If anyone out there has a single Size 15 football shoe, contact Bret Favre c/o the Minnesota Vikings.
America's Favorite Quarterback suffered two mini-fractures in his left ankle last week and his Consecutive Games Started Streak that dates back to the Pleistocene Era is in jeopardy. According to Sports Radio, Bret feels that replacing his usual Size 14 cleat on the injured appendage with padding in the next larger size will allow him to lead the Vikings to victory this weekend. Fortunately, Bret hauls in some $10 million per year so it shouldn't be a financial burden to him to have unusable mates to the shoes that he actually wears.
Like most sports fanatics, I am a failed athlete. We all wonder why the Bret Favres of the world succeeded when we failed. In my case, a lack of speed, strength, depth perception, and hand-eye coordination probably had a lot to do with it. Now I know of another reason why I am not trotting onto the field to face the NY Jets next Sunday - my foot size. Bret Favre is an average size guy, not a whole lot bigger than I am, yet he has Size 14 feet compared to my pathetic Size 10-1/2s. That must make all the difference.
The biggest feet in recorded athletic history belonged to a 7 foot basketball player named Bob Lanier at Size 23. That made sense. Without a large base, Bob would topple over. I would look and run about as fast as like Ronald McDonald if I had Size 23 feet. But if I'd been blessed with Size 14s, maybe I could have had Bret Favre's gridiron career, not to mention those Wrangler Jeans commercials. It was never the speed, strength, or coordination. it was the foot size the whole time.
Friday, October 29, 2010
Thursday, October 28, 2010
Fighting Fire with Fire
Stephen Colbert's guest on the 26 Oct episode of The Colbert Report was a septuagenarian author/historian plugging his new book. Here we go again, I thought. Colbert will play his madcap role and the guest will either be flustered or play along. In either case, it's time to switch over to the end of "Seinfeld" on Channel 29.
But it was a "Seinfeld" I'd seen a thousand times, so I switched back to Colbert to discover that once you've hit your 70s, you can abandon political correctness and tell the truth.
Colbert - "Isn't America the most divided it's ever been right now?"
Guest - "Well, there was the Civil War. We divided into two separate countries then and fought each other."
Colbert - "What would your mentor and famed conservative William Buckley make of the Tea Party?"
Guest - "He would say that they are vulgarian."
Colbert - "How do you explain the rise of the Tea Party Movement?"
Guest - "Those political beliefs have always been there. They are prominent now because we have a black man as president."
I gasped when I heard that and so did Stephen Colbert. It is so rare to hear a Liberal making an incendiary statement. When 25% of Americans believe that the president is a closet Muslim and there are billboards along I-70 asking "Where's the birth certificate?", it takes a septuagenarian on a Fake TV News Show to fight fire with fire. Good for him.
But it was a "Seinfeld" I'd seen a thousand times, so I switched back to Colbert to discover that once you've hit your 70s, you can abandon political correctness and tell the truth.
Colbert - "Isn't America the most divided it's ever been right now?"
Guest - "Well, there was the Civil War. We divided into two separate countries then and fought each other."
Colbert - "What would your mentor and famed conservative William Buckley make of the Tea Party?"
Guest - "He would say that they are vulgarian."
Colbert - "How do you explain the rise of the Tea Party Movement?"
Guest - "Those political beliefs have always been there. They are prominent now because we have a black man as president."
I gasped when I heard that and so did Stephen Colbert. It is so rare to hear a Liberal making an incendiary statement. When 25% of Americans believe that the president is a closet Muslim and there are billboards along I-70 asking "Where's the birth certificate?", it takes a septuagenarian on a Fake TV News Show to fight fire with fire. Good for him.
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
High School Redux
In a shocking development, Audrina Partridge was voted off "Dancing With The Stars" last night despite having the second-highest judges' score of the seven remaining contestants. Former football star Curt Warner and Alaska's First Daughter Bristol Palin live to fight (or dance) another day even though they scored lowest on Monday night's show. Judges Len, Bruno, and Carrie Ann were aghast at the public's choice.
Apparently, Len, Bruno, and Carrie Ann never went to high school. If a student combining the ruthlessness of Bismarck, the vision of Woodrow Wilson and the charm of Kennedy ran for Class President at Anywhere High, he would still lose to the good-looking jock who wears the right clothes and has the fashionable haircut even if said jock is functionally illiterate. Elections are popularity contests in high school and that continues in public life and even on Reality TV. The taller (and some would say better-looking) candidate has won every Presidential election since FDR (and we've got to give old Franklin a pass here what with the wheelchair and all).
An example from my high school days - To maximize their profits from the lucrative senior photo scam, a local photographer offered business card thingies embossed with "Central High Class of '65" and our names. This was before our wallet-size senior photos were available so it became the craze to write witticisms on the back of these business cards and distribute them to our closest hundred or so friends. There were about ten kids in the class from whom one could order these cards. Unsurprisingly, the pert and popular cheerleader girl sold about 90% of the cards while the other nine common folk shared the remainder even though they were the ones setting up "Buy Here" tables in the cafeteria. We tend to support the popular kid even if she doesn't try.
Most of us never mature beyond high school. We vote for Curt Warner and Bristol Palin because they are popular. So what if Audrina can dance circles around them. You've forgotten those Life Lessons from high school, Len, Bruno, and Carrie Ann.
Apparently, Len, Bruno, and Carrie Ann never went to high school. If a student combining the ruthlessness of Bismarck, the vision of Woodrow Wilson and the charm of Kennedy ran for Class President at Anywhere High, he would still lose to the good-looking jock who wears the right clothes and has the fashionable haircut even if said jock is functionally illiterate. Elections are popularity contests in high school and that continues in public life and even on Reality TV. The taller (and some would say better-looking) candidate has won every Presidential election since FDR (and we've got to give old Franklin a pass here what with the wheelchair and all).
An example from my high school days - To maximize their profits from the lucrative senior photo scam, a local photographer offered business card thingies embossed with "Central High Class of '65" and our names. This was before our wallet-size senior photos were available so it became the craze to write witticisms on the back of these business cards and distribute them to our closest hundred or so friends. There were about ten kids in the class from whom one could order these cards. Unsurprisingly, the pert and popular cheerleader girl sold about 90% of the cards while the other nine common folk shared the remainder even though they were the ones setting up "Buy Here" tables in the cafeteria. We tend to support the popular kid even if she doesn't try.
Most of us never mature beyond high school. We vote for Curt Warner and Bristol Palin because they are popular. So what if Audrina can dance circles around them. You've forgotten those Life Lessons from high school, Len, Bruno, and Carrie Ann.
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
Corporate Speak
Corporate Speak is a unique language, not unlike certain Chinese dialects wherein tone of voice and inflection rising or descending bring totally different meanings to the same words.
Foster Wheeler announced Friday that its CEO was departing after five months on the job "to pursue other interests." Note the absence of the modifier "regretfully" announce. In Corporate Speak, "regretfully" means "Not that we're really sorry to see the Old Man go since the rest of us get to move up a rung on the corporate ladder, but he was OK when he was sober." Deleting the "regretfully" means "It will take months to undo the damage that this clown did."
"To pursue other interests" raises the question, "What can those other interests possibly be for a former CEO?" Here's a guy who devoted thirty plus years of his working life to reaching the corner office and the reserved parking spot. Now, all of a sudden, has he has decided he will build miniature sailing ships in a bottle rather than collect lucrative stock options and go on company-sponsored junkets to Tahiti. The proper inflection for this announcement can either mean, "He's crazy" or "We all wish we could do the same thing."
The other classic Corporate Speak fate for former CEOs is "to spend more time with his family." Here, the tone of voice and inflection indicates "Maybe if he had spent more time with his wife earlier, she wouldn't be in the Betty Ford Clinic today." or "We would like to spend more time with that hot babe he ditched his first wife for, too."
Regardless of the true meaning of the announcement, the former CEO's "golden parachute" no doubt includes sufficient severance pay, stock options, and continuing health and other benefits that it is unlikely that we will see him in his blue vest greeting us at Wal-Mart any time soon.
Foster Wheeler announced Friday that its CEO was departing after five months on the job "to pursue other interests." Note the absence of the modifier "regretfully" announce. In Corporate Speak, "regretfully" means "Not that we're really sorry to see the Old Man go since the rest of us get to move up a rung on the corporate ladder, but he was OK when he was sober." Deleting the "regretfully" means "It will take months to undo the damage that this clown did."
"To pursue other interests" raises the question, "What can those other interests possibly be for a former CEO?" Here's a guy who devoted thirty plus years of his working life to reaching the corner office and the reserved parking spot. Now, all of a sudden, has he has decided he will build miniature sailing ships in a bottle rather than collect lucrative stock options and go on company-sponsored junkets to Tahiti. The proper inflection for this announcement can either mean, "He's crazy" or "We all wish we could do the same thing."
The other classic Corporate Speak fate for former CEOs is "to spend more time with his family." Here, the tone of voice and inflection indicates "Maybe if he had spent more time with his wife earlier, she wouldn't be in the Betty Ford Clinic today." or "We would like to spend more time with that hot babe he ditched his first wife for, too."
Regardless of the true meaning of the announcement, the former CEO's "golden parachute" no doubt includes sufficient severance pay, stock options, and continuing health and other benefits that it is unlikely that we will see him in his blue vest greeting us at Wal-Mart any time soon.
Monday, October 25, 2010
Phillies Remorse
Baseball players have always been on the cutting edge of popular coiffure and facial hair styles.
We Phillies fans fondly(?) remember when Mike Schmidt and Greg Luzinski went with the permed white guy Afro look back in the late '70s. Al "The Mad Hungarian" Hrabosky and "Goose" Gossage pioneered the Fu-Manchu mustache during the same era. More recently, Philadelphia's Jimmy Rollins went with the Stevie Wonder beaded dreadlocks look. Raul Ibanez retained his "Mr Clean" shaved head, and Chase Utley went back in time for the Michael Douglas / Gordon Gecko slicked-back hair style.
One of the common reasons given for the Phillies failure to defeat the Giants this year was that our boys are aging and couldn't keep up with those young, aggressive San Franciscans. Is this reflected by a comparison of hair styles? Jimmy, Raul, and Chase are clearly living in the past as indicated by their coiffures. The Giants, on the other hand, have Tim Lincecum's shoulder-length hair with a Mary Tyler Moore-like "flip" on the end. Is this the cutting edge for 2010? The Giants' star relief pitcher, Brain Wilson, has a mohawk complemented by a full beard that he blackens with what appears to be shoe polish. Is this "the look" for the upcoming decade? Phillies-killer Cody Ransom has a shaved head but a well-trimmed beard at his jaw line. Again, is new hair / beard style ground being broken before our very eyes?
Should the Giants win the World Series, their youthful exuberance as reflected by the Mary Tyler Moore "flip", the mohawk / blackened beard, and the shaved head / jawline beard will be a big factor. The Phillies should take note, abandon their outmoded looks and get with the times. Our boys may not be young, but they can look young.
We Phillies fans fondly(?) remember when Mike Schmidt and Greg Luzinski went with the permed white guy Afro look back in the late '70s. Al "The Mad Hungarian" Hrabosky and "Goose" Gossage pioneered the Fu-Manchu mustache during the same era. More recently, Philadelphia's Jimmy Rollins went with the Stevie Wonder beaded dreadlocks look. Raul Ibanez retained his "Mr Clean" shaved head, and Chase Utley went back in time for the Michael Douglas / Gordon Gecko slicked-back hair style.
One of the common reasons given for the Phillies failure to defeat the Giants this year was that our boys are aging and couldn't keep up with those young, aggressive San Franciscans. Is this reflected by a comparison of hair styles? Jimmy, Raul, and Chase are clearly living in the past as indicated by their coiffures. The Giants, on the other hand, have Tim Lincecum's shoulder-length hair with a Mary Tyler Moore-like "flip" on the end. Is this the cutting edge for 2010? The Giants' star relief pitcher, Brain Wilson, has a mohawk complemented by a full beard that he blackens with what appears to be shoe polish. Is this "the look" for the upcoming decade? Phillies-killer Cody Ransom has a shaved head but a well-trimmed beard at his jaw line. Again, is new hair / beard style ground being broken before our very eyes?
Should the Giants win the World Series, their youthful exuberance as reflected by the Mary Tyler Moore "flip", the mohawk / blackened beard, and the shaved head / jawline beard will be a big factor. The Phillies should take note, abandon their outmoded looks and get with the times. Our boys may not be young, but they can look young.
Friday, October 22, 2010
Premature Indulgence
Last night was the 30th anniversary of the Phillies 1980 World Series win. The commentators mentioned this as the Phillies - Giants game dragged on for 3-1/2 hours. Hey, you've got to say something while the batter re-fastens his gloves for the third time and the pitcher stares in at the catcher longer (but less lovingly) than Kate Winslet gazed at Leonardo DiCaprio as he sank into the frigid North Atlantic.
Ah yes, I remember October 21, 1980 well. The Phillies had gone since 1915 without a championship at that point. There had been close calls in 1950, 1964, and the late '70s, but to no avail. Surely, they would find a way to break Phillies fans' hearts again. But the Phils had a lead! This could be it! Even though it was a Tuesday night, I had a celebratory drink. Then the Royals rallied. I had a drink to soften the blow of the inevitable collapse. But they held on! I had an anticipatory drink. Then the Royals put runners on base. I had yet another drink to calm my nerves. Finally, Tug McGraw struck out Willie Wilson and the Phillies were World Champions. If that doesn't call for a drink, what does?
Unfortunately, I was still hungover when the Phils had their Victory Parade two days later. "That's OK, There will be plenty more Phillies championships and I'll definitely make it to those parades."
Not exactly. I regretted my October 21, 1980 indulgence for 28 long years until the Phils finally won it again in 2008. Could nearly three decades of futility be punishment for my premature indulgence in 1980? I'm not taking any chances. This year, my liquid intake is limited to diet soda. Go, Phils!
Ah yes, I remember October 21, 1980 well. The Phillies had gone since 1915 without a championship at that point. There had been close calls in 1950, 1964, and the late '70s, but to no avail. Surely, they would find a way to break Phillies fans' hearts again. But the Phils had a lead! This could be it! Even though it was a Tuesday night, I had a celebratory drink. Then the Royals rallied. I had a drink to soften the blow of the inevitable collapse. But they held on! I had an anticipatory drink. Then the Royals put runners on base. I had yet another drink to calm my nerves. Finally, Tug McGraw struck out Willie Wilson and the Phillies were World Champions. If that doesn't call for a drink, what does?
Unfortunately, I was still hungover when the Phils had their Victory Parade two days later. "That's OK, There will be plenty more Phillies championships and I'll definitely make it to those parades."
Not exactly. I regretted my October 21, 1980 indulgence for 28 long years until the Phils finally won it again in 2008. Could nearly three decades of futility be punishment for my premature indulgence in 1980? I'm not taking any chances. This year, my liquid intake is limited to diet soda. Go, Phils!
Thursday, October 21, 2010
The Buster Factor
Our Fightin' Phils are one game away from elimination in the playoffs and I know why.
Last night, the Giants' Buster Posey went 4 for 5 and pretty much defeated our boys single-handed. Clearly, the Phillies with a lineup featuring guys named Chase, Shane, Ryan, and Brad cannot stand up to a rough-and-tumble guy named Buster. The Phillies' Chase, Shane, Ryan, and Brad sounds like the starting line-up for a prep school chess team (without the odd Vladimir that the top-notch chess teams have.) When it comes to real sport, give me a line-up like the Giants with Buster, Jose, Pablo, and Edgar. Those are names to strike fear into opponent's hearts.
Buster is, of course, a nickname. Young Mr Posey's real first name is Gerald. A name like Gerald Posey may cut it in the corporate boardroom, but not at Citizens Bank Park. Imagine the catcalls from Phillies fans. "Gerald! Ger-r-r-ald!" Imagine the chants when he comes to bat. "Ring around the rosie. A pocketful of Posey." Gerald Posey could never get four hits and push the Phillies to the brink of elimination, but Buster Posey can.
The coolest name ever for an athlete was Bronko Nagurski. Without seeing him (and he played football way before it was televised), you just knew that he would as soon run you over as look at you. You were defeated before you even went on the field. It may be too late to save this season, but the Phillies need to re-name their players - "Bronko" Utley, "Butch" Victorino, "Iron Mike" Howard, etc. If nothing else, it will neutralize the Buster Factor.
By the way, athlete's nicknames need not be limited by the macho factor. The best nickname I ever heard was Rodney "Cool Breeze" Scott who played for the Expos many years ago. Rodney wasn't much of a ballplayer, but with a name like that, you know that he was never intimidated.
Last night, the Giants' Buster Posey went 4 for 5 and pretty much defeated our boys single-handed. Clearly, the Phillies with a lineup featuring guys named Chase, Shane, Ryan, and Brad cannot stand up to a rough-and-tumble guy named Buster. The Phillies' Chase, Shane, Ryan, and Brad sounds like the starting line-up for a prep school chess team (without the odd Vladimir that the top-notch chess teams have.) When it comes to real sport, give me a line-up like the Giants with Buster, Jose, Pablo, and Edgar. Those are names to strike fear into opponent's hearts.
Buster is, of course, a nickname. Young Mr Posey's real first name is Gerald. A name like Gerald Posey may cut it in the corporate boardroom, but not at Citizens Bank Park. Imagine the catcalls from Phillies fans. "Gerald! Ger-r-r-ald!" Imagine the chants when he comes to bat. "Ring around the rosie. A pocketful of Posey." Gerald Posey could never get four hits and push the Phillies to the brink of elimination, but Buster Posey can.
The coolest name ever for an athlete was Bronko Nagurski. Without seeing him (and he played football way before it was televised), you just knew that he would as soon run you over as look at you. You were defeated before you even went on the field. It may be too late to save this season, but the Phillies need to re-name their players - "Bronko" Utley, "Butch" Victorino, "Iron Mike" Howard, etc. If nothing else, it will neutralize the Buster Factor.
By the way, athlete's nicknames need not be limited by the macho factor. The best nickname I ever heard was Rodney "Cool Breeze" Scott who played for the Expos many years ago. Rodney wasn't much of a ballplayer, but with a name like that, you know that he was never intimidated.
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
Justin's Retirement Plan
As I understand it, "rap" music began as the anguished cry of the oppressed against "the man". Today, of course, it has evolved into a semi-obscene call for sexual favors. How, then, are we to interpret the mini-rap that recently set the Sports World on its ear.
A bit of background. Possibly resulting from a mid-life crisis, star NFL quarterback Tom Brady abandoned his previously nondescript hair style for the forehead-concealing side sweep favored by much of today's youth. The true progenitor of this hairdo, Justin Bieber, sent a mini-rap in protest:
"Sacked like a sacker (Note the football reference. Justin may be Canadian but he's very cosmopolitan.)
Call up Mr Brady.
Tell him to link his hair
To the guy who sings Baby. (Referring, of course, to Justin himself)"
Perhaps, this was all in fun. Still, when a multi-millionaire teen heartthrob calls out a multi-millionaire athlete, it is news on many fronts, not the least of which are our outmoded copyright and trademark laws. Authors and music composers can copyright their work and demand royalties when others use it. Why can't Justin Bieber copyright his hairdo? Before Justin, only vain, balding men (Yes, I mean you, Donald Trump.) went with the side sweep. Now, it is everywhere, even on the head of an All-Pro quarterback. Doesn't Justin deserve something for his courageous pioneering effort?
The pop culture landscape is littered with the shattered dreams of former teen idols. Hansen is playing at Holiday Inns nowadays. Leif Garrett has been in and out of jail. Ten years from now, the Jonas Brothers will be appearing at a Church of the Nazarene near you. Although it is possible that "Baby" will become a royalty-generating classic like "White Christmas", Justin Bieber's best bet for a steady cash flow in his dotage is not his music, but his copyrighted hair style. As the years go by, male pattern baldness among today's youth will cause them to retain the Justin look and those royalties will just keep on coming. Justin can sit back and count his money.
A bit of background. Possibly resulting from a mid-life crisis, star NFL quarterback Tom Brady abandoned his previously nondescript hair style for the forehead-concealing side sweep favored by much of today's youth. The true progenitor of this hairdo, Justin Bieber, sent a mini-rap in protest:
"Sacked like a sacker (Note the football reference. Justin may be Canadian but he's very cosmopolitan.)
Call up Mr Brady.
Tell him to link his hair
To the guy who sings Baby. (Referring, of course, to Justin himself)"
Perhaps, this was all in fun. Still, when a multi-millionaire teen heartthrob calls out a multi-millionaire athlete, it is news on many fronts, not the least of which are our outmoded copyright and trademark laws. Authors and music composers can copyright their work and demand royalties when others use it. Why can't Justin Bieber copyright his hairdo? Before Justin, only vain, balding men (Yes, I mean you, Donald Trump.) went with the side sweep. Now, it is everywhere, even on the head of an All-Pro quarterback. Doesn't Justin deserve something for his courageous pioneering effort?
The pop culture landscape is littered with the shattered dreams of former teen idols. Hansen is playing at Holiday Inns nowadays. Leif Garrett has been in and out of jail. Ten years from now, the Jonas Brothers will be appearing at a Church of the Nazarene near you. Although it is possible that "Baby" will become a royalty-generating classic like "White Christmas", Justin Bieber's best bet for a steady cash flow in his dotage is not his music, but his copyrighted hair style. As the years go by, male pattern baldness among today's youth will cause them to retain the Justin look and those royalties will just keep on coming. Justin can sit back and count his money.
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
The Invisible Hand
Bargain alert!
A humble abode in Salisbury Township is reduced in price from $4.9 million to $3.4 million. The 18,000 SF, 24 room home on 2.6 acres has been on the market for about 18 months and its owner "would like to build another equal in size or larger for himself and his family." He must have a large family. The house includes both an indoor and an outdoor pool with waterfalls and privacy landscaping (Skinnydipping, anyone?), a fully-outfitted home theater (It's such a bother to go to the Cineplex.), a music room (No doubt soundproofed so Junior's rendition of Chopsticks doesn't disturb the servants), an elevator (Stairs are so primitive.), a second kitchen (Cooking on the same old appliances every day is such a bore.), a home gym / spa (Have to maintain that slim,girlish figure.), and an eight car garage (A car for every day of the week plus a spare.)
The realtor notes that it is not unusual for a home of this size and magnificence to take longer to sell especially in the current real estate market. Ain't it the truth? What with that socialist Obama threatening to eliminate our precious Bush Era Tax Cuts, our new Dream Home may be downsized to 18 rooms, a six car garage, stairs and (gasp!) just a single kitchen.
A foundation of modern economics is Adam Smith's concept of The Invisible Hand (which would be a great title for a horror movie). In a perfect market, The Invisible Hand draws supply and demand together at a selling price acceptable to both. Too high a price and suppliers will produce, but consumers will be unwilling to buy. Too low a price and consumers will demand the product, but suppliers won't produce it.
The Invisible Hand is drawing me toward that home in Salisbury Twp. Its price has to drop a mere $3.3 million more and I'll be luxuriating under that waterfall.
A humble abode in Salisbury Township is reduced in price from $4.9 million to $3.4 million. The 18,000 SF, 24 room home on 2.6 acres has been on the market for about 18 months and its owner "would like to build another equal in size or larger for himself and his family." He must have a large family. The house includes both an indoor and an outdoor pool with waterfalls and privacy landscaping (Skinnydipping, anyone?), a fully-outfitted home theater (It's such a bother to go to the Cineplex.), a music room (No doubt soundproofed so Junior's rendition of Chopsticks doesn't disturb the servants), an elevator (Stairs are so primitive.), a second kitchen (Cooking on the same old appliances every day is such a bore.), a home gym / spa (Have to maintain that slim,girlish figure.), and an eight car garage (A car for every day of the week plus a spare.)
The realtor notes that it is not unusual for a home of this size and magnificence to take longer to sell especially in the current real estate market. Ain't it the truth? What with that socialist Obama threatening to eliminate our precious Bush Era Tax Cuts, our new Dream Home may be downsized to 18 rooms, a six car garage, stairs and (gasp!) just a single kitchen.
A foundation of modern economics is Adam Smith's concept of The Invisible Hand (which would be a great title for a horror movie). In a perfect market, The Invisible Hand draws supply and demand together at a selling price acceptable to both. Too high a price and suppliers will produce, but consumers will be unwilling to buy. Too low a price and consumers will demand the product, but suppliers won't produce it.
The Invisible Hand is drawing me toward that home in Salisbury Twp. Its price has to drop a mere $3.3 million more and I'll be luxuriating under that waterfall.
Monday, October 18, 2010
Updating Peanuts
Charles M. Schulz's "Peanuts" is timeless. It meant one thing to me as a child when The Great Pumpkin failed to appear, when the tree ate Charlie's kite, and when Lucy pulled the ball just before Charlie kicked it. As an adult, it means another. Life is bittersweet, indeed.
Still, "timeless" sometimes means "dated". Yesterday's "Peanuts" had Linus receiving a check for $0.35 from the tooth fairy with the warning, "Do not fold, bend, spindle, or mutilate. Know your endorser." Linus quipped, "Expanded business means improved methods." Charlie responded, "I can't deny it."
The humor in this probably goes right over the head of 21st century readers. In the 60s and 70s, government checks were not on magnetic ink printed paper, but on key-punched computer cards. If the recipient folded, bent, or mutilated them, the primitive computer of those days would come to a grinding halt. If a clever recipient "spindled" them adding additional holes, a $0.35 check could be misread as $35,000. Linus' point was that The Tooth Fairy had gone big business. I wonder how many readers picked up on that dated reference to "Do not fold, bend, spindle, or mutilate."
By the way, my very first desk in Corporate America back in 1972 came equipped with a spindle. The 4" long stainless needle on a wooden block was perfect for securing those "While You Were Out" message pad leafs. Many an inexperienced secretary developed stigmata on her palms by carelessly spindling message sheets. Naturally, the spindle created a hole in the message sheet usually obliterating a digit or two of the phone number that you were supposed to call back which was a great excuse for not returning that call that you really didn't want to take in the first place. Caller ID and voice mail are so much more effective in avoiding unwanted calls.
If Charles M. Schulz was still with us today, I wonder if he wouldn't update yesterday's "Peanuts". Linus would show Charlie the check and say, "Original Document. Do not write, stamp, or sign below this line. Reserved for Financial Institution Use. Expanded business means improved methods".
Now the 21st century reader gets it.
Still, "timeless" sometimes means "dated". Yesterday's "Peanuts" had Linus receiving a check for $0.35 from the tooth fairy with the warning, "Do not fold, bend, spindle, or mutilate. Know your endorser." Linus quipped, "Expanded business means improved methods." Charlie responded, "I can't deny it."
The humor in this probably goes right over the head of 21st century readers. In the 60s and 70s, government checks were not on magnetic ink printed paper, but on key-punched computer cards. If the recipient folded, bent, or mutilated them, the primitive computer of those days would come to a grinding halt. If a clever recipient "spindled" them adding additional holes, a $0.35 check could be misread as $35,000. Linus' point was that The Tooth Fairy had gone big business. I wonder how many readers picked up on that dated reference to "Do not fold, bend, spindle, or mutilate."
By the way, my very first desk in Corporate America back in 1972 came equipped with a spindle. The 4" long stainless needle on a wooden block was perfect for securing those "While You Were Out" message pad leafs. Many an inexperienced secretary developed stigmata on her palms by carelessly spindling message sheets. Naturally, the spindle created a hole in the message sheet usually obliterating a digit or two of the phone number that you were supposed to call back which was a great excuse for not returning that call that you really didn't want to take in the first place. Caller ID and voice mail are so much more effective in avoiding unwanted calls.
If Charles M. Schulz was still with us today, I wonder if he wouldn't update yesterday's "Peanuts". Linus would show Charlie the check and say, "Original Document. Do not write, stamp, or sign below this line. Reserved for Financial Institution Use. Expanded business means improved methods".
Now the 21st century reader gets it.
Friday, October 15, 2010
Money Makes the World Go 'Round
A TV commercial break does not go by in this election season without a 30 second spot where an extremely unflattering photo of Candidate A is shown on the screen and he is accused of raising taxes and not creating jobs. Candidate B does not explain by what magic he will provide governmental services without taxes or jobs without economic growth, but that's OK. It's easier to vote against scary-looking, tousle-haired, red-eyed Candidate A than to consider that Candidate B will be subject to the same economic facts--of-life if he is elected.
Not to be cynical, but the real name of the game is money. The Natural Gas Lobby has invested a whopping $350K in Tom Corbett's gubernatorial campaign. Tom, therefore, opposes any tax on natural gas extracted from new fields in Pennsylvania. The Lobby has invested a mere $60K in his opponent's campaign. Dan Onerato, feeling slighted, is "leaning toward" an extraction tax. Of course, that's subject to change if a few more bucks roll in to campaign coffers.
While a combined $410K seems like a lot of money, the new Pennsylvania fields may contain enough natural gas to last for 30 years. If the fields produce $1 billion per year in full production and the PA state extraction tax is 1%, that $410K "campaign contribution" will pay off to the tune of an additional $10 million per year. Not a bad investment.
The rationale for not taxing the natural gas is that "it will drive producers away." That's strange. Every other natural gas-producing state taxes it and the producers are still in business.
Obviously, this is a gross oversimplification. Still, this is the sort of thing that should be featured in those ubiquitous TV political spots rather than "My opponent roasts adorable puppies and eats them for lunch."
Not to be cynical, but the real name of the game is money. The Natural Gas Lobby has invested a whopping $350K in Tom Corbett's gubernatorial campaign. Tom, therefore, opposes any tax on natural gas extracted from new fields in Pennsylvania. The Lobby has invested a mere $60K in his opponent's campaign. Dan Onerato, feeling slighted, is "leaning toward" an extraction tax. Of course, that's subject to change if a few more bucks roll in to campaign coffers.
While a combined $410K seems like a lot of money, the new Pennsylvania fields may contain enough natural gas to last for 30 years. If the fields produce $1 billion per year in full production and the PA state extraction tax is 1%, that $410K "campaign contribution" will pay off to the tune of an additional $10 million per year. Not a bad investment.
The rationale for not taxing the natural gas is that "it will drive producers away." That's strange. Every other natural gas-producing state taxes it and the producers are still in business.
Obviously, this is a gross oversimplification. Still, this is the sort of thing that should be featured in those ubiquitous TV political spots rather than "My opponent roasts adorable puppies and eats them for lunch."
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
Lumberjack Dreams
Our childhood dreams of a career as a cowboy or an astronaut are generally quashed by the time we reach puberty or encounter Algebra 1. We realize that companionship from the opposite gender is hard to come by on the prairie. So much for the cowboy life. Also, if we can't figure out that "Plane A leaves at 7 AM travelling at 500 mph and Plane B leaves at 8 AM travelling at 600 mph, when will Plane B pass Plane A?" thing, we will never pilot our capsule back to Earth from the moon. Astronaut is out, too.
I had always placed a career as a lumberjack in the same unattainable category. As much as I wanted to accompany the plaid-shirted guy on the Brawny paper towel packages wandering through the Forest Primeval singing, "I'm a lumberjack and I'm OK", there aren't a whole lot of primeval forests here in the Lehigh Valley and even if there were, where could I get a Real Lumberjack's Breakfast? Those tall timbers don't fall unless you are fueled by massive amounts of carbohydrates and protein.
Now there is hope. Subway currently offers a "Breakfast $5 foot-long". Paul Bunyan himself would have trouble polishing off a 12" breakfast sandwich. All I have to do to attain my lumberjacking dreams is don my Brawny Man plaid shirt, pick up my chain saw, and trot on over to Subway. Look out, redwoods!
There is one potential problem though. After a $5 foot-long Lumberjack's Breakfast, I'll need a nap for proper digestion. Those redwoods get a reprieve for now.
I had always placed a career as a lumberjack in the same unattainable category. As much as I wanted to accompany the plaid-shirted guy on the Brawny paper towel packages wandering through the Forest Primeval singing, "I'm a lumberjack and I'm OK", there aren't a whole lot of primeval forests here in the Lehigh Valley and even if there were, where could I get a Real Lumberjack's Breakfast? Those tall timbers don't fall unless you are fueled by massive amounts of carbohydrates and protein.
Now there is hope. Subway currently offers a "Breakfast $5 foot-long". Paul Bunyan himself would have trouble polishing off a 12" breakfast sandwich. All I have to do to attain my lumberjacking dreams is don my Brawny Man plaid shirt, pick up my chain saw, and trot on over to Subway. Look out, redwoods!
There is one potential problem though. After a $5 foot-long Lumberjack's Breakfast, I'll need a nap for proper digestion. Those redwoods get a reprieve for now.
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
Superstition
As a Man of Science in the 21st century, I scoff at superstition. The whole Friday the 13th, knock on wood, toss the salt over the shoulder. "geshundheit" after sneezing thing just doesn't fit in to our modern digital age. I've had good Friday the 13ths. Those evil spirits don't rise and smite me if I fail to knock on wood, toss salt, or say "gesundheit".
There is one superstition that never fails though. Any morning that begins with dog vomit on the floor is bound to be a bad one. Cleaning up canine barf is always the precursor to a dreadful day. My first sight this morning was a pile of semi-digested kibble alongside an apologetic-looking dog. October 12, 2010 will not end well.
I wonder if Napoleon's dog barfed on the morning of Waterloo. "He's just nervous about the upcoming battle, Emperor. Let's get at that Wellington." Did Captain Smith's dog on the Titanic spew chunks on that fateful day? "Ar-r-rh, don't worry about it Captain. The pooch is just a little seasick. Those icebergs shouldn't be a problem either." Did Archduke Francis Ferdinand's pet canine vomit before that fateful car ride? "It's that Sarjevo kibble getting to him, sire. Let's take down the top and roll down the windows on the royal car to air it out. The people will get a better look at you this way."
History would have changed if people had heeded the warnings of their pets. I'm taking no chances. Not only will I spend today in the safety in my bed, I'm hiding under it.
There is one superstition that never fails though. Any morning that begins with dog vomit on the floor is bound to be a bad one. Cleaning up canine barf is always the precursor to a dreadful day. My first sight this morning was a pile of semi-digested kibble alongside an apologetic-looking dog. October 12, 2010 will not end well.
I wonder if Napoleon's dog barfed on the morning of Waterloo. "He's just nervous about the upcoming battle, Emperor. Let's get at that Wellington." Did Captain Smith's dog on the Titanic spew chunks on that fateful day? "Ar-r-rh, don't worry about it Captain. The pooch is just a little seasick. Those icebergs shouldn't be a problem either." Did Archduke Francis Ferdinand's pet canine vomit before that fateful car ride? "It's that Sarjevo kibble getting to him, sire. Let's take down the top and roll down the windows on the royal car to air it out. The people will get a better look at you this way."
History would have changed if people had heeded the warnings of their pets. I'm taking no chances. Not only will I spend today in the safety in my bed, I'm hiding under it.
Monday, October 11, 2010
Machismo Regained
Thirty years ago, our Lehigh Valley was a seething cauldron of machismo. By the sweat of our manly brows, we forged Bethlehem Steel and assembled Mack Trucks. Our high schools provided Mike Guman, Mike Hartenstine, and Keith Dorney to Joe Paterno's all-conquering Nittany Lions not to mention the Leiberman brothers, Cuvo, and Weaver to NCAA wrestling championships. On the professional side of things, we gave the world its heavyweight boxing champion in Larry Holmes and an auto racing legend in Mario Andretti. Steel, trucks, football, wrestling, boxing, and racing - if it dripped in testosterone, the Lehigh Valley excelled.
That was then. This is now. Casinos and "lifestyle" malls sit where Bethlehem Steel and Mack Trucks once did. Joe Paterno looks elsewhere for his gridders. NCAA wrestling champs come from Iowa. No one knows (or cares) who the current heavyweight champion is though I'm pretty sure he comes from Russia. The most famous race car driver in the world is a girl, for heaven's sake. The Lehigh Valley has lost its mojo.
There is hope! Joe Lehigh Valley may have lost his steelmaking, truck assembly, touchdown scoring, wrestling takedown, left jabbing, and lead-footing skills, but as long as there are funnel cakes, pierogies, and cheese steaks out there, Joe can eat with the best of them. TV's Food Network is featuring the Clinton Station Diner's 50-pound "Eighth Wonder" burger on an upcoming show. There's a $5,000 reward if a group of eleven can finish it off in less than an hour.
The true reward is not the $5,000. It's national respect. Come on, Lehigh Valley. Rise to the challenge. Consume that 50-pound hamburger. Regain our machismo. When America thinks of the Lehigh Valley, let's replace that depressing Billy Joel song with some hard core gluttony.
That was then. This is now. Casinos and "lifestyle" malls sit where Bethlehem Steel and Mack Trucks once did. Joe Paterno looks elsewhere for his gridders. NCAA wrestling champs come from Iowa. No one knows (or cares) who the current heavyweight champion is though I'm pretty sure he comes from Russia. The most famous race car driver in the world is a girl, for heaven's sake. The Lehigh Valley has lost its mojo.
There is hope! Joe Lehigh Valley may have lost his steelmaking, truck assembly, touchdown scoring, wrestling takedown, left jabbing, and lead-footing skills, but as long as there are funnel cakes, pierogies, and cheese steaks out there, Joe can eat with the best of them. TV's Food Network is featuring the Clinton Station Diner's 50-pound "Eighth Wonder" burger on an upcoming show. There's a $5,000 reward if a group of eleven can finish it off in less than an hour.
The true reward is not the $5,000. It's national respect. Come on, Lehigh Valley. Rise to the challenge. Consume that 50-pound hamburger. Regain our machismo. When America thinks of the Lehigh Valley, let's replace that depressing Billy Joel song with some hard core gluttony.
Friday, October 8, 2010
Stewed
The most innocuous word can release a repressed traumatic memory.
A character in a 1930s movie that I watched on TCM yesterday referred to a drunken friend as being "stewed". I shuddered as my mind raced back to Basic Training in the summer of '69. We had just returned from a Field Training Exercise, 72 hours of simulated combat. To insure that the woods and dales of Indiantown Gap Military Reservation were not covered in human waste from the thousands of ROTC cadets training there, the Army kept us on short and binding rations during FTXs. When we returned to the barracks though, the Army recognized that a constipated cadet was not a happy, healthy cadet. Our first breakfast in the mess hall consisted of all-bran flakes and a bowl of stewed prunes.
"You can take or leave the cereal, son, but you've got to eat those stewed prunes," said the Mess Sergeant. Our Tac Officer made sure that we consumed every morsel of steaming, roughage-rich goodness. Little encouragement was necessary. Hot, tasty food was a welcome relief after three days of cold rations. Then the stewed prunes did their magic.
Our barracks had six water closets for 60 cadets. The water closets saw a month's worth of usage in two hours. With an anguished comrade-in-arms waiting, one tended to bypass many of the standard hygienic, clean-up requirements. Our latrine soon resembled that public latrine from "Slumdog Millionaire".
This was particularly distressing to me and Jim Corbett because we were Latrine Orderlies that cursed day. After the last bit of stewed prunes had cleared the collective alimentary tracts of Training Platoon 3/A/3, we covered our mouths and noses with a rag dipped in Clorox against the stench and began scrubbing and cleaning.
It's a memory I've repressed for 41 years. Then a simple comment from an old movie and the horror returns.
A character in a 1930s movie that I watched on TCM yesterday referred to a drunken friend as being "stewed". I shuddered as my mind raced back to Basic Training in the summer of '69. We had just returned from a Field Training Exercise, 72 hours of simulated combat. To insure that the woods and dales of Indiantown Gap Military Reservation were not covered in human waste from the thousands of ROTC cadets training there, the Army kept us on short and binding rations during FTXs. When we returned to the barracks though, the Army recognized that a constipated cadet was not a happy, healthy cadet. Our first breakfast in the mess hall consisted of all-bran flakes and a bowl of stewed prunes.
"You can take or leave the cereal, son, but you've got to eat those stewed prunes," said the Mess Sergeant. Our Tac Officer made sure that we consumed every morsel of steaming, roughage-rich goodness. Little encouragement was necessary. Hot, tasty food was a welcome relief after three days of cold rations. Then the stewed prunes did their magic.
Our barracks had six water closets for 60 cadets. The water closets saw a month's worth of usage in two hours. With an anguished comrade-in-arms waiting, one tended to bypass many of the standard hygienic, clean-up requirements. Our latrine soon resembled that public latrine from "Slumdog Millionaire".
This was particularly distressing to me and Jim Corbett because we were Latrine Orderlies that cursed day. After the last bit of stewed prunes had cleared the collective alimentary tracts of Training Platoon 3/A/3, we covered our mouths and noses with a rag dipped in Clorox against the stench and began scrubbing and cleaning.
It's a memory I've repressed for 41 years. Then a simple comment from an old movie and the horror returns.
Thursday, October 7, 2010
Clean Skies (and Dirty Water)
Our beloved Pennsylvania had abundant natural resources. The Keystone State was home to America's very first oil well. Pennsylvania coal made our steel industry possible. Those resources are pretty well tapped out nowadays, but 21st century technology allows exploitation of the natural gas lying beneath about half of the state. Of course, that technology involves injecting water and chemicals at high pressure deep underground to free the gas and no one is really sure of the long-term effects on our water supply. Still, energy companies are conscientious stewards of the environment and what could possibly go wrong? It's not as if an energy giant like BP would screw up after all.
The American Clean Skies Foundation placed a full-page ad in a recent issue of The New Yorker to keep those hippie tree huggers at bay. "Each new rig that appears on the horizon is more than a drilling rig. It's an employment engine...providing high-paying quality jobs right when we need them the most. The rig is only used for three to seven weeks and is then replaced by a small wellhead or Christmas Tree. Chances are you'll be surprised at its small footprint on the natural landscape."
There you have it. A few weeks of dirty, nasty drilling, a few weeks of tearing up the woods with roads that will soon be abandoned, a couple thousand gallons of toxic, muddy waste water, but we'll end up with adorable Christmas Trees providing clean skies-worthy energy.
The timing of this public relations campaign is interesting. Elections are less than a month away. The Republican candidate for governor has stated that he will not tax the natural gas extracted from Pennsylvania. After all, it might drive the energy companies away. Inspecting the drilling process and placing some environmental safeguards on it would certainly do the same. We would lose all those high-paying quality jobs not to mention those adorable "Christmas Trees" ! We might also have undrinkable water, but that's what bottled water is for.
The 19th century Oil Boom polluted the Allegheny watershed. The 20th century Coal Rush led to mine acid in the Susquehanna. Let's see what the 21st century Natural Gas Bonanza can do for our groundwater.
The American Clean Skies Foundation placed a full-page ad in a recent issue of The New Yorker to keep those hippie tree huggers at bay. "Each new rig that appears on the horizon is more than a drilling rig. It's an employment engine...providing high-paying quality jobs right when we need them the most. The rig is only used for three to seven weeks and is then replaced by a small wellhead or Christmas Tree. Chances are you'll be surprised at its small footprint on the natural landscape."
There you have it. A few weeks of dirty, nasty drilling, a few weeks of tearing up the woods with roads that will soon be abandoned, a couple thousand gallons of toxic, muddy waste water, but we'll end up with adorable Christmas Trees providing clean skies-worthy energy.
The timing of this public relations campaign is interesting. Elections are less than a month away. The Republican candidate for governor has stated that he will not tax the natural gas extracted from Pennsylvania. After all, it might drive the energy companies away. Inspecting the drilling process and placing some environmental safeguards on it would certainly do the same. We would lose all those high-paying quality jobs not to mention those adorable "Christmas Trees" ! We might also have undrinkable water, but that's what bottled water is for.
The 19th century Oil Boom polluted the Allegheny watershed. The 20th century Coal Rush led to mine acid in the Susquehanna. Let's see what the 21st century Natural Gas Bonanza can do for our groundwater.
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
Think of the Seniors
Only two age groups gather joyously before 7 AM on weekdays - those under the age of 7 and those over the age of 70. While their older siblings slouch grouchily at the school bus stop, Kindergarteners and 1st and 2nd graders greet their peers with shouts and glee. The retiree mall walkers and early-shopping oldsters at Wegman's raise quite a ruckus when they get together shortly after dawn analyzing the previous night's "Dancing With The Stars" and complaining about "the govmint".
There is one significant exception to this rule. The seniors in the phlebotomist's waiting room have fasted for the requisite twelve hours prior to their blood test. Their blood sugar is low. Their attitude is bad. A basketful of adorable puppies could tumble into that room and it would not raise a smile on a single senior's face. Gimlet-eyed, they stare down each person signing in at Reception. "If they let that schmoe in ahead of me. I'll break both his legs even though he is gasping for breath and looks like he won't last the day.
I had a blood test this morning. The same oldsters who smile at me and make a big fuss over the dog during his morning walks now avoided eye contact. No friendly greetings were exchanged. The air was saturated with malice and fear that my laced-up Adidas would allow me to sprint to the Exam Room faster than they could hobble in on their velcroed orthopedic shoes.
There is only one solution. Instead of The Weather Channel on the waiting room TV. the phlebotomist should alternate re-runs of "The Golden Girls" and "Matlock". Nothing cheers seniors more than TV shows that portray them as witty, sexy, and clever in the courtroom. " Who cares if that guy who just walked in the door jumps the line, we've got to hear Bea Arthur's latest acerbic quip or how Andy Griffith will get his client off. That Denny's Grand Slam Breakfast will still be there."
Let's make the phlebotomist's waiting room a happy place. Bring on those Golden Girls and Matlock.
There is one significant exception to this rule. The seniors in the phlebotomist's waiting room have fasted for the requisite twelve hours prior to their blood test. Their blood sugar is low. Their attitude is bad. A basketful of adorable puppies could tumble into that room and it would not raise a smile on a single senior's face. Gimlet-eyed, they stare down each person signing in at Reception. "If they let that schmoe in ahead of me. I'll break both his legs even though he is gasping for breath and looks like he won't last the day.
I had a blood test this morning. The same oldsters who smile at me and make a big fuss over the dog during his morning walks now avoided eye contact. No friendly greetings were exchanged. The air was saturated with malice and fear that my laced-up Adidas would allow me to sprint to the Exam Room faster than they could hobble in on their velcroed orthopedic shoes.
There is only one solution. Instead of The Weather Channel on the waiting room TV. the phlebotomist should alternate re-runs of "The Golden Girls" and "Matlock". Nothing cheers seniors more than TV shows that portray them as witty, sexy, and clever in the courtroom. " Who cares if that guy who just walked in the door jumps the line, we've got to hear Bea Arthur's latest acerbic quip or how Andy Griffith will get his client off. That Denny's Grand Slam Breakfast will still be there."
Let's make the phlebotomist's waiting room a happy place. Bring on those Golden Girls and Matlock.
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
Thanks, Sputnik
Yesterday was the 53rd anniversary of the launching of Sputnik. Satellite technology is old hat nowadays what with GPS and cell phones that give crystal clear connections to Zambia available at our local Wal-Mart, but in 1957, the concept of a Soviet "artificial moon" circling the globe scared the pants off the American public. Surely, The Evil Empire would soon have orbiting Death Rays that would seek out and fry us as we innocently sat in our Chevy Impalas at the drive-in watching the latest Elvis Presley movie.
The only answer was to inspire a new generation of American scientists and engineers to win the Space Race. Our survival as a nation depended on it.
On October 4, 1957, I was a fifth grader in the Scranton public schools. I had never had a science course and algebra was four years away. Our history books still mentioned "The World War" and only showed presidents through Hoover. Thanks to Sputnik, that changed in a hurry.
Before the year was out, we had brand, spanking new science texts and a box of Pennsylvania minerals to destroy with acid all in the name of science. Our math became "accelerated" and that newfangled Set Theory and Wenn Diagrams replaced going over the "times tables" for the third year in a row. We even got new History books that covered that WW II thing that our parents had told us so much about.
More to the point, we were informed that it was our patriotic duty to be good in math and science. "Some Russian kid is spending his Saturday night deriving geometric proofs while you are watching Gunsmoke. Shame on you, slacker!"
So I passed up my lifelong dream of a career chasing down the bad guys in Dodge City and became an engineer. It's all for the best. I lack the hindquarter cushioning to ride a horse for more than 30 seconds without pain. Thanks, Sputnik.
The only answer was to inspire a new generation of American scientists and engineers to win the Space Race. Our survival as a nation depended on it.
On October 4, 1957, I was a fifth grader in the Scranton public schools. I had never had a science course and algebra was four years away. Our history books still mentioned "The World War" and only showed presidents through Hoover. Thanks to Sputnik, that changed in a hurry.
Before the year was out, we had brand, spanking new science texts and a box of Pennsylvania minerals to destroy with acid all in the name of science. Our math became "accelerated" and that newfangled Set Theory and Wenn Diagrams replaced going over the "times tables" for the third year in a row. We even got new History books that covered that WW II thing that our parents had told us so much about.
More to the point, we were informed that it was our patriotic duty to be good in math and science. "Some Russian kid is spending his Saturday night deriving geometric proofs while you are watching Gunsmoke. Shame on you, slacker!"
So I passed up my lifelong dream of a career chasing down the bad guys in Dodge City and became an engineer. It's all for the best. I lack the hindquarter cushioning to ride a horse for more than 30 seconds without pain. Thanks, Sputnik.
Monday, October 4, 2010
The Twist
Chubby Checker celebrated his 69th birthday yesterday thus proving that regardless of body type and caloric intake, one can reach a ripe old age with regular sessions of dancing the Twist.
Ah, the Twist. Fifty years after its release, it remains the gold standard for filling the dance floor with baby boomers at wedding receptions and high school reunions. The Electric Slide, The Achy Breaky Heart, and even The YMCA have faded into oblivion while Chubby's classic continues to delight sixty-somethings and their chiropractors. As for The Hustle and its disco-era progeny we will see polyester leisure suits come back into fashion before it brings wedding guests to the dance floor from the seafood raw bar. The only potential threat to the Twist is the Chicken Dance and that is, of course, restricted to the Lehigh Valley.
The Twist was a godsend for awkward teen-aged boys of the early sixties. Previously, we were shunted to the perimeter of the dance floor during "fast songs" while the girls did the jitterbug with each other. Even the cha-cha required some degree of footwork beyond the capability of hormone-crazed teen boys. With the Twist, we could not totally embarrass ourselves attempting to "fast dance" with the object of our lust while impatiently awaiting a slow song with the requisite clutching and grabbing. Thanks, Chubby!
They say that age is just a number, but it is astonishing to think that when the Twist first became popular in 1960, Chubby Checker was a mere 19 years old. The Chubster still tours fifty years later. Only in America could a simple twelve bar song and a dance that anyone can do keep a performer going for half a century.
Ah, the Twist. Fifty years after its release, it remains the gold standard for filling the dance floor with baby boomers at wedding receptions and high school reunions. The Electric Slide, The Achy Breaky Heart, and even The YMCA have faded into oblivion while Chubby's classic continues to delight sixty-somethings and their chiropractors. As for The Hustle and its disco-era progeny we will see polyester leisure suits come back into fashion before it brings wedding guests to the dance floor from the seafood raw bar. The only potential threat to the Twist is the Chicken Dance and that is, of course, restricted to the Lehigh Valley.
The Twist was a godsend for awkward teen-aged boys of the early sixties. Previously, we were shunted to the perimeter of the dance floor during "fast songs" while the girls did the jitterbug with each other. Even the cha-cha required some degree of footwork beyond the capability of hormone-crazed teen boys. With the Twist, we could not totally embarrass ourselves attempting to "fast dance" with the object of our lust while impatiently awaiting a slow song with the requisite clutching and grabbing. Thanks, Chubby!
They say that age is just a number, but it is astonishing to think that when the Twist first became popular in 1960, Chubby Checker was a mere 19 years old. The Chubster still tours fifty years later. Only in America could a simple twelve bar song and a dance that anyone can do keep a performer going for half a century.
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