Artie Lang

I heard Artie Lang on a radio interview today talking about his life. I thought it was interesting when he said, "the only difference between being on the Howard Stern Show and being in therapy is that the therapist isn't playing a fart machine while I'm talking".

Too Close for Comfort

I went for a drive in the rain today. Some guy was driving too fast for the conditions and partially slid through a stop sign and nearly hit me. As I watched the scene in what seemed like slow motion my life flashed before my eyes. When it was all over I couldn't stop thinking, "I need to get a new couch."

Vegetarians

Somebody told me that all vegetarians have cats. I thought about that and realized that it was true for all the vegetarian folks I know; the Hindu guy at work; a lady from the neighborhood and at least one of the readers in my blogosphere. The disposition goes like this; I can't cause harm to an animal so I won't eat them, but Mr. Mephistopheles loves his giblets.

I have two beautiful cats. Wonder if I'm a vegetarian and just don't know it?

Cherries Jubilee

There's never a dull moment when me and the boys go out for our team lunch on Thursdays. Yesterday was no exception. Some of the boys are finicky eaters so our selection of restaurants are dwindling. Yesterday I convinced them to have lunch at the local community college's culinary arts restaurant. The food was great even though the service was bad. The program requires that the future cooks and chefs work in the front of the house to learn about customer service.

One of the guys had Fettuccine Alfredo. Another had broiled sword fish. I had Stromboli and the last guy had broiled sea bass. It was a mini celebration. I felt so good that I ordered Cherries Jubilee for the three of us that had room. That turned out to be an adventure.

Scott, our waiter, who was described as one of the best "broiler men" around, was a little awkward with the table side service. Not to worry. The kitchen instructor was there every step of the way, walking him through the process. We watched amused as they performed each step; turn on the gas; press the ignitor; adjust the flame; place the pan over the flame; drop in the pre-measured black cherries in syrup; add kirsch wasser, rum and a high proof liqueur of unknown origin and POOF! we had a sizzling, sugary and flaming delight.

This delicious smelling mix was spooned over buttery looking French vanilla ice cream and topped with fresh whipped cream squeezed straight from a piping bag. My friends had never experienced such a dessert before. Mike said, "wow Dennis, this is wonderful". "What type of fruit is this?"

There She Is, Miss Americaaaaaaa

A funny thing happened to me on a trip to Las Vegas once. It's not the typical, "I got propositioned by a prostitute of nebulous gender" story. This actually happened on the plane on the way there.

I had already taken my seat on the aisle. The middle and window seats were not yet occupied and I was fidgeting and watching people as they are herded onto to plane. Suddenly, from the entrance came two strikingly attractive women. One was a thin, dark haired woman, who was being trailed by a very tall blond. I remember thinking to myself, "I hope they sit in my row". You should have seen me beam when they stopped and excused themselves as they slid into the seats next to me. The blond took the window seat and her older friend sat next to me.

Before long we were at cruising altitude and I could now open my eyes and release the vice like grip I had on my arm rests. In those days I was a curious lad and the ladies next to me had my full attention. Out of the corner of my eye I could see the blond preparing herself for the three hour trip as the color returned to my knuckles. She had a writing pad, a pen, a pair of reading glasses, a tennis ball on a stick and a small shoe box filled to the top with letters.

The woman next to me was sizing me up as much as I was sizing up the blond. She seemed interested in me, but in an unusual way. It's not like she wanted to know anything about me, but wanted to get my attention, as if to coax me into interrogating her. I couldn't resist. Pointing in the direction of the blond as she read, and replied to, her stack of letters I said, "your friend must be very important". With a huge and prideful smile she turned to me, looked me in the eye and said, "she's my daughter and she IS very important". Now she had me. "We're on our way to Las Vegas on business", she went on.

The blond woman had seemed vaguely familiar to me, but I just couldn't place her. "Your daughter does look familiar to me", I said, "but please forgive me if I don't know her name". "She's Phyllis George and we're on our way to Las Vegas for the Miss America Pageant". Well I'll be darned, it was indeed Phyllis George. I had seen her nearly every week those day because she was on one of the Sunday NFL football shows.

Now that the ice was broken all three of us were able to let our collective hairs down and exchange some small talk. We talked about what we planned to do in Las Vegas while we were there. I was meeting my sisters there for a little gambling R&R and they were.........well you already know. I was surprised to discover that this was only Ms. George and her mother's second trip to Vegas. Their first trip was just one year earlier.

They seemed genuinely interested in hearing my plans. Of course I had to let them know that I was an experienced gambler. After all, this was at least my third visit to sin city and I had recently gone on a weekend junket to Atlantic City. I was on a roll with my story. Jaws flapping and brain disengaged. The words were already floating through the air when I heard myself ask, "have you ever been to Atlantic City?" Arrrggghhhhh! I had just asked Miss America if she'd ever been to Atlantic City! They chuckled and reminded me that Atlantic City had been the perennial venue for the pageant but had just been moved the previous year.

They forgave me for my blunder and we were able to move on to new topics. They told me that the tennis ball on a stick was a gadget she used to relieve muscle tension. She would hold the handle and bounce the ball on her neck and shoulders. She demonstrated the technique on me and now I can truly say that I've been beaten about the neck and shoulders by Miss America.

Election Day

Today is election. It's been a long campaign and I was excited to get out of bed early this more and go pull the handle for my candidate. Then after I did that, I went and voted.

Cultural Exchange

One of the guys I work with is from India. He's very interested in American culture and is eager to share Indian tradition with the team. As a matter of fact, he has an arranged marriage, which is not uncommon in his culture. Modesty and prudence is a hallmark of Indian culture. I remember him telling me that, "I waited until after I was married to have sex with my wife". "How about you?" he asked. I said, "I don't know. What's her name?"

New Air Freshener

I got myself a new air freshener for my car. I love the pine fresh scent and all the very best parking spaces seem to be available now.

The new phone books are here, the new phone books are here!!

I'm a recently published photographer. Schmap Detroit Fifth Edition selected the photo above. Click the subject line to go to Schmap to see my photo in its environment. The site is a guide to local places of interest for travelers. All the major US cities have a site.

What Would the Headline Say?

What if there was a really good MSU team that had won many consecutive matches? What if they were scheduled to play an equally good USC team? What would the headline in the paper say if the USC team won? I can see it now;

"Spartans Snapped By Trojans"

Things don't always turn out as planned

George Peppard was a local boy. He grew up in Dearborn and was a "Pioneer" at Dearborn HS. My son had discovered that George is buried in a cemetery not far from the high school and got an assignment to find the grave site in his studio production class.

Graveyards have always been interesting places to me. We found George's grave and managed to take a few photographs to print for his report. While we were there we meandered around, looking at the markers and trying to get a sense of who some of these people were. We found a couple markers that proved to be a little curious to me.

The first one was a family plot with three individual stones. The middle marker was a man who apparently lived a long and prosperous life. He was flanked by his two wives. Based on the dates on the stone his first wife left him at a fairly young age. His second wife was about ten years younger than the first. He managed to outlive both of them and at least one of their children. I think life was hard in the nineteenth century and I think it's fair to say that it was a mix of joy and sorry.

The curious thing about the second one was that here was a spousal plot of a woman who was still waiting for her husband to show up. The date of his birth would indicate that the current date was well beyond his passing. Just seems he got sidetracked. I can only guess what may have happened to him; maybe he got married again; maybe his family moved; maybe he didn't have enough money to take his place there. I bet this situation never came up at the kitchen table when the two of them bought the plot.

This Guy was Cool

While all my friends were off carving pumpkins yesterday, I went out for charred flesh at a local bar / burger joint. I couldn't help noticing that the bartender looked exactly like The Zohan; hair, beard and polyester shirt. When he wasn't poppin' the tops off of beer bottles he struck a well choreographed posed, tested to draw attention.....in a silent way. He would stand, arse against a fridge door, one foot raised up on the sink, arms crossed over his raised knee with his palms up. This stance was punctuated with the obligatory furrowed brow and distant stare. He was the epitome of cool.

We all know the purpose of looking cool, so I won't mention it here. I can't tell you if his "well groomed" image was effective or not, because I didn't stick around long enough to watch the show. Don't know if I'd have had the stomach to stay that long. When I looked around the room, all I could see was a room full of blue haired bar flies, waiving a cigarette around in one hand and guzzling beer straight from the long neck..............maybe he likes the metaphor.

Team Bowling

Our department at work went bowling yesterday to team build. It had been a long time since I had bowled and I wasn't sure if I had the requisite level of bowling stamina. I knew I'd could come out of the gate strong, but reckoned I would fade with each frame. Lucky for me I'm not in the best shape of my life. I was able to conserve my physical resources by taking advantage of my physical attributes. Yes, I was able to find a place to rest the ball between throws and was able to finish the event respectably.

The only bad part was that the balls pick up oil and wax from the floors and machinery. Now my shirt has oils stains all over it that will take some effort to get out. If only I could have stopped at home to get my special bowling pants.

Finger Licking Pets

One year, when I was about 7 years old, my grandmother came to visit on Easter. This was a particularly memorable event because brought us a box of live chicks. They were so cute, all fuzzy and yellow and scampering all over the place. That was one of the most fun days I ever had, but it was short lived. You see, we lived in tract housing; a real neighborhood with neighbors and schools and ordinances. Fortunately for us my parents had friends that lived on a 100 acre farm. Our precious chicks could go live there and be well cared for and we could go visit, whenever we wanted.

The old saying goes "out of site is out of mind", and this is especially true of 7 year olds and his siblings. The excitement of having the chicks had faded and the drudgery of finishing the second grade gave me more than enough to keep me occupied.

Time was slipping by and before I knew it summer was almost over. Mom got an invitation to an end of summer picnic at our friends' on the farm place. After we had dinner we could go out to the barn and visit the chicks. After all, it had been a long time since we'd played with them.

Dinner was fabulous. They had fried chicken and fresh vegetables from the farm. We had corn and celery and beautiful tomatoes. Now that dinner was over it was time to see the chicks. Can you guess where this is going? Yes, our pets were dinner. What we didn't know is that was the deal that was made for boarding them. It was a shockingly sad, but relevant lesson in life; don't fall in love with food. Well another lesson was learned; everything has a purposeful life and although not all purposes are desirable, we should be happy in our existence.

Look What I Have Daddy

One day, a long time ago, my oldest son Joseph came running to greet me when I came home from work. He was squealing, "look what I have daddy, look what I have". His arms stretched high to show me as his little feet pattered like drum rolls on the bare floor below him. With a huge pride induced smile I asked him, "what is it son?" He replied, "it's a piece of s#!t daddy, it's a piece of s#!t".

I struggled to contain my laughter, so as NOT to bruise my little boys ego. His mother, on the other hand, was howling and on the verge of tears when she heard those grown up words coming from an angelic mouth. I was wondering to myself, "where could he have learned such a thing?"

After a minute, she proceeded to tell me about her and Joe's day. Apparently they had gone to the grocery store to pick up something for dinner that night and they were going to surprise me. As is the case at most check out lines there was a small, but tempting, display of toy cars just at eye level for a child sitting in a cart. "Buy this for me mommy, buy this for me" was the persistent chant from Joe as they snaked toward the cashier. Losing her patience and seeking to stop the incessant chanting she said, "OK, I'll buy you this piece of s#!t, but you'd better behave yourself.

She gave him the toy and all was well for the rest of the trip; at least till they got home.

Boys Will Be Boys

My brother and I used to have tussles, as most brothers do, when we were young. We'd scuffle and bang around on the walls and the floors. My mother would yell at us to "stop horsing around". I would say, "mo om, horsin' around is a fun". "It's what seperates us from the animals..................except maybe horses".

Yes, I have two horse pictures in a row. I took the one from yesterday's post :)

Glum

Some friends of mine and I went on an unconventional convention adventure this past weekend in Chicago. During our break we did a lilttle sight seeing near the "Magnificent Mile". On our way we passed some mounted police officers, who let me pet one of the horses. I know we shouldn't project human emotions on animals, but as you can see this one looks kinda sad. As I pet him I asked, "why the long face, Flicka?"

Poor Hef............

Hugh Hefner just got notice that his live in girl friend, Holly Madison, is dumping him. Hef is distraught, but knew the split was likely because he just didn't feel the deep connection you need to get married. Although he's emotionally spent, he remains committed to meeting his contractual obligations to his cable TV show, "The Girls Next Door". It may take some strength and courage, but he may have to engage the help of the 19 year old playmate twins that currently live in the Playboy Mansion to fill in now that Holly is leaving. I hope you feel better soon Hef.

Haandi Man

I found a new Indian restaurant that makes very tasty northern Indian food. Some of the dishes are cooked in pots that they call haandi. I liked it so much I made up a song. Sing it to the melody of Handy Man by James Taylor.

Hey people, gather round
Listen to what I'm putting down
Hey people, I'm your haandi man

My cousin's kinda good with a slide rule
I'm haandi with food and I'm no fool
I cook food in pots, and you know that it's truly good

If your taste buds should crave some flair
Then you have no need to fear
I cook Mughalai food, you tell all your friends
They'll come runnin' to here

Here is the main thing that I want to say
We're open 8 hours a day
I cook food in pots, you know that it's truly good

Come-a, come-a, come-a, come-a, come, come
To Six Mile near Newburgh

Come-a, come-a, come-a, come-a, come, come, come

They'll come runnin' to here

Tough Brass Dude

Hard hitting reporter Jason Jones gets the prize for best quote this week. He said, "you can't spell cajones without Jones".

Don't try this at home.

I was driving in the car the other day with my seventeen year old son. We were listening to our favorite "classic rock" station on the radio and they were playing a cluster of Beatles songs. I was in heaven. Hangin' with my boy and singing to the radio. Well at least I was in heaven. Greg turned to me less than half way through the song and said, "it's nice that you know all the words dad, but I think you should leave this to the professionals". I got the hint :)

Anything but nasal........

I knew a woman that would sing from her diaphram; she must have learned that in opera school. That was an intersting sight. Didn't quite sound the same when she switched to the sponge.

Moral Compass

I hear a lot of talk about moral compasses these days; maybe because it's a presidential election year. I thought I'd be able to conjur up an entertining fact or two about the term, but no matter where I looked it seemed to be used by any number of people who want you to behave in ways that are not in your own best interest for some imagined good. You know, selfish about your selflessness. Kinda reminds me of Lord Farquaad in Shrek when he's talking to the troops before the battle. He says, "some of you will not come back alive..........but that's a risk I'm willing to take". All I know is that my moral compass always points north.

Click Here to Hear

Sorry for getting sappy two blogs in a row, but I thought I'd say something about my dad; Wendell Eugene; just Gene to his friends. These are two pictures of him doing what he liked to do best and in my opinion he did it better than most. He was one of those guys that the older he got, the larger his glasses got. Thankfully, the need for correctives lenses went away when he got his cataracts removed.

He's been gone for over a year and a half now and I'm sure I'm not the only person that misses him. He had tons of friends because he was warm and welcoming to everyone he met. I aspire to be as well liked as he was and to have a fraction of his musical talent.

Click on the title for this post to hear him play with The Radio Gang; he's playing lead.

Happiness

This is my son's football team when they won the Division II regional championship. Joe is one of the jubilant throng on the right side of the picture in a hooded jacket. It was a huge accomplishment at the time, but now seems almost insignificant. After all, there has been an entirely new set of winners in the four years since. Won't there be more winners next year and every year after?

That was a fun time. They worked very hard and played even harder and there was a good reward. What my son and I realize is the happiness is in our daily activity. We work, we plan, we struggle. This is what we're here for and we should take pleasure in our daily effort and know that once in a while we will end up winning. Winning isn't everything. What you do to get there is and I can be happy with that.

Slept like a............well, you know...........

Been fighting a sinus thing this week. Last night, during my evening routine, I had two cordials of tequila and some NyQuil. The effects were temporary, but I got plenty of sleep.

With friends like this.........

The writer of The Lone Ranger must have had a tremendous sense of humor. It's always assumed that the Lone Ranger and Tonto were best of friends and participated in a mutual admiration society. Tonto was always eager to take on the difficult task conjurred by his mentor. The Lone Ranger always the figure of ingenuity and good ole fashioned American know how. I've heard stories that Tonto was a native American name that was close to "Loyal" and that Kemosabe (pronounced kee mo sobee) was a term of endearment that pretty much meant "trusted scout". We may have been misled.

When you get out your trusty Spanish-to-English dictionary it becomes apparent that these guys were pretty much just acquaintances at work and most likely dispised each other. Tonto, it turns out, means "idiot" in Spanish. It get's even better when you figure that "él que no sabe" (pronounced "l kee no sobee") translates to "he that does not know".

Something in the Air

A friend of mine tells me that he usually gets the flautas when he goes out for Mexican food. It's usually the day after he's eaten the wet burrito.

The Deadliest Catch

Fall is here. One of the indicators, especially after a very dry August, is the amount and size of the crab grass in my yard. It's hu-uuuuuge. So big that I'm calling it Alaskan King crab grass. Now if only I can get the captain and crew from the Northwestern to come and throw a few pots on my lawn.

It's A Small World....

We learn so much about each other on our drive to "the team lunch" on Thursday's. Solving the world's problems from a multi national perspective is the typical topic of discussion on the bus ride to our lunch venue. Last Thursday was a little different. One of the guys, who is not a Christian, wanted to know who went to church and how often; he's been watching the election campaigns and sees that religion plays a big role in American culture and politics.

None of us in the car were particularly religulous, but I did discover that my buddy Steve had been an alter boy. This gives me a new appreciation of Steve as I too had that childhood experience. In a gesture of sympathy I said to Steve, "I was an alter boy too. Just remember, time heals all wounds". To which Steve replied, "this is very true, but it doesn't always keep you from walking funny".

Disclaimer:

No alter boys were harmed in the writing of this post. All inferences and opinions of the content of this posting are the sole responsibility of the reader and do not necessarily reflect those of the writer. The word religulous is not mispelled.