I spent an hour at work yesterday watching YouTube videos of kids blowing things up. It was great! And no, I was not goofing off, I was doing research! It reminded me of when I was a wee lad, burning and exploding things with my friends. We’d build model airplanes and blow them up. We’d build model cars and set them on fire. We’d build model airplanes and cars with firecrackers inside them so they’d blow up when we burned them.
Estes rocket engines were attached to anything and everything. There were rocket cars and rocket boats and once a rocket Frisbee, which was swell until it caught fire. And we didn’t bother with the Estes electronic ignition system, instead we jammed fuses into the end of the rockets and lit them with a match. It’s a miracle I’m not called lefty today.
The strangest thing I remember doing was lighting small fires with my friends and putting them out by urinating on them. A shrink would have a field day with that, don’t you think?
All you hear now is people complaining about the dumb things kids do and post on YouTube, but you know what? The only difference between now and 35 years ago is video cameras and the internet —and a society that seems bent on taking the boy out of boyhood.
Those Brits are a curiously funky bunch, aren’t they? No one in the world understands American music the way they do. Ever hear any French rock ‘n’ roll? I rest my case. Here are two very different songs I’ve been hearing a lot lately on WEXT, the first a little blue-eyed soul from Welsh singer Duffy:
And here, in a ridiculously crude home made video, Lily Allen’s catchy, off-kilter single “Knock ‘Em Out”:
I was reading a story Sunday about people driven batty by the noises that come from their artificial joints. One guy found that it’s causing some… ummm… bedroom trouble:
“It can interrupt sex when my wife starts laughing,” said one man, who discussed the matter on the condition that he not be named.
While laughter has a important and natural role in your most intimate moments, I guess we need to draw the distinction between laughing with and laughing at. I’m happy to say that I’ve never been laughed at during those most private moments. At least not yet. And I did say during, didn’t I?
Laughing with is wonderful and healthy, and hey, what the hell: who doesn’t enjoy funny noises? Even during the old how-do-you-do?
Oh, yeah: what do these squeeky hips sound like? Glad you asked: listen to one on YouTube. They’ve got everything on YouTube these days.
Some things are best sent to the recycle bin, like the review of my 12-year-old’s school theater production of “Beauty and The Beast.” I thought it would be really, really funny to write about the show as if reviewed by New York Times theater critic Ben Brantley:
Two act one numbers that should have been rousing show stoppers fell flat, casualties of weak singing and thoughtless direction. “Gaston,” the wildly funny paean to Belle’s vain and thickly dumb suitor, leaves many of its best jokes to wither and die on the vine, the victims of poor timing. “Be Our Guest,” a wry and spirited homage to Maurice Chevalier, is similarly disappointing, with many of its lyrics rendered unintelligible. It leaned on a series of costume reveals to wow the audience while ignoring the wit and charm its words. Even Shannon McShane, in her strong turn as Mrs. Potts, couldn’t save the doomed number.
And it went on like this for for six-hundred words. I showed it to Ann. “You know,” she said, “Not everyone gets your sense of humor.” C’mon, I explained. It’s parody. It’s not supposed to be ME writing, It’s as if it’s as if Ben Brantley came to the gymatorium and reviewed a kids theater production. Get it? It’s funny. She stared like I’d grown a third eye on my forehead. “Oh. Maybe Ben Brantley will go to the next PTO meeting.”
Point made —and all but what you see here was deleted. The show closed Saturday night, but I had nothing to do with it.
Billy Collins served two terms as Poet Laureate of the United States and was the New York State Poet for 2004. His poem “The Lanyard” sums up Mother’s Day better than I could in a million years. Watch him recite it here or read it yourself below. (more…)
Paul Grondahl’s story in the TU today starts like this: “Jeff Powers died for love.” It tells how Powers, 22, fell thirty feet while scaling the outside of his girlfriend’s apartment building. They’d had a fight and she asked him to leave. He was determined to see her.
You don’t have to look far to find examples of men doing exactly the wrong thing. Last week, two Amsterdam men were arrested after the broad daylight murder of Jose Payano. Police Chief Thomas Brownell called it “a case of jealousy out of control.” In Washington County, a teen was released on bail after being accused of threatening to kill his girlfriend and dozens of classmates at Cambridge High School. A 62-year-old man was charged with unlawful imprisonment and attempted rape after allegedly holding three different women against their will. Yes, 62-years-old.
When it comes to trouble men have tremendous potential. And at the three way intersection of love, rage, and jealousy, some will get hurt, some will go to jail, and some will never go home.
I’ve seen some breathtakingly dumb things done in the name of local TV news, but I think maybe WGNO of New Orleans takes the cake. They’re inviting viewers to spin the “Wheel of Justice” and help them catch criminals. The promo says:
OK, it’s like this: We have this wheel. It has pictures of bad guys on it. Real dirt bags. We spin the wheel. When it stops on one of these dirt bags we go after them until we catch them. One more time: You. The wheel. Spin. Catch the creeps. Then it’s bye-bye dirt bag, goodbye. Got it? Etc…
I could be wrong. Maybe trivializing murder and mayhem as a ratings stunt is responsible journalism. I never went to j-school.
WGNO is uses the now popular “Getting Answers” slogan as their branding statement. Here’s a question they should answer: Are your news director and general manager idiots? Watch the spot for yourself. Until the anchor walks in it’s not so bad —except for the vile premise.
My standard of quality for grass is that it’s more green than brown. I know this makes me a pariah in a neighborhood of men who carefully cultivate and manicure the lawn, but to them I kindly suggest it’s time to get a freakin’ life. Plus it’s dangerous. Don’t they read the paper?
PITTSTOWN, N.Y. — A 65-year-old town man died today when the riding lawn mower he was operating flipped on an embankment and caught fire, trapping him underneath, State Police said.
DULUTH, Ga. - - A 35-year-old Fayette County man was killed Monday in a tragic accident. James Osborne Studdard, 35, was killed instantly when the lawn mower he was riding flipped over and fell about 8 to 10 feet off a terraced lawn. Capt. Frank Huggins of the Forsyth County Sheriff’s Office said, “No foul play is suspected.”
PINCKNEYVILLE, Ill. - - A Perry County man is killed after a lawn mowing accident. Deputies say 70 year-old Bill Mohr had been trimming the grass on a steep embankment outside his home, using a zero-turn radius lawn-mower. Officers say it slid down the hill and rolled over into a small body of water in Mohr’s back-yard, pinning him underneath.
BURLINGTON, Ky. – - An 86-year-old man was flown to University Hospital Tuesday afternoon after he suffered second-degree burns during an accident while refueling his lawn mower, according to Boone County emergency communication reports. He suffered burns to his hands and legs, reports state.
I will not poison the birds and bunnies to make the grass green, and I will not die for my lawn.
Today’s Mother’s Day tip: make those brunch/lunch/dinner reservations.
All Ann ever really wants on Mother’s Day is to have brunch at the Gideon Putnam, so when I forgot to make reservations it was a pretty big deal. It’s a very popular day there, and if you don’t book a month ahead, you’re screwed. Having blown my one responsibility, I did what men have always done in a crisis: I obfuscated. She asked, “You made reservations, right?” “Hahahahahahahaha. Why wouldn’t I have made reservations?” Meanwhile, a cold bead of sweat ran down my spine.
Mother’s Day rolled around and the butterflies swarmed in my gut. We arrived at the Gideon -six of us- and I fake smiled my way right down to the Georgian Room. I approached the hostess and ratcheted the obfuscation up to boldfaced lying. “Hi! Madeo? Eleven o’clock…for six?” The woman scanned her book. She turned the page. She turned it back. She looked at me. She looked down. “Of course,” she said. “Just one moment.” She scurried over to someone who had to be the manager. She tapped the book and shrugged her shoulders. He made a face and gestured to a table by the window. I pretended not to notice all this, but I’ve never been more interested in anything in my life.
It was a great Mother’s Day. It could have been my last.
Mother’s Day is a holiday that must be approached cautiously, like a wounded animal or something that might explode in your face. Follow a couple of simple rules and you should be OK. This week I’ll try to help you with some common sense tips. Today, gadgets and small appliances:
No Gadgets. Don’t buy a gift that you secretly desire for yourself, like a GPS or big TV. One exception I can think of might be an iPod, but only if you load it up with her favorite music. Giving an empty iPod is no way to show mom or your wife that you understand her amazing uniqueness. It’s saying, “Here take this thing that I bought at Best Buy. I didn’t even care enough to walk over to the Apple Store.”
About small appliances, items that plug in like vacuums and kitchen implements are strictly forbidden. An electical cord is something that you could find wrapped around your neck while sleeping. It can also be used as a whip. This is like your employer giving you a new computer. They don’t love you, they want you to do more work.
Mothers are compassionate, caring, and understanding. If you want to test the limits of these virtues, go right ahead. Coming tomorrow: dining out on Mother’s Day.
