In the past few days I've written a pro-flogging editorial for the paper and an anti-Obama rant for Facebook. Mostly I'm just bored (not a good thing for me) and want to press some buttons, but it would be great if folks could actually discuss important issues again. We no longer debate, we merely take stands and shout. Nobody listens. Nobody alters their position in any way. Very sad. I blame the Left, as I do for pretty much everything.
During Vietnam I belonged to a very political family, with my mother Harriet chairperson of the 13th Ward DFL and part of Eugene McCarthy's inner circle. My relatives on Mom's side were also anti-war, not so much on the Lykken side, outside of my Aunt Tommie. What we Lefties learned during this period was that our arguments seemed to be having an effect. Seemed like every day somebody famous came out against the war, or a friend, or even my Dad at one point. I was in attendance when Senator Mondale came out, and when Governor Wendy Anderson admitted he was against the war in Vietnam. I will never forget when redneck Paul K. from Washburn showed up at an anti-war rally downtown. All attendees had been excused from classes that day (!) and Paul had told me he was pretending to go and would just head on home, but there he was. Marching. Wow. So, in the end, WE won. We convinced the country to come over to our position. Weren't we cool.
Now, some forty years later, I spend much time mocking people I knew as "establishment" back in the day, who now drive Green cars, attend Farmer's Markets, and refuse to patronize Target. Yes, yes, yes, these are wonderful people, respectful of each other and the planet, and the world would be a better place if we had more of them in it. I would probably kill myself, but still. One problem I have with the current Left is that they have no Pinko Bona Fides. If they weren't actually marching in the streets during the 70's, they are nothing but posers. I am a total Pinko snob. If you didn't run with my crowd, you probably voted for some sort of Humphrey during your life, and are therefore permanently disqualified from Left Wing Coolness. So there.
My biggest problem with the current Left is that they STILL believe that if they shout their arguments loud enough, the great unwashed Palin-loving Other will eventually come around. That's what happened with Vietnam. Sadly, Obama's election reinforced their delusion, that whichever side debates the best will win the day. They will not. Whichever side gets the vote out the best will win, as it always has been.
In today's political scene, the Left still blabs on and on about nothing. If there was any substance to our position, we would have to publicly disagree with our black president, and that is simply not going to happen. Ever. We still blame George Bush for everything, even though it is 2 and 1/2 years later. The Right knows instinctively that they are too stupid to win a real debate, so they resort to throwing stones and Fox news. Politics just isn't fun anymore. Obama had a shot at being great, we were all ready to follow, but he was too fucking weak to lead.
Funny, whenever I attack Obama, not a single one of my Leftist friends ever responds. I had such high hopes for the man. He is behaving as if, on the day he took office, some men in black suits came into the Oval and informed him that Michelle and the kids would die if he did not do EXACTLY what they wanted, when they wanted. Hence our 2 and 1/2 continuing wars. Makes one wonder ...
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
Thursday, May 26, 2011
Kidneys and Tripe
August 16th, 1986, I wake up at 5:30 morning with a terrible pain in my back. Now, I am used to back pain. I broke it in 1975 falling through the open trap door on the Guthrie stage. I know what a sore back feels like. This was much, much worse. A pain that was at once sharp and radiating, encircling my back and then around front to my abdominal area, like a belt of agony. I did some stretches but no relief. Then I started thinking that this pain was originating in my stomach, so I washed down half a dozen Rolaids with a swig of Pepto Bismol. I threw that up within minutes. The pain was getting worse.
It was now 6:30 am and time to leave for work. I had started a job as a Juvenile Corrections Worker at the Hennepin County Juvenile Detention Center that January, and was scheduled to work the 7-3 shift that day. I had never called in sick before, but knew that I couldn't go to work with this pain, whatever it was. I contacted the duty supervisor, grouchy John Martin, and told him my back hurt too much to come in. He hung up on me. At this point I was getting desperate, and the pain was beginning to cloud my judgement. I knew I couldn't drive. I called my father, who lived just a few blocks away, and asked him to please take me to the ER. As I waited for him, I started running around my basement apartment, trying to escape the pain. I had in mind a sad story I had read, where in some creepy kid had soaked a tarantula with gas and set it on fire, the poor spider then scurrying about the room trying to run from its agony. That was me.
Next thing I knew I was in Dad's Volvo and we are on the freeway heading downtown to the Hennepin County Medical Center. Dad was really worried, as it was obvious I was really, really hurting, but neither of us could figure out why. When we got to the ER my Dad took charge and told the attendings what my symptoms were (Dad was a clinical psychologist of some repute, and knew something about most things) and I was given a shot of a non-narcotic painkiller. I believe it was hospital policy to avoid, if possible, giving narcotics to long-hairs. Ten minutes later I was literally screaming. Dad grabbed the nearest doctor and said "give him some demerol". They did. Within seconds I was the happiest person on the planet. Demerol destroys pain. Demerol also improves one's mood, considerably. I didn't even mind when they shoved a tube up my willie to help me pass what turned out to be a very nasty, sharp kidney stone. Once it was gone, I was just fine. Except for the memory, that is. While waiting for my discharge paperwork, I asked a nurse how they figured out what I had. "We diagnosed you by your screaming" said she.
Twenty years later, almost to the day, I felt that pain again. It was on a weekend day (of course) and I recognized it immediately. My wife drove me to the ER and dropped me off at the door while she went to park the car. I stumbled inside and told the lady at the front desk, "kidney stone". She literally grabbed me by the arm, dragged me behind a curtain, and I had a demerol IV in me within minutes. I passed the stone within an hour, and happily went home.
I have been told that drinking cranberry juice prevents the formation of kidney stones, and I drank a glass a day until I was diagnosed with diabetes, about a year before that second stone formed. I still don't drink the juice, but I do eat some mutant concoction called "cran-raisins" and keep my finger crossed. Last night I had a pain, a bad pain, and for about an hour believed that another kidney stone had arrived. Problem was that the pain was not as intense (no screaming) and not quite in the right place. My wife used an electric massager on the spot and it felt better. That did it. Kidney stones NEVER feel better, not until you get the real drugs homie. I am still in awe about how frightened I was. Nothing scares me, really. I am more than a little bit of a sociopath, but the idea that I had a kidney stone in me scared the living crap out of me. If you had told me at a certain point last night that I had bone cancer in that painful area of my right hip, I would have gleefully danced about the room, clicking my heels. No more kidney stones for me, brother.
Perhaps no more kidneys for me either. Mine are failing due to the diabetes, and I need a transplant. Luckily, my wife Veneta is a match for me, and has generously offered to give me one of hers. There may be a hitch, however, as the doctors are yet to rule out whether or not some vestige of her childhood TB is lingering in her kidneys, which would rule her out as a donor. My brother Joe and son Zeke are being tested as back-ups, but haven't been cleared yet. I guess there is some irony here, but I'm not exactly sure what it is. One thing I do know, I'd rather have no kidneys (and all that means) than a kidney with a stone in it. I still feel really bad for that poor tarantula. I don't want to feel that way about myself, not again no thank you!
It was now 6:30 am and time to leave for work. I had started a job as a Juvenile Corrections Worker at the Hennepin County Juvenile Detention Center that January, and was scheduled to work the 7-3 shift that day. I had never called in sick before, but knew that I couldn't go to work with this pain, whatever it was. I contacted the duty supervisor, grouchy John Martin, and told him my back hurt too much to come in. He hung up on me. At this point I was getting desperate, and the pain was beginning to cloud my judgement. I knew I couldn't drive. I called my father, who lived just a few blocks away, and asked him to please take me to the ER. As I waited for him, I started running around my basement apartment, trying to escape the pain. I had in mind a sad story I had read, where in some creepy kid had soaked a tarantula with gas and set it on fire, the poor spider then scurrying about the room trying to run from its agony. That was me.
Next thing I knew I was in Dad's Volvo and we are on the freeway heading downtown to the Hennepin County Medical Center. Dad was really worried, as it was obvious I was really, really hurting, but neither of us could figure out why. When we got to the ER my Dad took charge and told the attendings what my symptoms were (Dad was a clinical psychologist of some repute, and knew something about most things) and I was given a shot of a non-narcotic painkiller. I believe it was hospital policy to avoid, if possible, giving narcotics to long-hairs. Ten minutes later I was literally screaming. Dad grabbed the nearest doctor and said "give him some demerol". They did. Within seconds I was the happiest person on the planet. Demerol destroys pain. Demerol also improves one's mood, considerably. I didn't even mind when they shoved a tube up my willie to help me pass what turned out to be a very nasty, sharp kidney stone. Once it was gone, I was just fine. Except for the memory, that is. While waiting for my discharge paperwork, I asked a nurse how they figured out what I had. "We diagnosed you by your screaming" said she.
Twenty years later, almost to the day, I felt that pain again. It was on a weekend day (of course) and I recognized it immediately. My wife drove me to the ER and dropped me off at the door while she went to park the car. I stumbled inside and told the lady at the front desk, "kidney stone". She literally grabbed me by the arm, dragged me behind a curtain, and I had a demerol IV in me within minutes. I passed the stone within an hour, and happily went home.
I have been told that drinking cranberry juice prevents the formation of kidney stones, and I drank a glass a day until I was diagnosed with diabetes, about a year before that second stone formed. I still don't drink the juice, but I do eat some mutant concoction called "cran-raisins" and keep my finger crossed. Last night I had a pain, a bad pain, and for about an hour believed that another kidney stone had arrived. Problem was that the pain was not as intense (no screaming) and not quite in the right place. My wife used an electric massager on the spot and it felt better. That did it. Kidney stones NEVER feel better, not until you get the real drugs homie. I am still in awe about how frightened I was. Nothing scares me, really. I am more than a little bit of a sociopath, but the idea that I had a kidney stone in me scared the living crap out of me. If you had told me at a certain point last night that I had bone cancer in that painful area of my right hip, I would have gleefully danced about the room, clicking my heels. No more kidney stones for me, brother.
Perhaps no more kidneys for me either. Mine are failing due to the diabetes, and I need a transplant. Luckily, my wife Veneta is a match for me, and has generously offered to give me one of hers. There may be a hitch, however, as the doctors are yet to rule out whether or not some vestige of her childhood TB is lingering in her kidneys, which would rule her out as a donor. My brother Joe and son Zeke are being tested as back-ups, but haven't been cleared yet. I guess there is some irony here, but I'm not exactly sure what it is. One thing I do know, I'd rather have no kidneys (and all that means) than a kidney with a stone in it. I still feel really bad for that poor tarantula. I don't want to feel that way about myself, not again no thank you!
Thursday, May 5, 2011
Veneta is a very smart person
So, I was telling my wife how sad I was that Yvette Vickers had died, all mummified and all. That night I had a dream about Leigh Taylor. We went to high school with Leigh, though neither of us had known her, or even exchanged a word with her. In the dream Leigh and I were just hanging out during the day. She was supposed to come over to my parent's house that night (in the dream we were still at Washburn) but for whatever reason I went over to HER house instead. Her family was there, but no sign of Leigh. I couldn't figure out why I would dream about Leigh Taylor. I didn't know her at all, and hadn't thought of her since graduation, which was way back in 1972. All I knew of Leigh was that she was a great big girl, well shaped but tall and just ... big. She also seemed to favor ski sweaters, as I recall.
I told Veneta about the dream, and she puzzled on it for a bit, and then came up with the answer as to why I had dreamed about Leigh Taylor. It was all tied into mourning Yvette Vickers, who starred in ATTACK OF THE 50 FOOT WOMAN. Duh. Some long damaged atom of my brain had stored the fact that Leigh Taylor was a really big girl, and had retrieved that item to somehow symbolize my grief over Yvette's passing. Veneta figured it out. She usually does.
Once I asked her what her IQ was. She told me what it was, and it was really high. #&%. She asked me what mine was. I didn't hesitate, and replied "#&% ... and one half". I came to about ten minutes later, and my jaw was really frigging sore. Always try to marry a smart woman, but never, ever forget to duck.
I told Veneta about the dream, and she puzzled on it for a bit, and then came up with the answer as to why I had dreamed about Leigh Taylor. It was all tied into mourning Yvette Vickers, who starred in ATTACK OF THE 50 FOOT WOMAN. Duh. Some long damaged atom of my brain had stored the fact that Leigh Taylor was a really big girl, and had retrieved that item to somehow symbolize my grief over Yvette's passing. Veneta figured it out. She usually does.
Once I asked her what her IQ was. She told me what it was, and it was really high. #&%. She asked me what mine was. I didn't hesitate, and replied "#&% ... and one half". I came to about ten minutes later, and my jaw was really frigging sore. Always try to marry a smart woman, but never, ever forget to duck.
Wednesday, May 4, 2011
IMPERIAL
The Chrysler Imperial, to my mind, is the finest American luxury make ever made, and should be ripe for a comeback. Cool name, uber-powerful design, embodying everything that is wrong, and right, with America. I've wanted one since I was a little boy, admiring the gigantic '50s models parked in front of our house on Lake Calhoun, shining in the bright summer sun. At the Chrysler showroom in 1963 I tried to steer my dad over towards a hunter green Imperial, but he instead went with a white '64 Chrysler 300, with a stick shift. Odd choice. Washburn High classmate Astrid Johnson's father had one. I've never even sat in an Imperial, let alone ridden in one. I've ridden in a Rolls, and in a Mercedes 600. Very fancy, very cool, but not Imperials. Breaks my heart to think of the '66 Imperials destroyed in the making of the Green Hornet movie. I wish they had saved me just one.
Chrysler Imperial
"Gun Sight" tail light from the finest American luxury car ever made .... the Chrysler Imperial.
black cherry soda pop
1964 at the trading post at the far end of the Gunflint Trail in northern Minnesota. There was a pop machine, and for a quarter you could get a frosty bottle of black cherry pop. For my brothers and I, there was nothing better. Gorgeous, exotic, unobtainable in the city. To this day my favorite pop, yogurt, color on automobiles. Black Cherry forever!
Draft Autopsey
I've pretty much beaten this subject to death. Sorry. Things worked out ok for the Vikings in the end, and I had some fun, so what the hey. If the CBA allows us to keep Edwards and Rice, and Ponder manages to not melt down, we will make the playoffs as the second wild card team (with the Lions!). Said in the Trib today that Ponder will wear #7. Odd. That was Tavaris' old number, so it has terrible mojo. If I were he, I would have taken #1 (for 1st round) or #12 (for 12th pick) but that's just me. It's a long time until football season, and we still have to suffer through the Twins season. No hitter last night, though, which was pretty darn cool.
RIP Yvette Vickers. Not so much Osama Bin Laden. I expect his nuts to show up on E-Bay any day now. I bid three dollars.
RIP Yvette Vickers. Not so much Osama Bin Laden. I expect his nuts to show up on E-Bay any day now. I bid three dollars.
Yvette Vickers
Wow. Yvette Vickers. Attack of the 50 ft Woman, 1959 Playboy Centerfold, mummified remains discovered in her Laurel Canyon house, 5/2/11. Baby, as they say, had back. RIP.
Thursday, April 28, 2011
First Round Complete
Did pretty good on my mock in that I hit about half a dozen right on the nose, most of them not obvious. The one that I wish I had been wrong about was Nick Fairly going to Detroit. That is going to suck if the Vikings can't improve their line quite a bit. I was thinking that in the 2nd round we would go after CBs Williams or Dowling, but now that we have to face Suh/Fairly twice, we may look for o-line help immediately (Rodney Hudson?).
I was scared to death that with Locker gone, the Vikes would be determined to go after Blaine Gabbert, who seems pretty worthless. Thank god the Jags saved us from ourselves. I had always preferred Andy Dalton over Christian Ponder, but now I'm not so sure. Ponder is the guy that Peyton would love to mentor. Too bad we don't actually have Peyton to mentor him. Still, it would be nice to sign a vet free agent to help both Webb and Ponder. I just hope it won't be frigging McNabb, but it probably will be (sigh!). Interesting that NOBODY jumped on Dalton or Mallet during the first round. Perhaps there is something negative out there that hasn't been revealed yet. Anyway, I think Ponder is a great choice. We have two fine young QBs now. Either could prove to be the "one".
I look forward to our lone pick on Friday. Should be offensive line or CB. On Saturday, we will need to pick up a DT, DE, S, TE, and probably another CB. A kicker in the 7th round might be a good idea as well. We have 7 picks in rounds 4-7 so it should be a lively time.
I was scared to death that with Locker gone, the Vikes would be determined to go after Blaine Gabbert, who seems pretty worthless. Thank god the Jags saved us from ourselves. I had always preferred Andy Dalton over Christian Ponder, but now I'm not so sure. Ponder is the guy that Peyton would love to mentor. Too bad we don't actually have Peyton to mentor him. Still, it would be nice to sign a vet free agent to help both Webb and Ponder. I just hope it won't be frigging McNabb, but it probably will be (sigh!). Interesting that NOBODY jumped on Dalton or Mallet during the first round. Perhaps there is something negative out there that hasn't been revealed yet. Anyway, I think Ponder is a great choice. We have two fine young QBs now. Either could prove to be the "one".
I look forward to our lone pick on Friday. Should be offensive line or CB. On Saturday, we will need to pick up a DT, DE, S, TE, and probably another CB. A kicker in the 7th round might be a good idea as well. We have 7 picks in rounds 4-7 so it should be a lively time.
Sunday, April 24, 2011
Beauty
In January of 1962, my father and my Uncle Georg ventured downtown on a snowy Minneapolis evening. Their quest? To view the E-Type Jaguar on display at an upscale dealership. They had to stand in line for over an hour before they got inside the building to see the vehicle. They were still talking about it decades later.
I got the E-Type Match Box toy in 1964, I believe. Red. Red is the color most associated with this car, although British Racing Green, White, and Black were also popular choices. When the Mamas and the Papas made their first real money, both John and Michelle bought themselves Lavender E-Types. A beautiful color, but for both of them? That's a little weird.
No less an authority than Enzo Ferrari himself called the Jaguar E-Type the most beautiful car ever made. I believe it to be the most beautiful object ever created by Man. It's been 50 years since its introduction, and her feline curves have never been equaled. The E-Type is more Art than it is Automobile, and it is a hell of an automobile.
While looking for a proper photo I came across one in Black Cherry that is absolutely amazing. However, the brown E-Type, to me, is truly the most beautiful thing ever created by Man. I still get chills when I look at it. Sometimes I make little mewing noises. It was the same feeling as when I first saw Veneta Shepherd, 45 odd years ago. It was the same feeling I had when I saw Veneta Lykken this Easter afternoon. She is the most beautiful object ever created. Period. The two most beautiful things in my universe, both in Jaguar Brown.
I got the E-Type Match Box toy in 1964, I believe. Red. Red is the color most associated with this car, although British Racing Green, White, and Black were also popular choices. When the Mamas and the Papas made their first real money, both John and Michelle bought themselves Lavender E-Types. A beautiful color, but for both of them? That's a little weird.
No less an authority than Enzo Ferrari himself called the Jaguar E-Type the most beautiful car ever made. I believe it to be the most beautiful object ever created by Man. It's been 50 years since its introduction, and her feline curves have never been equaled. The E-Type is more Art than it is Automobile, and it is a hell of an automobile.
While looking for a proper photo I came across one in Black Cherry that is absolutely amazing. However, the brown E-Type, to me, is truly the most beautiful thing ever created by Man. I still get chills when I look at it. Sometimes I make little mewing noises. It was the same feeling as when I first saw Veneta Shepherd, 45 odd years ago. It was the same feeling I had when I saw Veneta Lykken this Easter afternoon. She is the most beautiful object ever created. Period. The two most beautiful things in my universe, both in Jaguar Brown.
Series 1 Jaguar E-Type
The most beautiful object ever created by Man, in Jaguar Brown. Happy 50th Birthday!
Saturday, April 23, 2011
Easter
I miss the Easter Bunny. He quit coming to my parent's house when I was about seven (Mom said it was because he was afraid of the kitties). We did have two stuffed plush rabbits named Pinkie and Greenie, who kindly provided my brothers and I with jelly beans and chocolate rabbits over the years. They would come down from the attic for a few days each April and sit on one of the living room radiators, but then off they'd go for another year while the Lykken boys would tear up their Easter Baskets. I hope one of my bros rescued Pinkie and Greenie from the old house, so they could continue their somewhat lonely but certainly useful lives.
Growing up, we'd sometimes be dragged off to church on Easter Sunday. Dad never went. Mom seemed to believe that we boys needed to be exposed to organized religion, even though she was an atheist herself. Her mom (Gladys Betts) was a pillar of the Lake Harriet Methodist Church on 50th St. in Minneapolis. Not sure if it is still there, as the Methodists seem to be currently out of favor, but it was quite nice back in the early '60s. There were a couple of years there when Mom dragged us to church mostly every Sunday. The Rev. Dennis Nyberg did the sermons. We always took Grandma along. I didn't hate church, but I hated going as it meant I missed the Bowery Boys on TV. We'd never talk about the sermons. Mom would send us down the aisle to take communion, which she never did herself. Eventually we just stopped going.
In 1967 the Vietnam war was raging and Mom decided that her sons wouldn't be going for soldiers, so she started taking us to the Universalist Church on 50th and Humboldt to establish our basis for becoming conscientious objectors. Not sure what my brother did, or really if they even attended. I was sent to the Sunday School, along with Junior High buddies Steve Flynn and Fred Bezat. I had no idea what the Universalists were all about, or what they believed. In Sunday School we talked politics, and were all left wing pinkos. We spent 1968-69 in England, and when we returned to Minneapolis, our religious education was over. The war was still on, but I guess we were on our own. Mom was very active in protesting against it, but we never again talked about what we would do if drafted. I had decided to zip off to Canada as I had a British Commonwealth citizenship, which left me with a great deal of mobility re. moving, getting a work permit etc.
Go figure. I was born in London, England, and my atheist parents actually had me christened, and at Westminster Abbey of all places. There was a great deal of pressure in those days to at least pretend you were Christian. My folks would tell me to recite the Pledge of Allegiance with the other kids, but to only mouth the words "under god". That was kind of tricky as I was usually class president each year, and would have to LEAD the class in the pledge, standing up in front of the class. Still, I managed it. I don't think I have EVER said the words "under god" out loud in my entire life.
That isn't entirely true. In 10th grade our English class went to a professional play in St Paul someplace. There was some delay in the play starting and the kids were getting restless, so I got up on the stage and told the audience (several school's worth) that we all needed to stand up and say the Pledge. Everybody stood up (we are a nation of sheep) but there was no flag, so I turned and faced the red light of the EXIT sign. So did the audience. I led them all in the Pledge, even the under god part, and then told everybody to be seated. I took my seat as well. I didn't even get into trouble, as my teachers were beginning to realize what a sociopath they had on their hands. They also figured that getting me in trouble for being so patriotic during that era of social strife would be somewhat problematic.
Veneta and I never sent our kids to church, nor do we discuss religion in the house. I can remember when Zeke was a baby and I was all in a panic one evening, crying about what if he died, and there was an afterlife, and wouldn't he be all alone? Veneta's dad had just died, and MY father said to me that "Zeke's grandpa Shepherd would take care of him". I actually think my dad believed that, and I certainly believed him, and I felt less paniced. I have no idea what happens after death, but we do have energy in our body, and energy cannot be destroyed. I also believe in Karma, so I guess I am in fact a Buddhist of some sort. The one thing I can say about Buddhists (and Quakers) is that if everybody was a Buddhist, we wouldn't be bombing Libya.
So, I won't be having any jelly beans today, which I guess is just as well considering the diabetes and everything. I miss my parents, and Veneta's parents, and Pinkie and Greenie. I also miss the Easter Bunny, but he shouldn't come to our house, or Misti and Izzy would chew his head off. That probably would be pretty bad Karma for all concerned.
Growing up, we'd sometimes be dragged off to church on Easter Sunday. Dad never went. Mom seemed to believe that we boys needed to be exposed to organized religion, even though she was an atheist herself. Her mom (Gladys Betts) was a pillar of the Lake Harriet Methodist Church on 50th St. in Minneapolis. Not sure if it is still there, as the Methodists seem to be currently out of favor, but it was quite nice back in the early '60s. There were a couple of years there when Mom dragged us to church mostly every Sunday. The Rev. Dennis Nyberg did the sermons. We always took Grandma along. I didn't hate church, but I hated going as it meant I missed the Bowery Boys on TV. We'd never talk about the sermons. Mom would send us down the aisle to take communion, which she never did herself. Eventually we just stopped going.
In 1967 the Vietnam war was raging and Mom decided that her sons wouldn't be going for soldiers, so she started taking us to the Universalist Church on 50th and Humboldt to establish our basis for becoming conscientious objectors. Not sure what my brother did, or really if they even attended. I was sent to the Sunday School, along with Junior High buddies Steve Flynn and Fred Bezat. I had no idea what the Universalists were all about, or what they believed. In Sunday School we talked politics, and were all left wing pinkos. We spent 1968-69 in England, and when we returned to Minneapolis, our religious education was over. The war was still on, but I guess we were on our own. Mom was very active in protesting against it, but we never again talked about what we would do if drafted. I had decided to zip off to Canada as I had a British Commonwealth citizenship, which left me with a great deal of mobility re. moving, getting a work permit etc.
Go figure. I was born in London, England, and my atheist parents actually had me christened, and at Westminster Abbey of all places. There was a great deal of pressure in those days to at least pretend you were Christian. My folks would tell me to recite the Pledge of Allegiance with the other kids, but to only mouth the words "under god". That was kind of tricky as I was usually class president each year, and would have to LEAD the class in the pledge, standing up in front of the class. Still, I managed it. I don't think I have EVER said the words "under god" out loud in my entire life.
That isn't entirely true. In 10th grade our English class went to a professional play in St Paul someplace. There was some delay in the play starting and the kids were getting restless, so I got up on the stage and told the audience (several school's worth) that we all needed to stand up and say the Pledge. Everybody stood up (we are a nation of sheep) but there was no flag, so I turned and faced the red light of the EXIT sign. So did the audience. I led them all in the Pledge, even the under god part, and then told everybody to be seated. I took my seat as well. I didn't even get into trouble, as my teachers were beginning to realize what a sociopath they had on their hands. They also figured that getting me in trouble for being so patriotic during that era of social strife would be somewhat problematic.
Veneta and I never sent our kids to church, nor do we discuss religion in the house. I can remember when Zeke was a baby and I was all in a panic one evening, crying about what if he died, and there was an afterlife, and wouldn't he be all alone? Veneta's dad had just died, and MY father said to me that "Zeke's grandpa Shepherd would take care of him". I actually think my dad believed that, and I certainly believed him, and I felt less paniced. I have no idea what happens after death, but we do have energy in our body, and energy cannot be destroyed. I also believe in Karma, so I guess I am in fact a Buddhist of some sort. The one thing I can say about Buddhists (and Quakers) is that if everybody was a Buddhist, we wouldn't be bombing Libya.
So, I won't be having any jelly beans today, which I guess is just as well considering the diabetes and everything. I miss my parents, and Veneta's parents, and Pinkie and Greenie. I also miss the Easter Bunny, but he shouldn't come to our house, or Misti and Izzy would chew his head off. That probably would be pretty bad Karma for all concerned.
Thursday, April 21, 2011
Rasslin'
On June 17th, 1964 (brother Joe's 7th birthday) we were all living in Kenwood on 2301 Newton Av. Huge house, with a den-sort of room on the first floor. There we had a couch, a couple of comfy chairs, and our main TV. It was the television that we had recently watched JFK's on. On that afternoon I was channel surfing (we had 5 to surf through) and I landed on a channel (11?) that showed two grown men in tights wrestling in an elevated ring, surrounded by ropes. There was a small audience of perhaps 40 people in the TV studio, loudly booing and cheering the men engaged in combat. I was transfixed. It took about eight minutes, including commercials, for one Eddie Sharkey (slicked back dark hair, like Tony Curtis) to defeat non-descript Kenny Jay (from Cleveland, OH) in two straight falls. My life would never be the same.
This was Verne Gagne's AWA wrestling. Verne was the real deal, all-American football player and olympian, who had attended the University of Minnesota when my mom was there. Verne was the WORLD'S Champion, which was so cool as he lived in Minneapolis, of all places. He also advertised his own products on the wrestling show: Gerra-Speed (some sort of artificial stimulant) and Gerra-Lac (made you poop), as well as promoting his own light heavyweight boxer, Ron Marsh. He had Ron spar a local boy each week on All Star Wrestling, while promoting Ron's next big fight at the Minneapolis Auditorium. Sadly, Ron lost one of his first big fights to Ed 'Baker Boy' Hurley and was soon dropped by the champ, although Ron did go on to have a decent boxing career. But I digress...
Rasslin' featured some good guys (Verne, Wilbur Snyder, Moose Evans), some bad guys (Mad Dog Vachon, Harley Race, Larry Hennig) and a great many seemingly not very good guys (Kenny Yates, Gene Anderson, the afore mentioned Mr. Jay) who got their behinds kicked twice a week on TV. There were also some guys, most notably the Crusher, who seemed to be a bad guy one week and a better guy the next week, depending on who he was fighting. Very confusing to a nine year old. The announcers would always be trying to get the audience to come down to the Auditorium to see the non-televised matches, which featured the guys who won on TV actually fighting each other (!) One week we were told that the nastiest villain of all, Mad Dog Vachon, would be wrestling the Crusher himself! The irresistible force v. the immovable object ... how could such a marvelous thing be possible? A couple of weeks after that, Vachon did the impossible and defeated Minneapolis' own Verne Gagne for the WORLD'S championship! Horrors! Would Vachon take the title to Algeria? Why wasn't this news on the front page of the newspaper? What would President Johnson do to keep the title in the USA where it belonged?
After patiently listen to me agonize over this for a week or two, one afternoon while we were watching a Twin's game on TV, my dad dropped the bombshell that "TV wrestling is fake". "Baseball is fake!" I shot back, but my heart was broken. No wonder the bouts on TV always managed to end in time for the commercials. Arrugh!
Of course, I remained a fan. Bought all of the wrestling mags. Discovered that there were quite a few world champions out there, but our local guys were still very much featured. Still, these unknown (to me) champions such as Lou Thez, and Bruno Sammartino, all looked like they could break Mad Dog, or even bald ol' Verne, in half. I still rarely missed a wrestling show on TV, and up until 8th grade would talk to my buddy John Mikelson on the phone when a particularly cool bout was on, usually two "winners" in a tag team match against another "winner" and Kenny Jay. The lone winner would beat the crap out of the other two winners, tag in Kenny, who would get himself pinned within seconds. Oh, well.
Spent 9th grade in England and devoured their version of pro wrestling. They had their OWN world champion, as well as various weight classes, like boxing, and they wrestled in rounds as well. They had one particular bad guy named Mick McManus who never seemed to lose. In fact, he only lost twice over a 20 plus year career, but Mr. McManus never had to fight Mad Dog Vachon.
In high school I began to attend the matches in the Minneapolis Auditorium, and the St Paul Civic Center. Usually went with my buddy Harold Shallman, who had lived on the east coast for awhile and was familiar with all of the out-of-town wrestlers that I had only read about in the magazines. In later years I would attend with Kit Finley and John LeMoine. We would loudly cheer Nick Bockwinkle, the bleach blond evil champion, and boo all of the namby-pamby "good guys". Others in the audience thought we were nuts. We were great fans of the pre-governor version of Jesse Ventura, cheering for him at body building contests as well as at the matches. When Hulk Hogan came to town we booed the hell out of him, especially as Hulk's group eventually hired away the best of Verne's group, effectively ending the AWA. My memories remain, however. In fact, Kenny Jay recently sponsored a benefit show and John Mikelson came all the way up from Kansas to attend, and hopefully see me as well. I was too ill to attend, but I will always appreciate the gesture.
In 1981 I was about to finish the Master's Degree program in Criminal Justice Studies at the University of Minnesota. I was two classes and one thesis shy of graduating when the program was re-trenched. I was accepted into the Phd Program in History but immediately lost my funding as my mentor/professor was interested in the same gorgeous undergrad that I was, and I won, so he took away my teaching assistantship. Boom. Out of school, nothing to do. I decided I needed to become a professional wrestler.
Eddie Sharkey had just opened a wrestling school. For one thousand dollars, he would train you for six weeks and get you ready for a life of fame and fortune. I was five foot ten and about 205 pounds, 26 years old, and was happy to bring in my check for $1000 so I could get trained. The training center was in a crappy old gym in north Minneapolis. Eddie Sharkey wasn't there, just two very short, extremely muscular guys who identified themselves as Eddie's assistants and would be running our first day of class. They were happy to take my check, and to put myself and the five other students through four hours of complete torture. I no longer remember how we began the class; sit ups and push ups I would guess. We did spend at least 20 minutes doing wheel barrows, where one guy would hold your feet while you walked around the gym with your hands. We did this until we all vomited. Then we entered the ring. Wrestling rings are very springy. Ours was a nasty old boxing ring, and had no give whatsoever. We were taught how to throw ourselves down on our backs, arms straight out at our sides to absorb the shock. We did this until we vomited again. Then we learned how to fall on our faces, nose slamming into the canvas. We did this until we all had drawn blood. Our instructors then showed us how to do pile drivers to each other, the most dangerous hold in wrestling, where we are driven head first into the mat. Four hours of class. I could barely drag myself back to the car.
I received a call from one of my instructors the next morning. All five of my fellow students had quit, because all five had ended up in the hospital, one with a broken collar bone. All five of them were younger than me, bigger than me, and in better shape than me. As for me, I was not in the hospital, but I couldn't walk. Not one step. My instructor promised to ease up if I came back to class, and that the first class had been so hard in order to "weed out the pussies". They would be happy .. Mr. Sharkey would be happy... to help me finish my training. I politely declined, hung up the phone, and immediately called the bank to stop payment on my check. That fall I entered law school, becoming on of the few folks to have gone from a Masters program to a Doctorate Program to Pro Wrestling School to Law School within the space of six months.
I should have stayed in wrestling school. The next class was somewhat more successful, as Eddie Sharkey graduated the Road Warriors and Rick Rude. I probably never would have made it as a wrestler without massive injections of steroids, but I'm sure I would have at least made a pretty good manager. Wrestling was about to reach new heights in national popularity. It would have been fun to have rode that wave for awhile.
Got my two oldest kids interested in TV wrestling, and we would act out our own bouts on the living room floor. Even have video of Zeke making a clean pin on his old man, after launching his four year old self off of the couch and landing SPLAT on my prostrate form, and then counting 1-2-3! I have the upmost respect for the boys in the business. The perfect combination of athletics and theatre. No dad, it's NOT fake. Just try it yourself once. It hurts, and the blood is real. I failed as a lawyer. As a wrestler, I could'a been a contender! I could'a been champ! I could'a been somebody ...
This was Verne Gagne's AWA wrestling. Verne was the real deal, all-American football player and olympian, who had attended the University of Minnesota when my mom was there. Verne was the WORLD'S Champion, which was so cool as he lived in Minneapolis, of all places. He also advertised his own products on the wrestling show: Gerra-Speed (some sort of artificial stimulant) and Gerra-Lac (made you poop), as well as promoting his own light heavyweight boxer, Ron Marsh. He had Ron spar a local boy each week on All Star Wrestling, while promoting Ron's next big fight at the Minneapolis Auditorium. Sadly, Ron lost one of his first big fights to Ed 'Baker Boy' Hurley and was soon dropped by the champ, although Ron did go on to have a decent boxing career. But I digress...
Rasslin' featured some good guys (Verne, Wilbur Snyder, Moose Evans), some bad guys (Mad Dog Vachon, Harley Race, Larry Hennig) and a great many seemingly not very good guys (Kenny Yates, Gene Anderson, the afore mentioned Mr. Jay) who got their behinds kicked twice a week on TV. There were also some guys, most notably the Crusher, who seemed to be a bad guy one week and a better guy the next week, depending on who he was fighting. Very confusing to a nine year old. The announcers would always be trying to get the audience to come down to the Auditorium to see the non-televised matches, which featured the guys who won on TV actually fighting each other (!) One week we were told that the nastiest villain of all, Mad Dog Vachon, would be wrestling the Crusher himself! The irresistible force v. the immovable object ... how could such a marvelous thing be possible? A couple of weeks after that, Vachon did the impossible and defeated Minneapolis' own Verne Gagne for the WORLD'S championship! Horrors! Would Vachon take the title to Algeria? Why wasn't this news on the front page of the newspaper? What would President Johnson do to keep the title in the USA where it belonged?
After patiently listen to me agonize over this for a week or two, one afternoon while we were watching a Twin's game on TV, my dad dropped the bombshell that "TV wrestling is fake". "Baseball is fake!" I shot back, but my heart was broken. No wonder the bouts on TV always managed to end in time for the commercials. Arrugh!
Of course, I remained a fan. Bought all of the wrestling mags. Discovered that there were quite a few world champions out there, but our local guys were still very much featured. Still, these unknown (to me) champions such as Lou Thez, and Bruno Sammartino, all looked like they could break Mad Dog, or even bald ol' Verne, in half. I still rarely missed a wrestling show on TV, and up until 8th grade would talk to my buddy John Mikelson on the phone when a particularly cool bout was on, usually two "winners" in a tag team match against another "winner" and Kenny Jay. The lone winner would beat the crap out of the other two winners, tag in Kenny, who would get himself pinned within seconds. Oh, well.
Spent 9th grade in England and devoured their version of pro wrestling. They had their OWN world champion, as well as various weight classes, like boxing, and they wrestled in rounds as well. They had one particular bad guy named Mick McManus who never seemed to lose. In fact, he only lost twice over a 20 plus year career, but Mr. McManus never had to fight Mad Dog Vachon.
In high school I began to attend the matches in the Minneapolis Auditorium, and the St Paul Civic Center. Usually went with my buddy Harold Shallman, who had lived on the east coast for awhile and was familiar with all of the out-of-town wrestlers that I had only read about in the magazines. In later years I would attend with Kit Finley and John LeMoine. We would loudly cheer Nick Bockwinkle, the bleach blond evil champion, and boo all of the namby-pamby "good guys". Others in the audience thought we were nuts. We were great fans of the pre-governor version of Jesse Ventura, cheering for him at body building contests as well as at the matches. When Hulk Hogan came to town we booed the hell out of him, especially as Hulk's group eventually hired away the best of Verne's group, effectively ending the AWA. My memories remain, however. In fact, Kenny Jay recently sponsored a benefit show and John Mikelson came all the way up from Kansas to attend, and hopefully see me as well. I was too ill to attend, but I will always appreciate the gesture.
In 1981 I was about to finish the Master's Degree program in Criminal Justice Studies at the University of Minnesota. I was two classes and one thesis shy of graduating when the program was re-trenched. I was accepted into the Phd Program in History but immediately lost my funding as my mentor/professor was interested in the same gorgeous undergrad that I was, and I won, so he took away my teaching assistantship. Boom. Out of school, nothing to do. I decided I needed to become a professional wrestler.
Eddie Sharkey had just opened a wrestling school. For one thousand dollars, he would train you for six weeks and get you ready for a life of fame and fortune. I was five foot ten and about 205 pounds, 26 years old, and was happy to bring in my check for $1000 so I could get trained. The training center was in a crappy old gym in north Minneapolis. Eddie Sharkey wasn't there, just two very short, extremely muscular guys who identified themselves as Eddie's assistants and would be running our first day of class. They were happy to take my check, and to put myself and the five other students through four hours of complete torture. I no longer remember how we began the class; sit ups and push ups I would guess. We did spend at least 20 minutes doing wheel barrows, where one guy would hold your feet while you walked around the gym with your hands. We did this until we all vomited. Then we entered the ring. Wrestling rings are very springy. Ours was a nasty old boxing ring, and had no give whatsoever. We were taught how to throw ourselves down on our backs, arms straight out at our sides to absorb the shock. We did this until we vomited again. Then we learned how to fall on our faces, nose slamming into the canvas. We did this until we all had drawn blood. Our instructors then showed us how to do pile drivers to each other, the most dangerous hold in wrestling, where we are driven head first into the mat. Four hours of class. I could barely drag myself back to the car.
I received a call from one of my instructors the next morning. All five of my fellow students had quit, because all five had ended up in the hospital, one with a broken collar bone. All five of them were younger than me, bigger than me, and in better shape than me. As for me, I was not in the hospital, but I couldn't walk. Not one step. My instructor promised to ease up if I came back to class, and that the first class had been so hard in order to "weed out the pussies". They would be happy .. Mr. Sharkey would be happy... to help me finish my training. I politely declined, hung up the phone, and immediately called the bank to stop payment on my check. That fall I entered law school, becoming on of the few folks to have gone from a Masters program to a Doctorate Program to Pro Wrestling School to Law School within the space of six months.
I should have stayed in wrestling school. The next class was somewhat more successful, as Eddie Sharkey graduated the Road Warriors and Rick Rude. I probably never would have made it as a wrestler without massive injections of steroids, but I'm sure I would have at least made a pretty good manager. Wrestling was about to reach new heights in national popularity. It would have been fun to have rode that wave for awhile.
Got my two oldest kids interested in TV wrestling, and we would act out our own bouts on the living room floor. Even have video of Zeke making a clean pin on his old man, after launching his four year old self off of the couch and landing SPLAT on my prostrate form, and then counting 1-2-3! I have the upmost respect for the boys in the business. The perfect combination of athletics and theatre. No dad, it's NOT fake. Just try it yourself once. It hurts, and the blood is real. I failed as a lawyer. As a wrestler, I could'a been a contender! I could'a been champ! I could'a been somebody ...
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
Long, Lost, but NOT Forgotten Goodies
There are many things which are no longer available for purchase that I remember fondly. The older I get, the more of them there are...
1. Fizzies: Small discs of concentrated sugar-flavor. Drop one in a glass of water and it behaved like a kid's version of Alca-Seltzer. Within a minute, you had pop. Rootbeer was my favorite. The most fun thing to do was to put one in your mouth. It bubbled over. Way fun.
2. Burger basket from A&W: Used to have these restaurants all over the country. When making those long summer trips with the family in the station wagon, we'd see billboards advertising the nearest A&W "Just 5 miles away!" We'd pull up to the drive inn, and place our order at our own squawk box. A teen ager would bring it out in minutes, hooking the tray to the drivers-side window, which would be 3 quarters of the way rolled down. We'd all get a cheeseburger, rings, and a rootbeer. Rootbeers were "DAD" size, "MOM" size, or "JUNIOR" size. I'd always beg for at least a "MOM" size. All frosty cold and served in a GLASS mug. The modern plastic mugs supplied in the few remaining A&Ws just aren't the same. God those rings were fine!
3. Campbell's Condensed Black Bean Soup: My favorite of the many discontinued soups. I've read where many professional chefs always had a few cans in their kitchens, just adding a little sherry and calling it their own. Veneta hated it, mainly because of one time when I was having some and opened my mouth to show it. Ironically, she now is a huge fan of black beans, just not in soup. Other favorites that are no longer with us include Chicken Gumbo, Pepper Pot, and Scotch Broth.
4. Assort-o-Mint Lifesavers: Always my favorite of the Lifesavers brand, along with Wild Cherry and Butter Rum. Assort-o-Mint included one candy cane flavor, two spearmint, two peppermint, and two wintergreen. Marvelous!
5. Baskin Robbins 31 Flavors: The one in our neighborhood, 50th and Penn, changed into a bagel place about 20 years ago. Just what we needed. You could get an ice cream cake there of any of their non-sherbert flavors as long as you gave them 3 days notice. Each Halloween they would serve Pumpkin and Licorice ice cream. Once Joe, Matt and I were staying with Grandma Frances, who lived within walking distance. We walked on over one sunny day and bought licorice cones. Black ice cream which had melted all over our faces by the time we made it back to her house. Sooooo good. Another time in High School my crew was at a party in another part of town. For some reason we were all pretty hungry and needed an ice cream fix. Dave Duncan demanded that we drive over to 31 Flavors, which was way out of our way. When we got there, he ordered vanilla.
6. Funny Face Drink Mix: Little packets of drink mix powder, competing with Kool-Aid. The commercials were a hoot. Loud Mouth Lime, Goofy Grape, Rootin-Tootin Raspberry, Lefty Lemon, Freckle Faced Strawberry. Chinese Cherry gave way to Choo-Choo Cherry, and Indian Orange to Jolly Ollie Orange. I believe they kept Sambo Blackberry, but only in the South...
7. Bugles, Whistles, and Daisys: Wonderful snack crackers. Bugles were horn-shaped, substantial and corn flavored. Daisys corn flavored but much more delicate, and with a flower shape ideal for scooping. Whistles were hollow, cheesy tubes, and the cheesiest of all snack foods. They were really big back in 1964.
8. RC/Diet-Rite Cola: First of all, ALL pop is better in returnable glass bottles. Yes, kids, if you brought back an empty pop bottle to any store, you would get like three cents. Bring back four bottles, and you could afford a comic book. Anyway, Coke and Pepsi were the kings of cola. Royal Crown (RC) was number three, and from the South. We started getting RC in Minnesota about the time that Dr. Pepper made its appearance as well. RC was great. A little sharper than the other colas. Diet Rite was the first diet pop, even pre-dated TAB, and was what our mothers would get. I thought it tasted pretty good as well. If one couldn't afford RC, then Shasta pop was next rung down on the soda latter. Holiday pop, from Holiday stores and gas stations, was the lowest of the low. Growing up in a house that only allowed soda pop for medicinal purposes (one tablespoon of Bubble Up every hour when you had the flu) Holiday pop would have been fine with me.
9. Quisp and Quake: Big time sugar cereals around 1965 or so, as I recall. Both tasted much the same, like Sugar Smacks, but probably had different shapes. The big deal with those cereals were the ads. Quisp was a cute little alien, while Quake was a loud mouth construction worker. Within months the cereal company sponsored a contest where kids would mail in a ballot to decide which cereal would win, and which would go away. I forget who won (I think it was Quake) but within a year or two both were gone. They were the two best sugar cereals around until the Cap'n made his appearance.
10. Arthur Treacher's: Best fish and chips this side of the pond, and I still bitch about this loss weekly, as my poor wife will attest. For years, once a month I would go downtown to buy the latest Ring Magazine from the Shinder's Book Store on 7th and Hennepin, then go across the street to Treacher's to buy lunch and read my magazine. I would always get the Admiral's Feast, consisting of three large pieces of cod, fried in beef suet, some wonderful thick-cut chips fried in beef suet, two hush puppies fried in beef suet, and some fabulous cole slaw, along with a container of tarter sauce. On the tables were bottles of malt vinegar, and it would take half a bottle to properly soak my fish and chips. It would take me a good hour to savor both my meal and the Ring's monthly ratings of professional fighters. So good I am still mourning the loss thirty years later. The frigging Star Trib took it upon themselves to print, on the front page, the caloric counts of the standard meals from our local fast food restaurants. Treacher's was out of business within six months.
I miss many other things, such as frosty cherry flavored popsicles (they are no longer frosty), Henry's Hamburgers (17 cents, more flavor than that other place), Jim Jams (like Banana Flips but vanilla cake and red jam), Pineapple Crush pop (not sold in Minnesota any longer), Clam Basket at the Pie Shop (fried clams, fries and slaw in a plastic basket), and school lunch pizza. You never know what you've got 'til it's gone, so my advice is eat all you can of what you love, because you just never know. Tomorrow, I'm getting me a diet cream soda and mushroom chow mein from Huie's, with maybe a Hostess Snowball for dessert. Do they still make Snowballs???
1. Fizzies: Small discs of concentrated sugar-flavor. Drop one in a glass of water and it behaved like a kid's version of Alca-Seltzer. Within a minute, you had pop. Rootbeer was my favorite. The most fun thing to do was to put one in your mouth. It bubbled over. Way fun.
2. Burger basket from A&W: Used to have these restaurants all over the country. When making those long summer trips with the family in the station wagon, we'd see billboards advertising the nearest A&W "Just 5 miles away!" We'd pull up to the drive inn, and place our order at our own squawk box. A teen ager would bring it out in minutes, hooking the tray to the drivers-side window, which would be 3 quarters of the way rolled down. We'd all get a cheeseburger, rings, and a rootbeer. Rootbeers were "DAD" size, "MOM" size, or "JUNIOR" size. I'd always beg for at least a "MOM" size. All frosty cold and served in a GLASS mug. The modern plastic mugs supplied in the few remaining A&Ws just aren't the same. God those rings were fine!
3. Campbell's Condensed Black Bean Soup: My favorite of the many discontinued soups. I've read where many professional chefs always had a few cans in their kitchens, just adding a little sherry and calling it their own. Veneta hated it, mainly because of one time when I was having some and opened my mouth to show it. Ironically, she now is a huge fan of black beans, just not in soup. Other favorites that are no longer with us include Chicken Gumbo, Pepper Pot, and Scotch Broth.
4. Assort-o-Mint Lifesavers: Always my favorite of the Lifesavers brand, along with Wild Cherry and Butter Rum. Assort-o-Mint included one candy cane flavor, two spearmint, two peppermint, and two wintergreen. Marvelous!
5. Baskin Robbins 31 Flavors: The one in our neighborhood, 50th and Penn, changed into a bagel place about 20 years ago. Just what we needed. You could get an ice cream cake there of any of their non-sherbert flavors as long as you gave them 3 days notice. Each Halloween they would serve Pumpkin and Licorice ice cream. Once Joe, Matt and I were staying with Grandma Frances, who lived within walking distance. We walked on over one sunny day and bought licorice cones. Black ice cream which had melted all over our faces by the time we made it back to her house. Sooooo good. Another time in High School my crew was at a party in another part of town. For some reason we were all pretty hungry and needed an ice cream fix. Dave Duncan demanded that we drive over to 31 Flavors, which was way out of our way. When we got there, he ordered vanilla.
6. Funny Face Drink Mix: Little packets of drink mix powder, competing with Kool-Aid. The commercials were a hoot. Loud Mouth Lime, Goofy Grape, Rootin-Tootin Raspberry, Lefty Lemon, Freckle Faced Strawberry. Chinese Cherry gave way to Choo-Choo Cherry, and Indian Orange to Jolly Ollie Orange. I believe they kept Sambo Blackberry, but only in the South...
7. Bugles, Whistles, and Daisys: Wonderful snack crackers. Bugles were horn-shaped, substantial and corn flavored. Daisys corn flavored but much more delicate, and with a flower shape ideal for scooping. Whistles were hollow, cheesy tubes, and the cheesiest of all snack foods. They were really big back in 1964.
8. RC/Diet-Rite Cola: First of all, ALL pop is better in returnable glass bottles. Yes, kids, if you brought back an empty pop bottle to any store, you would get like three cents. Bring back four bottles, and you could afford a comic book. Anyway, Coke and Pepsi were the kings of cola. Royal Crown (RC) was number three, and from the South. We started getting RC in Minnesota about the time that Dr. Pepper made its appearance as well. RC was great. A little sharper than the other colas. Diet Rite was the first diet pop, even pre-dated TAB, and was what our mothers would get. I thought it tasted pretty good as well. If one couldn't afford RC, then Shasta pop was next rung down on the soda latter. Holiday pop, from Holiday stores and gas stations, was the lowest of the low. Growing up in a house that only allowed soda pop for medicinal purposes (one tablespoon of Bubble Up every hour when you had the flu) Holiday pop would have been fine with me.
9. Quisp and Quake: Big time sugar cereals around 1965 or so, as I recall. Both tasted much the same, like Sugar Smacks, but probably had different shapes. The big deal with those cereals were the ads. Quisp was a cute little alien, while Quake was a loud mouth construction worker. Within months the cereal company sponsored a contest where kids would mail in a ballot to decide which cereal would win, and which would go away. I forget who won (I think it was Quake) but within a year or two both were gone. They were the two best sugar cereals around until the Cap'n made his appearance.
10. Arthur Treacher's: Best fish and chips this side of the pond, and I still bitch about this loss weekly, as my poor wife will attest. For years, once a month I would go downtown to buy the latest Ring Magazine from the Shinder's Book Store on 7th and Hennepin, then go across the street to Treacher's to buy lunch and read my magazine. I would always get the Admiral's Feast, consisting of three large pieces of cod, fried in beef suet, some wonderful thick-cut chips fried in beef suet, two hush puppies fried in beef suet, and some fabulous cole slaw, along with a container of tarter sauce. On the tables were bottles of malt vinegar, and it would take half a bottle to properly soak my fish and chips. It would take me a good hour to savor both my meal and the Ring's monthly ratings of professional fighters. So good I am still mourning the loss thirty years later. The frigging Star Trib took it upon themselves to print, on the front page, the caloric counts of the standard meals from our local fast food restaurants. Treacher's was out of business within six months.
I miss many other things, such as frosty cherry flavored popsicles (they are no longer frosty), Henry's Hamburgers (17 cents, more flavor than that other place), Jim Jams (like Banana Flips but vanilla cake and red jam), Pineapple Crush pop (not sold in Minnesota any longer), Clam Basket at the Pie Shop (fried clams, fries and slaw in a plastic basket), and school lunch pizza. You never know what you've got 'til it's gone, so my advice is eat all you can of what you love, because you just never know. Tomorrow, I'm getting me a diet cream soda and mushroom chow mein from Huie's, with maybe a Hostess Snowball for dessert. Do they still make Snowballs???
Monday, April 18, 2011
Cam Newton
I'm really beginning to like this guy. I've learned that whenever the press jumps all over an otherwise personable black athlete, it is usually for a pretty stupid reason. Cam's dad is a piece of work, but so far I, for one, will be cutting Cam some slack.
Back in the day I was a first year baseball coach for lily white Lynnhurst Park. By default, I got all of the nerdy white kids, and all of the black kids. Also, one big, silent Native American kid. Well, we got that one (Rod) smiling pretty quick, and made him our number one pitcher and batted him 4th. We won the league championship. I mean, really, you are going to give ME all the black kids lol. We won every game by the ten run rule.
I feel the same way about current Vikings QB Joe Webb. Sure, he isn't ready yet, but he will be in a season or two. If he was white, he'd be universally acknowledged as the guy of the future. The racism coloring this picture is that Tavaris Jackson was indeed an idiot, and the fact that he was a black QB is rubbing off on poor Mr. Webb. Nonsense. Still, the Vikings could quite possibly waste a draft choice on a young QB. Thanks, we already have one. Just get Carson Palmer to mentor Joe Webb for a couple of years, and he'll be good to go.
I hope Cam Newton goes to a team that will show him some love, and who isn't in the NFC.
Back in the day I was a first year baseball coach for lily white Lynnhurst Park. By default, I got all of the nerdy white kids, and all of the black kids. Also, one big, silent Native American kid. Well, we got that one (Rod) smiling pretty quick, and made him our number one pitcher and batted him 4th. We won the league championship. I mean, really, you are going to give ME all the black kids lol. We won every game by the ten run rule.
I feel the same way about current Vikings QB Joe Webb. Sure, he isn't ready yet, but he will be in a season or two. If he was white, he'd be universally acknowledged as the guy of the future. The racism coloring this picture is that Tavaris Jackson was indeed an idiot, and the fact that he was a black QB is rubbing off on poor Mr. Webb. Nonsense. Still, the Vikings could quite possibly waste a draft choice on a young QB. Thanks, we already have one. Just get Carson Palmer to mentor Joe Webb for a couple of years, and he'll be good to go.
I hope Cam Newton goes to a team that will show him some love, and who isn't in the NFC.
Saturday, April 16, 2011
2 Round 2011 NFL Mock, with AMAZING TRADES!
My original 2 round mock draft called for the Vikings to obtain Carson Palmer, but the current CBA difficulties eliminate all trades for current players, or for free agent signings. The Vikings MUST pick up a veteran QB at some point to mentor the youngsters, and signing a free agent WR (Steve Smith?) of some quality would be a fine thing. Here we go. Feel free to disagree if you enjoy being wrong. JHL
FIRST ROUND:
1. (Panthers trade this pick for Titans #8 1st Round and #39 2nd Round and an undisclosed amount of cash). Titans: Cameron Newton, QB Auburn. Titans risk all for new 'Face of the Franchise'.
2. Broncos: Marcell Dareus, DE Alabama.
3. Bills: Von Miller, OLB Texas A&M.
4. (Bengals trade this pick for Redskins #10 1st and #41 2nd). Redskins: Blaine Gabbert, QB Missouri. 'Skins get their replacement for McNabb, whom I think the Cardinals will pick up somehow to mentor whatever rookie QB they draft.
5. Cardinals: Patrick Peterson, CB LSU.
6. Browns: AJ Green, WR Georgia.
7. 49'ers: Prince Amukamra, CB Nebraska.
8. Panthers: Julio Jones, WR Alabama. Hopefully Jones can help make Clausen better. If not, the Panthers will have a great shot at picking up Andrew Luck in 2012.
9. Cowboys: Robert Quinn, DE N. Carolina
10. (Bengals trade this pick for Patriots #17 1st and #60 2nd). Patriots: JJ Watt, DE Wisconsin. Pats get the player they most covet in this year's draft.
11. Texans: Cameron Jordan, DE California.
12. (Vikings trade this pick to Steelers for #31 1st, #95 3rd and 2012 5th rounder). Steelers: Mike Pouncey, G. Florida. Steelers get the twin they have been coveting.
13. Lions: Nick Fairly, DT Auburn. Just imagine this guy paired with Suh. Very scary!
14. Rams: Aldon Smith, DE Missouri.
15. (Dolphins trade this pick for Jaguar's #16 1st and #182 6th. Jags are paranoid Dolphins will take Kerrigan). Jaguars: Ryan Kerrigan, DE Purdue.
16. Dolphins: Mark Ingram, RB Alabama.
17. Bengals: Ryan Mallett, QB Arkansas. Bengals get QB they wanted all along, plus obtained two additional 2nd round picks in the process.
18: Chargers: Muhammad Wilkerson, DT Temple.
19: Giants: Tyron Smith, OT USC. Protecting Eli.
20. Bucs: D'Quan Bowers, DE Clemson. Bucs need to take risks to get into playoffs. Bowers is a top five talent with an extremely dodgie knee.
21. Chiefs: Phil Taylor, NT Baylor.
22. Colts: Anthony Castanzo, OT Boston College. Protecting Peyton.
23. Eagles: Derek Sherrod, OT Mississippi State. Protecting Vick the Prick. Hope he fails miserably.
24. Saints: Justin Houston, DE Georgia.
25. Seahawks: Corey Liguet, DT Alabama. Hawks counting on picking up QB in 2nd round. Risky...
26. Ravens: Jimmy Smith, CB Colorado. Top 15 talent but risky personality. Raven's locker room will keep him quiet.
27. Falcons: Gabe Carimi, OT Wisconsin.
28. Patriots: Nate Solder, OT Colorado.
29. Bears: Ben Ijalana, OT Villanova. *** Possibility here that Pats will do a screw-trade with the Bears, as Solder is a tad over-rated and Ijalana would fit in better with Pat's system. Pats could pick up a 2012 6th rounder in return for getting what they wanted anyway.
30. Jets: Akeem Ayers, OLB UCLA.
31. Vikings: Andy Dalton, QB TCU.
32. Packers: Mike Leshore, RB Illinois.
SECOND ROUND:
33. Patriots: Bruce Carter, OLB N. Carolina. Top 10 talent recovering from torn Achilles. May not even play this season, but when he does, ALL Pro! Pats can afford to wait.
34. Bills: Jake Locker, QB Washington.
35. Bengals: Randall Cobb, WR Kentucky.
36. Broncos: Torrey Smith, WR Maryland.
37. Browns: Kyle Rudolph, TE Notre Dame. Best TE in the draft as a gift for Colt McCoy.
38. Cardinals: Colin Kaepernick, QB Nevada.
39. Panthers: Allen Bailey, DE Miami.
40. Cowboys: Ras-I-Dowling, CB Virginia.
41. Bengals: Cameron Heyward, DE Ohio St.
42. Texans: Rodney Hudson, G FSU
43. Vikings: Aaron Williams, CB Texas
44. Lions: Adrian Clayborn, DE Iowa. Lions now have the best D-line in the NFL, and will for years to come.
45. 49'ers: Marvin Austin, DT N. Carolina.
46. Broncos: Rahim Moore, FS UCLA.
47. Ravens: Joe Baldwin, WR Pittsburgh.
48. Raiders: Stefan Wisniewski, C Penn St.
49. Jaguars: Jabaal Sheard, OLB Pittsburgh.
50. Chargers: Titus Young, WR Boise St.
51. Bucs: Brandon Harris, CB Miami.
52. Giants: Ryan Williams, RB Virginia Tech.
53. Colts: Danny Watkins, G Baylor. Peyton is recently the papa of twin boys, so needs even MORE protection.
54. Eagles: Curtis Brown, CB Texas.
55. Chiefs: Sam Acho, DE Texas.
56. Saints: Stephen Paea, DT Oregon St. Strongest man at the Combine falls due to concerns about his knee.
57. Seahawks: Christian Ponder, QB FSU. Seahawks then trade Ponder plus 2012 3rd and 7th rounders to Bills for Jake Locker.
58. Ravens: Leonard Hankenson, WR Miami.
59. Falcons: Luke Stocker, TE Tennessee.
60. Bengals: Quinton Carter, Safety Oklahoma.
61. (Chargers trade for Steeler's #63 2nd and 2012 7th round pick). Steelers: Christian Ballard, DT Iowa.
62. Bears: Orlando Franklin, G Miami. Two new starting O-linemen to protect Jay Cutler.
63. Chargers: Ricky Stanzie, QB Iowa. Chargers get heir apparent to Phillip Rivers. This is a surprise, especially to the Colts, who had planned to trade up and get this guy. Clearly revenge for the Eli debacle back when little brother got drafted but refused to play for San Diego.
64. (Packers trade for Colt's #87 3rd and #188 6th. Packers confident they can get Casey Matthews with #87 and keep big brother Clay happy). Colts: Brooks Reed, OLB Arizona. Colts need a 'backer and Reed is huge value here. Perhaps they will go for QB Pat Devlin, Delaware in the 4th round if he's still available, or just wait another year for Peyton's heir.
**** Some thoughts. Bengals now have the pieces to compete in the AFC Central, and could make the post season by 2013. 49'ers will sell their souls to get Mr. Luck next year as the rest of their weak-ass division has improved. Lions will make their first Super Bowl in 2012. Vikings get a QB with very high ceiling. Joe Webb can be third QB (assuming we obtain a temporary mentoring vet) OR go back to WR for a bit, a position we sorely need him to play. Vikings also get a quality starting DB who can learn under Mr. Winfield and hold down a position for the next decade. NFC North will supply both wild card teams in 2011. No Gophers will be drafted in 2011.
FIRST ROUND:
1. (Panthers trade this pick for Titans #8 1st Round and #39 2nd Round and an undisclosed amount of cash). Titans: Cameron Newton, QB Auburn. Titans risk all for new 'Face of the Franchise'.
2. Broncos: Marcell Dareus, DE Alabama.
3. Bills: Von Miller, OLB Texas A&M.
4. (Bengals trade this pick for Redskins #10 1st and #41 2nd). Redskins: Blaine Gabbert, QB Missouri. 'Skins get their replacement for McNabb, whom I think the Cardinals will pick up somehow to mentor whatever rookie QB they draft.
5. Cardinals: Patrick Peterson, CB LSU.
6. Browns: AJ Green, WR Georgia.
7. 49'ers: Prince Amukamra, CB Nebraska.
8. Panthers: Julio Jones, WR Alabama. Hopefully Jones can help make Clausen better. If not, the Panthers will have a great shot at picking up Andrew Luck in 2012.
9. Cowboys: Robert Quinn, DE N. Carolina
10. (Bengals trade this pick for Patriots #17 1st and #60 2nd). Patriots: JJ Watt, DE Wisconsin. Pats get the player they most covet in this year's draft.
11. Texans: Cameron Jordan, DE California.
12. (Vikings trade this pick to Steelers for #31 1st, #95 3rd and 2012 5th rounder). Steelers: Mike Pouncey, G. Florida. Steelers get the twin they have been coveting.
13. Lions: Nick Fairly, DT Auburn. Just imagine this guy paired with Suh. Very scary!
14. Rams: Aldon Smith, DE Missouri.
15. (Dolphins trade this pick for Jaguar's #16 1st and #182 6th. Jags are paranoid Dolphins will take Kerrigan). Jaguars: Ryan Kerrigan, DE Purdue.
16. Dolphins: Mark Ingram, RB Alabama.
17. Bengals: Ryan Mallett, QB Arkansas. Bengals get QB they wanted all along, plus obtained two additional 2nd round picks in the process.
18: Chargers: Muhammad Wilkerson, DT Temple.
19: Giants: Tyron Smith, OT USC. Protecting Eli.
20. Bucs: D'Quan Bowers, DE Clemson. Bucs need to take risks to get into playoffs. Bowers is a top five talent with an extremely dodgie knee.
21. Chiefs: Phil Taylor, NT Baylor.
22. Colts: Anthony Castanzo, OT Boston College. Protecting Peyton.
23. Eagles: Derek Sherrod, OT Mississippi State. Protecting Vick the Prick. Hope he fails miserably.
24. Saints: Justin Houston, DE Georgia.
25. Seahawks: Corey Liguet, DT Alabama. Hawks counting on picking up QB in 2nd round. Risky...
26. Ravens: Jimmy Smith, CB Colorado. Top 15 talent but risky personality. Raven's locker room will keep him quiet.
27. Falcons: Gabe Carimi, OT Wisconsin.
28. Patriots: Nate Solder, OT Colorado.
29. Bears: Ben Ijalana, OT Villanova. *** Possibility here that Pats will do a screw-trade with the Bears, as Solder is a tad over-rated and Ijalana would fit in better with Pat's system. Pats could pick up a 2012 6th rounder in return for getting what they wanted anyway.
30. Jets: Akeem Ayers, OLB UCLA.
31. Vikings: Andy Dalton, QB TCU.
32. Packers: Mike Leshore, RB Illinois.
SECOND ROUND:
33. Patriots: Bruce Carter, OLB N. Carolina. Top 10 talent recovering from torn Achilles. May not even play this season, but when he does, ALL Pro! Pats can afford to wait.
34. Bills: Jake Locker, QB Washington.
35. Bengals: Randall Cobb, WR Kentucky.
36. Broncos: Torrey Smith, WR Maryland.
37. Browns: Kyle Rudolph, TE Notre Dame. Best TE in the draft as a gift for Colt McCoy.
38. Cardinals: Colin Kaepernick, QB Nevada.
39. Panthers: Allen Bailey, DE Miami.
40. Cowboys: Ras-I-Dowling, CB Virginia.
41. Bengals: Cameron Heyward, DE Ohio St.
42. Texans: Rodney Hudson, G FSU
43. Vikings: Aaron Williams, CB Texas
44. Lions: Adrian Clayborn, DE Iowa. Lions now have the best D-line in the NFL, and will for years to come.
45. 49'ers: Marvin Austin, DT N. Carolina.
46. Broncos: Rahim Moore, FS UCLA.
47. Ravens: Joe Baldwin, WR Pittsburgh.
48. Raiders: Stefan Wisniewski, C Penn St.
49. Jaguars: Jabaal Sheard, OLB Pittsburgh.
50. Chargers: Titus Young, WR Boise St.
51. Bucs: Brandon Harris, CB Miami.
52. Giants: Ryan Williams, RB Virginia Tech.
53. Colts: Danny Watkins, G Baylor. Peyton is recently the papa of twin boys, so needs even MORE protection.
54. Eagles: Curtis Brown, CB Texas.
55. Chiefs: Sam Acho, DE Texas.
56. Saints: Stephen Paea, DT Oregon St. Strongest man at the Combine falls due to concerns about his knee.
57. Seahawks: Christian Ponder, QB FSU. Seahawks then trade Ponder plus 2012 3rd and 7th rounders to Bills for Jake Locker.
58. Ravens: Leonard Hankenson, WR Miami.
59. Falcons: Luke Stocker, TE Tennessee.
60. Bengals: Quinton Carter, Safety Oklahoma.
61. (Chargers trade for Steeler's #63 2nd and 2012 7th round pick). Steelers: Christian Ballard, DT Iowa.
62. Bears: Orlando Franklin, G Miami. Two new starting O-linemen to protect Jay Cutler.
63. Chargers: Ricky Stanzie, QB Iowa. Chargers get heir apparent to Phillip Rivers. This is a surprise, especially to the Colts, who had planned to trade up and get this guy. Clearly revenge for the Eli debacle back when little brother got drafted but refused to play for San Diego.
64. (Packers trade for Colt's #87 3rd and #188 6th. Packers confident they can get Casey Matthews with #87 and keep big brother Clay happy). Colts: Brooks Reed, OLB Arizona. Colts need a 'backer and Reed is huge value here. Perhaps they will go for QB Pat Devlin, Delaware in the 4th round if he's still available, or just wait another year for Peyton's heir.
**** Some thoughts. Bengals now have the pieces to compete in the AFC Central, and could make the post season by 2013. 49'ers will sell their souls to get Mr. Luck next year as the rest of their weak-ass division has improved. Lions will make their first Super Bowl in 2012. Vikings get a QB with very high ceiling. Joe Webb can be third QB (assuming we obtain a temporary mentoring vet) OR go back to WR for a bit, a position we sorely need him to play. Vikings also get a quality starting DB who can learn under Mr. Winfield and hold down a position for the next decade. NFC North will supply both wild card teams in 2011. No Gophers will be drafted in 2011.
Thursday, April 14, 2011
2011 NFL Mock Draft 2.0
With the Vikings being the Viqueens and all, it is entirely possible that they don't trade for a decent vet QB, either trading for a bum (McNabb) or nobody. In either case, they will have to grab a young QB in the second round, assuming they haven't given up that choice for a bum. Here is the revised draft, assuming that we keep all of our current picks. Made a change or two from 1.0 as my latest guess is that some of those players will no longer be available.
First Round: Anthony Castonzo, OT, Boston College
Second Round: Andy Dalton, QB, TCU: The red-headed wonder will be our QB for many years to come. Must be careful Harbaugh doesn't draft him for the 49'ers. I'm thinking that Harbaugh will be waiting for Mr. Luck to graduate next year.
Fourth Round: Ahmad Black, SS, Florida: We need an upgrade. Black can both cover and tackle.
Fifth Round: Andrew Jackson, G, Fresno St.: Can start at RG right away, making Herrera expendable.
Ladie Ajiboye, DL, S. Carolina
Sixth Round: Christian Ballard, DT, Iowa:
Luke Stocker, TE, Tenn.
Seventh Round: Ryan Whalen, WR, Stanford: Smarter and faster than the departed Mr. Rice.
Scott Lutres, ILB, UConn: Great addition to our weak tackling special teams.
I am hoping that Ray Edwards will stay with the team, and that his fledgling boxing career goes well. If we keep him, add Ballard and Ajiboye to the rotation, and Robison continues to be a useful sub, we will have the best DL rotation in the league. Castonzo and Hutchinson on the left of the O-Line, Jackson and McKinney on the right, and Loadholt the chief sub, all we need is for either Sullivan or Cooper to be at least average to have an outstanding line. We could actually make the playoffs. Amazing. We'll have to see how it all shakes out. My biggest worry is that we will waste our first round pick on D'Quan Bowers, DE, Clemson, who is already so busted up the will probably never play a productive down. That would be a typical Vikings move. I hope I don't have to scream on draft day!
First Round: Anthony Castonzo, OT, Boston College
Second Round: Andy Dalton, QB, TCU: The red-headed wonder will be our QB for many years to come. Must be careful Harbaugh doesn't draft him for the 49'ers. I'm thinking that Harbaugh will be waiting for Mr. Luck to graduate next year.
Fourth Round: Ahmad Black, SS, Florida: We need an upgrade. Black can both cover and tackle.
Fifth Round: Andrew Jackson, G, Fresno St.: Can start at RG right away, making Herrera expendable.
Ladie Ajiboye, DL, S. Carolina
Sixth Round: Christian Ballard, DT, Iowa:
Luke Stocker, TE, Tenn.
Seventh Round: Ryan Whalen, WR, Stanford: Smarter and faster than the departed Mr. Rice.
Scott Lutres, ILB, UConn: Great addition to our weak tackling special teams.
I am hoping that Ray Edwards will stay with the team, and that his fledgling boxing career goes well. If we keep him, add Ballard and Ajiboye to the rotation, and Robison continues to be a useful sub, we will have the best DL rotation in the league. Castonzo and Hutchinson on the left of the O-Line, Jackson and McKinney on the right, and Loadholt the chief sub, all we need is for either Sullivan or Cooper to be at least average to have an outstanding line. We could actually make the playoffs. Amazing. We'll have to see how it all shakes out. My biggest worry is that we will waste our first round pick on D'Quan Bowers, DE, Clemson, who is already so busted up the will probably never play a productive down. That would be a typical Vikings move. I hope I don't have to scream on draft day!
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
Baseball, Dad, Dadding, and Camilo
When I was 7 my dad got me my first baseball mitt, a nice lefty model, probably from Sears. We were all living at 3139 E. Calhoun Blvd. in Minneapolis, with a nice back yard and an alley. Seemingly every day in the spring and summer, dad would take me to play catch in that alley with a genuine baseball. He didn't take it easy on me, teaching me to take surprise pop ups and grounders, along with the regular tosses, which got harder and harder as I got better at catching them. I don't recall ever swinging a bat, but after two seasons of playing catch about a thousand times, I became a confident fielder.
In 4th grade we moved to 2301 Newton Av. S. in Mpls' most ritzy neighborhood, called Kenwood. Even though we still had an alley, we had a crappy back yard, and for whatever reason dad was too busy to continue playing catch every day. That was ok, as I found a friend named Scott Salkin. Scott lived across the alley and a couple of doors down, and he was rich. Huge house, massive yard, a gigantic Lincoln Continental in the garage, and the first color TV I had ever seen. Scott was my age but a grade behind, and he was a total nerd, and a baseball freak. Total freak. We would play games in his yard EVERY day, rain or shine, during the spring and summer, sometimes with a local kid or two, or usually just Scott and I pitching a whiffle ball to each other. I taught myself how to hit, and playing baseball was all I wanted to do.
Even more important, Scott taught me to be a fan. He taught me how to read the sports pages, and how to interpret the box scores. On Sundays, the sports section was a different color than the rest of the paper, so it could be identified more easily. The 'Sports Peach' (peach colored). This was the holy of holys, as all of the weeks statistics were printed there: homer run leaders, stolen base leaders etc. We memorized this info. Baseball stats were the first "practical" use of math that we had come across, and we learned to compute the batting and earned run averages in our heads.
Scott also introduced me to baseball cards. I earned a quarter allowance each week by doing chores around the house, usually taking out the trash. Before baseball I would take my earnings up to the neighborhood drugstore and buy two DC comics at 12 cents a piece. I had dropped by that store every day on my way home from school, browsing the various selections, Green Lantern, Detective, Brave and the Bold, Justice League of America etc, so I pretty much knew what I was going to buy when I turned up on Saturday with my quarter burning a hole in my pocket. But baseball cards! A nickel for a pack of five cards, and a piece of really nasty bubble gum besides! In 1964 Topps also included a "coin" in each pack, which had a photo of an all star player (AL on the gold coins, NL on the silver) with their previous year's stats on the back. My favorite coin, the one I ended up saving for almost 50 years, was that of the late, great Roberto Clemente. I ended up giving it to my friend John Donahue, who has a Clemente shrine in his office. Anyway, I spent the next decade or so collecting baseball cards, as well as comics. At some point my mother decided that my cards would be better displayed if she glued them onto a photo album. I have yet to recover from that nice surprise.
In 1964 I attended my first Twins game. It was done through the Minneapolis Public Schools. We beat the Cleveland Indians, and pitcher Jim Perry socked a homer. The Twins finished 7th that year, in a 10 team league, but they were beginning to show promise. Towards the end of the season we moved to 4600 Emerson, over by Lake Harriet. I clearly remember riding with Dad in the front seat of his white Chrysler 300. We had just left the house and were turning right onto 46th Street, and I remarked the I thought this rookie outfielder, Tony Oliva, looked like a pretty good player. Dad agreed.
My 5th grade teacher, Frances Flemming, was a baseball fan, and let us listen to all of the Yankee/Cardinal World Series games on the radio (all WS games were played during the day back then). I was a bit of a teacher's pet. When I graduated 5th grade, Mrs. Flemming gave me a coffee table book on the history of baseball. Inside she wrote, "Keep the Twins winning, Jesse!" I did my best, as the next season we went to the World Series.
I only attended one game during the 1965 pennant winning season, and that was with my dad. We beat the Detroit Tigers and Don Mincher started at 1st base, leaving Harmon Killebrew to cover 3rd. The old Metropolitan Stadium wasn't the best place to watch baseball (or football) but at least it was outside. Whereas at a Vikings game I could always count on dad getting me a brat and a hot chocolate, at a Twins game I would get a bag of peanuts and a frosty malt. Note: a couple of days ago there was an article in the paper about calorie counts in ball park food. A bag of peanuts has 3x (!) the calories of a bratwurst. Next time I go to a game, I'm having three brats.
So, the first two games of the World Series are on our home turf, but we have to face Sandy Koufax and Don Drysdale, two of the best pitchers in the history of the game. Lots of fuss as Yom Kipper fell on the day of the first game, and Koufax was Jewish and refused to pitch. All of the Jewish ladies in the greater Metro area invited handsome Sandy over to their house for the holiday. My non-Jewish mother did as well. Harriet adored Sandy Koufax. Anyway, we ended up losing in 7 games. My parents and I were gathered around a TV in their bedroom and watched Koufax wiff Bob Allison for the final out. Very sad, but very exciting.
My favorite Twin during those early years was right handed pitcher Camilo Pascual, a refuge from Castro. He won 20 games a couple of years and usually led the league in strikeouts. One time I was watching the Twins play Cleveland on TV. The Indian's top pitcher, Sudden Sam McDowell, intentionally walked a player to load the bases so he could pitch to Pascual. Pascual, of course, hit a grand slam. He laughed so hard rounding the bases that I thought he was going to fall over. Camilo was on the downside of his career during the 1965 Series, and missed many games due to injury. He started and lost the 3rd game for the Twins. Still, he was my guy and always would be.
I only played one half season of organized baseball, which was in 8th grade with our Park Board league. I could hit with some power but the coach didn't seem to like me much. One day during practice I was out in left, jawing with the center fielder and not paying attention. Seeing this, the coach hit a screaming liner in my direction. I saw it out of the corner of my eye and just reached up and snagged it. I can still picture the coach doubled up and laughing on the ground. I became the starting left fielder, batting 6th. About the 3rd game of the season we faced a pitcher who was about 6 foot 2 and had clearly gone through puberty about three years before. None of my team had. This guy was uber-fast (he ended up playing in the minors) and totally wild. He hit me in the back, leaving a ball-sized mark, complete with laces. Half the team (me too) quit after that game. Way too dangerous.
Tried out for the sophomore baseball team at Washburn, but was cut the last day. I think it was more of a reflection of the length of my hair, rather than of my ability. I was a fiend for playing softball, playing all day, every day whenever I could, and I was the best fielder I knew, and the second best power hitter next to my buddy Jon Horsford. When we were 19 we attended open tryouts for the Twins. We didn't suck, but nobody offered us any contracts. That was my last of many marvelous days playing ball. I broke my back just days later (fell through the open trap door on the Guthrie stage ... another story) and when I healed I just didn't have it anymore. I can remember playing with a team while in Grad school, and a team when I first started working at the County. I was the worst player on both teams. All I could do is ground out to second base. I couldn't move quickly any longer so they made me play catcher. Broke my heart.
When Zeke was about 3 and started swinging a bat, I took him out back and pitched to him for hours. Made him a switch hitter and boy could he hit! Played with Jake quite a bit as well. Jake was a lefty (like his old man) and could knock the crap out of the ball. When Zeke was about 6 I took him to play T-Ball with a park league. Those games were a total cluster but the kids seemed to have fun. It all ended one day when the coach announced that if certain kids were ready, they could hit live pitching rather than hitting off the T. He threw Zeke about 30 underhand pitches, Zeke swang mightily at each pitch, and didn't hit a thing. The lightbulb then went off in Zeke's head. He decided that he "couldn't hit" and that was it for him as far as baseball was concerned. With Zeke no longer interested, neither was Jake. Ezra decided that he would like to learn to play some ball, and we played some catch a few times in the front yard. Ez had a pretty good arm. Sadly, my health got pretty crappy and playing catch became way too hard for me. Just yesterday I noticed a new 50 dollar righty mitt in my man cave, with all the tags still on it. I have no idea who it belongs to, but will try to get Ezra and Zeke to play catch with it this summer.
Zeke inherited my dad's first baseman's mitt, which I had bought for my dad when Zeke was about six. I surprised my elderly father with it, and he was happy to come outside and play catch with his son and grandson. Brought back lots of memories for both of us. My dad was such a wonderful father to me in teaching me sports. However, he totally ignored my two younger brothers when it came to that stuff. I wouldn't be surprised if he never played catch with Joe or Matt, or even threw a football to them. I used to think that was pretty weird, until I went through it all myself. You put so much work into the elder kid, and then slack off with the others. It's a combination of getting too old, and too busy with work, and too tired, and hoping that the kid that you did teach will pass on those lessons to his siblings. Of course, it isn't the skills that are important, it's the time spent teaching them. I spent tons of time with Laura and Zeke, just doing stuff. With Jake, we did spend quite a bit of time doing computer stuff together. Roxie and Ezra got screwed as they came along when my career was at its most demanding and my health started to really suck. I am really, really sorry about that. They both deserved better than I gave them.
47 years later I still agonize over the Twins. Today they will win everything! Tomorrow they suck! They lost today, so I won't even read the sports pages tomorrow, or watch Baseball Tonight on ESPN. My favorite of the current crop of Twins is Joe Mauer. It was Carlos Gomez, and I will never forgive the Twins for trading him to the frigging Brewers. He is three times the center fielder than Denard Span is. I still haven't been to the new stadium (too sick) but my family has gone to a couple of games. Don't know if I will ever have the pleasure, but if I go I will be getting a Tony Oliva cuban sandwich. From what I understand, it's a pretty good sandwich.
*** If anybody ever tries to tell you that Barry Bonds, or anybody else, is better than Babe Ruth, look them square in the eye and ask them how many games Barry won as a pitcher. If that doesn't shut them up, punch them.
All-Time Twins Team (not the 25 best players, but which 25 players that would make the best team).
Starting Pitchers: Bert Blyleven, Jim Kaat, Camilo Pascual,
Johann Santana, Frankie Viola
Long Reliever: Jim Perry
Righty Relievers: Juan Berenger, Al Worthington
Lefty Relievers: Ron Perronoski, Eddie Guardado
Closer: Jeff Reardon
Catchers: Joe Mauer
Earl Battey
Butch Wynegar
First Base: Kent Hrbek
Bob Allison
Second Base: Rod Carew
Short Stop: Leo Cardenas
Third Base: Gary Gaetti
Outfield: Tony Oliva
Kirby Puckett
Dan Gladden
Desig. Hitter: Harmon Killebrew
Utility: Cesar Tovar
Denny Hocking
BEST PLAYERS I HAVE EVER SEEN:
1B: Willie McCovey
2B: Rod Carew
SS: Luis Aparicio
3B: Brooks Robinson
C: Johnny Bench
OF: Hank Aaron
OF: Willie Mays
OF: Roberto Clemente
DH: Mickey Mantle
SP-L: Sandy Koufax
SP-R: Bob Gibson
Closer: Mariano Rivera
BEST PLAYERS EVER:
1B: Lou Gehrig
2B: Jackie Robinson
SS: Honus Wagner
3B: Brooks Robinson
C: Yogi Berra
OF: Ted Williams
OF: Willie Mays
OF: Babe Ruth
DH: Jimmie Foxx
SP-L: Sandy Koufax
SP-R: Walter Johnson
Closer: Satchel Page (yeah, yeah, I know)
Main thing I learned from baseball: Every team should have three catchers, because you never know...
In 4th grade we moved to 2301 Newton Av. S. in Mpls' most ritzy neighborhood, called Kenwood. Even though we still had an alley, we had a crappy back yard, and for whatever reason dad was too busy to continue playing catch every day. That was ok, as I found a friend named Scott Salkin. Scott lived across the alley and a couple of doors down, and he was rich. Huge house, massive yard, a gigantic Lincoln Continental in the garage, and the first color TV I had ever seen. Scott was my age but a grade behind, and he was a total nerd, and a baseball freak. Total freak. We would play games in his yard EVERY day, rain or shine, during the spring and summer, sometimes with a local kid or two, or usually just Scott and I pitching a whiffle ball to each other. I taught myself how to hit, and playing baseball was all I wanted to do.
Even more important, Scott taught me to be a fan. He taught me how to read the sports pages, and how to interpret the box scores. On Sundays, the sports section was a different color than the rest of the paper, so it could be identified more easily. The 'Sports Peach' (peach colored). This was the holy of holys, as all of the weeks statistics were printed there: homer run leaders, stolen base leaders etc. We memorized this info. Baseball stats were the first "practical" use of math that we had come across, and we learned to compute the batting and earned run averages in our heads.
Scott also introduced me to baseball cards. I earned a quarter allowance each week by doing chores around the house, usually taking out the trash. Before baseball I would take my earnings up to the neighborhood drugstore and buy two DC comics at 12 cents a piece. I had dropped by that store every day on my way home from school, browsing the various selections, Green Lantern, Detective, Brave and the Bold, Justice League of America etc, so I pretty much knew what I was going to buy when I turned up on Saturday with my quarter burning a hole in my pocket. But baseball cards! A nickel for a pack of five cards, and a piece of really nasty bubble gum besides! In 1964 Topps also included a "coin" in each pack, which had a photo of an all star player (AL on the gold coins, NL on the silver) with their previous year's stats on the back. My favorite coin, the one I ended up saving for almost 50 years, was that of the late, great Roberto Clemente. I ended up giving it to my friend John Donahue, who has a Clemente shrine in his office. Anyway, I spent the next decade or so collecting baseball cards, as well as comics. At some point my mother decided that my cards would be better displayed if she glued them onto a photo album. I have yet to recover from that nice surprise.
In 1964 I attended my first Twins game. It was done through the Minneapolis Public Schools. We beat the Cleveland Indians, and pitcher Jim Perry socked a homer. The Twins finished 7th that year, in a 10 team league, but they were beginning to show promise. Towards the end of the season we moved to 4600 Emerson, over by Lake Harriet. I clearly remember riding with Dad in the front seat of his white Chrysler 300. We had just left the house and were turning right onto 46th Street, and I remarked the I thought this rookie outfielder, Tony Oliva, looked like a pretty good player. Dad agreed.
My 5th grade teacher, Frances Flemming, was a baseball fan, and let us listen to all of the Yankee/Cardinal World Series games on the radio (all WS games were played during the day back then). I was a bit of a teacher's pet. When I graduated 5th grade, Mrs. Flemming gave me a coffee table book on the history of baseball. Inside she wrote, "Keep the Twins winning, Jesse!" I did my best, as the next season we went to the World Series.
I only attended one game during the 1965 pennant winning season, and that was with my dad. We beat the Detroit Tigers and Don Mincher started at 1st base, leaving Harmon Killebrew to cover 3rd. The old Metropolitan Stadium wasn't the best place to watch baseball (or football) but at least it was outside. Whereas at a Vikings game I could always count on dad getting me a brat and a hot chocolate, at a Twins game I would get a bag of peanuts and a frosty malt. Note: a couple of days ago there was an article in the paper about calorie counts in ball park food. A bag of peanuts has 3x (!) the calories of a bratwurst. Next time I go to a game, I'm having three brats.
So, the first two games of the World Series are on our home turf, but we have to face Sandy Koufax and Don Drysdale, two of the best pitchers in the history of the game. Lots of fuss as Yom Kipper fell on the day of the first game, and Koufax was Jewish and refused to pitch. All of the Jewish ladies in the greater Metro area invited handsome Sandy over to their house for the holiday. My non-Jewish mother did as well. Harriet adored Sandy Koufax. Anyway, we ended up losing in 7 games. My parents and I were gathered around a TV in their bedroom and watched Koufax wiff Bob Allison for the final out. Very sad, but very exciting.
My favorite Twin during those early years was right handed pitcher Camilo Pascual, a refuge from Castro. He won 20 games a couple of years and usually led the league in strikeouts. One time I was watching the Twins play Cleveland on TV. The Indian's top pitcher, Sudden Sam McDowell, intentionally walked a player to load the bases so he could pitch to Pascual. Pascual, of course, hit a grand slam. He laughed so hard rounding the bases that I thought he was going to fall over. Camilo was on the downside of his career during the 1965 Series, and missed many games due to injury. He started and lost the 3rd game for the Twins. Still, he was my guy and always would be.
I only played one half season of organized baseball, which was in 8th grade with our Park Board league. I could hit with some power but the coach didn't seem to like me much. One day during practice I was out in left, jawing with the center fielder and not paying attention. Seeing this, the coach hit a screaming liner in my direction. I saw it out of the corner of my eye and just reached up and snagged it. I can still picture the coach doubled up and laughing on the ground. I became the starting left fielder, batting 6th. About the 3rd game of the season we faced a pitcher who was about 6 foot 2 and had clearly gone through puberty about three years before. None of my team had. This guy was uber-fast (he ended up playing in the minors) and totally wild. He hit me in the back, leaving a ball-sized mark, complete with laces. Half the team (me too) quit after that game. Way too dangerous.
Tried out for the sophomore baseball team at Washburn, but was cut the last day. I think it was more of a reflection of the length of my hair, rather than of my ability. I was a fiend for playing softball, playing all day, every day whenever I could, and I was the best fielder I knew, and the second best power hitter next to my buddy Jon Horsford. When we were 19 we attended open tryouts for the Twins. We didn't suck, but nobody offered us any contracts. That was my last of many marvelous days playing ball. I broke my back just days later (fell through the open trap door on the Guthrie stage ... another story) and when I healed I just didn't have it anymore. I can remember playing with a team while in Grad school, and a team when I first started working at the County. I was the worst player on both teams. All I could do is ground out to second base. I couldn't move quickly any longer so they made me play catcher. Broke my heart.
When Zeke was about 3 and started swinging a bat, I took him out back and pitched to him for hours. Made him a switch hitter and boy could he hit! Played with Jake quite a bit as well. Jake was a lefty (like his old man) and could knock the crap out of the ball. When Zeke was about 6 I took him to play T-Ball with a park league. Those games were a total cluster but the kids seemed to have fun. It all ended one day when the coach announced that if certain kids were ready, they could hit live pitching rather than hitting off the T. He threw Zeke about 30 underhand pitches, Zeke swang mightily at each pitch, and didn't hit a thing. The lightbulb then went off in Zeke's head. He decided that he "couldn't hit" and that was it for him as far as baseball was concerned. With Zeke no longer interested, neither was Jake. Ezra decided that he would like to learn to play some ball, and we played some catch a few times in the front yard. Ez had a pretty good arm. Sadly, my health got pretty crappy and playing catch became way too hard for me. Just yesterday I noticed a new 50 dollar righty mitt in my man cave, with all the tags still on it. I have no idea who it belongs to, but will try to get Ezra and Zeke to play catch with it this summer.
Zeke inherited my dad's first baseman's mitt, which I had bought for my dad when Zeke was about six. I surprised my elderly father with it, and he was happy to come outside and play catch with his son and grandson. Brought back lots of memories for both of us. My dad was such a wonderful father to me in teaching me sports. However, he totally ignored my two younger brothers when it came to that stuff. I wouldn't be surprised if he never played catch with Joe or Matt, or even threw a football to them. I used to think that was pretty weird, until I went through it all myself. You put so much work into the elder kid, and then slack off with the others. It's a combination of getting too old, and too busy with work, and too tired, and hoping that the kid that you did teach will pass on those lessons to his siblings. Of course, it isn't the skills that are important, it's the time spent teaching them. I spent tons of time with Laura and Zeke, just doing stuff. With Jake, we did spend quite a bit of time doing computer stuff together. Roxie and Ezra got screwed as they came along when my career was at its most demanding and my health started to really suck. I am really, really sorry about that. They both deserved better than I gave them.
47 years later I still agonize over the Twins. Today they will win everything! Tomorrow they suck! They lost today, so I won't even read the sports pages tomorrow, or watch Baseball Tonight on ESPN. My favorite of the current crop of Twins is Joe Mauer. It was Carlos Gomez, and I will never forgive the Twins for trading him to the frigging Brewers. He is three times the center fielder than Denard Span is. I still haven't been to the new stadium (too sick) but my family has gone to a couple of games. Don't know if I will ever have the pleasure, but if I go I will be getting a Tony Oliva cuban sandwich. From what I understand, it's a pretty good sandwich.
*** If anybody ever tries to tell you that Barry Bonds, or anybody else, is better than Babe Ruth, look them square in the eye and ask them how many games Barry won as a pitcher. If that doesn't shut them up, punch them.
All-Time Twins Team (not the 25 best players, but which 25 players that would make the best team).
Starting Pitchers: Bert Blyleven, Jim Kaat, Camilo Pascual,
Johann Santana, Frankie Viola
Long Reliever: Jim Perry
Righty Relievers: Juan Berenger, Al Worthington
Lefty Relievers: Ron Perronoski, Eddie Guardado
Closer: Jeff Reardon
Catchers: Joe Mauer
Earl Battey
Butch Wynegar
First Base: Kent Hrbek
Bob Allison
Second Base: Rod Carew
Short Stop: Leo Cardenas
Third Base: Gary Gaetti
Outfield: Tony Oliva
Kirby Puckett
Dan Gladden
Desig. Hitter: Harmon Killebrew
Utility: Cesar Tovar
Denny Hocking
BEST PLAYERS I HAVE EVER SEEN:
1B: Willie McCovey
2B: Rod Carew
SS: Luis Aparicio
3B: Brooks Robinson
C: Johnny Bench
OF: Hank Aaron
OF: Willie Mays
OF: Roberto Clemente
DH: Mickey Mantle
SP-L: Sandy Koufax
SP-R: Bob Gibson
Closer: Mariano Rivera
BEST PLAYERS EVER:
1B: Lou Gehrig
2B: Jackie Robinson
SS: Honus Wagner
3B: Brooks Robinson
C: Yogi Berra
OF: Ted Williams
OF: Willie Mays
OF: Babe Ruth
DH: Jimmie Foxx
SP-L: Sandy Koufax
SP-R: Walter Johnson
Closer: Satchel Page (yeah, yeah, I know)
Main thing I learned from baseball: Every team should have three catchers, because you never know...
Saturday, April 9, 2011
2011 MY NFL Mock Draft -- Vikings
*** The Vikings have a chance to make the playoffs this year, but won't do so with Joe Webb, nor with a rookie QB. The best we could hope for at pick number 12 would be Jake Locker, but he isn't worth that high a pick and wouldn't help us win this year. We need to trade for a vet QB, and one better than Matt Hasselback. Kevin Kolb will be outrageously expensive. Carson Palmer will be costly as well, as it is likely there will be a bit of a bidding war. In any event, with Palmer we could win this year, and he is young enough that our "QB of the future" (whomever that may be) can train under him for a couple of years as well. So, my Mock Draft is predicated on the fact that we trade our second round pick, and our non-compensatory sixth and seventh round picks. There, we have a quarterback who can lead us to the playoffs. I will not draft a young quarterback this time around, as we have more pressing needs. With Palmer aboard, we can take a closer look at Webb this season and see if he is our hope for the future. If not, we can draft a young stud next year. We can sign a cheap free agent vet, or an undrafted kid with promise, to be our third stringer this season. We are now left with a the 12th pick in the first round, a fourth round pick, two fifth rounders, and our compensatory picks -- one each in the sixth and seventh rounds. Here we go...
1st Round: Anthony Castonzo, OT Boston College. McKinney is getting old and is starting to suck. Castonzo is one of the top three tackles (probably the best) and could step in immediately as our new LT. McKinney could move to RT, making Loadholt a reserve. We have to wait until the 4th round for our next pick, but we already have a B-plus level QB, a new starting LT, and an upgrade at RT and reserve tackle. Pretty darn good.
4th Round: Rodney Hudson, G FSU. Herrera sucked at RG last year. Hudson could start, learn from Hutchinson, and if he works out take over at LG in a couple of years. Herrera could then be released, saving some significant dough. If either Sullivan or Cooper can make the grade at center, we will have a damn fine offensive line.
5th Round: Ladie Ajiboye, DL S. Carolina. This kid can play anywhere on the line, but we'd use him to replace the departed Edwards at DE.
5th Round: Shilo Keo, SS Idaho. A week draft for safeties, but this kid would at the very least be an upgrade over what we've got now.
6th Round: Christian Ballard, DT Iowa: Could be the steal of the draft. Can immediately be the first option after either Williams.
7th Round: Luke Stocker, TE Tenn. The best of the later round options at TE. Not a desperate need, but apparently the Vikings think they need one. If they don't really go for TE here, I'd take the best available RB or WR and cross my fingers.
*** If we do not in fact trade for a vet QB, and retain our second round pick, I would still draft OL in the first round, and take one of the second tier QBs in the second round. If need be, trade a non-compensatory 6th or 7th to move up enough to snag one. We won't make the playoffs, but we'd have a good OL to protect him, a great backfield to hand off to, and hopefully a 6th or 7th round speedster to throw to. Next year, whether Webb or the new guy have risen to the top, we will have enough problem areas covered to grab an elite WR for 2012.
1st Round: Anthony Castonzo, OT Boston College. McKinney is getting old and is starting to suck. Castonzo is one of the top three tackles (probably the best) and could step in immediately as our new LT. McKinney could move to RT, making Loadholt a reserve. We have to wait until the 4th round for our next pick, but we already have a B-plus level QB, a new starting LT, and an upgrade at RT and reserve tackle. Pretty darn good.
4th Round: Rodney Hudson, G FSU. Herrera sucked at RG last year. Hudson could start, learn from Hutchinson, and if he works out take over at LG in a couple of years. Herrera could then be released, saving some significant dough. If either Sullivan or Cooper can make the grade at center, we will have a damn fine offensive line.
5th Round: Ladie Ajiboye, DL S. Carolina. This kid can play anywhere on the line, but we'd use him to replace the departed Edwards at DE.
5th Round: Shilo Keo, SS Idaho. A week draft for safeties, but this kid would at the very least be an upgrade over what we've got now.
6th Round: Christian Ballard, DT Iowa: Could be the steal of the draft. Can immediately be the first option after either Williams.
7th Round: Luke Stocker, TE Tenn. The best of the later round options at TE. Not a desperate need, but apparently the Vikings think they need one. If they don't really go for TE here, I'd take the best available RB or WR and cross my fingers.
*** If we do not in fact trade for a vet QB, and retain our second round pick, I would still draft OL in the first round, and take one of the second tier QBs in the second round. If need be, trade a non-compensatory 6th or 7th to move up enough to snag one. We won't make the playoffs, but we'd have a good OL to protect him, a great backfield to hand off to, and hopefully a 6th or 7th round speedster to throw to. Next year, whether Webb or the new guy have risen to the top, we will have enough problem areas covered to grab an elite WR for 2012.
Monday, February 21, 2011
Last Meal
Being a corrections guy and a foodie guy I have always been interested in lists of what folks have chosen for their last meals on this earth. Here's mine.
One quart of grapefruit juice. Two alligator pears stuffed with crabmeat. One salad consisting of sliced tomatoes, cukes, and sweet onions, with blu cheese dressing. A bowl of my wife's vodka pasta. Three large pieces of deep fried haddock, English style. For pudding, a key lime pie from Puerto Rico. One perfectly ripe peach. One plate of assorted English cheeses. Hope I can keep up enough of an appetite towards the end to finish all that. Some heroin and/or cocaine for afters wouldn't suck.
One quart of grapefruit juice. Two alligator pears stuffed with crabmeat. One salad consisting of sliced tomatoes, cukes, and sweet onions, with blu cheese dressing. A bowl of my wife's vodka pasta. Three large pieces of deep fried haddock, English style. For pudding, a key lime pie from Puerto Rico. One perfectly ripe peach. One plate of assorted English cheeses. Hope I can keep up enough of an appetite towards the end to finish all that. Some heroin and/or cocaine for afters wouldn't suck.
Friday, February 18, 2011
Initial Rip
Starting blogs costs 50 bucks through Fatcow, and is free through Google if your wife sets it up for you. Now to start figuring this stuff out. Need some more style before I can lay on the substance. More later...
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)