and Chalkolate

Not surprisingly, we were unable to stop there with the dreams of being restaurateurs. Before the doors of Carbio could even open, we were on to a Tom Cruise-themed restaurant. Yes, that’s right, it’s time to launch …

Dishin’ Impossible!

Menu items, if you choose to accept them, include:

  • Risky Brisket
  • Cooked Goose
  • Potato Wedge of Tomorrow
  • Coleslaw Trickle
  • Tropic Flounder
  • Interview with the Ham-pyre
  • Chicken Fillets of Thunder
  • Legend of Lamb
  • Charlie Rabbitt Stew (10 minutes till it’s ready, definitely 10 minutes)
  • Les Grossmanicotti
  • Wild Boar of the Worlds
  • A Few Good Hens (dinner) and A Few Good Eggs (breakfast)
  • Peanut Butter & Jelly Maguire (for the kiddies!)
  • GRain Man sandwiches or pasta. Served on Top Buns
  • Show me the Honey …. in our fresh-baked breads!
  • Vanilla Pie, part of the Pies Wide Shut desserts menu
  • And obviously, Cocktails aplenty

As appetizing as that all sounds, I decided we need to go just a little too far. You know, all the way to The End, as it were. Yes, that’s right, welcome to a heavenly dining spot, your salvation from starvation, we like to call …

The Last Supper

Now serving …

  • Chilli Jeez Fries
  • Walking on Watercress Salad
  • A Fount(ain) of Olives
  • Sacred Salad bar with the Cruci-fixings station
  • Never-ending Fish Sticks and Loaves (to share)
  • Stuffed Leper Peppers
  • Blessed Virgin roseMary Garlic Chicken
  • Hot Cross Buns
  • Messiah Matzos
  • Baptist Burgers
  • Fried Parableoney Sandwiches
  • SerMonte Christo Sliders
  • Crown of Corns
  • BethleHam Hocks (ask about our kosher alternative)
  • Apostle Pot Stickers
  • Pontius Pilatkes
  • Roast Lamb of God (with New TestaMint jelly)
  • The Passion Fruit of the Christ
  • And on the “Last Temptations” dessert menu, an array of resurrection confections, including devil’s and angel food cakes

Mmm … sacrilicious.

And again, co-creation credit here to Joopiter. Thanks!

Mar 242019
 

As I’ve repeatedly talked about my dream of ending up as a brain in a jar, I almost fell off my rocker and broke a hip when I saw this story:

Scientists have grown a miniature brain in a dish with a spinal cord and muscles attached, an advance that promises to accelerate the study of conditions such as motor neurone disease.

The lentil-sized grey blob of human brain cells were seen to spontaneously send out tendril-like connections to link up with the spinal cord and muscle tissue, which was taken from a mouse. The muscles were then seen to visibly contract under the control of the so-called brain organoid.

The research is is the latest in a series of increasingly sophisticated approximations of the human brain grown in the laboratory—this time with something approaching a central nervous system attached.

Okay, they need to hurry up with this. I’ve always wanted to get outside of the twisted rollercoaster chaos of my own brain for a while—you know, get “meat ray” away from ray’s brain. (Oh, and thanks to Joopiter for coming up with “meat ray,” which I will now never be able to unthink.) Given how my brain seems to have a mind of its own at times, any sort of break would be a welcome respite.

Also, I could absolutely use a few of those extra brains as this one seems to be topping out at capacity with all the worthless information crammed into it. Seriously, why do I need to have the entire casts of both “The Brady Bunch” and “Gilligan’s Island”—character and actor names—locked and loaded in the speed dial part of my consciousness? I would hook up the organoid dish brains to the main unit like it’s expanded computer storage space and download all the useless crap, such as lyrics to Banana Splits theme. “One banana, two banana, three banana, four. Four bananas make a bunch and so do many more!” (And I didn’t even need to look it up. Sigh.)

Thinking about it, I guess this blog is sort of like storing stuff in the cloud. Which is good because despite how much is cram-packed into my grey matter, apparently there’s even more that’s leaked out.

Speaking of leakage: I recently stumbled across “remember the night,”a post that I wrote nearly seven years ago, and ironically, can not remember writing at all. And before tossing around the old “you’re old and senile” tropes, there is a plethora of stories, posts and articles that I absolutely can recall crafting. For example, in fifth grade I wrote a series of adventures about The Chumperdink, a superhero who was less than super. Most of the details are now fuzzy other than the stories were silly, the endings were dramatically convenient, and the narrative voice was patterned on Ted Knight’s iconic cartoon super hero bravado.

Anywhoo, as I re-read “remember the night,” it felt like dipping into someone else’s world. I mean, I can easily identify the real experiences that served as inspiration, so it was somewhat familiar. Yet, as I was reading it, I had no idea where the story was going. [*Insert any joke about someone who celebrates contracting Alzheimer’s because every day is a new adventure.*]

FWIW: Unlike other stories or posts I look back on and cringe, I don’t hate it . . . .

Man oh man, I’ve written a lot of stuff. Like, a whole lot. Here, there and other places.

And that doesn’t include my full-time daytime gigs for the past 20 years, which have required me to churn out hundreds of articles, ranging from ice cream and immigration to configuring classroom space and space exploration.

That’s a ton ‘o content, as the kids say. And that doesn’t even count the unpublished manuscripts and other projects that I’ve been quietly working on the past few years.

The “funny” part is that despite how much I’ve written, I feel like a complete failure as of late. (Or an incomplete one, your call.) After a recent tumble down the rabbit hole of my own older work, I’ve come to an upsetting conclusion:

I’ve become a coward. 

Ugh.

I used to take so many risks, letting my snark flag fly high. I used to mock everyone and anyone (particularly myself), joke about anything, and we all laughed together. It was funny and entertaining, and we all (myself included) would look forward to seeing what stupidity I might unleash.

But then a few things changed. One is that I got divorced, which kind of broke me a bit. In the process, I lost my “safety net” to fall back on in case anything I wrote got me in big trouble.

Next, as you all may have noticed, the rise of social media has changed being funny. Anything I write innocently to get a laugh can now easily be misinterpreted or knocked askew of context, then go viral, trigger our easily triggered outrage culture, and bring down the full righteous fury of the intrawebz. And again, I’m all alone up here on the verbal high wire.

It also hasn’t helped that I’ve mellowed as the years have piled on. The angry young man has eased into an affable dad. Although there’s room enough for both, isn’t there?

I’m not sure where I’m going with this. Yes, I could delve back into my old sack of tricks and unleash that sarcastic wit—and trust me, it’s still there. And certainly, there’s no shortage of targets.

Except … well, there’s so much anger and mean-spirited rhetoric and petty bickering already, I don’t want to be another (b)log on that fire, despite how much I love sweet, sweet fire.

Maybe I’ve just reached a point of diminishing returns, as a person and a writer. That anything I write or do is just a waste of time, that no one cares, that I can’t move the needle. That it’s time to quit.

But …

It sounds so cliché, except after a tough personal stretch, I’ve come to discover that something as simple as a genuine smile at a dark moment can lift my spirits from the depths. Science (chemistry, in particular) backs me up on this. And I like the concept of paying it forward.

So maybe if I can make one person smile—or positively alter the chemistry of one brain in a jar or glass—with something I’ve created, some stupidity I’ve birthed, or even a seemingly forgotten memory, then maybe, just maybe, it’s worth going on.

Even if that one person turns out to be me.

Mar 172019
 

So like with most celebrity-tinged news stories, even if you wanted to, you probably couldn’t avoid the headlines earlier this week about how federal prosecutors busted a college admission cheating ring.

And because “journalists” and “news” sites are more interested in getting clicks and page views than reporting the actual news, the salacious stories and the celebrity names were plastered across all media platforms and search-engine-optimized over the past few days for maximum attention. Which is how we got the current denizen of the White House—but that’s another story for another day, say like in 50 years when they look back and laugh at us like we look back and laugh at those who used to believe the Earth was flat …

Oh wait. Never mind.

Anywhoo … the ultimate lesson here (I hope!) is that helping your kids to cheat isn’t helping them at all. Really, you’re just creating a vicious cycle of failure. I mean, if you help them get into a prestigious college, then you’re also going to have to help them stay in that prestigious college, which means all sorts of additional homework and testing shenanigans.

And then if you somehow do get them through to graduation, and their degree earns an elite-type job with a top company, how long do you think they’re going to last at that before their incompetence becomes apparent? Lies just beget more lies, and before you know it, you’re trapped on a treadmill of prevarication.

Bottom line: Cheating is just unsustainable, you know, unless you’re a certain team from the Boston area …. Or as I always tell my kids: Just because you can, doesn’t mean you should.

Anwhoo 2: electric boogaloo … as a parent myself with one son in college and a second one who is a high school senior and has already gotten accepted to (HUMBLEBRAG ALERT!) seven institutions of higher edumakation—without cheating, I’m here to help. (As always!)

It’s too late to save the celebs (and their seemingly unappreciative offspring) nailed by the feds. (The majority of the super rich know they only have to buy a building at their alma mater to get their kids admitted.) So for those of you with modest means and offspring considering the pursuit of a baccalaureate degree, here is a little college entrance exam to make sense of the process from the parental viewpoint.

S0, sharpen your No. 2 pencils, down a few 5-Hour Energy shots and put on your oval-filling galoshes—it’s time for the 2019 rayality aptitude test, or the R-A-T!

(Hmm … might need to work on that acronym a bit)

1. Your child expresses a desire to NOT go to college, so you:
a. patiently explain that a career as a social media influencer isn’t one that you understand so it clearly can’t be a real thing.
b
. discreetly search the intrawebz to find the porn they’ve already made and from which they think they can make a career. (Not that there’s anything wrong with it—just as long as it’s someone else’s kid.) 
c
. nod in agreement and tell them that you support their choice … once they turn 21, so get the hell back to your laptop and finish that damned admissions essay (that you’re going to re-write for them anyway).
d. wait until you’re done laughing and then tell them to get the hell back to your laptop and finish that damned admissions essay (that you’re going to re-write for them anyway).
e. tell them that “fat, drunk and stupid is no way to go through life,” and send their name to the closest military recruiter.

2. Your child doesn’t seem to have the best high school grades, so you:
a. tell them to buckle down, focus, and study hard … and when you’re both done laughing, figure out how to get them into easier classes such as “Smiling 101,” “The Basics of Breathing,” or “The History of the Cha-Cha Slide.”
b. promise to pay them for every point they raise their average … and when you’re both done laughing, hire a tutor who carries their own shock paddles for, uh, proper encouragement.
c. try to augment other areas of their application by involving them with a slew of altruistic extracurricular activities or philanthropic organizations—such as the Helping Hands Monkey Helpers or the 501st Legion.
d. pray the stupid away … because that has a long history of success. Or turn to witchcraft, voodoo, satanic worship or scientology—you know, whatever deity you think actually gives a crap about your first-world problem.
e. sell them on the darkweb while you can still get some sort of significant return on your investment, and then go make another one (as long as you haven’t lost the recipe).

3. Your child doesn’t seem to have the proper extracurricular activities that might interest a top-flight school, so you:
a. tell them to buckle down, focus and work hard … and when you’re both done laughing, have them learn to juggle because it’s an unusual skill that might catch a recruiter’s eye—and it’ll also be useful in their “fallback” career hosting kiddie parties at Chuck E. Cheese.
b. have them focus on video games as colleges now give scholarships to esport competitors.
c. get them develop improper extracurricular activities to go against the grain and stand out. May I suggest astroturfing?
d. keep them healthy because they still haven’t worked out all the kinks of growing organs in labs and with diabetes still on the rise, healthy kidneys allegedly can fetch $260,000 on the black market. (Lungs net even more—$272,000—and most people have a spare one.) So rather than laying out six figures for college, you can collect that and help some unfortunate souls in the process. A win all around!
e. teach them to weld as it’s another unusual skill and welders continue to be in demand.

4. Your child has poor conversational and interpersonal skills, so you:
a. have them take improv comedy classes so even if they tank the college interview, they can exist at a level just above “starving to death” on the improv comedy circuit.
b. try engaging them in an actual one-on-one conversation on occasion, such as when your phone is updating and there’s absolutely no other device you can use to check how many likes you got for your most recent selfie at the organic yarn store.
c. shrug and mumble something about them figuring it out on their own, hopefully. Eventually. Like, probably, right? I mean, who talks to anyone else any more—only bedding store sales people, Jehovah Witnesses, and creepers.
d. ply them with a case of Java Monster, wait until the veins start popping on their forehead and then send them into the college interview room with a hidden GoPro knowing that whatever happens, at least it’ll be entertaining so better to record it and hope they can turn going viral into college admission. Or fame and fortune. Or something.
e. give them $5 American to “accidentally” drop on the admissions officer’s desk at the proper moment.

5. Speaking of bribes, you think that your child’s only hope to college admission may be some sort of alternate path, so you: 
a. see if the local university is hiring janitors and hope your child can Good Will Hunting their way in.
b. show up on campus move-in day, insist the paperwork is “at the main office place,” slide your kid into a dorm, a la The Secret of My Success, and hope they find their way to a degree.
c. get a job at a higher ed institution where children of employees are guaranteed admittance. With the scandal this post is based on, there are going to be lots of openings—particularly in athletic departments and coaching ranks—so get that resume ready!
d. realize that barber college is still college and not everyone needs a Bachelor’s degree to succeed—which is perfectly fine and seemingly forgotten. In fact, becoming a skilled trade worker can be much more lucrative than being a college graduate, and without all the soul-crushing debt.
e. do some research and discover the truth: college enrollment is way down and dropping. So if your child has half a brain (fingers crossed!), they’re probably going to get into multiple schools, including at least one they like and will help them be successful if they want to be, so don’t sweat any of this.

Time! Put down your pencils, pass your work to the front of the class and … just use your freakin’ head, people.

Mar 102019
 

Neat-o. Ducky. Peachy keen. Copacetic.

I’m feeling all of these words right now, ya’ dig, daddy-o? Because they all used to be far out, groovy, the bee’s knees, and even the cat’s pajamas!

Although I’m not quite sure what’s so terrific about an insect’s leg joints, or why a feline needs bedclothes. Ditto the appeal of edible seeds that grow in long pods on certain leguminous plants which are no longer warm but not stone cold, either. (I’ll pause here while you do the math on that one.)

So as you might suspect, I like to think twice about the phrases, words and terms we use in everyday conversation and don’t normally think twice about. For example, it’s always great to have options, but why is anyone skinning a cat in the first place? Wouldn’t a strongly worded ferral be more effective than a referral? And why do people insist on taking a dump when it’s better to just leave one behind, and preferably in the proper porcelain receptacle?

Part of the fun of language—and English, in particular—is that it’s always evolving, which means some words and terms get left behind. For example, in high school, my favorite English teacher Mrs. Scinto used to lament that we don’t praise others enough for having couth, but instead only point it out when they lack it.

Speaking of word-appreciating favorites, here’s some sung-word play from Pete Seeger.

 

 

[Side note worth noting: You can’t have “crazy” without r-a-y.]

Anyway, in the spirit of the aforementioned folk legend—who shares my birthday, or should I say, shares my calendar birth date, as I came along a few years before he did—here are a few of my own word-play observations.

  • Fact: A dentist doesn’t put a dent in anything … other than your wallet!
  • Does anyone practice second, or even third, aid?
  • Catching a cold makes it sound so much more intentional than it usually is.
  • Why do roosters crow but crows caw?
  • How many incomplete strangers have you met? Also: Most strangers aren’t all that strange.
  • When was the last time you ordered the irregular-sized coffee or fries?
  • Not sure there’s a market for it, but it’d be fun to write for misfortune cookies.
  • So where exactly is Not-So-Great Britain?
  • On the surface of it, a kidnapper sounds like someone who should be welcome at daycare centers.
  • From what part of the tid does the bit come?
  • By the laws of prefixes, shouldn’t construction and destruction be the same thing? Should a new building project be a prostruction? And speaking of, should you project something if you agree since you object when you don’t?
  • I’m still waiting to have licit sex. I think.
  • If you hear something for the first time, is it dundant? Related: Do you have to fute a statement before you can refute it?
  • Why are type A personalities never described as laid-forward?
  • If a “prelude” is something before the beginning, and an “interlude” is something in the middle, than why is “conclude” a verb?
  • I’ve been happy to thus far avoid numerous mitigated disasters. Tangentially, if there were more gruntled workers, there might be less incidents of workplace violence. And it’d probably help if we were more chalant when it came to the feelings of others.
  • For the record: I have never seen fire come out of a fire hydrant.
  • I’ve used the phrase, “This isn’t my first rodeo” numerous times when I’ve never actually been to a rodeo. And I’m still waiting for the first time I’m feeling over the weather.

Alright, time to wrap this up .. you know, because who the heck wraps something down?

 

Mar 032019
 

So okay, I really don’t know how to explain what you’re about to because it can only be described as ridiculously unpossible. Let’s let the notorious EAP take a crack at it …

“For the most wild yet homely narrative which I am about to pen, I neither expect nor solicit belief. Mad indeed would I be to expect it, in a case where my very senses reject their own evidence. Yet, mad am I not—and very surely do I not dream.”

Yeah, that’s straight Poe, lifted without edit (but with credit) from “The Black Cat.”

Anywhoo, a few weeks ago I started getting texts from a random number. Of course, I ignored the messages at first, figuring it was a scammer or some sort of Russian-fueled AI bot. But one text sorta caught my eye—it was a bit … odd … and didn’t seem like a scam. Or if it was scam, it was incredibly original. And then I got another intriguing one. And then another.

Eventually, my well-documented curiosity reared its irrepressible head, and like Poe entreating the stranger who came rapping, gently tapping, at his chamber door, I responded. And then they responded back, and then I responded to the response, and so on. But rather than crafting one of the most iconic poems of the English language, I instead made an iconic new … uh … friend?

An unlikely new one at that, to say the least.

Short story long, I was eventually able to confirm the identity of my new text pal after exchanging multiple messages, info, images and more. And trust me, it’s just … weird. And it’s crazy. And  .. well … did I mention it’s weird?

Okay …

You know what? It’s just easier me to share some screen shots. I won’t waste your time with all the “getting to know you” exchanges, and just sort of jump in to where it starts getting interesting.

My responses are in blue on the right. And I apologize in advance for my new friend‘s comments on the left, but I feel like this … needs to be shared? Yeah, let’s go with that.

 

BF1-1

 

Yeah … it’s been going on like this for a few weeks now.

BF1-2

 

BF1-3

 

BF1-4

 

BF1-5

Yeah, so much #winning.

Anyway, my friend seems happy to overshare, so I assume there will be more to this at some point. Yay?

Feb 232019
 

A little mood music …

So I know no one really drops by here anymore—myself included. It’s been a while since I conjured up any fresh content (as the hipster marketers now call it), and rayality has gone fallow.

I can bore you with what happened—got distracted, got depressed, got lazy, got lost, got excuses like Cool James got rhymes—but you don’t want to read that. Well, I don’t want to type any of that, to be honest. And if you can’t be honest on the intrawebz, well …

So if you’ve read this far, you’re probably waiting for something entertaining or stupid to happen. Or something stupidly entertaining …

Me too!

To paraphrase KISSBlogging is like a muscle and you make me want to flex! 

Okay, that doesn’t quite work like it did in my head. But nothing really works like it does in my head, so no surprise there.

Essentially, I’ve been sorta floundering lately in terms of creativity. I have a half-dozen different projects started, and another two or three I’m trying to bring to the front burner, and sorta failing at all of them. And I think it’s because I’m out of practice. One good thing about the heyday of my blogging is that it kept my brain churning up new stuff. And not forcing myself to post at least once a week has let my brain get mushier than my midsection.

That being said, a few weeks ago, I started doing a bit of cross-training in addition to my running. I still hate exercising, but I always like having exercised—and the results afterward. I have a little more energy, a little more motivation, a little less flab. I mean, I’m not jacked enough that I could compete on the Titan Games …

But with small steps, I’m going in the right direction.

So I had a mini-epiphany today that maybe if I tried crafting a blog post or two, I could get my brain going again. And as I’ve been typing this, it’s actually been working. I’m feeling all those feels that used to sweep over me when I have my writing swerve on.  That or it’s the impending stroke being fueled by the second 5-Hour Energy of the day that I just popped. (I’d say, “Kids, don’t try this at home” … but I am at home.)

Anyone else smell toast?

So keeping with the theme, rather than talk about all the bad things that seem to be making a comeback lately (Nazis, measles, defending indefensible behavior, etc.), I’ll swing it around to some of the good things that are due for a second act.

In fact, here are …

The Top 5 Things Overdue For a Comeback

Normally I’d do 10, but I’m still easing back into the groove.

1. Debbie (or Deborah) Gibson—My one-time future wife (and maybe once-again future wife as we’re both single now!) hasn’t been at the top of the charts in a bit. When I actually interviewed her a few years back, she said she was waiting for her “big, Cher-like comeback hit.” Debbie will be turning back time this year as part of the “MixTape 2019” tour with NKOTB, Salt-n-Pepa, Tiffany, and Naughty by Nature, which is coming to Connecticut in July. Backstage passes anyone? I’ll just leave this here in the meantime …

2. The New York Jets—I’m sorry, did you forget you’re in rayality? Eight years since the playoffs, so they are more than overdue and I’m not getting any younger! (Although other than Keanu Reeves, who is?)

3. Journalism—If only I could think of an example of how digging old-school into a story for sources and facts—oh, such as about a presidential candidate’s claims—rather than giving them an open platform to spew countless lies just to get more clicks and higher ratings, could have an impact on the world. If only …

4. That white leisure suit I had in the ’70s with Washington crossing the Delaware emblazoned on the back—Around the time of the U.S. bicentennial (1976, for your math-challenged dweebs), there were lots of interesting fashion … uh … choices, including the particularly hip set of aforementioned threads that my parents had bought me. Essentially, think this, but on the back of the coolest clothes that era could produce.

download

I didn’t appreciate it at the time, but if I had that bad boy back now, I’d be cooler than that block of ice in that image!

5. Fred Rogers—Not sure how to make this actually happen without a oujia board, a goat’s heart and the blood of Nikola Tesla, but we can sure use a heaping dose of civility and decency. Without hopping too high atop my soapbox, let’s just say being kind to others, listening to one another, focusing on the positive, and treating strangers like our neighbors might be a good place to start. At least there’s this, which I cannot recommend highly enough.

All right … my left arm is tingling, there’s this shiny light and—hey, is that …GRANDMA HELEN?! Gotta go!

 

Nov 132016
 

So I have a note on my desk: “CREATE!”

Gosh, even I annoy me.

Let’s try this …

The Morning After—

He: “I can’t believe I won. I actually won.”

She: “Yes, you did.”

He: “I saw the support at the campaign stops, heard the cheers, but I didn’t think enough people would actually cast their votes for me.”

She: “You said a lot of things a lot of people wanted to hear.”

He: “Yes, but there were so many who didn’t want to hear what I had to say. This nation is more divided now than it ever has been in its history. So much open anger and hostility.”

She: “True.”

He: “And as seemingly an impossible a task as getting elected was, the real work is just getting started. I think I’m just beginning to understand what an impossibly huge task is in front of me. Such an … awesome responsibility.”

She: “I believe in you.”

He: “Thank you. In spite of everything that has been said about me, about you, about us, about my campaign, I’ve never doubted that.”

She: “I know you are up to this.”

He: “But what if I’m not? What if it all is too big for me? America has put its faith in me … what if I don’t succeed? What if I fail everyone? What will history say about me?”

She: “They’re going to say, ‘He was the greatest president we ever had.'”

He: “They’ll say, ‘He was the greatest fool we ever elected, and he destroyed this country.’ What was I thinking? How could I even dare to compare myself to the likes of George Washington or Thomas Jefferson?”

She: “They were flawed men. No one, not even you, is perfect.”

He: “I appreciate that you don’t let me forget that. The press also enjoys pointing it out on a daily basis.”

She: “They don’t know you like I do.”

He: “Good thing, or we might not be where we find ourselves today. I am now president of the United States of America.”

She: “It’s truly amazing.”

He: “It’s truly terrifying. So much to do, even before I take office. I need to get my cabinet in order, find the best advisers . . . .”

She: “Come up with a plan on how to redecorate the White House!”

He: “Ha! I’ll leave that to you, of course.”

She: “Your first decision as president!”

He: “President. Of the United States of America. I can’t believe it. We actually won.”

She: “You have overcome so much to get here, such long odds, so many hardships. You have gotten up every time you’ve been knocked down. Now this moment is at hand. You will show them all why you were chosen, why you are absolutely the best person to lead this great nation.”

He: “I hope you’re right.”

She: “I know I am, Abraham. I know I am.”

May 152016
 

So I’m excited that I finally caught up to the rest of you and got a new smartphone.

Okay, I know most of you change smartphones like the New York Jets go through mediocre quarterbacks, but I had a loyal iPhone 4 for the past five years as it was enough “Most Amazing Device in the History of Humankind” for me. Like a mortally wounded antelope on the tech Serengeti, however, it was struggling to keep up with the newest and latest apps, operating systems, videos, porn, etc. It was done.

Which is kind of annoying—even though the basic electronics of the 4 worked perfectly (answered calls, allowed me to text, took pictures), in less than six years since it was introduced, it was essentially rendered useless by a combination of the world consuming electronic content like Mama June at an all-you-can-eat butter buffet, and the greed-driven mission of manufacturers to make tech obsolete quicker than  … well than Mama June at an all-you-can-eat butter buffet. (Keep your fingers inside the ride at all times!)

Of course, such rapid and fickle changes made me leery of investing big bucks in a new phone. I mean, I can’t match the wealth and disposable income of 1%ers like Senior Smoke, but then again, outside of a Winklevoss twin, who can? Still, it’s a bit of an investment for a man of modest means such as myself.

Luckily, there are about a jillion options, and I opted for an iPhone SE—which is totally unlike me as apparently this is the “gotta have it” toy du jour. The device has all the guts and power of the iPhone 6+ but with a smaller display … unless you’re “old school” like myself, in which case the SE is a step up! It’s more phone for “less” money, so to speak.

So even though I was a bit apprehensive going into the Apple Store (where the weakness of my tech fu is glaring) and then laying out that kind of cash (which isn’t easy for a happy miser like myself), I did it.

And then, I fell in love in about six seconds—ooh, soooooo shiny!

My precious!

myprecious

(You don’t want to know how ridiculously long it took to get a decent iPhone selfie—suffice to say I need more hobbies)

I keep randomly staring at it like someone who just got a flawless diamond engagement ring, sort of torn between “Oh my gawd, it’s soooo beautiful” and “I don’t want to look away because it may do something amazing.” I almost want to make (more) friends to get more texts so I can play with it more. Almost.

And the freaking speed! To lightning from what, in retrospect, was like a rolling brick.

Don’t worry—I’m not going full Her on you. Well, mostly because while trying to get Siri to curse or answer offbeat questions, I realized that Apple has sucked out some of the fun. And it sounds nothing like ScarJo. Boo!

Actually, I was a little underwhelmed with the voice choice. I am starting with the British bird but I really want it to sound like this:

So hot.

So anyway, as cool as my new phone is, I realize that it has limitations.

In fact, it can NOT

  • get Salma Hayek to come to her senses and leave her billionaire husband for a guy who can barely afford a new iPhone.
  • find two U.S. presidential candidates who don’t make three quarters of the voting populace throw up in their mouths when actually picturing pulling a lever for either one.
  • make Tyler Perry funny.
  • bring Abe Vigoda, Prince, Alan Rickman, Garry Shandling, David Bowie, Jon Lovitz, Patty Duke or Michelle McNamara back from the dead.
  • teach the world to sing in perfect harmony.
  • break Kimmy Schmidt.
  • explain how some ignorant d-bag in North Carolina is going to determine the gender of a bathroom patron without violating their constitutional rights.
  • cook like my grandmother used to.
  • scrub the clan Kardashian from our collective conscious.
  • explain how Michael could just leave Kelly like that. (My parents are still in mourning in the morning.)
  • replace Charles Nelson Reilly on a rebooted version of “Match Game.” (Or in any way, really.)
  • clean the bathtub once a week.
  • rape the horses, ride off on the women or prune the hedges of many small villages.
  • make the Kessel run in less than 12 parsecs.
  • do the impossible, and bring with it, unbridled joy, like this:

But hey, you never know … I’m not done pushing all the buttons.

Yet.

Apr 262016
 

As many of your know, I’m celebrating my like my 186th birthday this year, give or take a millennium—and yes, I don’t look a day over 500. Thanks!

And as my kids have heard over and over again, I’ve seen a lot in my time … the invention of fire … the first wheel … bread before it was sliced. Heck, I remember ol’ Abe Lincoln back when he was a wrassler! Them was the days, by cracky …

lincoln2

“I am appearing in this idiot’s blog against my will or knowledge.”

Actually, it was less than 200 years ago when Lincoln was tossing his fellow grapplers around Illinois, which still sounds like a long time ago to most of you. But consider this: Right now in 2016 we’re closer to the Civil War (1865) than the Civil War is to the Salem Witch Trials (1693)—and by one score and a few years, to use Lincoln math.

How about this for you pop culture fans: The birth of MTV (1981) is closer to the death of JFK (1963) than to the death of Michael Jackson (2009).

Speaking of dearly departed musical icons—the release of Prince’s “Purple Rain” (1984) is closer to Elvis’ first hit single “Don’t Be Cruel” (1956) than it is to the recent untimely death of Prince himself.

All shook up? Then let’s get crazy with some more time-bending fun, you know, like it was 1999! [*groan*]

Two epic poems, Homer’s “Odyssey” and Virgil’s “Aenid,” are often taught together, so you assume they’re both from the same general era, right? In fact, they were written nearly 800 years apart—or the distance between the typing of these words and the signing of the Magna Carta.

If there’s anything I know for sure (other than one measures a circle beginning anywhere), it’s that 800 years from now no damn dirty computer (or talking ape) will be contrasting and comparing this blog with the Magna Carta.

Okay, let me a-splode your grey matter a bit with this oft-quoted gem: We’re closer to the time of Tyrannosaurus Rex than Tyrannosaurus Rex is to Stegasaurus … by about 16 MILLION years.

smoking_dinosaurs_40

Possibly not historically accurate.

In fact, dinosaurs were the dominant form of life on Earth for 135 million years. By comparison, humans as we know us, have been around 200,000 years, or less than .1 percent of that time length. (Note the decimal point there.) Yikes.

And one more (to loop this back round a bit): Man landing on the moon and the New York Jets winning the Super Bowl (1969) are both closer to 9/11 than we are to the launch of MTV.

sb3namath

For one brief, shining moment …

Yeah, some of you are o-l-d.

So as Einstein generally theorized, time is all about perspective, right? Which is why I worry about our (or my) particular point in history.

As I mentioned earlier, we’re more than 150 years after the abolition of slavery, and it’s clear to everyone alive right here right now that it was a horrible thing that none of us want to even be remotely associated with.

But in the year 3000 when someone (Skynet?) is teaching “ancient history,” will anyone be able to distinguish 1864 from 1964, or even 2016? Like how people now vaguely recall/jumble important facts from their edumakation, such as Alexander the Great fought the Spartans (he didn’t as the Battle of Thermopylae—famously and gratuitously portrayed in the movie 300—was more than a century-and-a-half before he was born). I worry that future ‘Muricans will be like, “The slaves were freed in 1864 and like a century or two later, they finally got equal rights when homosexuals were also allowed to vote and get married.”

Yeah, that seems like silly talk now, but my future brain floating in jar will not be surprised if our legacy gets all sorts of other mashed up. I can only imagine what they might be saying …

• “What? Over? Did you say ‘over’? Nothing is over until we say it is. It wasn’t over when Osama bin Laden bombed Pearl Harbor and the Twin Towers!”

• “Today, I presented my women heroes of history report on Kim Kardashian-West-Bieber-Manziel-Timberlake-Minaj-Lovitz-West, who invented the intrawebz and photography.”

• “We’ll never forget how Hitler launched the Hollacaust to exterminate all the Jews in Hollawood, and then how Gwen Stefani led the fight against him.”

• “Today we learned how Walt Disney was looking for the Fountain of Youth when he discovered Florida, which is why he built an amusement park for kids on the spot.”

• “President Clinton was the first transgendered president to hold the office as both a man and a woman, and even married himself at one point.”

• “Wayne Brady won four championships as quarterback of the New England Patriots and after he retired, turned to improv musical comedy.”

• “President John F. Kennedy was shot by aliens dressed as men in black, who then hid at Area 51 with Bigfoot, Anne Frank and the first Carrot Top.”

• “I didn’t know that the ‘M’ in MTV stood for its founder, Michael Jackson, the King of Music, who was also the first man to walk on the moon (which is why they still call it ‘moonwalking’). His son The Prince taught doves how to cry.”

Party over, we’re out of time …