Quotes, Unquotes and Quotes

Have you ever noticed how perfectly a quote from a famous person or historical figure can capture so exactly what you are thinking or feeling at any particular given point in time? The words of others, especially those of people we respect and admire, can inspire you. They can give you comfort that somebody else is feeling what you’re feeling. They can make you feel less alone in this great big world.

So, here for your quick consumption, are a few famous quotes that capture what I’ve been thinking, been feeling or been encountering over the past several days:

"How vain it is to sit down to write when you have not stood up to live."
-- Henry David Thoreau (1817 - 1862)

"I was working on the proof of one of my poems all the morning, and took out a comma. In the afternoon I put it back again."
-- Oscar Wilde (1854 - 1900)

"Acting is the most minor of gifts and not a very high-class way to earn a living. After all, Shirley Temple could do it at the age of four."
-- Katharine Hepburn (1907 - 2003)

"The wine urges me on, the bewitching wine, which sets even a wise man to singing and to laughing gently and rouses him up to dance and brings forth words which were better unspoken."
-- Homer (800 BC - 700 BC)

"I drink too much. Other people learn things when I drink. Last night a limo driver learned if I say I’ve gotta yak, it doesn’t mean I have a long-haired buffalo living in my backyard."
-- Ron White (1956 - )

The End of an Animated Era

Within the past month, cartoon fanatics such as myself lost two very important and influential people. Please join me in paying respects to two cartoon legends:

Joseph Barbera

Joe Barbera, half of the Hanna-Barbera animation team that produced such beloved cartoon characters as Tom and Jerry, Yogi Bear and the Flintstones, died December 18. He was 95.

With his longtime partner, Bill Hanna, Barbera first found success creating the highly successful Tom and Jerry cartoons. The antics of the battling cat and mouse went on to win seven Academy Awards, more than any other series with the same characters.

The partners, who teamed up while working at MGM in the 1930s, then went on to a whole new realm of success in the 1960s with a witty series of animated TV comedies, including "The Flintstones," "The Jetsons," "Yogi Bear," "Scooby-Doo" and "Huckleberry Hound and Friends."

Their strengths melded perfectly, critic Leonard Maltin wrote in his book "Of Mice and Magic: A History of American Animated Cartoons." Barbera brought the comic gags and skilled drawing, while Hanna brought warmth and a keen sense of timing.

"This writing-directing team may hold a record for producing consistently superior cartoons using the same characters year after year — without a break or change in routine," Maltin wrote.

"From the Stone Age to the Space Age and from prime time to Saturday mornings, syndication and cable, the characters he created with his late partner, William Hanna, are not only animated superstars, but also a very beloved part of American pop culture. While he will be missed by his family and friends, Joe will live on through his work," Warner Bros. Chairman and CEO Barry Meyer said Monday.

Iwao Takamoto

Iwao Takamoto, the animator who created the cartoon canine Scooby-Doo as well as characters on such shows as "The Flintstones" and "The Jetsons," died Monday, January 8, after suffering a massive coronary, a spokesman said. He was 81.

Takamoto died at Cedars-Sinai Medical Center in Los Angeles, where he was being treated for respiratory problems, said Gary Miereanu, a spokesman for Warner Bros. Animation.

Takamoto designed Scooby-Doo, his equally famished and cowardly master Shaggy, and their pals Velma, Daphne and Fred in the late 1960s while working at the Hanna-Barbera animation studio.

The Great Dane's name was inspired by an improvised line at the end of Frank Sinatra's "Strangers in the Night."

He also designed the snickering dog Muttley, who was featured in a number of productions, and Astro, the family dog on "The Jetsons." For "The Flintstones," he created the Great Gazoo, a green alien.

Takamoto's death comes exactly three weeks after that of Hanna-Barbera co-founder Joseph Barbera, who was 95; his business partner William Hanna died in 2001.

Takamoto, who was born in Los Angeles in 1925, spent part of World War II in an internment camp, where he received some informal illustration training from fellow Japanese-Americans.

After the war he got a job as an apprentice at Disney Studios, where he worked on such features as "Cinderella" and "Peter Pan." In 1961, he moved to Hanna-Barbera.

At the time of his death, Takamoto was a vice president at Warner Bros. Animation. He storyboarded the 2005 Tom and Jerry animation short "The Karateguard," and helped design many of the characters in the current series "Krypto the Superdog." He is survived by his wife, Barbara, and two children.

Influence

I grew up with Hanna-Barbera and Filmation cartoons. They influenced my childhood, my life and my sense of humor. To this day I am a Scooby Doo fanatic and can watch my favorite canine for hours on end. While I, like millions of others, will always have a great appreciation and admiration for Looney Tunes and the Warner Brothers work, for some reason Hanna-Barbera represented my generation.

Zoinks!

Carnival Game

It was a masquerade at Mardi Gras
That was the only trip that I recall
Everytime I turned around at all
There was you

Some days are easier said than done
Always expecting something's wrong
I'd rather live alone than drag this on

Take your time
Please lay your hands on me
Don't wanna be alone, oh no
A mask behind the face and then you're gone
Oh yeah -- comes a time when you're better off alone
You're on your own

I've got a kaleidoscope of memories
Visions of you locked up inside of me
Can't you see

We once collided like a broken wheel
So undecided what was real
Maybe a crash somehow has sex appeal
Whatever turns you on

Take your time
Please lay your hands on me
Don't wanna be alone, oh no
A mask behind a face and then you're gone
Oh yeah- comes a time when you're better off alone

One down, one to go
Oh no, playin' in a carnival
Your time is gone

One down, one to go
Oh no, playin' in a carnival
You're all alone

One down, one to go
Oh no, you're on your own

-- Rick Nielsen

Computers: Harbingers of Memories

Having returned to the office after well over a month away, I have spent a fair portion of the day cleaning things up and getting ready for the new year. Once the desk was satisfactorily straightened up (which isn’t saying much) I turned my attention to my PC and discovered many a memory.

First were a large number of draft scripts and press releases from previous shows. Some dating back a few years. Next I stumbled across a number of old pictures – some of friends, some of me with friends and at least three of people who I don’t know at all. And then … the email …

See, in mid-’06 I upgraded all the Microsoft software on my machine, including Outlook, to the 2003 release. However, prior to that I had always archived all of my e-mail – whether personal or professional – with the exception of all the junk mail that was deleted over the years. Starting fresh in ’07 I realized that I hadn’t archived anything since the upgrade. When I attempted to, it told me that my old .pst file was full – it was still archiving to the previous version’s file. So I went about creating a new (and much larger) 2003 version of the file, restored the entire archive (the old archive, that is) and then re-archived into the new, larger file I had just built.

Slowly on my screen began to appear all of these old emails from the past several years. Some from people I hadn’t talked to in … well, in several years. Half amused I began to occasionally open a few and read them … ah, memories.

I couldn’t help but stumble across a chain of emails from somebody who was once very special to me. Very special. The emails were sexy, suggestive and slightly salacious. Ah, nice emails they were. And as my mind flooded with memories of this lovely creature that was so briefly a remarkably important part of my life, I asked myself … why isn’t she still?

And thus we turn to a recurring theme of this blog … I hate actors. You’ve assumed by now that these emails of arousal were from an actress? Smart you. You’ve been paying attention.

So, what ended our brief liaison of witty and suggestive repartee? Why did this burgeoning relationship filled with desire and passion just snuff itself out? Why did this blossoming relationship just simply vanish? I wish I knew for certain. I was certainly smitten (yes, I said "smitten" -- get over it!) But it certainly appears that the cause of the demise of this flaming passion was … the show ended.

Humph! I hate actors.

All-Star Dead Guys Rock Band

We as a society are just in love with lists. Myself included. One of my favorite books as a kid was The Book of Lists. I just love putting a list together.

I bring this up only because I was asked one of those great bar questions a little while back. Of all the great musicians who have died, who would make the best rock band? Y'know, what guys are up in heaven just jammin' away? I debated some of the great musicians who I admire -- Joplin and Hendrix, for example -- but decided that I would post what I thought would make the best band. So, with YouTube links, here we go ...

Freddie Mercury, Vocals, Queen
September 5, 1946 – November 24, 1991



Randy Rhoads, Guitar, Ozzy Osbourne
December 6, 1956 – March 19, 1982



Cliff Burton, Bass, Metallica
February 10, 1962 – September 27, 1986



Eric Carr, Drums, Kiss
July 12, 1950 - November 24, 1991


What a sad day November 24, 1991 was ... both Freddie Mercury and Eric Carr passed away on that day.

So, there's my "All-Star Dead Guys Rock Band" -- would love to hear your opinions.

New Year’s Resolutions & Other Ramblings

Yet again proving that I am a fount of unoriginality, I’ve decided that today I would include a post about my New Year’s resolutions. Not that I’ve ever really been much of a resolutions kinda guy – making resolutions always seemed to be counter to my spontaneous “take it as it comes” nature. But perhaps by putting these goals and ideas in writing (and publishing on the ‘net for the world to see) I’ll have some added pressure to actually put some effort into them. Nothing terribly ground-breaking here, but here goes:

1. Pay better attention to my health, lose weight, eat better: yeah, yeah, I know these are the same resolutions half of the population is making, but I am genuinely disturbed about my health for the first time in 20 years. It’s time to start paying attention. Gym memberships should actually be used.

2. Become more financially responsible. Simply put, I’m tired of living paycheck to paycheck – especially since my own irresponsibility is the primary reason I find myself in that state.

3. Spend more time out and about. Granted, I’ve always been something of a homebody, but it’s ridiculous how little time I’ve spent in the past couple of years out having adventures. Last year I never actually had a trip to the beach, which is heresy in my mind. I’ve not made the most of the “New York experience” in my time here either. In ’07 I’ll make a point to enjoy the city and to also find time to get out and surf, rock climb, hike, ride and fish.

4. Allow my writing to become more personal. Whether that transfers to the hack writing I do in this blog, we’ll see. Regardless, I’ve let my creativity become less personal and more pedestrian – that has to stop.

5. Enjoy friends and loved ones more. Keep selfishness at bay.

Useless (Depressing?) Information About Sex

According to Tiresias, a prophet in Greek mythology, the woman gets nine times more pleasure than the man. Who gets the most pleasure out of sex--the man or the woman?

Scientifically speaking, your basic run-of-the-mill male and female orgasms are pretty similar. Kinsey, in particular, took pains to emphasize that "the anatomic structures which are most essential to sexual response and orgasm are nearly identical in the human female and male," and that "orgasm in the female matches orgasm of the male in every physiologic detail except for the fact that it occurs without ejaculation."

OK, now the bad news (for us guys, I mean). Masters and Johnson (1966), while conceding that male and female orgasm were usually pretty comparable, noted two important differences. The first is well known: women can have multiple orgasms without having to rest in between, as men do. This occurs in 10 to 15 percent of women regardless of age. Young men can have multiple orgasms within ten minutes or so, but this ability drops off sharply after age 30. Yup … sharply.

The second difference has been less publicized: women are capable of sustained orgasm, called status orgasmus. These orgasms may start with a 2-to-4-second "spastic contraction" and last 20 to 60 seconds all told--and if that isn't nine times the pleasure, it's definitely in the ballpark. Masters and Johnson published the chart for one woman who experienced a 43-second orgasm in which one can count at least 22 successive contractions.

Depressed? Hey, it gets worse. Status orgasmus is usually the result of self-stimulation, but a woman can also experience it at the hands (ahem … for example) of a suitably skilled lover.

Christmas in Sydney

Finally, for those of you who, like me, feel like you did at least one stupid thing this holiday season – rejoice! There’s at least one person in the world who made a bigger boo-boo:

BERLIN, Germany (Reuters) -- A 21-year-old German tourist who wanted to visit his girlfriend in the Australian metropolis Sydney landed 13,000 kilometers (8,077 miles) away near Sidney, Montana, after mistyping his destination on a flight booking Web site.

Dressed for the Australian summer in T-shirt and shorts, Tobi Gutt left Germany on Saturday for a four-week holiday.

Instead of arriving "down under", Gutt found himself on a different continent and bound for the chilly state of Montana.

"I did wonder but I didn't want to say anything," Gutt told the Bild newspaper. "I thought to myself, you can fly to Australia via the United States."

Gutt's airline ticket routed him via the U.S. city of Portland, Oregon, to Billings, Montana. Only as he was about to board a commuter flight to Sidney -- an oil town of about 5,000 people -- did he realize his mistake.

The hapless tourist, who had only a thin jacket to keep out the winter cold, spent three days in Billings airport before he was able to buy a new ticket to Australia with 600 euros in cash that his parents and friends sent over from Germany.

"I didn't notice the mistake as my son is usually good with computers," his mother, Sabine, told Reuters.

Throwaway Thoughts

There's a ton of goofy things on the Internet these days, but this one caught my eye. Our culture has deemed celebrities more important than real issues like war, health care, genocide and such ... so I figured I would jump on the bandwagon and stroke my own ego. So, here are my celebrity look-a-likes:



I had a nice little laugh when I tried this with a photo of myself with dark hair and some facial hair and the top three responses were Johnny Depp, Luke Wilson and Thomas Jefferson. I'm just a bigger fan of Albert Finney, Alan Rickman and Johannes Brahms ... so I though I would share this one with you.

Grammy Nom and Best Cameo in a Music Video

Major congrats to Weird Al Yankovic for his Grammy nomination. The nominations for the 49th annual Grammy Awards were announced December 7th, and I'm very happy to report that our old friend Weird Al made the cut! His recent album Straight Outta Lynwood was nominated for 2 awards: Best Comedy Album (the other nominees are George Carlin, Lewis Black, Bill Engvall and Ron White) and Best Surround Sound Album.

There's a category for Best Surround Sound Album? Or should I just stop reading press releases that come from Weird Al himself?

When MTV or VH1 (or whoever actually shows music videos these days) has their next award show they need to nominate Donny Osmond for best cameo appearance in a video. If you haven't checked it out yet, here ya go ... the hottest video out there:



That's Great Shat!

In my last post I pointed out that we will all soon be missing the remarkably talented William Shatner's game show and have to simply be content with the man's brilliant performances on Boston Legal. Luckily, I stumbled across this piece of video that proves, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Shatner is a talent like no other.



... yes, I promise future posts will have more thought put into them. It's the holiday season ... cut me a break.

One Year Later

This entry officially marks the first anniversary of the ol’ Hippopotamus’ blog. Yup, the very first entry was posted December 20th of 2005. In the past year a number of things have changed, but not the opinions expressed in the very first entry. So, for the two of my three readers who weren’t around for that first entry, I invite you to jump in the time portal and check it out. Yes, I still hate actors.

Isolation

I have to admit that the past few weeks have been refreshing. On the other side of the country with only a minor distraction here and there, I was able to finally (FINALLY!) spend some time getting my thoughts together. No real worries about health and happiness. No major deadlines to meet. No need to be social. I was able to isolate myself briefly from the world. I was able to spend each evening in the gym sorting through the jumbled mass of confusion that my mind had become.

2006 was a year of chaos for me. Frankly, it had overwhelmed me. Too often over the past several months I had lost sight of just who exactly I was. I was exhausted. I was directionless. I was uncertain. And I hate to be uncertain.

So I shut out the rest of the world for a bit. I should do that more often.

Hot Babe on the Campaign Trail

So, late one night in my hotel room, I’m flipping through channels when I stumble across a hot redhead on … CSPAN2? What … ?

It’s Dennis Kucinich announcing that he’ll be running for President again. Standing next to the diminutive Senator was this glorious beauty of a young woman. Having done so much political polling work during the last election, I was fairly familiar with Mr. Kucinich. One fact that I had remembered was that he was often referred to as the bachelor candidate.

Little did I know (how should I? I don’t live in Ohio.) he had recently been married. To a woman thirty years his junior, nonetheless. The former Elizabeth Harper is his new bride – she’s 27 years old and from England – and she’s easy on the eyes.

Here’s hoping Kucinich doesn’t drop out too early … we could use some eye candy on the election trail.

Shat-tastic

William Shatner began hosting a terrible game show last month. A blatant rip-off of Who Wants to be a Millionaire and Deal or No Deal, this show has the added attraction of dancing girls and Bill being as campy as humanly possible. It’s called Show Me The Money (they couldn’t even come up with a title that wasn’t a rip-off) and has already been cancelled.

From the show’s press release: After answering a trivia question, a contestant will choose one of 13 dancers, each of whom has a scroll with a dollar figure to be added to or subtracted from the player’s winnings. Contestants must answer at least six questions. ABC is calling the hoofers the "Million Dollar Dancers" and says they’ll always be "ready to break into any style of dance, while audacious master of ceremonies William Shatner spontaneously boogies with the beauties onstage."



Seven more episodes have already been taped and will air … but after that, nada.

Oh well … at least there’s still Boston Legal and Star Trek re-runs.

Retarded Neighbors & The Hall of Fame

The three of you who actually read this blog know that a few months back I moved into a new apartment. Overall I am very happy with the place … it’s a bit smaller, it’s a bit cheaper, it has a nice view of Manhattan (see crappy phone camera picture), my commute to and from work is as easy as ever … but my neighbors are, well, retarded.

Now, don’t go getting your panties in an uproar … by “retarded” I don’t mean mentally handicapped or any such thing. They’re just stupid. Stupid and annoying.

For one, they like to smoke in the hallway. I can understand this … they have young children and I agree that you shouldn’t smoke around kids. My old man smoked around my brother and I and God knows we’ve had our share of medical problems. I also understand that, even though they have a very nice fire escape they could smoke on, maybe they’re not used to the dipping temperatures (although it has been unseasonably warm lately) and would prefer to smoke indoors. However, I do NOT understand why they think the hallway is an ashtray in and of itself.

Do they bother to ash or put out their butts in an ashtray, a soda can, anything? No. They feel that stairs serve the same purpose … and they’re nifty for getting up and down. And who, pray tell, winds up being the one who sweeps and mops up after them? You guessed it.

But in truth, this is the least of my complaints. I’m more concerned with their maltreatment of our building’s plumbing.

It all began several weeks ago when both my shower and my kitchen sink backed up. Neither was all that severe. A bottle of Liquid Plumber seemed to do the trick … for a day or two. And then it happened again. This time I took the plunger to the shower drain and yielded minimal results. I switched gears and tried the same in the kitchen sink. After three or four minutes of active plunging (that’s a cool word, you gotta admit) I pulled up handfuls (plural, not singular, please note) of rice! I don’t eat rice! These a$$holes had apparently forced about a pound and a half of rice down the drain. Jeez!

Then this week, after returning from Jamaica (I’ll write about that in the next post … probably) I found my shower backed up with about six inches of disgusting brown, hair-and-gunk filled water. Joy! I took the trusty plunger to the drain again … and after about 10 minutes the water slowly drained away. Two days later, it happened again. I repeated the process. Two days later, it happened again …

But this time was different. This time it reeked of bleach. It was next to impossible to breathe in my apartment. This time I had no choice but to call my landlord and have a plumber come and “snake my shit.” (That’s a shout out to JB … we’re both amused by the phrase “snake my shit.”) He couldn’t get out until the next morning … and by then I realized that whatever was causing the bleach odor was eating away my damn shower!

The problem is now resolved … but my poor shower has been scarred for life.

Big Mac & The Hall of Fame

Here are the only two questions that need to be considered whenever Mark McGwire and Hall of Fame are brought up in the same sentence -- as they will be a lot from now until the Class of 2007 is announced early in January. And maybe long after that.

First, do McGwire's on-field accomplishments merit his selection to Cooperstown? Yes! But, does anything else -- we all know what that might be -- demand his exclusion? I have to say no!

McGwire is among the 17 former Major League Baseball players on the 2007 Hall of Fame ballot, the first such group of prominent players linked to the use of performance-enhancing drugs.

This group includes Jose Canseco and the late Ken Caminiti, former MVPs who admitted steroid use. In fact, Canseco made the accusation that he and McGwire did steroids together while teammates with the Oakland A’s.

Members of the Baseball Writers Association of America who have covered the sport for at least 10 years determine which players make the cut. That’s who votes. Sports writers. People who are always looking for good copy.

Their consternation centers on whether to admit McGwire, who finished his career with 583 home runs, which ranks seventh on MLB's all-time list. Five-hundred home runs, 3,000 hits … both are usually considered automatic entries.

If only Big Mac hadn't gone to Capitol Hill last year. Things might be different.

The slugger was peppered with questions from opportunistic lawmakers wanting to know what he put in his body to become Paul Bunyan. His response is exactly what will unfairly doom his selection into the Hall, ``I'm not here to talk about the past.''

The Associated Press earlier this week surveyed about 20 percent of eligible voters. Only 1-in-4 who gave an opinion said they planned to vote for McGwire this year.

That's far shy of the 75 percent needed for induction. In fact, it's closer to the 5 percent needed just to remain on future ballots. And that’s a shame … nothing has been proven and there wasn’t even a policy in place banning steroids until 2002. Are we gonna ban the man that in many ways saved the sport with his run at 61 homeruns on hearsay and innuendo? Knowing baseball writers … probably so.

Worst Blog Entry Ever!

The Election is over ...

Okay, so those in the know are aware that a large portion of my work (and by that I mean the day job that supports me, not the artistic job that keeps threatening to put me in the poor house) is political in nature. So every election season my workload increases to near ridiculous degrees. How ridiculous? Well, I showed up at work Monday morning at 9am and was finally able to leave shortly after 7pm on Tuesday. That’s right folks … I worked a 34 hour shift. Straight. With minimal breaks and no time for lunch, dinner or breakfast. And 33 of those 34 hours were as busy as can be. Needless to say, I write this blog today very much in recovery mode. The good news is that the Democrats have taken over the House and made great strides in gubernatorial races and in the Senate. The even better news is … I have some vacation time coming.

Naturally this workload is the primary reason that I’ve been more than remiss at updating this ol’ blog. It’s not so much that I haven’t had a free moment here and there to write something but more that my mind (at least the part that is moderately creative and capable of writing) has been as inactive as can be. Don’t expect this to be all that entertaining or amusing of an entry.

Bike Taxi and KISS

A week and a half ago or so I did have one evening that was filled with entertainment. I left work shortly after 5pm and went to McCann’s in Port Authority with JB for a few drinks. We were really just killing time. Later that night we had tickets to go see KISS in concert at Cobo Hall in 1976. Yeah, I know, a movie of a concert from thirty years ago. Ho hum, some of you say. But not me. This was KISS! This was young, energetic, hungry KISS. This was exciting!

So we leave the bar at Port Authority (a little stumbly and a touch buzzed) and find that getting a cab quickly (we only had about 30 minutes to get to Union Square) wasn’t going to happen. So we took the first available option … a bicycle cab. From 42^nd and 8^th Avenue all the way to Union Square. We hop in, put a blanket over us (it was a bit chilly that night) and our new friend and chauffer (who we took to calling Tyrell) huffed and puffed his way to the movie theatre. In all the time I’ve been in New York, I had never taken the bicycle taxi, always figuring that it was too expensive. Well … it is! But it was a blast. We naturally behaved as though we were teenagers in a limo … hooting and hollering at everybody as we passed. We even dropped the old Mr. Microphone line, “Hey baby, we’ll be back to pick you up later!”

Random Mindless Observations

So, without expounding on anything (told you this was gonna be a lame entry) here are a few things I’ve noticed the past couple of weeks (in no particular order):

1. Never take an evil mop home with you.
2. If you do and they come back, lock the door.
3. I start to get grumpy around the 26th hour of being awake and then silly at about hour 31.
4. I’ve met a lot of selfish people over the years – you know who you are! You're the people that suck!
5. The criteria for me to refer to somebody as “exotic” is pretty limited.
6. I’m better at karaoke when I’ve never heard the song before … and I’m drunk.
7. No matter how hard you try to put the past behind you, it’ll rear its ugly head from time to time.
8. I have a lot of past.
9. Everybody has a cooler cell phone than me.
10. Rebecca was right … the meatballs at Carmine’s are excellent! And trust me, I know meatballs.
11. I have never actually purchased an umbrella in my entire life! Been given a few, stolen a few … never purchased one!
12. Ducks are funny. Period. They just are. Even devil ducks.

Hub City Survivor

You raised me
Praised me
Would lift me up
And make me listen to Buddy’s Rave
Then you beat me
Broke me
Tried to smoke me
An’ turn me into a slave
But I fought back
With original thought
Just like I always do
Spent ten years making a hand-made present
That I could give to you
But you didn’t want me
Didn’t love me
‘Cause I was young and brash
Spent ten years choppin’ legs from under me
Try to make me bend and kiss your ass

A man came home
‘Bout in ‘86
‘Cause he needed to lick his wounds
Deep, deep down
In the back of his mind
He knew he was headed for his tomb
You asked him sweetly
To do you a favor
‘Cause you thought it might be fun
And he went and built something bigger
Than we’d dreamt of ‘fore he was done
When the day came that he met his Maker
You all turned the other way
You didn’t want
The word to spread
That you had known that he was gay
Joy and light and brightness
Were the things he reveled in
When he passed away
You cast away
Him for his flagrant sin

Two beautiful girls lay in your hard ground
And you never even cared
The most talented son you ever had
Is also lying there
On the other side of the stock yard
Where you will never see
Lies the remnants
Of the carnage
You’ve inflicted on my family
Don’t tell me ‘bout Bobby Knight
Prairie dogs and The Strip
Don’t offer me
Restitution
For the things from me you ripped

I know the truth
Behind the lies
That you don’t want the world to see
High horse morals
And empty minds
Make up your community
You praise a man who makes his “art”
Like the guy on PBS
Radio personalities
Stage shows that are a mess
Proud of your churches
Big parking lots
But what you don’t want the world to know
The number of people
Up and down Indiana
That don’t even bother to go
You’re a haven for the shallow
Cowardly and proud
They can’t do what they want
They kiss your ass
Then they’re allowed

-- Rich Warren, 10/06

Product Placement

Those of you who have been (un)fortunate enough to spend time with me early in the morning know full well how poorly my fuzzy little brain functions in the pre-coffee moments of the day. The synapses are not quite firing on all cylinders. I’m sure that most folks are like this (at least, that’s what I tell myself) but I am probably a touch unique in that my mind takes its own scenic route to get to the point where I am capable of civilized behavior. Observations come streaming out of my mouth in the wee hours (remember, I live alone, so who the hell am I talking to?) and frequently take the shape of song. For example, just the other morning I sat on the couch putting on my socks while singing a rousing (i.e.: loud!) chorus of the old vaudeville standard “Absolutely Mr. Left Foot, Positively Mr. Right” … accompanied by a little footie-dance.

I have never really spent any of my morning hours writing (which may explain why I am such an unoriginal playwright) but have often thought that I really need something to chronicle my morning ridiculousness. Not that I think anybody would be in the slightest amused by it, but because it is a prime example of me entertaining myself (stop it … we’ll talk about that kind of “entertaining” in another blog entry one of these days) and would probably be a great lesson to would-be actors and/or schizophrenics.

In the midst of all this childlike drowsy behavior, I also find myself observing the most random things. This morning my observation was simply that I am a prime example of somebody with product loyalty. Back in the early ‘90s, when I worked in television, an advertising exec (who had been in the ad game for decades) told me that the most important thing in advertising was to create product loyalty – not to get customers to try a new product, but to strengthen the loyalty of folks who already used it. The theory was that one person with strong product loyalty would influence friends and loved ones to a degree that they would purchase, try and also become loyal to that product. Pretty forward thinking for an ad man, huh?

For example, he pointed out, a person who has driven a Chevy for the past eight years is 75% more likely to purchase a new Chevy instead of another make of car. Automobiles elicit the strongest product loyalty in the market place. He also pointed out that loyalty to a particular product can also create a genuine resentment towards that brand’s competitors … an obvious example being the Coke vs. Pepsi war. Have you ever seen somebody in a restaurant order a Coke only to greet the waitress’s response of, “Pepsi okay?” with scorn and a scowl? Of course you have … especially if you’ve gone out to eat with me.

This ad exec friend of mine also told me that you could learn a lot about a person by finding out what products he is loyal to … he never clarified exactly what it was you could learn, but he made it clear that you could learn something. So, here’s your chance to learn something about me – here are the brands and products that I discovered I am loyal to during this morning’s hazy hours:

Old Spice

I use it all … the aftershave, the shaving cream, the deodorant, the body wash … and frequently even the razor itself. Many people (especially women) have told me that Old Spice reminds them of their fathers … ah, that explains something dysfunctional about my relationships, huh? – and in fact, my father was also a user of the classic aftershave. Why do I use it? I like it. Its classic and its male. Too many aftershaves and deodorants out there smell too “perfume-y” for my taste … or too “rubbing alcohol with a hint of spice.” I’m not a big fan of fashionable or expensive colognes – I’m a simple guy who uses simple personal hygiene products.

Stubb’s

I spent many a youthful hour at Stubb’s Bar-B-Q in Lubbock, TX and when they started to release Mr. Stubblefield’s sauces, rubs, marinades and side dishes in my friendly neighborhood grocery … it was a happy, happy day. I cannot tell you how many fond memories I have to sitting at Stubb’s, listening to live blues music, wiping the bar-b-q sauce from my mouth and then diving into that fantastic cobbler with a scoop of ice cream. Now the restaurant in Lubbock is closed (the one in Austin is still going strong, I hear) and I live thousands of miles away … but I can still count on Stubb’s for my bar-b-q needs. Now I just need to find a place with a yard so I can grill!

Mountain Dew

This also goes back to my days in television. One of our producers guzzled Mountain Dew like it was water. At the time it had probably been ten years since I had even thought of drinking a Mountain Dew … at least back to the “it tickles your innards” advertising … but he swore by it and it’s caffeine levels. Caffeine! I love caffeine! And drinking coffee in the middle of the afternoon during a West Texas summer just didn’t make sense. So I began to grab a Mountain Dew in the afternoon. Then they started to come out with the spin-off products and I bought and tried them all: Code Red (not great), Pitch Black (okay), Livewire (the best orange soda in the history of man!) and even the Baja Blast that’s only available at Taco Bell (eh … I could take it or leave it). Now that’s a brand-name loyalty that’s been instilled into me … they come out with a new flavor and I try it … that’s good marketing. They’re even coming out with an energy drink … and you can bet I’ll wind up buying it at some point.

So what do these three products have to say about me? Let’s investigate, shall we? Mountain Dew is marketed to the ADHD set, the X-Games fan and the folks who like to jump snowboards off of cliffs. It’s high in caffeine and can make you jittery if you drink too much. My deduction is: overactive. Stubb’s is bar-b-q and if there is one truth about bar-b-q it is that you can’t enjoy it and be a dainty eater. It’s messy. You’re going to get sauce on your shirt and jeans. My deduction is: slovenly. Old Spice was always marketed to manly men who performed manly activities. There’s a tough, rugged fisherman on all the classic advertising and even the classic logo. My deduction is: heterosexual. Therefore, my products indicate that I am an overactive slovenly heterosexual. Hmmm.

Post-Op Pandemonium

This past Friday I underwent surgery, and although I won’t bore you with the details because I never want this blog to become a “oh poor me, my life is miserable” kind of thing, let’s just say I was sent home bloodied, bandaged and bruised. So naturally I just have to write about it and how I am probably one of the worst post-operative patients ever.

I *Heart* Anesthesia

So this was the first time that I had ever been knocked completely out for a medical procedure. Granted, I have had a few things done medically-speaking, but they were always handled with local anesthesia and something to knock out any pain or discomfort I may feel. But this time it was time to visit drug-induced Sleepsville.

I was perfectly awake when they wheeled me into the operating room and feeling uncomfortable about the IV in my left hand and the fact that I was wearing nothing more than a hospital gown that covered … well, it didn’t really cover much of anything. I slid from the gurney to the operating table under my own power and lay there as the various doctors and nurses all went through their last minute preparations. The anesthesiologist flirted with me for a minute or two when suddenly the site of my IV began to hurt like nobody’s business. Not just the burn you feel as they pump medication into you, but sharp pain.

The look on my face must have told the story as the anesthesiologist leaned over me and asked, “Is your IV uncomfortable?” “Yeah,” I replied, “it has really started to hurt.” She turned to the side for a second, then returned to my glance and said, “Don’t worry. It should stop hurting in about … three …two … wuh …” Out like a light.

Is that a knife in my back?

They told me before they wheeled me into the operating room that I probably wouldn’t remember anything about the procedure. Well, I have news for you … I remember and I remember it pretty well. What I remember the most was waking up in the middle of the operation.

Visualize this for a moment if you will. You wake up after a deep sleep feeling fairly well refreshed. You’re lying on your side as you become aware that whatever it is you’ve been sleeping on is solid and not comfortable at all. You lazily open your eyes to a room that is much brighter than you imagined it would be. Then, suddenly … you realize that your back is in excruciating pain! Why is that? Why does it feel like somebody is stabbing me?

Oh … maybe it has something to do with the woman who is stabbing me!

I hear voices: “He’s waking up.” “Not for long.” “You’re okay, buddy.” Then, quite abruptly … zzzzzzzzzzz!

Bleeding? Invite Company Over

I’ve been told a time or two in my life that my mind just doesn’t quite work like it’s supposed to. This past weekend might be a case-in-point. Literally hours after coming home from the hospital, what do I do? Have a dinner party!

Having just moved into the new place, I had been feeling that I needed to have something of a housewarming party and rather than keep putting it off, I just invited a few of my favorite people over for gumbo and booze. Granted, that meant that a large portion of the afternoon had to be spent shopping and deboning birds (I used chicken, turkey and duck in my gumbo) and although I was disappointed that the grocery in my area didn’t have any andouille sausage, I made do. Rebecca made a pecan pie (how can you go wrong with pecan pie?), I received no less than two fifths of Jack Daniels as housewarming gifts (how well they know me) and a much needed bathmat and a wonderful time was spent catching up with dear friends while sitting on the floor in my kitchen.

A Mosquito’s All-You-Can-Eat Buffet

The first few nights I spent in the new apartment, I was eaten alive by mosquitoes. It was annoying as can be. But after a couple of nights, the little critters appeared to have moved on to bigger and better meals. At the time I had just written it off to the fact that it had recently rained, there was some standing water in the neighborhood and I had left my windows open. That is until the last couple of nights.

Lying in bed with blood-filled gauze bandages this weekend, my little blood-sucking friends returned. Why they bothered to bite me, I don’t really know. After all, I’ve had more than my fair share of leakage (sorry to be so blatantly gross) and a little mosquito could have just landed on me and seeped up the nice oozing bloody mess. But no! They bite … it’s just what they do. And last night I was their all-you-can-eat buffet.