Wry Toast

Always thought this song was beautiful, and a bit sad. It is.

We may have survived Mary Tyler Moore signing off, but this is ridiculous! Now quick, go tell her thank you, and to come back soon.

I love the movies. Especially those made before, oh, the Ford administration.

Tell me you've never been so caught up in a film that on your way out of the theater you didn't slam your Astin Martin into first, roar onto the Autobahn with Ursula Andress at your side, evade the land mines placed by the Specter agents and expected to see Sean Connery's one raised eyebrow looking back at you in the rearview mirror as you slip away.

"Bond, James Bond."

"What was that, honey."

"Oh. Nothing."

Wake up! Your Astin Martin is a Ford Windstar, with automatic transmission. That's not the Autobahn, it's the mall service road. Land mines? Try traffic cones, moron. If you could see in the mirror thru the kids' smudged fingerprints you'd see your own glasses. And did it ever dawn on you, Double-0-Zero, why the Specter agents are all wearing day-glo vests and hard hats? It's the DOT paving crew, and SLOW the frik down before you get pinched or a double fine by speeding in a construction zone. You're scaring your wife. But you could earn a point or two if you tell her she's Ursula Andress!

Alas. By the time you get home, your Martini has turned back into a Poland Spring. The image has faded.

That's the problem with being 40-something in the age of the dashing and young. The policemen are almost all younger than you are. The baseball heroes, too. But FEAR NOT! From time to time, the ages produce the kind of icon that you can relate to. One whose persona you can wear after you've pried the last popcorn kernels from between your molars.

*His name is Ewell. Tom Ewell. *

He deals with the same demons I do.

He's just about as smooth!

And he's my favorite Summertime Action Hero.

And simultaneously give your local news editors and anchors "pun overload."
[Courtesty of the Huffington Post.]

"Nation Buys Porn with Stimulus Package"

President Bush's economic stimulus package, which appears so far to have been ineffective in stroking the economy to life, is giving an unexpected raise to the porn industry.

From an Adult Internet Market Research Company press release: An independent market-research firm, AIMRCo (Adult Internet Market Research Company), has discovered that many websites focused on adult or erotic material have experienced an upswing in sales in the recent weeks since checks have appeared in millions of Americans' mailboxes across the country.

According to Kirk Mishkin, Head Research Consultant for AIMRCo, "Many of the sites we surveyed have reported 20-30% growth in membership rates since mid-May when the checks were first sent out, and typically the summer is a slow period for this market."

Wait. There's a porn season??

So let's say this little gem is the last feature on "Action-Witness News at 10," and you're one of the co-anchors. 

You cock (sorry) and eyebrow, look at Brick the Weather Guy, and say, 

"Guess you could say....." [Post a comment to win fabulous prizes!] 

Tonight: A VH-1 and History Channel Exclusive.

As you nurse your July 4th "Beer really DOES mix with small explosives" hangovers, join VH-1 and The History Channel as they explore:

I LOVE THE (17)70's: What ever happened to the Founding Fathers?

George and Bennie hawk an American Revolution

Cranky Johnny and Pious Tommy Duke it Out

John "Read this" Hancock doesthe Palmer Method back home in Boston

*

After all this time

Philadelphia Freedom

Still self-evident?

*

One of his best.

Nobody does the sad clown like Bill.

Paul Giamatti

Sideways from Big Momma's House

You found John Adams

* Inspired by true events.  The post immediately below about a man arrested wearing fake boobs, Leezer's Historical Haiku, and made easier by the common denominator:  An actor with a five-syllable name.

"Man accused of walking on I-291 with fake breasts"

Associated Press, June 30, 2008

I was never good at Science.  

I was too impatient for the Scientific Method.  Why ask more questions than you have to?  Why test your theory when you can just guess?  In 7th Grade Earth Science, I answered correctly that the crusty end result of my final Lab Practical, lying there in the ceramic bowl was sodium chloride.  Salt.

"How did you arrive at your conclusion?" asked Mr. A. 

"I followed the first few steps, and then did this," I replied, wetting my index finger with my tongue, digging into the still warm dish, and then tasting it.  "See?  Salt!"

"What do you think your'e doing?!?"  Mr. A. shouted.  "What if that wan't salt?  It could have killed you."

"This is 7th grade," I answered confidently.  "You're not going to let us play with something that's gonna kill us."

Logic.  But the wrong kind.  I got a 50.  Right answer.  Wrong proof.

I wasn't too hot at Algebra, either. 

Again, the "logic" gene that I could apply to situations and debate was tone deaf to facts and figures.  Why trace back the steps of your equation when you could turn to the answers in the back of the book and find out that x=2?

"You can't start with the answer and work your way back from it," Miss F. used to say.  "That's not how Algebra works."

It's not.  It's not how life works, either.

But today, I saw the answer that I want to have at the end of my life's book.  It was delivered in a eulogy on national television, about a man of my faith, of my avocation, whom I met once, and whose death affected me not as a child who knows one day he will lose his father... but as a father, tapped on the shoulder for the first time with the notion that someday he will leave his children. 

This answer, it turns out, was delivered in the shortest of all the tributes given today; and by the ONE person amid Brokaw, Cuomo, Barnicle, and Shriver who actually needed an introduction. 

Her name is Betsy Fischer.  And this is what she said.

Almost every morning for the last 10 years, Tim would call at exactly 9:00 a.m. and say, "Hey, Bets, what do you know?"  What I wouldn't give for that phone call tomorrow morning.

I'd happily suspend all talk of news, politics, and Washington gossip and I'd tell [you] some thing that I've
come to know since last Friday afternoon.

I'd say there is a nation mourning the loss of a great man ... and a trusted friend. 

And after you heard my morning rundown, you'd say this is all part of life.  We have to move forward, lean on each other, and cherish all the good times and live every day to its fullest.  But, live it with honor and integrity, and always reach down to help someone else up.  You'd say take these incredible lessons of life that I leave with each of you and live them as you remember me. 

And I'd believe every word because ... you have never once steered me wrong.

That is the answer that I want at the end of my life's book.  And this, too, is a book that you can't work backwards from.

I've got some work to do.