Catch Phrases

Lines from popular movies often become catch phrases. "Love means you never have to say you're sorry" was on everyone's lips after the release of "Love Story" in 1970. "I'm the King of the World!" was big after "Titanic". "Dirty Harry" spawned "Make my day". Would Arnold have achieved public office without "Terminator" and "Ah'll be bahck."?

Building on the "Twilight" phenomenon, store racks are chock full of tee-shirts showing Edward the Teen Aged Vampire stating something to effect of, "I'll never see you again, but it is to protect you." The tee-shirts are labeled unisex which is seems unusual at first glance. Teen girls would certainly purchase a shirt depicting the pouty Edward and his sensitive dialogue. "I'd be arm in arm with a hot guy like the one on my shirt here, but he's actually a vampire. He can barely control himself around me, so I'm going to the prom alone for my own protection."

But why would teen guys buy an Edward shirt? Hope always reigns that your average teen guy can "trade up" girlfriend-wise. One magical day, his skin clears up or his Dad buys him a cool car and suddenly Tiffany the Hot Cheerleader is interested. The problem is how to let current girlfriend Daphne the Not-So-Hot Bandmember down easy. The classic "It's not you, it's me" line lost its impact after George abused it regularly on "Seinfeld".

Thank you, Twilight! Teen guys "trading-up" today need only wear the shirt. The appropriate line is written right on it in case you need a cue card. What teen girl could resist explaining her doomed romance with, "Just like Bella, ours was a love that could not be! Now where's that Werewolf guy with the chiseled abs?"

Spin and Re-Spin

College tuition being high and post-graduation job prospects being low, it is time for our institutions of higher learning to make their courses more relevant.

English departments could offer "Spinning 101". Graduates adept at putting the proper "spin" on the news would certainly find employment in politics as well as in corporate PR. Advanced students could tackle "Re-Spin 102", taking that spin and reversing it.

For example, Penn State is now requiring a $600 per seat "donation" to the Nittany Lion Club to purchase season tickets between the 40 yard lines. Previously, a $100 "donation" had sufficed. At first blush, this is a money grab, pure and simple. Let the spinning begin:

Penn State Spin - Schools like Ohio State, Michigan, Texas, and Florida already have similar plans in place.

Re-Spin - Listen to every mother in the Keystone State, "If Ohio State, Michigan, Texas, and Florida jumped off a cliff, would you?"

Penn State Spin - We are doing this for fairness. We need to properly allocate our tickets according to how someone is willing to support us and currently we don't do that.

Re-Spin - Gee, what not simply charge more for better seats? The scalpers outside Beaver Stadium do it. Theaters do it. The airlines do it. Oh, you have to share gate receipts with the visiting team and you get to keep every penny of Nittany Lion Club "donations". That's fair!

Penn State Spin - Now we'll have the money for fan requests like upgraded rest rooms and concession stands.

Re-Spin - Assuming there are 20,000 seats between the 40 yard lines and you are getting $500 more in "donations" per seat than you used to, that's a cool $10 million per year. Those are going to be some great rest rooms and concession stands. Rest room construction costs must be really high in State College, PA if the $2 million per year you were getting under the old plan couldn't cover it.

Penn State had good news for its students as well. The Student Section now wraps around the south end zone. It had previously extended from the 40 to a goal line.

Penn State Spin - The south end zone packed with students will create an intimidating atmosphere for opponents.

Re-Spin - Freeing up more prime seats for season ticket "donations" wouldn't have anything to do with this, would it? Also, unless you change the rules, those intimidated opponents can always score in the north end zone for half of the game.

I'd give the Penn State "spin" a B and the "re-spin" a B+.

Shout Outs

One of the keys to ingratiating yourself to an audience is to give them a complimentary "shout-out". Rock concerts frequently begin with the lead singer bellowing, "Hell-o-o-o, Cleveland!!!". Of course, this is most effective when the concert is actually in Cleveland. Bruce Springsteen began a recent Detroit concert with a hearty "Hell-o-o-o, Ohio". Not a good idea the week before before the Ohio State - Michigan game.

Our girl Sarah Palin greeted a book signing audience yesterday with, "Michigan and Alaska are a lot alike. There's the fishin' and the huntin' and the Hockey Moms." Well done, Sarah! That audience is now in your hip pocket. You may want to change that line if you ever appear in San Francisco. "Alaska and San Francisco are a lot alike. There's the Pacific Ocean and the Russians just over the horizon and the gay activism. Well, we don't actually have gays in Alaska just like they don't in Iran, but we have a lot in common anyway."

President Obama's Asian tour might have been a smashing success if he took a page from Bruce's and Sarah's book. "Hell-o-o-o, Beijing! China and America have a lot in common. There's the huntin' and the fishin' and the big stacks of dollars that we owe you. There would be more , but I guess you don't have Hockey Moms over here."

"Hell-o-o-o, Tokyo. Japan and America have a lot in common. There's the huntin' and the fishin' for whales (Actually we don't do that anymore, but we used to!) and the respect for Hockey Moms and aged Emperors. I'd probably catch less flak if I bowed before Gordie Howe's Mom than your Emperor. Or maybe not. Mrs Howe is Canadian."

Shout it out, Sarah and Barack!

Teen Life Lessons

Movies allow teen-agers learn lessons otherwise gained through suffering. During my teen years, I learned that exteme cold incapacitates "The Blob", that "Mothra" can only be drawn to her doom by an erupting volcano, and that "The Mysterians", presumably invincible invaders from outer space, can be laid low by the simple flu virus. I fully expected to be consulted by the Japanese government when the next supernatural catastrophe hit that benighted land. "Prime Minister - San, those tanks and planes will not stop the monster, but maybe if you sneeze in its direction..."

"The Twilight Saga: New Moon" opens in theaters on Friday. It promises to teach valuable life lessons to the teens of today. Its leading lady, Kristen Stewart stated:

"My toughest scene is when (sexy teen vampire) Edward tells (innocent mortal) Bella that it's all over and they're never going to see each other again. (Typical vampire! Love 'em, suck out a few pints of Type O+, and leave 'em. Didn't I see this on Jerry Springer yesterday?)

"There's nothing like it in reality." (Oh, I see. In the real world, vampires remain true to their mortal girlfriends at least until after the Prom)

"It's not even like a normal break-up because I know what it's like to get broken up with. I don't know what it's like to get broken up with by a vampire." (So few of us do, Kristen. So few of us do.)

There you have it, Teens of America! If your romance with the neighborhood vampire is going sour, get your tickets now for "The Twilight Saga: New Moon" for tips on how to handle that break-up. SPOILER ALERT: Try running around with a werewolf to make him jealous.

Market Value

The most immutable of Economics Laws states. "Anything is worth what someone is willing to pay for it."

That Springsteen ticket may have a face value of $100, but the scalper in the parking lot will get $500 for it from an avid Bruce fan. That game-worn Jeter jersey may need a good washing, but a die-hard Yankee supporter will pay $1,000 for it, stains and all. It's all a matter of market value.

But what is the market value of a gesture, and an obscene gesture at that? The NFL fined Tennessee Titans owner Bud Adams $250K for giving a double-barrelled "one finger salute" to some Buffalo Bills fans after the Titans victory last Sunday. Real estate may be plummeting. Shares of General Motors may not be worth the price of the paper that they are printed on. Subway foot-longs may be going for $5, but, even in this time of economic duress, a hearty "Eff-you" directed at some drunken louts in upstate New York goes for a whopping quarter million.

The Bruce fan may very well get $500 worth of enjoyment from rocking to "Born to Run" live. The Yankee supporter may get $1,000 worth of pleasure from caressing the polyester that once clothed his idol (though this is disturbing image). One hopes that Bud Adams got $250K worth of satisfaction from his gesture.

Bud has set the market value for flipping the bird though. The next time I express my opinion of the driving ability of that dolt who cut me off on Route 22, I'll have to remember that.

Good vs. Evil

Why do I read every line of the Sports Section? Why do I need to know how Stony Brook (team nickname - The Babblers?) did against New Paltz (as opposed to Old Paltz)?

Perhaps I seek the answer to these deep philosophical questions:

If Evergreen State falls to Western Washington in the forests of the Great Northwest and no one attends, does it make a sound?

If a Cal State - Santa Cruz fan raises his hand in the Fighting Banana Slugs (their actual athletic team nickname) salute, will a tsunami eventually result in Sumatra?

No! To a true sports fan, every contest is a battle between perceived good and evil. For example, the Philadelphia Eagles are, to my mind, inherently good. If they win, I am happy. The Dallas Cowboys are evil to the core. When they win, I mourn. At the end of the day, I total the triumphs of the "good" versus the depredations of the "evil" and determine whether the Apocalypse is at hand.

Occasionally, the Sports World gives us a result that proves the ultimate victory of good over evil. Last Saturday, Cornell defeated Alabama in men's basketball. A team that passed Calculus beat a team that probably couldn't spell the word. A team that read Moby Dick topped a group that might wonder why Moby and Andy Dick formed a band. A team that ten years from now will be involved in hedge fund management beat a team that ten years from now may be trimming hedges.

Granted, these are exaggerations and I'm sure the Alabama hoopsters are fine young men. Still, it is reassuring that a group who took advantage of their athletic prowess to get an Ivy League education while suffering through winters in Ithaca can come out on top against a heralded foe. Perceived "Good" sometimes triumphs.

Green Tennessee

Born on a mountaintop in Tennessee
Greenest state in the Land of the Free
Raised in the woods so he knew every tree
Killed him a b'ar when he was only three

Dav-eee, Davy Crockett, King of the Wild Frontier

"Ballad of Davy Crockett" c.1955

The Volunteer State remains the "greenest". It gave us environmental crusader Al Gore. It legalized firearms in bars so Tennesseans can immediately blow away that guy who dissed them during Happy Hour rather than having to drive home for their trusty .44 magnum thus saving tons of CO2 emissions.

It is also the home to Toyota's largest US manufacturing plant from whence cometh the Greenest Car on Earth, the Prius. The Prius may help save the planet, but, as three University of Tennessee football players found, it makes a bad getaway car. Late Wednesday night, the three walked up to a car parked at an off-campus hangout, pointed a CO2 pellet gun at its occupants, and demanded cash. Alas, the victims were cashless and the perpetrators made their escape in a Prius. The victims did have cell phones handy and before you can dial 911, the police were on the way. It didn't take long for their 450 HP Crown Vic to overtake the perp's Prius and bring the gridders to justice. Well, sort of. The Vols have a big game scheduled for Saturday and we are talking about three really good players here. A decision on their status has not been made as yet.

Should the case come to trial, counsel might try a "green" defense. "Your honor, these fine young Tennesseans were only doing what any environmentally-conscious citizen of this great state would do under the circumstances. They were concerned about the impact of the so-called victim's gas guzzler on the quality of the air that they would have to breathe to gain further gridiron glory for our beloved Vols. They approached that polluting monster with a CO2 pellet gun. Bear in mind that every molecule of CO2 in a pellet cartridge is one less greenhouse gas in the atmosphere! They didn't want cash for themselves, but merely to take it from the so-called victim who would only squander it on gasoline resulting in even more pollution. How can the Prosecution claim that these environmental crusaders attempted an escape from justice? The record shows that their Prius's gas engine never kicked in! It is the so-called victim who is the criminal here - a criminal against the environment! My clients added zero!, zero! to their carbon footprint in this entire incident. They should be praised, not convicted!

(Should you feel differently, Judge, could you let me know before I have to get my bet down with my bookie? The Vols are screwed without these guys.)

Legend

M*A*S*H was a memorable book, movie, and TV show. The TV show probably dragged on a few years past its "brilliant creativity" expiration date, but it stood out for its off-the-wall zaniness. The zaniest episode was one where a Halloween party at the M*A*S*H unit was interrupted by an influx of wounded and the surgeons went to work in costume. Hawkeye wore a gorilla suit beneath scrubs. The wounded soldier looked up to see King Kong scalpel in hand. His expression was priceless.

All of us want to be remembered as a legend. The trick is to go out with a bang. Add dishwashing detergent to the high school swimming pool and cause it to foam it to overflowing on graduation night and you'll be a legend. Personally consume a quarter keg of beer before Commencement and you'll be a college fraternity legend.

The problem is that after high school and college, there aren't a whole lot of occasions that are amenable to a grand, foolish, yet legendary act. In fact, the sole candidate is the last day before retirement at one's long-time employer. I dreamed of donning a gorilla suit for my last day of work and just walking around as if nothing was out of the ordinary. What could management do? Fire me? I'm out the door at 5 PM anyway.

And I'd be a legend! Babe Ruth will be remembered as long as there is baseball. "The Guy Who Wore the Gorilla Suit" would be remembered as long as there are cubicles.

Alas, I was unexpectedly downsized so I never had the chance to become a legend. Perhaps in my next life...

Proper, Courteous, and Professional

The "Workplace" column in today's newspaper is in Q & A format. Paraphrasing and adding comments in parentheses:

Q: Is there any law pertaining to how layoffs should be handled? Is an e-mail stating, ""Your services are no longer required" legal?

A: It's legal (Of course it is! If your boss can legally rummage through your personal possessions, spy on your internet usage, and tap your body fluids for drugs in the workplace, he can certainly fire you any way he wants) but it's also shameful.

Paul Munoz, president of HR Group, Inc. understands why some managers resort to it. It helps to minimize anxiety or fear over having to tell someone his or her position is being eliminated. (Oh, the anxiety and fear that those poor managers suffer when saying, "Your job is kaput, but I'm still getting my salary and bonuses. What are you reaching for there? A gun!")

It also saves time if a company has several locations. It is an efficient way of communicating the decision. ("One keystroke and I've eliminated fifty positions! What ever shall I do with the rest of my managerial day? Can I get a late morning tee time at the country club?")

The drawbacks outweigh the benefits. The electronic good-bye reduces the morale of the employees left behind (Though it certainly strikes fear in their hearts) as they see their employer as cold and stand-offish (As if there is a warm and fuzzy way of giving someone the axe. "Bob, you're the greatest. We would like to give you the opportunity to share your brilliance with the rest of the world rather than keeping you all to ourselves.)

Telling downsized employees that their position is eliminated on a face-to-face basis is proper, courteous, and professional. (And American corporations are nothing if not proper, courteous, and professional. When I got the axe, my boss was accompanied by a jack-booted security guard who properly, courteously, and professionally watched as I packed my personal belongings, accompanied me to my car, and made sure that I gave up my employee ID card and parking pass. Now I know that it could have been worse. I could have received the bad news by e-mail and walked the Last Mile accompanied by a robot.)

Twelve Miles High

The current issue of The New Yorker reports that NYC Mayor Michael Bloomberg's net worth is $17.5 billion. Put in layman's terms, "That's a stack of $100 bills twelve miles high."

Pilot to passengers, "We've reached our cruising altitude of 55,000 feet. To your left, we are passing over Mayor Bloomberg's cash pile. It's the same height as two Mount Everests stacked on top of each other."

The New Yorker continues, "He will have spent well over one hundred million dollars getting re-elected this year." and "He has spent more of his own money than any other individual in United States history in the pursuit of public office."

The old adage informs us, "You've got to spend money to make money" (or get elected). That's somewhat easier to accomplish when $100 million represents less than 1% of your net worth. If most Americans are worth $100,000 between the equity in their house, the Blue Book value of their cars, and their savings / investments, it's like coughing up $700 for a new suit and a salon makeover for that big job interview. It's worth it.

So good old Michael Bloomberg essentially did what any of the rest of us would do to land a good job.

American Health Care

Chief among the arguments against the proposed Health Care Plan is that we Americans will be forced to abandon our "best in the world" medical attention for the slipshod ministrations found in those "socialized" systems elsewhere. It's a small miracle that there are any Canadians, Brits or Europeans left living what with interminable waits for second-rate medical care outside our borders.

Maybe, just maybe, medical competence has nothing to do with whether the government, a private insurer or the patient pays the bills.

A Southern Lehigh HS Field Hockey player suffered a wrist injury in Friday's District XI championship game. According to the newspaper article, her wrist "swelled to tennis ball size. The orthopedist on duty said she probably burst a blood vessel, rather than breaking a bone."

Now there's a diagnosis to put House, MD to shame. "Your wrist is expanding faster than the National Debt. It's black and blue and ugly. You can't move it. It's PROBABLY just a burst blood vessel though. Nothing to worry about there. Internal bleeding usually isn't much of a problem unless you're a hemophiliac or something. If it was a broken bone, there would be bone fragments sticking through the skin. Now that would be a problem."

That's good old American Health Care, the best that money can buy! No wonder foreigners flock to our shores when they are really sick.

Death Worms

This was an actual question on Wednesday's "Who Wants To Be a Millionaire":

The Acid-Spitting Mongolian Death Worm is native to which of these locations:

A. The Himalayas

B. The Kalahari Desert

C. The Gobi Desert

D. I'm not sure, but one is crawling up your leg!!!

Mongolian Death Worms, especially the acid-spitting variety, are not among the cuddly, furry friends typically brought into school for Show and Tell. Most Americans are ignorant of their existence. The poor contestant was at a loss for a response and guessed "A. The Himalayas" when, in fact, the critical clue was in the very name of the beast. "Mongolian"equals north of China equals Gobi Desert. QED

"Millionaire" question trickery aside, wouldn't The Acid-Spitting Mongolian Death Worms be the coolest name ever for an athletic team? Lions, and Tigers, and Bears (Oh my!) are so common that they no longer strike fear into opponents' hearts. "Oh, we play the Bears this week. I'm so intimidated."

Let's see how you handle acid being spit into your face while this giant worm (probably resembling Jabba the Hutt of Star Wars fame) crushes you in a Mongolian Death Grip (popularized by the immortal wrestler Gorilla Monsoon, the Manchurian Landslide). Now, there's intimidation! The opposing teams might not even show up for the game.

Big time college programs have live mascots. The Colorado football team is led onto the field by a real buffalo. LSU keeps a caged tiger on its sidelines. That's all well and good, but the Fighting Mongolian Death Worms could surely get George Lucas to create a Jabba the Hutt animatron that would spit acid at the officials after questionable calls. Let's see Ralphie the Buffalo do that!

Vincent Lopez

Turner Classic Movies is the marvel of the cable TV universe. There are no commercials! When movies fail to fill the designated time slots, TCM fills in with travelogues, previews, and other "shorts" (but, sadly, never cartoons) that we fondly remember from our days at the neighborhood cinema.

Last night, TCM showed a 10 minute "short" from 1939 featuring Vincent Lopez and his Orchestra. Now, Vincent Lopez was my parents' favorite bandleader. They planned their wedding night at the Hotel Taft in NYC because Vincent Lopez was playing there. If not for their shared affection for Vincent, they might never have gotten together and I would not be here today.

I'd never seen or heard Old Vince in action. I figured him as a second rate Xavier Cugat, all frilly sleeves, fruit bowl on the head, 30s caricature of Latin Culture. The "short" showed Vincent as a dapper, tuxedo-clad pianist, his orchestra as Glenn Miller wannabes replete with the deal where the brass section chants catch phrases while the reed section plays. It featured Betty Hutton "America's #1 Jitterbug" as the requisite girl singer / dancer. My opinion of my parents' musical taste skyrocketed. These guys were cool and unlike the dour Lawrence Welk types that I remembered actually seemed to be having fun.

Then I realized that 1939 was every bit of 70 years ago. The "short's" final number had Betty backed by the male quartet. They were all smoking cigarettes while singing, apparently to give the song a sophisticated look. How tough it must be to hit that high C after a drag on a Chesterfield. I'm surprised that Vincent would allow it.

Jerseys

Forbes Magazine reports that the best-selling sports jersey this year is that of the Dallas Cowboys quarterback Tony Romo. The survey includes all sports, so Tony not only beats out fellow gridders like Bret Favre and Ben Roethlisberger, but basketball icons like Kobe and Lebron and even baseball stars like A-Rod and Derek Jeter.

How can this be? It's not like Tony Romo does lots of commercials like Favre or won the latest Super Bowl like Big Ben. What with the helmet and pads, we 're not even sure what Tony looks like whereas most sports fans would recognize Kobe, Lebron, A-Rod, or Derek if they walked up to them at the Lehigh Valley Mall.

The answer must lie with Tony's former main squeeze, Jessica Simpson. There must be plenty of lonely guys out there hoping against hope to encounter Jessica one day when she's not wearing her contact lenses. "Tony! You've gotten chubby, short, and bald, but I'd recognize that Cowboys jersey anywhere. Let me slip on my Daisy Dukes and we'll relive old times!"

Other than that, I can see no reason to wear a team jersey with an athlete's name on the back. Most jersey-wearers are kids. Is the youth of America playing a prank on us? "Yes, I am Kobe Bryant as you can plainly see by my Lakers jersey. Everyone tells me I'm much shorter, younger, and paler in real life."

The Power of Lithium

Among the manly items advertised during World Series telecasts is the Lithium Ion Drill. The only thing that could make it more macho would be if it were "turbo" or "hemi". My testosterone level peaks whenever I hear those adjectives.

According to the commercial, I can return my old, outmoded drill to Home Depot and get a big discount on this wave of the future device. Star Trek fans may recall that it was dilithium crystals that powered the Starship Enterprise. A Lithium Ion Drill sounds like something that Captain Kirk might use to beat back a Klingon attack. How can simple household repair tasks stand up to The Power of Lithium?

Along with Space Age power, the Lithium Ion Drill must be incredibly precise. High school chemistry tells us that the lithium ion (Atomic Number 3) is smaller than any known material save the hydrogen and helium ions. Any old drill can handle carbon, sulfur, or chromium. It takes incredible precision to drill those lithium ions!

Don't tell the Iranians, but all that uranium enrichment that they are doing is so 20th century. The thing to do is to take the lithium ions from these drills (available at your friendly neighborhood Home Depot), join them together into dilithium crystals, and use those to power phasers and even photon torpedoes. Hey, it worked for Captain Kirk.

Baby Einstein

The current issue of "Time" reports a $15.99 refund offered to dissatisfied purchasers of any Baby Einstein educational DVD after studies showed that the products did not improve infant intelligence.

Now, that is a disappointment. I had hoped that after propping an infant in front of the TV for a few hours of Baby Einstein, the kid would begin soliloquizing on the convertibility of matter to energy, win a Nobel Prize or two, and. at the very least, change his own diaper.

How did they determine whether Baby Einstein worked or not? "Here in Room A, we have Baby Einstein running in a continuous loop. Note that the infant is spitting up, pooping, and sleeping. Here in Room B, we have The Jerry Springer Show running in a continuous loop. Again, the infant is spitting up, pooping, and sleeping. There's no difference! Better get those $15.99 refund checks printed up."

"Wait a minute. Our production crew in Room B is also spitting up, pooping, and sleeping. The Springer Show must dumb down its viewers to the level of infants. Let's spin this to make back our Baby Einstein refunds!"

"Are you overweight, constipated, and sleep-deprived? This Jerry Springer DVD is the answer! After watching a few episodes like "My Mom slept with my pet ferret and my new little brothers and sisters were born naked and blind", you will upchuck that calorie-laden snack, your bowels will loosen, and you will sleep like a care-free baby. Call now. Operators are standing by."