sort of lightening it up

This was some great stuff. Neither of them are around anymore.

Patrick Swayze - Chippendale
by tressage

Who's the cooler at the Road House?

diatribe

I've finally caught up on some news and shows. I'll be brief. Jon Stewart has never been a great interviewer but his comedic commentary is impeccable. The war of words between he and Jim Cramer completely exploded this week and Cramer agreed to appear on Thursday night. I'd recommend watching the entire week's worth of shows, but if you aren't up for it then at least watch the three-part unedited interview that you can find at www.thedailyshow.com. Cramer gets credit for sitting down for this undressing, trying to admit his jackassery, and taking it like a man. You can write this off as comedy, as a liberal comedian being a tool, or as something you don't want to hear, but the truth is...

Fuck you, Jim Cramer.

mummy

On Saturday night the kinfolk from North Park Dr. brought over lobster bisque, fresh bread, two pies (one key lime, one chocolate crème), and we provided a goddess salad for a quick feast. The quick part was driven by a 5pm sit down and a 6pm departure for the Eleven to head into the District for a Patton Oswalt comedy show. Oswalt has a new set of material that he was filming for a Comedy Central special and forthcoming CD. We both enjoyed the show and agreed that he really hit his stride about halfway through the set. I’ll pass along right now that the term “sky cake” will maintain a place our own little lexicon of inside jokes stolen from those we like. Well, it’ll actually be sky cake and “if that’s what you’re trying to do then I’ve seen better.” It was a long week and a few hours of comedy were a welcome break.

During dinner the two men were unwillingly brought into a discussion about the Wonder Twins and their elementary education in western Mass. It’s not like we weren’t forced into participating when they both took bites of the chocolate pie and commented that it had a nice pudding-like quality; something that reminded them of butterscotch pudding, and here’s how (please use a British and/or private school accent while reading):

Twin #1: “This lovely pudding harkens back to our days at Bement.”
Twin #2: “Ah, yes, the butterscotch pudding at our luncheons.”
#1: “Remember the hilarity as the headmaster scooped the pudding from the caldron at the head of the table and passed each china plate down to us?”
#2: “Ha ha ha. The lovely chatter of children; ponies, yoga, looming…”
#1: “Remember how we’d ensure the pudding was properly distributed before tea?”
#2: “Ha ha ha. I also remember being ravenous after a smashing field hockey match; we’d certainly keep a keen eye on the pudd!”
#1: “Ah, the days.”

Corey and I added that Thursday was hamburger day at our schools.

One of musical heroes, Buddy Miller, suffered a heart attack last week after a show in Baltimore. He checked into Johns Hopkins for bypass surgery and will apparently make a full recovery. He and his wife, Julie, have a new CD out tomorrow and I wish him a speedy recovery but I don’t imagine we’ll see him back on the road in the immediate future. Here’s a repeat of a snap from a great show in Reno where Buddy opened for – and then was the band for – Emmylou Harris.


Love to all,

t

changing the method

I'm old enough to have vivid memories of The Carol Burnett Show. It was pure joy to watch Tim Conway, Vicki Lawrence, Harvey Korman, and Carol make each other lose the ability to function. I remember her monologues and the ear tug, I remember Mrs. (ah) Wiggins, I remember innumerable skits where Conway got Korman laughing so hard that he couldn’t remember any lines. I think Korman’s death is the first that affects my childhood viewing of TV. Those shows were so goddamn funny – RIP Harvey.

Along more serious lines; I’ve decided that I’ll read no news throughout June. Ripping my attention from the debates and politics of the day is unfathomable yet I decided while standing at the bus stop today that I simply can’t read the heinous poison pervading everything. From American politics to foreign relations – it’s too much. I need a serious f&^king break. Maybe I’ll tone down my rants; maybe I’ll be able to accept the commentary by everyday people that includes language I find incredibly offensive. My bookmarks and podcasts will be limited to sports, literature, etc. My mind is about to explode. Come July I’ll get back in, touch my toe to the pool, and decide whether or not I need to ruin another summer month of my life.

For the month I’ll use the Cubs to track my progress. I’ll use my music to throw out ideas; I’ll talk to everyone much more – I know, you’ve been traded into my life as the player to be named later.

I find looking at the sky, sitting on my porch, and kissing my baby to be much more important.

t

channeling

Rob Riggle from The Daily Show in the role of me - even the language is appropriate.



I have little more to say on this fine early Summer day.

t.

our lives will go on...

I jokingly asked X over the weekend when we were due for our next long weekend gambling and show time foray to Vegas. I told her that the new Bette Midler show would probably be entertaining; no doubt better than the over-my-dead-body Celine Dion show – all that chest thumping, miracle toddler, and love of my life stuff that she no doubt blathers endlessly about. X quickly concurred that Midler is probably the better entertainer, but suddenly her brow furrowed and she looked at me with fear in her eyes. “Where’s Celine Dion? If she’s not securely locked down in Vegas, like I thought she was, then she’s on the loose, somewhere out there...loose!” she screamed. “Sure enough” I tell her, “she’s even scheduled to bring her schlep to D.C.’s Verizon Center later this year.” There’s something to be said for knowing exactly where the overbearing and talent-challenged are encamped.

This idea was reinforced while we again watched Eddie Izzard’s Dress to Kill last night and his little ramble on Pol Pot and house arrest:

“So I suppose we're glad that Pol Pot's under house arrest… you know, 1.7 million people. At least he - we know where he is - under house arrest! Just don't go in that fucking house, you know? I know a lot of people who'd love to be under house arrest! They bring you your food… ‘Just stay here? Oh, all right. (singing laconically ) Have you got any videos?’ You know, you just sit there all day... And Pol Pot was a history teacher. And Hitler was a vegetarian painter. So... mass-murderers come from the areas you least expect it. I don't know how the flip comes over, but it happens.”

Editorial comment: I am in no way comparing Celine Dion to Pol Pot. I’m merely laughing at the lockdown in Vegas and house arrest ideas to keep those we like kept away from the innocents.

give and take (back)

Since I’ve been in the company of many of my blog peeps over the last few weeks the paddle was left alone and allowed to ponder the New Year.

One of the gift ideas I had this season was two books by Derek Robinson – books published in the early 90s that are out-of-print and completely underground in the used market. I was reading the second – A Good Clean Fight – checked out from the library as I wandered the Internet trying to find both books of the brace. I found one and it arrived in time for Christmas but was then damaged during the great tree flood of 2007 (I'll get to that some other day). In order to signify the gift of A Good Clean Fight I wrapped my checked-out library edition and gave it along with the other book. You can only imagine the hilarity of explaining that the gift was due back at the library in three weeks – you can look at it but don’t let that thing be overdue. What a great way to give gifts – from the library. Chuckle chuckle all about the living room; one can only try.

The Eleven had a wonderful trip to Florida over Christmas. There was great weather, good food, and plenty of relaxing to be found around Mt. Dora. We all contributed to the upgrading of Mom’s computer so she can now continue to harangue multi-national online bridge players.

I can’t resist adding in this hilarity from the Catherine Tate show on BBC2 (plus I’ll always have it stored here…) I’m stealing it from an andrewsullivan.com entry which he introduced with “When you're prejudiced against everyone, are you prejudiced against anyone?” Please, let’s keep it politically correct!




We’re off to a dinner out this evening. I’ll let you know how that goes. Back in the saddle.

T.