August 31, 2005
Purging the Random Thoughts from My Mind: Stephen King, the Penguin Movie, People with Bad Teeth Making Dumb Decisions in British Schools, Autos, Abortion, and a Dick!
Some people throw up food. I throw up thoughts (unless I have food poisoning in which case I throw up food too - that's always a fun experience. How people are bulimic is beyond my comprehension). Anyway...
Today, I started reading On Writing by Stephen King. The book is AWESOME through the first thirty pages! Hopefully, it doesn't become boring much like March of the Penguins did after its first thirty minutes. The movie is a great documentary about penguins, but it'd be more fun to watch it in an IMAX theater or at home on the Discovery Channel. The best part of my theater experience was listening to a member of the audience howl in laughter at "funny" scenes. This guy must have left the theater thinking the documentary was a shoe-in for a Golden Globe nomination in the Best Comedy category! Now, HE was entertaining! (Have you ever noticed that people with unusually strong laughs can make films far more entertaining? My brother is such a person. Seeing Wedding Crashers with him made the film ten times funnier than it would have been had he not been in the theater.) Thinking Fool's Final Grade for the Penguin Movie: C.
In the "Do These People Have Mad Cow Disease?" category, did you hear about the British high school which has decided to allow students to drop up to five F-bombs during each lesson? Apparently, two particular classes of 15 and 16-year-olds at one particular school have students who have been less than stellar citizens in the classroom. Thus, administrators have decided that letting the students say "Fuck" will help with the overall decorum of the class (obviously). Although they will not condone the use of the f-word, teachers will tally the number of times it is used on the board so all students can keep track of just how many times their peers have said "fuck" in the classroom. Apparently, if the students see how often fuck is used, they'll be deterred from using it more. (Yeah, maybe in Fantasyland.) And the penalty for over-fucking? The teacher will have a talk with the class. (I am not making this up.) Does it trouble you as much as it does me that there are actually adults who got together one day and came up with this particular plan? (Keep in mind that these thoughts are coming from a person (me) who believes that if he doesn't use every swear word at least five times every day, he might never get to use another one again.)
After going to car dealerships for my auto service needs for almost eight years, this week I decided to jettison a local dealership in favor of a local mechanic shop. (When you get screwed enough times by the same people, you start to realize that those people are probably not the ones you want to voluntarily visit.) Even though I dropped a fair amount of money on repairs at the new shop, on the way home, I didn't feel as though I had just been sodomized.
Speaking of people who just got sodomized (by Mother Nature), does everyone agree that people who CAN afford to leave New Orleans permanently and relocate elsewhere SHOULD leave New Orleans permanently and relocate elsewhere? What a sad event.
I received a courtesy ride to the auto repair place from a 47-year-old man who was incredibly nice and incredibly well-spoken. When the man told me that he had never really learned how to read or write, my heart dropped. How in the hell is it possible that a person living in the 21st century in America cannot read or write? A few of my Street Law students couldn't read either. Tragic.
People still ask me what the bar exam was like. The essays were tolerable, but as I was taking the multiple choice portion of the exam, I kept thinking, "This must be what a third trimester fetus feels like when its mother decides to have it sucked out of her womb."
Finally, since I've been in DC for the last few days, I'm wondering whether it's time to finally walk outside my apartment complex in the morning, stand on the sidewalk, and greet Vice-President Cheney's motorcade as it passes by with a poster board that contains the following words: "HONK IF YOU LIKE DICK!" You've got to admit that it'd be cool if Cheney's driver actually honked the horn!
Posted by fool at 12:30 AMAugust 29, 2005
CNN Weather Man: How NOT to keep Your Composure On the Air
After watching a lot of late night/early morning television coverage over the last year, I must admit that if I had to work with the woman in this clip, I'd probably snap at her too! Watch it. It's the most interesting thing about the hurricane. (This assumes that you don't live in an area that is being hit by the hurricane because if you do live in such an area, I imagine there are several other things far more interesting than a CNN weather guy snapping at a CNN anchor).
Posted by fool at 10:54 AM | Comments (4)August 26, 2005
As Gas Prices Keep Going Up, Maybe It's Time For Us to Call in the Fine Folks from Disney
If gas prices continue to rise - and there's no reason to believe they won't - how long will it take for the American economy to collapse? People only have so much disposable income. When that income starts being used in its entirety to purchase fuel, how are Americans going to spend money on discretionary items? We really need alternative sources of energy NOW. With China and India ratcheting up the demand for oil to levels that the world has never seen, isn't it time that this administration and Congress really start to pursue alternative sources of energy? Wouldn't it be wonderful if we could honestly walk into a Pan-Arab Council meeting and say, "Look guys, we don't want, nor do we need your STINKING oil, (douche bags)!" At a minimum, hybrid cars need to become the norm, not the aberration that they are today. What we really ought to do, however, is find ways to run automobiles on power sources that can be found entirely inside America. Then we wouldn’t have to be dependent on a bunch of lunatics in the Middle East. The oil industry in America might be decimated if we went the alternative energy route, but industries get decimated all the time when progress is made (electricity hurt candles, computers killed typewriters, O.J. savagely killed Nicole, etc). The oil industry should not be immune from eventual destruction if its destruction would better the country. Unfortunately, I don’t think there are enough politicians with guts to really attack what might be America’s strongest national security concern.
If our public officials refuse to engage in a game of showdown with members of America's oil industry and also continue to shirk the duty to make our borders safer, maybe we can convince them to take over Saudi Arabia. Although many people have suggested invading Saudi Arabia to gain control over its oil fields, I find such reasoning to be short-sighted. The best reason to invade Saudi Arabia is not to take advantage of the country’s oil fields; the best reason is to capitalize on Saudi Arabia’s tourism potential. If you’re wondering who the hell would go to Saudi Arabia on vacation, I’ve got two words for you: Mecca Disney. Seriously, Mecca Disney could be the biggest and best (which isn’t saying a whole lot) Disney theme park in existence! Mickey and Donald could behead Minnie and Daisy on stage each evening. Goofy could stone Pluto to death. Chip and Dale could even perform a nude review. Kids and parents would absolutely love the place! Now, I realize that Mecca Disney would be encountered with hostility at first. After all, the French didn't exactly receive Euro Disney all that warmly when it was introduced and unlike some of our Middle Eastern friends today, the French weren’t even cutting people’s heads off at the time Euro Disney was being built (the guillotine had been retired for more than a decade). Nevertheless, I really believe Muslims worldwide (especially the fanatical ones) would celebrate the building of Mecca Disney. In fact, Islamofascists would undoubtedly open their hearts and minds to the United States and help us build what would undoubtedly be THE ABSOLUTE Happiest Place on Earth once we explained that the park would be built right in the heart of Mecca. As we've all learned, once the hearts and minds get captured, everything else is a piece of cake. Just ask Secretary Rumsfeld.
Posted by fool at 04:37 AM | Comments (3)August 24, 2005
War of the Worlds Should have Been Called War of Crap
I finally saw War of the Worlds. When you leave a movie theater thinking, “Wow, Independence Day was much better than that,” you know you didn’t have the best movie-going experience of your lifetime. Sure, the special effects were nifty, but there was literally no plot in this movie and there were too many questions left unanswered. You’ve got a bunch of aliens that savagely attack Earth, but for what purpose? Hell if we know. Spielberg doesn't tell us. Then, there was Cruise’s son, who managed to survive the massive attack despite acting like a complete imbecile in the film. How did that happen? The son basically did the equivalent of walking up to Jason Voorhees, spitting in the hockey mask-wearing man’s face, and cracking a “Yo Mama” joke . . . and then thirty minutes later, we all of a sudden see the son and are supposed to think, “Oh, he survived. How fortunate!”??? Give me a break! Towards the end of the film when Dakota and Cruise see Dakota's mother, I remember thinking, “Well, the family got really lucky. Most people on the planet died, but at least Cruise and Dakota survived even if the son perished.” Then, all of a sudden, the son appeared on screen and it was at that moment that I thought, “Okay, this movie really does officially suck now.” Fortunately, the film ended within sixty seconds of that thought! The Thinking Fool's Final Grade for War of the Worlds: D+ (for good special effects and crappy everything else).
Posted by fool at 03:39 AM | Comments (1)August 23, 2005
The Narcoleptic Children's Television Star and a Little Warning that Might Save Your Life
I can picture it now. Joe Pesci is in an Alabama courtroom. He turns to a witness on cross-examination and says,
"Is it possible that the two Wiggles..."
The judge quickly interrupts. "Ah the two what? Uh... uh, what was that word?"
"Uh... what word?"
"Two what?"
"What?"
"Uh... did you say 'Wiggles?'"
"Yeah, two Wiggles."
"What is a Wiggle?"
If you're like the judge and don't have any idea what a Wiggle is, then I suspect that you have little or no contact with any child under the age of five (which is obviously a good thing if you're a pedophile or a person who isn't nice to kids). Three weeks ago, I certainly didn't know what a Wiggle was. However, after spending a few weeks with my nephew, I've grown quite familiar with the Wiggles.
Just to review, my nephew is the child of my sister and my degenerate soon-to-be-ex-brother-in-law (a.k.a. "The Shaman"). WARNING!!!! If you find yourself injured in the great state of Michigan and the paramedics are rushing you to the Emergency Room of Michigan State University's Hospital, I would strongly suggest ordering the paramedics to take you to a different hospital. Why? Well, somehow the Shaman managed to secure a residency at Michigan State University's hospital. You seriously would probably be better off going to a homeless shelter and having a resident try to treat you than entrusting your care to The Shaman. Needless to say, a full investigation of how Michigan State University selects its medical residents should be unleashed immediately because a bad apple DEFINITELY slipped through the cracks.
Anyway, back to the Wiggles. The Wiggles are apparently the latest and greatest thing in children's entertainment. Straight from Sydney, Australia, four grown men and a few other misfits put together quite a show to entertain kids. My nephew absolutely adores this program. I know what some of you are probably thinking. "Fool, I have no children. I am not pregnant. No one in my family is pregnant. I haven't even placed myself in a position to cause a pregnancy. (Sorry about that last one.) Why on earth should I keep reading this post?" I wish I had a good answer for you. I would like to say you should keep reading because the post is entertaining, but if you haven't been entertained through this point, it's not going to get much better.
If you're looking for gift ideas for infants or small children, I definitely recommend purchasing a DVD of a Wiggles episode. (However, stay away from the one that is set almost entirely on a boat. That episode blows more than a fluffer on a porn set, which is about the only position for which the Shaman seems qualified!) Actually, you might even consider taking the money that you would spend on the child's gift and trying to triple it at a nearby casino. If you win, you could buy more gifts AND have a little money left over for yourself. If you lose, you could write the child the following note, "I was going to buy you a gift, but ended up losing the money for your gift at a casino. Let this be a warning to you about the perils of gambling. Love, [Your name]." Even if you lose, everyone ends up being a winner - the child learns a valuable lesson about gambling while you, well, I'm not entirely certain what you would get out of the experience, but I'm sure it would be something.
I must admit that I find one aspect of the Wiggles highly troubling. One of the main characters, Jeff, constantly falls asleep on the stage during skits. Frankly, I think this teaches children that you can fall asleep whenever you'd like even if you have commitments to others. If it were up to me, I'd fire Jeff's narcoleptic ass the next time he pulled such a stunt to send a better message to people. With that stated, even with Jeff's narcoleptic condition, you'll probably be more entertained by the Wiggles' antics than by sitting through the 40 Year-Old Virgin or Four Brothers. If nothing else, at least the next time you hear someone mention two of the Wiggles, you won't have to ask, "The two what?"
Posted by fool at 01:48 PM | Comments (1)August 21, 2005
Random Thoughts on the Pope, Little League, Tony Gwynn, Movies, Bob Costas, World News Tonight and Gum
Does anyone else feel like the current pope isn't really legitimate? Each time I see Ratzinger on television or read about him, I can't help but think, "I wonder who will follow this interim pope."
I saw almost all of The 40 Year-Old Virgin Saturday night. Like Four Brothers, The 40 Year-Old Virgin is getting pretty good reviews (I'm convinced that Roger Ebert is either on the take from several studios or just going senile). Like Four Brothers, The 40 Year-Old Virgin is absolutely atrocious. My brother and I walked out after about 70 minutes. I know I've said that I'll see just about anything, but I'm starting to think it might be best if I avoid movies with numbers in the title. Grade: F.
Here's a little advice for all the Little League coaches who read this blog. (At last count, that would be zero, but hey, you never know!) If your team actually makes it to Williamsport to play in the Little League World Series and finds itself battling the goliath squad from California, pull your pitcher out of the game before he gives up seven runs in one inning.
Speaking of baseball, has anyone else seen Tony Gwynn on television recently (he's one of ESPN's commentators for the Little League World Series)? I like Tony Gwynn. He seems like a great guy and he was a fantastic baseball player. What he needs to do now, however, is focus on eating more salads and fewer cheeseburgers. To say Tony Gwynn has let himself go would be akin to saying Mount Everest is kind of big. Best way to describe Gwynn these days: GARFIELD FAT!
Red-Eye also came out this weekend and yes, I saw it. It's fairly dumb, but entertaining. Even if it's not your type of movie, surely you see every movie that features Brian Cox, yes? After all, he's only one of the finest actors ever! Grade: B minus.
On Thursday night, Bob Costas, the permanent guest host for Larry King Live, refused to guest host the show because a majority of that night's program focused on Natalee Holloway, the missing American girl in Aruba. I say, "Bravo, Mr. Costas!" Haven't we had enough of Natalee Holloway already? The media should let us know when she's found dead or when her killers are brought to justice. In the meantime, Americans might think about boycotting Aruba until the country actually brings the girl's murderers to justice. (Yes, I realize we don't know for certain that she was murdered. I guess you'll just have to color me a pessimist on this one.)
If I'm David Westin, president of ABC News, I select Bob Woodruff to become the next anchor of World News Tonight. Woodruff has actually been a foreign correspondent and is the ABC employee who is most likely to carry on Peter Jennings' fine work. I think I'll always miss Jennings. I also think I'll never really get the whole smoking thing. In deciding whether to try a cigarette, I always thought about it this way: if I try it and like it, well then I'll want to do it again and that will have horrendous health consequences if I start smoking regularly. If I try it and hate it, well then I won't want to do it again and will have had a bad experience. Neither option seems like a good one, so not trying a cigarette always seemed like a no brainer to me. For those of you who smoke, why did you start in the first place? I know it's hard to quit once you've started, so why begin?
Finally, if anyone knows how to keep a pack of Trident gum from falling apart, do tell me your secret. In the meantime, I've got to remember to purchase Orbit! Like Trident, Orbit is sugarfree, but unlike Trident, Orbit's packaging isn't defective!
Posted by fool at 04:13 AM | Comments (1)August 19, 2005
Where's my Frequent Movie-Watching Card? Reviews of the Wedding Crashers, Four Brothers, Bad News Bears, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory & The Island
One thing I missed terribly while studying for the bar exam was seeing movies. Well, now that one bar exam is behind me (hopefully forever), I’ve played a lot of catch-up and have resumed my movie-going ways. If you’re looking for something to see this weekend, here’s a rundown of my recent theater experiences!
Wedding Crashers – The film is laugh out loud funny. Some say the ending is too sappy for their liking (Roger Ebert is included in this category), but I disagree. I liked the movie from start to finish and laughed out loud a lot! The teenager sitting in front of me nearly broke my right kneecap during the film by rocking his chair backwards at various times, always smashing the back of his chair into my right kneecap (the seats were small and there was nothing I could do to prevent my knee from getting smashed). This distracted from the enjoyment of the film, but even with the physical pain endured throughout the movie, because of its wild and raunchy entertainment, the Thinking Fool’s final grade for Wedding Crashers is an A minus!
Four Brothers – If I were given the choice between watching Four Brothers again or having someone take a sledgehammer and bash my knee with it repeatedly for two hours, I think I’d go with the sledgehammer option. I’m a fan of Mark Wahlberg (Marky Mark). I think he’s a talented actor who delivers believable performances. With that stated, Wahlberg didn’t even seem like he was trying in this movie. The script was absolutely pathetic. Apparently one can be involved in a massive shootout in Detroit, kill several people, and not be brought to a police station for questioning. Maybe the BTK killer should have lived in the Motor City. The rules certainly seem “easier” there. (As an aside, speaking of Detroit, has there been a better police character in any film than Inspector Todd from the Beverly Hills Cop franchise? I think not.) Here’s the deal with Four Brothers – I’m pretty certain that Marky Mark called various actors and said, “Let’s do a movie together.” When he got the cast he wanted, he must have phoned the director and said, “I’ve assembled the perfect cast for a film and we want you to direct it. The only catch is that we have to start shooting the film one week from today. Do you think you can get a script written that quickly?” That’s the only way to describe how horrible this movie is. The Thinking Fool’s Final Grade for Four Brothers is a generous D minus.
Bad News Bears – When you remake a movie, you need to change the movie enough so we don’t feel as though we’re watching the original film, especially if the remake features far worse actors than the original. (The absolute worst remake of all time was Psycho. Every copy should seriously be burned so we can forget that horrible time in our nation’s history.) The original Bad News Bears movie was superb. Walter Matthau was perfect as the drunken coach; all the kids were believable and great; Vic Morrow was a great villain; the movie was just really well done. The remake, on the other hand, absolutely sucked. Billy Bob Thornton mailed in his performance. Whereas the kids definitely helped make the original film, the child actors in the remake were atrocious. I seriously think the child actors were selected by submitting a fifty word essay on why they wanted to be a movie star. No auditions, no screening tests, just an essay. The only time I laughed out loud was when Billy Bob Thornton saw one of his players (who happened to be in a wheelchair) arrive at the field sporting an eye patch. He asked the kid something like, “Hey, are we going to use that patch as a new on-deck circle?” The kid replied, “My mom says I have eye cancer.” That was a laugh out loud moment. Unfortunately, there weren’t enough of those in the first half hour and my brother and I decided that leaving the film (we were the only two in the theater) was the proper course of action. The Thinking Fool’s Final Grade for the Bad News Bears remake is an F!
Charlie and the Chocolate Factory – Here’s another remake, but unlike the Bad News Bears, this one actually did what remakes should do. It told the same story as the original, but in a completely different manner! There’s no doubt that I liked the original film better, but the remake was very entertaining and well done. Johnny Depp portrays a far different Willie Wonka (you definitely think he wants to touch some of the kids) than the one created by Gene Wilder, but that was fine by me because I got to watch a movie that didn’t feel as though I was watching the original. I actually was shocked that I liked this movie. I didn’t expect good things going in. It’s worth a look if you have time. The Thinking Fool’s final grade for Charlie’s visit to the Chocolate Factory is a B.
The Island – I actually saw this in Australia and did not expect good things. Though I drifted off for about five minutes towards the end of the film (out of fatigue, not boredom), I really enjoyed this film. It’s definitely worth a look, especially since Scarlett Johansson is in it! I don't want to reveal too much because it's one of those movies about which you shouldn't know a whole lot going in! The Thinking Fool’s final grade for the creative Island is a B+.
Posted by fool at 06:00 PM | Comments (1)August 18, 2005
Attention Russian Women: British Men are the BEST...no really they are!
A few days ago, my dad and I decided to venture out to a local Southern California golf course. When we reached the first tee, we met our playing partners, two gentlemen from England. After engaging in the standard amount of small talk, we learned that one of the men was on his honeymoon. His wife was seated in the driver's seat of his golf cart, a fact that came as a total shock to my father and me because the girl whom we saw sitting in the golf cart looked like she was a daughter, not a wife (yes, I realize it's possible to be both a daughter and a wife, but I'm tired and you know what I mean, and if you don't know what I mean, you're a complete idiot). Although many men marry younger women, this particular younger woman looked like she still could appear in a magazine published for pedophiles. Needless to say, what appeared to be a gigantic age discrepancy between the husband and his wife was all that my father and I needed to morph ourselves into Sherlock Holmes and Doctor Watson for the remainder of the afternoon to solve the great mystery.
On hole number two, my dad officially started the investigation. "Where did you meet your wife?" he asked. His tone seemed genuine, but to my trained ears, I realized that my dad's simple words really meant, "Where did you meet your wife, a daycare center?"
"I met her in Russia," the English chap responded. "She was doing some translation work for my company and I just knew right away that she was the one for me."
"Is that right!" my father replied. "So she's a mail order bride?" we thought (at least, I definitely thought that)!
"Russian women absolutely love Western men," the English man remarked. "You see, Russian men treat women horribly whereas Western men are actually nice to the women and treat them really well." The comment actually made sense. After all, who doesn't want to be treated well in a relationship even if it's by a person from a completely different generation? Plus, we've all seen documentaries about Russian men kidnapping Russian women and putting them at the bottom of wells until they kill and skin the Russian women. Actually, I think that was the plot for Silence of the Lambs and although the movie has no relevance whatsoever with this post, is it ever wrong to mention Silence of the Lambs? It's only one of the greatest movies of all time and for anyone who hasn't seen it, (cough, cough, GE Friend), you really should rent it, especially now that Blockbuster has eliminated late fees, which means you get to keep the movie forever with no consequences, right? Oh wait, only idiots think that you can pay four dollars at Blockbuster and keep the movie for eternity and in keeping with the running theme of this blog, idiots should not procreate. Back to Silence of the Lambs, can someone explain to me how Buffalo Bill put the women at the bottom of the well in the first place? There was that bucket that he always lowered to pass lotion to his victims, so it's possible that he lowered the victims down to the bottom of the well using the bucket, but his victims weren't exactly anorexic models. In other words, I just don't think the bucket could support a human being, so I'm wondering how the women got to the bottom of the well in the first place. He might have just dropped (i.e. thrown) them down there, but then he'd risk the victims dying (from the fall) before he had a chance to get their skin in perfect condition. Anyway, for all of you who know more about putting people at the bottom of wells than I do, please pass along a tip or two. (I'm guessing this applies to at least one or two of you.) Because this paragraph got slightly derailed, let me summarize the paragraph's main point: according to the groom, Russian women love Western men because Western men are nice and Russian men are douche bags. There! Moving on. . . .
In addition to gambling on every single hole, my dad and I spent the first nine holes trying to guess the bride and groom's ages. My dad remained committed to the notion that the bride was probably a teenager while I held out hope that she was in her young twenties (color me an optimist!). At several junctures, my dad exclaimed, "I'm just going to ask him how old she is! That's the easiest way to find out!" I always countered, "Can you at least wait until the last hole so it's not completely awkward all afternoon?" Seriously, can you imagine that conversation? "By the way, English chap, my son and I were wondering if you're committing statutory rape, a strict liability crime, by consummating your relationship with your young Russian bride. How old is she?" It is true that the question could be posed in a manner that would be less offensive, but I think the groom would have seen through my father's words had he asked him that question. And of course, there is the marital exemption to statutory rape, so technically, the English chap could have deflected on those grounds.
On hole number nine, my dad had a moment of brilliance. Instead of asking the groom his wife's age, my dad asked the groom's friend! When he wants to know something, my dad is very sneaky and can divert a conversation in a way that allows him to ask a question without seeming like he had wanted to ask that question initially. I don't remember how he framed this particular conversation, but needless to say, "How old is his wife?" was uttered pretty quickly.
"Twenty," the groom's friend replied.
"Twenty?" my dad exclaimed, pretending to be shocked beyond belief. "Wow, don't tell her this or else she'd get really mad at me, but I thought she was thirty!" My father's words almost sounded convincing. Keep in mind that the only way anyone could think this girl was thirty was if a person happened to be suffering from some severe degenerative eye condition or was just flat-out blind. In other words, anybody who thinks this girl is 30 would also think that I'm tan.
"Thirty?" the friend exclaimed. Clearly he thought my dad had been sincere with his comment, but what was also clear was the fact that the friend was astonished that anyone could think the bride was older than 10. "She was getting carded religiously in Las Vegas," he added.
"And how old is he?" my dad questioned.
"He's 34," his friend replied.
At some point during the day, we also learned that the newlyweds had been dating for 2.5 years (you do the math to figure out when they started dating). Clearly this wasn't your typical Russian mail order bride arrangement. They actually knew each other before they got married and if Russian men are so bad, why shouldn't a Russian woman find love with a Western man?
Let's backtrack to hole number four for a second. We had gone the first four holes without the young bride ever having set foot out of the cart. As most people know, golf can be pretty boring even if you're playing (though not with my family because you never know when a club will become temporarily planted into the earth or when some new combination of swear words will be laced together for the first time). If you're not playing and are just sitting in a cart watching amateurs play, well that would even make an insomniac be able to sleep during the middle of the day. With that information in mind, I approached the groom and said, "I just wanted to let you know that your wife is more than welcome to join us on the green when we putt or join us anywhere else on the course for that matter. She's got to get bored sitting in the cart all day."
"That's mighty kind of you to say," the groom replied. "I didn't want to presume anything."
After that brief conversation, you would think that the bride would start abandoning the cart from time to time to join us on the green while we putted, yes? That's what I thought and I suspect it is what you are thinking too. Well, like me, you are WRONG! For the remainder of the day, the twenty-year-old only left the cart under three scenarios. First, she left the cart when her husband hit his ball into a sand trap. This happened quite frequently on the final nine holes of the round. The bride would rake the sand after her husband hit his ball. (I can't imagine a Russian man allowing his wife to do such a fun thing.) Second, she would leave the cart when her husband forgot a club. "Putta," he would snap and the "putta" would appear. (Again, imagining a Russian man allowing his wife to leave a golf cart to bring him a club is simply something the mind cannot comprehend.) Third, the twenty-year-old left the cart once when her husband sent her on a suicide mission to fetch his golf glove, which the idiot had left behind on a prior hole. The groom told his wife to cover as much ground as possible, but didn't warn her that she might get hit by flying golf balls. Nice. Even the groom's friend expressed sincere concern over the bride's safety at that point. And although I have no evidence of this, I'm pretty certain that when the two had some private time together, the groom beat the living crap out of his young bride and blamed her for his crappy golf round. But, like me, you should not be concerned because the bride is living a truly blessed life. After all, she gets to be with a Western man who treats her like royalty and who actually lets her leave the golf cart to run personal errands for him when he takes her to play golf on their honeymoon. It just doesn't get better than that.
All this leads me to ask one simple question, "Just how bad ARE Russian men???"
Posted by fool at 03:44 PMAugust 14, 2005
Peter Jennings Leaves the World Far Too Soon
On September 11, 2001, I awakened my parents to tell them that one of the World Trade Center’s Twin Towers had just collapsed. In reflecting on that morning, I must have sounded like a delusional maniac. Not only was I crying when I delivered the news, you must remember that at the time, my family was still living in a pre-9/11 world, a world in which the idea that terrorists would fly airplanes into buildings was completely foreign. Thus, to see their 23-year-old son standing at the foot of their bed, weeping, and telling them that the country was under attack, well let’s just say that if my parents didn’t know me better, they probably would have thought I was on a bad acid trip.
For the next 20 hours or so, my family, especially my dad and me, were glued to the television sets. Due to my dad’s insatiable sports appetite, the family room in my parents’ house features three big screen television sets positioned next to each other. On 9/11, the sports-friendly set-up allowed us to monitor coverage on various television channels throughout the day. And although we did our fair share of flipping early on, it became clear quite quickly that the middle television would be the television that our eyes would watch and that our ears would hear. That television was tuned to ABC and Peter Jennings. Jennings was the person whom we wanted to help guide us through that horrific Tuesday, and for my money, he was a remarkable guide.
At some point during each of the last seven days, I’ve found myself thinking, “I can’t believe Peter Jennings is gone.” I watched the amazing two-hour commercial-free tribute that ABC aired on Wednesday night (you can order a copy by clicking here) and thought the program was a superb tribute to a man who was simply a wonderful reporter. Whether you think Jennings was biased to the left or too sympathetic to the Palestinians or too demanding on his staff, it is difficult to argue that he was anything short of a brilliant broadcaster. Although he lacked a college education (and a high school diploma for that matter), Jennings always struck me as an authoritative figure on whatever story he was covering. A lot of people can read teleprompters and Peter Jennings could certainly read one with the best of them, but Jennings excelled when he was working without a script. That's when he was the true master.
At the close of the two-hour special, there was a shot of an empty ABC World News Tonight set, Peter’s set. A lone trumpet player appeared standing at the bottom left of the screen and played the World News Tonight theme in a very slow fashion, deliberately drawing out each note. The notes had a sad quality to them and have stuck in my head. It’s hard to accept the fact that we’ll hear the World News Tonight theme time and time again in the future, but the theme will never be followed by a living Peter Jennings saying something like, “We begin tonight in Baghdad,” or “Earlier today, the President asked Congress to....” There will be new anchors, young anchors, and they will grow in the anchor chair just as Jennings grew, and they too will be superb broadcasters. But this wasn’t the way this was supposed to happen. Peter Jennings should be in the World News Tonight anchor chair for years to come. Count me as one person who has been quite sad knowing he’ll never sit in that chair again.
Peter Jennings dead far too young at the age of 67.
Posted by fool at 01:48 AM | Comments (1)August 09, 2005
But Pancakes are on the Menu...
Australia is the first country I've visited that did not leave me thinking, "It's so great to be home," upon landing at a United States airport. To the contrary, I wish I had more time in the land down under even if one waitress left much to be desired.
Thinking Fool Exhibit #1: My first Australian dining experience...
Background: There were eight or nine items listed on the breakfast menu at a restaurant that had a seating capacity of about 40 people. When I placed my order, there were 10 people in the restaurant at the time. (For all of my mathematically-challenged readers, that means the restaurant was operating at about 25% of its capacity.) Here's how the ordering process went...
Thinking Fool: (Looking at the waitress and pointing to the word "Pancakes" on my menu) "I would like the pancakes please." (I often employ the "point to the item that I want while also reciting its name" ordering method to ensure accuracy. This is especially helpful when a waiter or waitress does not speak English as a first language. It was crystal clear from the minute she approached the table that this particular waitress had a vocabulary that consisted of no more than 100 English words.)
Waitress: (Upon hearing my order, the expression on the waitress' face was hard to describe. Basically it was the type of expression that I'd only expect to view on a person's face if I had said something like, "I was wondering if you'd mind if I took a page out of Aztec history and sacrificed your child in some great ceremony before the eyes of thousands of people. I could even pay you five or ten dollars if that would make it worth your while." Seriously, this lady glared at me with a look of pure astonishment and horror etched into every centimeter of her face.) "Pancakes??????????? OOOOOOhhhhh nooooooo! We're WAY too busy to make pancakes. You'll have to order something else." (The comment was said with a tone that implied that I was an absolute moron for not realizing that pancakes would not be available when the restaurant had more than two or three people dining. In retrospect, I don't know how I could have been so dumb. Sigh.)
Thinking Fool: (At this point, I looked around at the restaurant's patrons, noticed that there weren't that many of them, and thought, "Ummmmmmmmmmmmm!" Seriously, since when did making pancakes consume a tremendous amount of a cook's time. Pancakes might be one of the easiest breakfast items to make. Nevertheless, I decided to go with option two.) "Hmmm, okay, then may I have the French Toast, please?"
Waitress: (The look of horror and astonishment that had been plastered on the server's face became less severe, but confusion and frustration still could be sensed.) "French toast???" she replied while undoubtedly thinking, "Why must this American be so difficult and order something off the menu that clearly is hard to make?" "Well, I can try to get the cook to make it, but you're going to have to wait awhile."
Thinking Fool: (Thinking, "Is it always going to be this difficult to order food in this country?") "I'll wait."
There's definitely a reason why tipping is optional in the land down under. Fortunately, I was never outright rejected again when I ordered something on an Australian menu. The country also had pretty good food! With the exception of the time that I ordered a cheeseburger and ended up eating something that was probably kangaroo, I was quite pleased.
Posted by fool at 03:34 PM | Comments (3)