A Very Special “Grey’s Anatomy”: McAlero Goes Off To Nursing School

Occasionally, a project originates from Guru.com, drifts through cyberspace and eventually reaches my desk. Some are serious, some are whimsical, some are challenging, some are paint-by-numbers, some are lucrative, some squeeze a nickel ‘til the buffalo shits. And then, one appears that makes it all worthwhile …

“Profile ID: xxxxxx matches...
Title: My daughter
Project ID: xxxxxx

Category: Writing / Editing / Translation
Description:

I am looking for someone who can write a poem or a song about my daughter. She is graduating this year from high school. She played basketball and softball in high school. her nick name is pumpkin. she just bought a oldsmobile alero. I think I would like to include some of her friends names. She is planning on going to college for nursing. I always call her my hero. She has a pet cat and dog.”

I heard your call, Melancholy Mother, as your fragile bird prepares to leave the nest. And I’ve decided to bestow to ye one limerick and one haiku … on the house:


I remember the first time you played basketball when you were just wee
To think that you’re almost a nurse now makes my heart fill with glee
Did I ever tell you that you’re my hero
As your hair blows in the wind outside your new Alero?
You’re my pumpkin – and you’re out of your gourd if you don’t believe you’ll always be

Hero to me, pets
Future nurse, sweet Alero
Gentle pumpkin, mine


Good luck, Anonymous, Gender-Confused Alero Girl Whose Mom Doesn’t Think She Has Any Friends – to you I say godspeed.

Limerick Friday XXIX: Long Live The City Of Big Shoulders

Took a trip to the amazing Windy City
Watched the Cubs win in quaint ol’ Wrigley
Walked the Magnificent Mile down Michigan Avenue
Had some deep dish and a little bratwurst, too
Saw all the incredible things that Chicago has to see

Pushing back basketball’s three-point line
Eliminating football’s dumbass rules for time
The NCAA is actually doing some smart things
Instead of just helping the big programs get more rings
If they can just put EZU on probation, we’ll be fine

“Lost” is cranking up for a memorable finale
How many will be killed off in the final tally?
Locke’s missing a kidney and lying in a pit
Chah-lie the Hobbit’s nine lives are just about gone to shit
If Sayid gets the ax, I’ll pour out a Slurpee and say, “Gollee!”

Tony Blair’s time running Britain is coming to a close
Londoners finally realized that the Prime Minister has no clothes
Seven years bending over for Bush must have been enough
I guess having tea and crumpets every day, it’s hard to look tough
Maybe a new UK leader will finally keep our next President on his toes

Casie’s more than a little pissed about “Grey’s Anatomy”
Word is they’re pushing a spinoff like “Three’s Company’s” Mr. Furley
Addison is unquestionably a stunning redhead
Meredith seems to know her way around a bed
But for my money they’re ain’t no hotter network hottie than Izzy

Limer-inks

Limerick Friday I

Limerick Friday II

Limerick Friday III

Limerick Friday IV

Limerick Friday V

Limerick Friday VI

Limerick Friday VII

Best of … Limerick Friday

Limerick Friday IX

Limerick Friday X

Limerick Friday XI

Limerick Friday XII

Limerick Friday XIII

Limerick Friday XIV

Limerick Friday XV

Limerick Friday XVI

Limerick Friday XVII

Limerick Friday XVIII

Limerick Friday XIX

Limerick Friday XX

Limerick Friday XXI

Limerick Friday XXII

Limerick Friday XXIII

Limerick Friday XXIV

Limerick Friday XXV

Limerick Friday XXVI

Limerick Friday XXVII

Limerick Friday XXVIII

“Lost”: Harry Potter and the Zany, Mysterious Adventures of Moonlight Graham

As “Lost” careens its way toward a scintillating final three hours of Season 3, the writers are making more and more references to pop culture:

 “Harry Potter”: Young Ben looks disturbingly like Harry’s doppleganger
 “Wizard Of Oz”: Last night’s episode was titled “Man Behind The Curtain”
 “Field Of Dreams”: Ben’s mother disappears into the shrubbery like the 1919 White Sox
 “Blair Witch Project”: Ben converses with an invisible enemy, Jacob, who terrorizes Locke
 “Sixth Sense”: people keep seeing ghosts, like Ben seeing his long-dead mother
 “The Invisible Man” and “Carnivale”: Jacob
 “Alice In Wonderland”: Young Ben sends his rabbit down the rabbit hole
 “The Village”: The Dharma Initiative creates a utopian society shut off from the outside world
 “Star Wars”: Jack=Luke, Kate=Leia, Sawyer=Han Solo, Sayid=Chewbacca (c’mon, that’s funny), Locke=Darth Vader, Ben=The Emperor, Jacob=Darth Maul (I’m trying here)

The latest episode reveals the formerly wheelchair-bound Locke turning into a combination of Rambo and Stephen Hawking, pounding the hell out of Mikhail—that dude HAS to be getting tired of having the christ beat out of him—and intimidating Ben into revealing some secrets. It seems that Locke has received some type of backbone-through-osmosis from coercing Sawyer into killing their father, Cooper/Sawyer. The theme of patricide is perpetuated as Ben kills his father, Roger Work Man, as part of “The Purge,” which looked like a ripoff of Jonestown.

At Locke’s insistence, Ben is forced—or is he?—to lead him to Jacob, who Ben believes is the imaginary “man behind the curtain.” Before they go, Ben’s daughter, Alex, sees fit to give Locke a gun, seeming to foreshadow some impending confrontation. On their journey, Locke and Ben come across a line of ash or gunpowder, and though Locke is intent on examining it, Ben appears flustered and hurries him along. Is this line a way to keep Jacob contained? Does it provide some type of barrier or protection? Is it a method of defense in times of trouble?

When they reach Jacob’s dwelling, a disturbing scene of Ben talking to an invisible man results in Jacob asking Locke to “Help me,” resulting in an enraged spirit/Jacob/invisible force to start whipping pictures around and breaking windows. In one instant, we appear to see the outline of a face, leading us to question whether Jacob is, in fact, real. After fleeing, Ben takes Locke to reveal a mass open grave where the bodies of “The Purge” that he led after joining the “hostiles" were disposed of. [Editor’s Note: If the Hostiles were the natives of the island before the Dharma Initiative arrived, after switching sides, Ben performed a genocide on the D.I. intruders—the original “Others”—then founded a modernized version of the Others.] Never one to think more than one step ahead, instead of capping Ben the moment he sees the open grave, Locke turns his back on Ben, then tries to turn and shoot him, allowing Ben to give him a gut shot that propels him into the mass grave.

Meanwhile, back at camp, Sawyer shows the tape demonstrating Juliet’s spying to Sayid, and the survivors confront Jack and Juliet. However, Juliet asks them to turn the tape over, and the details of a raid on the camp being planned by Ben and the Others are provided. Was Juliet planning to share this information before she was confronted? Either way, Jack says, “It looks like we have some catching up to do,” apparently meaning that he is intent on telling them what happened when he was detained by the Others and other helpful info. But I guess that will have to wait until next week.

A fascinating episode, indeed, giving more answers than possibly any other show in the series. However, a ton of queries still loom …

 Who is Annie, the young girl who befriended Young Ben? Was she Danielle Rousseau? Was she a reincarnation of Locke’s mother? Did Ben wind up marrying her, only to have her die during a pregnancy, fueling his passion to recruit Juliet and other doctors to help find a cure for pregnant women on the island?

 Who/what the hell is Jacob? What does “Help me” mean—is he being trapped/contained/controlled by Ben?

 Will the island “heal” Locke again? Will Jacob “help him”? Is Jacob actually Locke?

 Were the Hostiles part of an ancient civilization that created the four-toed statue and the other old-looking architecture that is found around the island?

 Did pressing the button in the hatch actually control the food drops and communicate to the supplier, allowing the now-controlling Hostiles to keep up the ruse that the Dharma Initiative was still thriving on the island?

 Why does Richard Alpert appear to be immortal and not age?

 Will the island take Chah-lie as a sacrifice in lieu of Locke?

The “Lost” braintrust recently announced that the show will air through the 2009-10 season. They are planning three more seasons of 16 episodes apiece (previous seasons have been either 22 or 24 episodes long). So, basically, counting the last two episodes of this season, they have 50 more episodes to answer or resolve all of the remaining questions that have been posed and put forth surrounding the island and its several generations/populations of inhabitants. With nine months between the end of this season and the start of Season 4, you can bet that the writers and producers will be frantically working to address the litany of problems and issues that have arisen.

And you can also assume that they’ll be watching a lot of movies in a quest for creative inspiration. Hell, maybe Yoda will show up next year, slay the Smoke monster, levitate the polar bear … and beat the almighty Dark Side out of Harry Potter in a game of Quidditch.

Lost Links

April 24, 2007: “Lost”: An Island Of Paradoxes

March 29, 2007: The Resurgence of “Lost”?

February 8, 2007: “Lost” V 3.5: Let The Games Begin

November 9, 2006: Mini-Season Makes For Long, Lost Winter Months

November 2, 2006: Vaya Con Dios, Mr. Eko

October 4, 2006: “Lost” In A Sea Of Questions

Samoans Hate Drywall

In addition to spending the ninth overall pick on a one-legged, skinny track star, Miami also saw fit to select Reagan Mauia, a player whose highlight film consisted of him running through some drywall. I’m not saying he’s not a good player … it’s just that he’s a fullback from the University of Hawaii who weighed 380 pounds like a year ago. He’s one of four Polynesian rookies added to the Dolphins roster this year, enough to make Jay Fiedler and Sage Rosenfels shake their yarmulkes in bewilderment.

And further confirmation that being a ‘Fin fan is -- literally -- like banging your head against the wall …

Forest Burns In Epic “The Last King of Scotland” Performance

What began as a historical perspective on one of the most vicious dictators of our time turned into a vehicle for a brilliant actor due to the sheer force of Forest Whitaker. He captivated “The Last King of Scotland” from the first frame he was in, lifting a strong film into a very good movie while giving him a stage on which to display his prodigious talents.

Based on a landmark novel by Giles Foden, this movie was a portrayal of Ugandan general Idi Amin Dada as seen through the eyes of a fictional character, Scottish doctor Nicholas Garrigan (James MacAvoy). After initially travelling to the region as a way to escape his home life and try to effect some good in the world, Garrigan encounters Amin soon after he had ascended to power due to a coup and soon becomes a valued, trusted "advisor." Enlisting a fictional presence into a historical account can be a controversial, ineffective technique—perhaps the most damaging example coming in Oliver Stone’s “JFK”—but Garrigan’s usage here serves only to show the myriad sides and personalities of Amin, who remains largely misunderstood and mysterious to this day.

The tactic is one of many used in startling fashion by director Kevin Macdonald in his first feature film. Macdonald is a noted documentary-maker, and the film actually takes the form of a documentary at many points. A stunning soundtrack weaved itself perfectly throughout the film, allowing for a strong marriage of music and pacing. Macdonald also excelled in meshing scenes together to show various things going on at once, showing consciously and subconsciously how all is not as it may seem. The blending of a disarming Amin in rare form during a press conference at the same time that one of his wives, Kay (Kerry Washington), is found torn limb from limb and reassembled brutally created unforgettable imagery. The director also employed incredibly interesting camera work, building intensity through rapid focuses and quick panning methods.

Yet, right or wrong, everything extraordinary in this film is buried underneath the raw power exhibited by Whitaker. He is able to show the charming, humorous aspect of Amin, the optimism that was occasionally on display at the beginning of his reign. However, we quickly are shown cracks in the façade, indications that paranoia and possibly attention-deficit disorder dominate the man. While the self-effacing parts of Amin’s personality initially covered up the barbaric side, the dark part of the dictator gradually began to thrust aside the promising qualities. When we see Amin elevating assassins to positions of authority—Abby Mukiibi as Masanga, the fierce head of Amin’s brutal security force, is shudder-inducing in a stunning performance—we are forced to recognize the troubling undercurrents that are swirling more and more powerfully.

A Method actor, Whitaker immersed himself so deeply into the character of Amin that he admittedly dreamed that he was Amin, had trouble losing the East African dialect that he mastered and was reduced to repeatedly taking showers in an effort to literally and figuratively rinse the role off of him. To his credit, he threw himself into the role, refusing to enter into the portrayal with preconceived judgments or beliefs. In his pursuit of capturing the essence of the many-sided dictator, Whitaker learned Swahili, interviewed Amin’s family, read numerous books on the general and basically removed every barrier to violence within him that might inhibit him from “becoming” Amin for five months. The result was a staggering resemblance to Amin, in terms of stature, carriage and behavior, that was jarring to Ugandans who lived through the dictator’s regime. Justly, Whitaker won the Academy Award, a Golden Globe, a Screen Actors Guild Award, an NAACP Image Award and a BAFTA award for his efforts … hopefully, reward enough for half a year’s worth of a transition to a disturbed, murderous beast.

The book and film did not travel far enough down the bloody path to examine the roots of Amin’s violence or the death gasps that signaled the end of his rule. Amin was trained in the colonial British army and basically prepared to take over Uganda by the Brits. When he eventually grew beyond their grasp and lost control, the English did everything they could to distance themselves from his regime. His loss of stability is ably chronicled, along with the aspects of his regime that resulted in 300,000 — Amnesty International places the number at half a million — of his own countrymen being killed during his reign. However, we don’t see the connection that was built between he and the British culture, nor do we witness the downward spiral that resulted in his exile. Admittedly, following the story all the way until the end may have been too far-reaching and excessive, but one can’t help but wonder about the impact that his exile must have had on him.

The movie does document Amin’s decision to expel all Asians from Uganda, giving them 90 days to leave. The move was one of many reasons that the United States finally closed its embassy in Kampala in 1973, denouncing the brutality and horror of Amin’s regime. Amin’s erratic behavior eventually lead the Western press to detail him as a murderous ape and a caricature of himself. Amin’s arrogance and inability to have a finger on the pulse of his own countrymen backfired fatally when he ordered the invasion of Tanzania. Ugandan exiles joined the Tanzanian forces to storm Kampala in 1979, forcing Amin to flee to exile in Libya and, eventually, Saudi Arabia. In a last-gasp effort, he attempted to organize another Ugandan coup in 1989, but was thwarted and ordered to return to Saudi Arabia. A month before Amin’s death in 2003, one of his wives pleaded with Ugandan authorities to allow him to return to Uganda for his final days, but she was told that Amin would have to answer for his sins should he return. It would have been interesting to see the twist placed on this course of events by Macdonald, but the decision to conclude the film where he did was understandable as well.

All of the above is not meant to suggest that this is a perfect film. There were some scenes of sex and violence that could be construed as gratuitous, though a compelling argument could be made that the brutality of certain images was necessary to laying open the entire character of Amin. There were a couple of throwaway characters and some scenes that did nothing but add to the sense of urgency and show the overall debauchery of the climate and environment of the time; the merits of those scenes could be debated and argued in terms of excessiveness or essentiality to the story. The affair between Kay and Garrigan felt somewhat contrived as a means to demonstrating the depths of Amin’s sadistic side, even to those he supposedly loved.

Thanks to a governmental stance that involves basically pretending that Amin never existed, quelling interest in him and erecting barriers for natives seeking to learn more about him, sentiment and opinion about Amin within Uganda remain split. Apparently, one of Amin’s sons is working on a novel to counter the depiction put forth by Foden in his own book. In Uganda, the film has been applauded as remarkably accurate in some quarters and far too harsh on Amin in others. The movie does a terrific job of giving just enough detail in either direction to allow the individual viewer to make his or her own judgment. Whitaker’s flawless performance does more than enough to cover up some of the minor flaws inherent in “The Last King of Scotland,” making it easy to understand why it has been lauded as one of the most memorable pictures in recent memory and one of the finest historical portrayals of all-time.

Drinking Ginn In Dolphins War Room Leads To Horrific First-Round Pick

Jay Fiedler. Ray Lucas. Damon Huard. Sage Rosenfels. Brian Griese. A.J. Feeley. Gus Frerotte. Daunte Culpepper. Joey Harrington. Chet Lemon.

These are the 10 signal-callers who have started games for the Miami Dolphins since the greatest quarterback of all-time, Dan Marino, retired in 1999. Old, young, strong-armed, feeble-armed, Hebrew, Gentile, white, black, and yellow, the ‘Fins choices to run offenses have run the gamut. So as the NFL Draft unfolded on Saturday and it appeared more and more likely that somehow, some way, Notre Dame passer Brady Quinn was sliding Miami’s way, one look at that shudder-inducing list above will make you understand why Dolphins Nation was ecstatic about the possibility of addressing the position seriously, once and for all.

As a result, you can then understand why Dolphins Nation performed a nationwide, unanimous, simultaneous dry heave when Miami picked Ohio State wide receiver/return man Ted Ginn Jr. with the ninth overall selection of the draft instead of Quinn. The illegitimate son of first-round receiving bust Yatil Green, the second cousin of failed first-rounder Randal “No Thrill” Hill, the daddy baby of first-round disaster John Avery, Ginn runs fast and squeals when teammates jump on him. With a possible franchise quarterback staring them in the face, the Dolphins picked an injured special-teamer. They selected a three-route wide receiver who takes seven months to come back from a sprained ankle. They chose a 175-pound track athlete trying to play football on one leg.

It felt like Jimmy Johnson and Dave “The ‘Stache” Wannstedt, who conspired to take down the Miami franchise a dozen years ago, got banged up on Heinies, stormed the Miami war room, kidnapped general manager Randy Mueller, and forced him to take the player with the most bust potential of the entire draft. It didn’t help matters when Mueller faced the media and declared Ginn “80 to 85 percent” healthy and new coach Cam Cameron said Dolphins fans would love him “as a returner.” You’re telling me that you used a top-10 pick on an injury-prone lightweight so you can use him on the kamikaze special teams? Further infuriating the Miami faithful, Mueller also said that the ‘Fins medical staff had spent a lot of time evaluating Ginn’s ankle and deemed it to be not a concern. So you’re telling me that the same medical staff that green-lighted trading for Daunte Culpepper, who is still three months away from being able to participate in team activities, and decided that free-agent Drew Brees, who led New Orleans to the NFC Championship Game, was too injured to contribute in 2006, was involved in this decision? That’s about 80- to 85-percent fucking logical.

I’m not even saying Quinn is a sure thing at quarterback; far from it. However, Miami hadn’t invested anything higher than a sixth-round pick on a signal-caller since Marino retired, and an unlikely sequence of events had taken place that allowed the Dolphins to draft a consensus top-seven player with the ninth overall choice. The NFL Draft is all about value, and Quinn represented the best value that Miami could possibly have found in the top 10 (NOTE: I do think that Quinn is a cocky type of player who might benefit from being knocked down a peg or two. Plus, the fluffy hair helmet he was sporting at the draft admittedly made me wonder if a Dolphins offensive lineman wouldn’t have taken one look at him and proceeded to beat the christ out of him). I understand if Quinn’s not your choice at that spot; if you want to get younger at defensive tackle (Amobi Okoye) or address the secondary (Leon Hall), by all means, pull the trigger. If you’ve decided that Ginn is your guy and nothing can stand in your way, then trade back and choose him at a spot that makes sense value-wise. In six mock drafts found on NFL.com and ESPN Insider—and yes, I know that mock drafts are worth exactly the paper they are not printed on—Ginn had been predicted to be picked in the top 15 by only one (No. 11 to San Francisco). In fact, the average spot that Ginn was chosen in these mock drafts was 19.1. Theoretically, this means that Miami could have traded back 10 spots and still grabbed their guy. Going by the widely accepted trade chart used by NFL franchises, trading back from No. 9 to No. 19 would have netted the Dolphins the No. 19 selection, plus a second-rounder, a fourth-rounder and a sixth-rounder. So if he’s your guy, all else be damned, trade the christ back and give yourself more ammunition later in the draft! Picking the wrong player at the wrong position is bad enough; choosing that player much higher than he should have been selected is a double-whammy and the type of decision that sets your franchise back years.

That’s why the NFL Draft has been like Groundhog Day for the Dolphins in recent years. Five straight years out of the playoffs has meant that Miami has had respectable draft positions time after time, yet the team seems to invest in projects, ‘tweeners and reaches every single year. How many years in a row do you take a question mark in the first round? You need a sure thing with a top-10 pick, a no-brainer starter ... not a player who would have walked up to the podium on crutches if he had even been at Radio City Music Hall for the draft. As if this selection wasn’t nonsensical enough, wide receiver is actually one of the few positions of relative strength on the entire team. Chris Chambers and Marty Booker—who is maybe the league’s most underrated receiver—have both been to Pro Bowls, and the team spent a third-round pick in last year’s draft on Derek Hagans, another wideout. The healthy status of the receiving corps makes any wideout choice a luxury pick, and you can’t spend a top-10 pick on a luxury position when the cards finally fell your way and the guy you should have taken miraculously dropped to you. What is the only common denominator holding these players back from putting up big numbers? A goddam quarterback. That’s why drafting another wide receiver is like having a BMW with a busted engine and deciding to spend the money you had allocated for the engine on a gold-plated spare baby tire.

Incomprehensibly, the team’s alleged No. 1 receiver, Chambers, lobbied the Dolphins braintrust to tab Ginn with the first-round selection. Every other No. 1 receiver in the NFL is constantly begging and demanding that more footballs be thrown his way; Miami’s pleads with the decision-makers to pick another wideout to be the No. 1. Amazing. Would any other No. 1 wideout in the National Football League ask his team to pick another wide receiver in the first round?! If I was Mueller, I would have patiently listened to Chambers make the case for picking Ginn, then I would have politely and immediately asked for his signing bonus back; you know, the one he got so he could be paid on a level with the elite receivers in the league and be compensated as the team’s top receiving threat.

Another philosophy is that fortifying the offensive line would give the Miami signal-caller a better chance of succeeding; if that’s the decision, trade down near the bottom of the first round, select tackle Joe Staley out of Central Michigan, then use a couple of the three or four picks you get in return on a quarterback and a return man, if you’re dead-set on getting one. Making matters worse, the Dolphins later spent a third-rounder on running back Lorenzo Booker of Florida State. What are his selling points? He’s a versatile, speedy athlete capable of playing tailback and slot receiver in addition to returning kicks. Hello … paging the Department of Redundancy Department? Not to mention that Miami signed admittedly well-traveled receiver/return man Az Hakim—and deep threat Kelly Campbell—in the offseason. Yes, Hakim isn’t exactly a youngster anymore and he’s far from a polished wide receiver … but is the difference in return abilities between he and Ginn anywhere close to a gap justifying the use of a top-10 draft pick? Hell no.

The selection of Ginn represents a classic example of a team falling in love with a specific player and then ignoring every red flag and every change in circumstance along the way to picking him. It appeared as if the Miami decision-makers had no contingency plan for Quinn being available, panicked, and simply chose Ginn without pursuing or exploring any other options. Such mistakes in preparation can destroy an entire offseason’s worth of positive moves, turn the rest of your draft philosophy upside down, and destroy any credibility or optimism the fanbase has mustered up on your behalf. Mueller and Cameron became enamored with Ginn’s speed and game-breaking potential, but this isn’t a track meet, it’s a fucking football game. That’s why the Dolphins were faced with only three possibilities when the ninth overall pick came around: spend exactly three seconds to take Quinn, take your time and decide between Okoye or Hall, or use the entire 15 minutes to field trade requests and move back in the first round and still get Ginn. Any other decision or course of action was and is completely unacceptable.

The choice of Ted Ginn Jr. totally deflated all Dolphins fans, lending credence to the perception that the names who fuck up the franchise seem to change every couple of years, but the jackass decisions remain the same.

Limerick Friday XXVIII: The Blogs Strike Back

Casie’s blog is back on a roll
Brent writes about triglycerides and gun control
Evan remembers a really old interview
Will rights about Flavor Flav and bids another date adieu
Paul stalks on IM and searches arcades for a kindred soul

Sucks to miss out on good barbecue
Bet I missed out on lotsa laughs, too
Danny’s overrun by former MSIers
While Anonymous still scans the employment wires
I couldn’t go because Marco said rainin, this is true

Tomorrow brings the NFL Draft
For football junkies, it’s like a life raft
The NBA is filled with whiners and thugs
While baseball sweeps steroids under its rugs
There was hockey and soccer on TV last night and I laughed

Literace hangs out by the elementary school
Then chills at the neighborhood kiddie pool
In Morrisville, he’s out like a locker-room light
Offers Rusty Trombones in the dark of night
Pat Martin was one metrosexual he couldn’t fool

Wonder if that manic-depressive Hack got a fresh start
Looking like Homer Simpson with a chocolate Pop Tart
For a spine he had curly fries fused with cheese
Around No-Neck Monster, he was scared to even sneeze
A gray belt in tae kwon do, yet still a cowardly lion with no heart

Limer-inks

Limerick Friday I

Limerick Friday II

Limerick Friday III

Limerick Friday IV

Limerick Friday V

Limerick Friday VI

Limerick Friday VII

Best of … Limerick Friday

Limerick Friday IX

Limerick Friday X

Limerick Friday XI

Limerick Friday XII

Limerick Friday XIII

Limerick Friday XIV

Limerick Friday XV

Limerick Friday XVI

Limerick Friday XVII

Limerick Friday XVIII

Limerick Friday XIX

Limerick Friday XX

Limerick Friday XXI

Limerick Friday XXII

Limerick Friday XXIII

Limerick Friday XXIV

Limerick Friday XXV

Limerick Friday XXVI

Limerick Friday XXVII

"Lost": An Island Of Paradoxes

Thanks to the brilliant novel by Joseph Heller, the term “Catch-22” has become an accepted, immediately recognizable part of our nomenclature. It refers to a paradox, and not only was it the title of the most recent episode of “Lost,” but it has come to define the stance of many viewers of the show.

I have friends who have ultimately given up on the show. When you have invested nearly three years of watching a show, the decision to stop viewing involves a belief that it is not going to give you the answers you want or the direction you need to justify this time investment — tempered with a wary concern that the next week, the next episode, the next plot twist could possibly validate that span of time. Some of these friends still ask for updates on the show, recognizing that they might have jumped ship just before those highly sought-after answers began to filter down and the intensity and direction of “Lost” started to ramp up.

The episode bearing the “Catch-22” name dealt largely with the dynamic between Desmond and Charlie. The paradox facing Desmond was whether he should keep saving Charlie from death, even if it meant that it could cost him a reunion with his long-lost love, Penny. In addition, does he want to repeat a situation that mirrors the paradox that he had in continuing to have to press the button in the hatch to save the world? In his latest vision, Des saw Charlie taking an arrow to his hobbit-sized Adam’s Apple, and Desmond had come to an internal decision to sacrifice Charlie in order to be rescued by Penny. When the time came, however, he was unable to let Charlie die, possibly turning the crashed pilot into a new character named Naomi instead of Penny. The other paradox he faced was having to lie to Charlie, Jin and Hurley in order to convince them to come on a camping trip with them so that the puzzle/vision/flash-forward would translate to reality.

The flashback sequence concerned Desmond’s earlier (albeit short-lived) incarnation as a monk — hence the somewhat annoying use of “brother” that he uses to address the other survivors. His mentor, Brother Campbell, is apparently related to Miss Hawkins, the seer that Des encountered in a jewelry store years later, who predicted Desmond’s arrival on the island and subsequent mission of pushing the button. Miss Hawkins uttered the famous line about fate having a way of “course-correcting” itself, making one wonder if that is what is continuing to happen as Des keeps being tested by saving Charlie from death time after time. Is he simply prolonging the inevitable — Charlie’s death — or is he actually altering the future? As he is being dismissed from the monastery, he meets Penny, bringing up the question of whether that was the intent of Brother Campbell — and Miss Hawkins? — the entire time.

As to Naomi’s arrival, helicopters’ flying range is usually significantly less than that of an airplane. Does this mean that the search group that we saw at the end of the second season has set up base someone nearby? Did Penny get the coordinates of the island, send a ship to the spot and then set up a ‘copter to search for the wreckage? And if so, did something about the island force the subsequent crash? How did Naomi come to get Desmond’s picture? Was there anyone else in the helicopter? Is she a distraction so that the “Others” can install someone else? As Charlie pointed out, isn’t it tricky to eject from a helicopter? Why was the book that Naomi had — “Catch-22” — in Portugeuse? How is Penny Widmore related to all of this? And what are the ramifications or ripple effects of Desmond significantly changing one piece of the puzzle — Charlie’s death?

One thing that the writers have done much better later in the season is interweaving humor with drama with character dynamics. Sawyer’s mix tape, the Brady Bunch reference and Des getting “pissed” on Moriah wine all added humor and served to add levity to an episode that was emotional and intense. At the end, as Desmond races to the fallen helicopter passenger, believing with all of his heart that it is Penny, the music and tone and pacing all reflected both the somber moment and the dramatic twist to come. The episode brought in existential questions and a host of additional questions, but it did serve to bring Penny and the prospect of some type of rescue into the picture as well … further helping “Lost” build to a season finale that is sure to see one of the survivors meet his or her end in a dramatic and memorable conclusion.

March 29, 2007: The Resurgence of “Lost”?

February 8, 2007: “Lost” V 3.5: Let The Games Begin

November 9, 2006: Mini-Season Makes For Long, Lost Winter Months

November 2, 2006: Vaya Con Dios, Mr. Eko

October 4, 2006: “Lost” In A Sea Of Questions

The Sopranos Final Season: A House Of Mirrors

“Violence is man re-creating himself.” – Frantz Fanon

As The Sopranos comes down its final stretch, observers have been frantically trying to predict the ending. It’s almost universally accepted that the finale will involve Tony Soprano’s death, leading to widespread speculation concerning by whose hands he’ll meet his ultimate demise.

Since his mother once ordered a hit on him, will his wife, Carmela, or sister, Janice, pull the trigger, bringing the power of women in this series full circle? Or perhaps even Dr. Melfi? Internally, perhaps Christopher Moltisanti, his apprentice, will eventually succumb to his rage concerning the murder of his fiance, Adriana, and seek revenge on Tony, with whom numerous other points of conflict have been brewing? Staying within his own family, will Silvio Dante or, especially, Paulie Walnuts tire of waiting in the wings and pursue a coup d’etat? Maybe Bobby Bacala, Janice’s husband, will be scared enough of reprisals concerning an earlier fight with Tony to make a pre-emptive strike? Or maybe it will be Uncle Junior, who lies wasting away in a retirement home after already shooting Tony once? Or perhaps even the unstable Artie Bucco, owner and chef of Vesuvio, who has blamed Tony for everything that has gone wrong in his life? Are son A.J. or daughter Meadow capable of turning suppressed guilt and anger toward their father into violence?

In the world of more literal enemies and threats to Tony’s DiMeo crime family, the power void and resulting instability within the Lupertazzi family has that organization teetering on the brink of all-out chaos. With Johnny Sack succumbing to cancer so quickly and a hit on one of the assumed potential replacements already occurring, a battle appears to brewing between different factions of that crime family. Phil Leotardo’s health issues once had him pondering an escape from the life, but as he’s seen colleague after colleague fall, he now wonders about his legacy and what he will be remembered for, if anything. He voiced a resolution to stop rolling over, an ominous sign for the DiMeo-Lupertazzi fragile peace. After killing one of Tony’s captains, could Phil’s relationship with Tony sour enough for a previously unthinkable hit on a boss? Or will “Little Carmine,” who has withdrawn from the family, get dragged back in?

Christopher had been his heir apparent, but Tony’s flirtation with Adriana, her ratting out the family to the feds and subsequent murder have created a seemingly irreconcilable rift between the boss and the next-in-line to the throne. Throw in the fact that Christopher won over one of Tony’s girlfriends and Christopher increasingly distancing himself from the family due to his addictions and pursuit of other endeavors such as film-making, and you have a potentially combustible flare-up waiting to happen. One would think that creator David Chase is setting up an inevitable Tony vs. Christopher finale – especially considering the ending of Christopher’s film project, “Cleaver” – but whenever you think you have The Sopranos figured out, Chase hits the monkey over the head with the wrench.

The first couple of episodes of the second part of the final season have dealt with Tony’s increased isolation, distrust and paranoia. As boss, is he surrounded merely by “yes” men, leeches who laugh at his bad jokes and impatiently wait for him to step aside? He’s let down every significant person in his life in some tangible way, so what is he left with? He has stared his own mortality in the face on multiple occasions, increasingly forcing him to evaluate what his life has become and whether he is ultimately turning into his mother. As he takes stock, Tony has become increasingly emotional and erratic, fearing his own death around every corner and seemingly helpless to alter his destiny or what will be written on his tombstone. This internal struggle has allowed Chase to tinker with the pacing during the final nine episodes, starting at a crawl and incrementally ramping up with the rhythm and tension of the show. As a result, The Sopranos takes on the qualities of percolation right now, a slow boil, a simmer that could spark at the slightest turn of a knob. Watching, you begin to wonder which friend is really a foe, which ally is really an enemy, with loyalist is a rat at heart. It all combines to make the final seven episodes a textbook case of dramatic television and storytelling … for a show that may never be adequately replaced.

They Arrested Him At “Hello”

An episode of “When Agents Attack” recently broke out in Newport Beach, Calif., where super-agent Leigh Steinberg turned Pacific Coast Highway into his own personal bowling alley. Soused behind the wheel, the 58-year-old bobblehead plowed into three parked cars, and as an encore, hopped the curb and knocked over a fire hydrant. I guess the sight of a 2002 Mercedes ML 500 careening off of other vehicles at one in the morning sent off warning bells for local authorities -- even in California. After he provided a blood sample, Steinberg was charged with suspicion of drunken driving.

"I know that it is not acceptable to get behind the wheel after having consumed any amount of alcohol,” said Steinberg in a statement. “I take full responsibility for my behavior, and I will take appropriate action to prevent any remotely similar behavior in the future.”

Admirable, but not true. You see, he was arrested 10 years prior in the same city for the same crime. I’d call that “remotely similar behavior.”

The basis for Tom Cruise’s lead character in “Jerry Maguire,” Steinberg was long considered the top agent in professional sports, boasting a client list that read like a “Who’s Who” of future Hall of Famers. However, based on reports that his client list is dwindling, maybe this is part of a new pitch. Perhaps he’s aligning himself with other habitual drunken drivers, a veritable “Agent to the Drunken Stars.” Not so fast, Nicole ... we said "stars."

Of course, one wonders whether this latest offense will involve being called to the “principal’s office,” for a word with new NFL commissioner Roger Gooddall. “The Commish” has put in a place a new Personal Conduct Policy aimed at disciplining players who go astray of the law, already resulting in a year-long suspension for Titans cornerback Pacman Jones and an eight-game suspension for Cincinnati Bengals wide receiver Chris Henry. Does this policy extend to large-noggined agents?

If not, I say that his punishment should be to involuntarily cast him in a quasi-“Surreal Life” reality show, forcing him to live with Pacman and “Puke Man” (so dubbed because of an incident where Henry vomited on the side of a car in which he was a passenger when the driver was pulled over for a DUI) as they try to find things to do during their exile from the NFL. Watch as Steinberg makes it rain while Pacman and Puke Man beat down some nappy-headed ‘hos. Hilarity ensues.

No truth to the rumor that, after hiring Chico’s Bail Bonds, Steinberg pointed to the jailer and quietly muttered, “Show them the money.”

Desperation Wins Out: Football In April

NC State held its annual Red-White spring game on Saturday afternoon, and the house was packed with fans eager to see new head man Tom O’Brien and see the progress in the three-headed quarterback battle between incumbent Daniel Evans, Nebraska transfer Harrison Beck and highly regarded redshirt freshman Justin Burke. Nearly 15,000 diehard Wolfpack fans were on hand during an occasionally gusty day, and they came away thinking that Evans is more than up to the challenge of retaining his starting job.

Evans brought the White team back from a 10-point deficit with a pair of late touchdown tosses to senior wideout Darrell Blackman, the last coming with just 16 seconds left to lift the White squad to a 35-31 victory. Here are some observations from the day:

• Evans hit 20 of 34 passes for 275 yards and three touchdowns, losing a fumble on a vicious hit. He moved well outside the pocket, threw the ball away when he had to, fitted the ball into small windows, and generally looked bigger and stronger than last year. His calm demeanor surfaced on the game-winning drive, and the offense appeared to run more confidently when he was at the helm.
• On the flip side, Beck and Burke struggled mightily. Beck has a very strong arm, which he apparently likes to show off. When in doubt, he would uncork the ball as far as he could, doing so on about five occasions during the day. He connected on just seven of 26 passes for 116 yards, with an interception. Burke was more accurate, drilling 13 of 24 passes for 121 yards -- but he tossed three picks on the afternoon. He got off to a jittery start, but popped up quickly each time he was hit by the pass rush and appeared to get into a rhythm later in the afternoon. However, both have to be considered a distant second to Evans following spring ball.
• The Toting Trio of Toney Baker, Andre Brown and Jamelle Eugene ran wild, combining for 449 yards and four touchdowns on 49 carries, averaging 9.2 yards per rush. Eugene had a 55-yard run among his many cutback rushes, but did cough the ball up twice. Baker punished defenders for 163 yards and two touchdowns, while Brown added 112 yards and two more scores. Suffice it to say that offensive coordinator Dana Bible is licking his chops at the prospect of having three starting-caliber tailbacks to move around like chess pieces within his offense.
• Blackman led the way in the receiving corps, reeling in six passes for 106 yards and two touchdowns, including a 50-yard perfect strike from Evans. However, he proceeded to rip off his helmet and receive an unsportsmanlike conduct penalty after his game-winning touchdown, bringing up bad memories of the Chuck Amato era. However, the referee pulled him aside afterward, and it appeared as if Blackman was explaining that he only did it because it was a scrimmage for the fans. No matter the reason, it’s the kind of crap that will earn you a spot in the dark back corner of Tommy O’Irish’s doghouse.
• Elsewhere in the receiving corps, another senior, John Dunlap, had six catches for 70 yards, including a 19-yard touchdowns, while sophomore Donald Bowens had six grabs for 69 yards and a score.
• God love ‘im, but even after being shifted from quarterback, Marcus Stone found a way to nearly throw an interception on a tight end option play. He tossed a pick on a similar play against EZU in last year’s season finale, so methinks it’s time to shred that particular page of the playbook.
• The revamped offensive line looked good, though the absence of injured senior defensive tackle DeMario Pressley certainly helped their cause. Behemoths Curtis Crouch and Jeraill McCuller were eager to pound someone, and most of the younger linemen did a good job of sustaining their blocks, something that has been missing the past couple of years.

• State did a great job of promoting and marketing the first annual Alumni Weekend, with 300 former football players attending a Friday night social gathering. They announced these players by decade at halftime of the spring game, highlighted by perennial Pro Bowler Torry Holt and Jets wideout Jerricho Cotchery. The first overall pick of the 2006 draft, the Texans’ Mario Williams, was sitting in one of the end zones in a tank top. He was Greg Oden before Greg Oden – looking roughly 32 when he was 18 years old – and he looked like he was sizing up the possibility of bench-pressing the Murphy Center. Great effort by O’Brien to make the alumni a big part of his program and making sure all ex-players feel welcome and included. There was a hole in the programs of both Amato and basketball coach Herb Sendek in this area, and O’Brien and Sidney Lowe have acted quickly and efficiently in correcting those errors.
• State is always going to be good on the defensive line. The names change, but the standouts emerge, and that appears to be the case again in 2007. Even a coupla walk-ons made some big plays in the scrimmage, and if the son of defensive line coach Keith Willis becomes immediately eligible to play, this unit becomes that much stronger.
• The linebacker play is a huge cause for concern, as many of the long running plays came on loss of containment following admittedly good cuts from the Pack tailbacks. Redshirt freshman Nate Irving stood out, looking quick to the ball and sneaky fast on blitzes, and Ray Michel is very promising as well. However, this unit has to be considered the weak link on defense, and the Red-White game did nothing to change that perception.
• The good news is senior corner Jimmie Sutton III was in position to interception three different passes. The bad news is he dropped every one. Levin Neal looked to have a leg up on locking down the other corner spot.
• Two promising young safeties emerged in true freshman Jimmaul Simmons and redshirt freshman Javon Walker. Simmons has been tabbed as a future outside linebacker after enrolling this spring, but to quote Lee Corse, “Not so fast, my friend.” His coast-to-coast 100-yard interception return for a touchdown, along with a handful of other plays, showed that he could be ready to stick at safety. Walker hauled in two picks of his own, displaying good range in the secondary. Considering the upperclassmen NC State has at safety in DaJuan Morgan and Miguel Scott, the play of Simmons and Walker was a good sign.
• Josh Czajkowski was perfect on extra points and drilled a 40-yard field goal into the wind, and later barely missed from about 55 yards or so. However, the fact that the Pack couldn’t even field a punter is cause for concern, placing a lot of pressure on Jeff Ruiz assuming the role immediately in the fall after he arrives from junior college.
• Telling quote from O’Brien at the end: “We take care of [penalties], and we compete the way we competed at the end, we’re going to win some football games here.”
• Nineteen potential recruiting targets were on hand for the spring game, plus nine of the Class of 2007 signees.

Editor’s Note: The pictures are courtesy of Pack Pride photo editor Jason Cole. Check out PackPride.com for more photos and coverage of the Red-White game.

Limerick Friday XXVII: Scooter Hits The Road

We saw her first at the Star Wars cantina
Her stockings captivated us all with their sheen-a
Sy Snootles admired her own chesty terrain
‘Til she was no longer master of her domain
As a bartender the only drink she knows is scotch and Aquafina

A hilariously hacked modest Web site
Gave he who uses jazz hands quite a fright
“Will they ever again believe that I have a love jones
From someone who doesn’t have a pair of cajones?”
Lives his life terrified that his secret will finally come to light

Pacman just got suspended for a year
Simply for living up to being a Mountaineer
Really, it’s from Las Vegas that he should be banned
Now he’s got more time to make it rain in the desert sand
Thug’s lucky he’s not in the joint trying to protect his rear

Kurt Vonnegut, may you rest in peace
“Slaughterhouse Five” was unquestionably a masterpiece
He wrote about the pointlessness of war
In a way that was anything but a boor
And he had a ‘stache that inspired Ken to make shaving cease

Actually taking me to Chili’s for my farewell lunch
I love their Farewell Vogie Hoagie quite a bunch
Hope for a waiter like Brian with lots of flair
Maybe order the Laid-Off Vogelsburger, extra rare
It’s going to be great unintentional comedy, I have a hunch

Limer-inks

Limerick Friday I

Limerick Friday II

Limerick Friday III

Limerick Friday IV

Limerick Friday V

Limerick Friday VI

Limerick Friday VII

Best of … Limerick Friday

Limerick Friday IX

Limerick Friday X

Limerick Friday XI

Limerick Friday XII

Limerick Friday XIII

Limerick Friday XIV

Limerick Friday XV

Limerick Friday XVI

Limerick Friday XVII

Limerick Friday XVIII

Limerick Friday XIX

Limerick Friday XX

Limerick Friday XXI

Limerick Friday XXII

Limerick Friday XXIII

Limerick Friday XXIV

Limerick Friday XXV

Limerick Friday XXVI

"Flawless Tiger Almost Finishes Alone In Second At Masters; Some Other Guy Wins"

“Augusta, Ga.—All-world golfer Tiger Woods captivated a worldwide audience and a throng of thousands at beautiful Augusta National, forging a memorable path down Magnolia Lane on a glorious Sunday afternoon. Woods’ prayers were answered after 'Amen Corner' when he hit a one-in-a-million wood into the 13th green, using the slope to filter the ball down to eagle range, which he converted. Masters officials convened briefly following the shot to discuss whether to hand him the trophy for the tournament then and there, but voted 4-3 (Hootie Johnson cast his ballot via telephone) to continue the event. Surprisingly, neither Woods nor his ball walked on water on the 15th hole, when Mother Nature herself intervened to put Tiger’s Nike ball – presented to him by Jesus himself earlier on Easter morning – into the water hazard. Yet the misstep could not besmirch an impeccable round of golf for the immortal Woods, who showed time and again why he is the greatest person in the history of the planet.

“On a related note, Zach Johnson won his first Masters today.”

If you spent any time at all watching the Masters this weekend, you might have thought that Tiger Woods was giving a lesson on the driving range to a group of Jerry’s Kids instead of competing in one of the sport’s most historic tournaments against the best the world has to offer. As commentators made excuse after excuse for Woods and tried to create drama by pumping up a feeble Tiger “charge” on the back nine, they neglected to note Johnson’s uncanny accuracy off the tee and deadly short game. Not only that, but they didn’t notice that Justin Rose was actually ahead of Woods until after he birdied the 16th to climb to within one of the lead. “By the way, Justin Rose has apparently drained a birdie putt to go to +2, which my calculator says is actually ahead of Woods. Can that be right?” Rose eventually caved into the pressure and duck-hooked a drive nearly into my living room, but it would have been nice of them to notice what he had done to put himself in contention.

Not only that, but after the match, the brain-dead announcers missed the obvious questions to the participants. Phil Mickelson was asked about the 2006 U.S. Open for some reason, which is strange because my cable box labeled this the 2007 Masters. Retief Goosen didn’t have to field any questions about why he laid up on both the 13th and 15th, which are reachable par-5s with a good drive. Zach Johnson was not queried as to his strategy in protecting the lead with layups and how he managed to look so comfortable in such treacherous conditions.

Of course, Masters tradition did add some comedy highlights post-match, with the previous year’s winner tabbed to put the green jacket on this year’s champion. Mickelson was forced to sit through an interminable interview between commentator Jim Nantz and Johnson, all but grimacing in the background. Add in the almost painful awkwardness involved in putting a jacket on another man and pretending to be happy for him, and it was reaching nearly mythical proportions of unintentional comedy. This is one of the Masters traditions that I love so much; as Jim Rome noted on his radio show, it should be extended even longer when the participants hate each other. For example, when Woods was forced to put the green jacket on Mickelson, they should have expanded the interview segment to 30 minutes; gone over each and every shot, hole by hole; brought in Mickelson’s caddy to discuss the yardage book; and introduced Mickelson’s wife (a Katie Couric look-a-like) and daughters for a playful celebration as Woods is forced to look on, grinding his teeth. A camera could then follow Woods outside as he bends a sand wedge around his caddy Stevie’s neck and then enjoys a post-match dump. “Back over to Butler Cabin, where Peter Kostis has a report on Woods!” “Yes, Jim, Tiger has apparently just dropped a deuce. ‘Oostie’ reports it is a bigger loaf than Jack ever deposited here!”

As to the guy who actually won, the announcers were all but screaming that Johnson is an unknown that no one has ever heard of, beyond his startling resemblance to Joaquin Phoenix. Of course, this ignores the fact that he was ON THE RYDER CUP team last year, arguably making him one of the top dozen players in the United States and one of the top 24 golfers in the WORLD. To his credit, Johnson was rewarded with an appearance on Late Show with David Letterman, where he recited the “Top 10 Things I Can Say Now That I’ve Won The Masters.” A highlight was No. 4: “I just wrote down ‘3’ for every hole. Nobody checked.” That made me laugh; I couldn’t help it.

Don’t get me wrong; it’s impressive that Tiger broke his 4-iron on a tree and that he scowled a lot and cursed under his breath and looked incensed enough to use his gigantic teeth to gnaw through some of the famed dogwoods, beaver style. He’s obviously an incredible player, but I don’t need a bunch of foreign blowhards to remind me of that every six seconds in a variety of annoying accents. CBS would do well to remember that there are some other fairly talented golfers in the game and that not all of them lay down when Woods passes — then wait in line to measure his Tiger droppings.

Knight’s Play in Apex: The Peak Of Bad Service

I recently went out to Knight’s Play in Apex to play some par-three golf with my two brothers and another friend. My previous experience at this establishment had been far less than satisfactory, and I had to be talked into giving the place another try. On my last visit, we ran into a crotchety old starter who didn’t see the common sense involved in letting a two-person group play off the middle set of nine holes instead of waiting behind 10 other groups, including foursomes with several small children. Not only that, but when we were rebuffed in our attempt to tee off on the available middle nine – we checked and there were no groups coming off the first nine anytime soon – he pursued the matter by bringing the “pro” in from the clubhouse to inform us of the rules. This Burl Ives look-a-like ruined our entire experience before we ever had an opportunity to tee off.

This time, our stay started off in a promising fashion. The attendant inside the clubhouse told us that we should play nine holes, then decide after that whether we wanted to play a full 18. Since our standards had been reduced so much by our previous visits, we ignored the ridiculous $15 fee for nine holes, the splotchy greens and the litter that dotted the course. Due to the cold conditions and the time, there weren’t many other groups on the course and we managed to have a good time through the first nine holes.

My older brother had called earlier in the day to see if the course was open on the Monday after Easter, and even though the Web site boasts that they are open until midnight, he was informed that they would be closing “around 10:30 or 11.” It seemed odd at the time, but we pressed on. Following our nine holes, we were still having a pretty good time and it wasn’t getting any colder, so we decided to continue playing. Since it was only about 9:20 or so, we knew we could get in another nine holes before they closed and then pay for the second nine on the way out, which they let you do. So we tee off on the first hole of the middle nine and start walking up toward the green when a combative old starter comes roaring up on a cart. He slams on his brakes and tells us that we only paid for nine holes. When we politely told him that the attendant had said we could play nine, decide if we wanted to play nine more and then pay afterward, he began shaking his head throughout the entire exchange:

Bitter Old Man: “We’re closing.”
Us: “What do you mean you’re closing?”
Bitter Old Man: “I mean we’re closing.”
Us: “We called earlier and they said that you would be open until 10:30 or 11.”
Bitter Old Man: “Yeah.”
Us: [long pause] “It’s um … not even 9:30.”
Bitter Old Man: [shaking head] “We’re closing.”
Us: “So we can’t play anymore?”
Bitter Old Man: “We’re closing … and d;lainf;iadfieq;lidmgmb” [trails off, mumbling incoherently]
Us: “What if we had paid for 18 holes from the start. Would you still be ‘closing’?”
Bitter Old Man: “We’re closing … and ;aildfbeqitum,bancioa” [trails off, mumbling incoherently, staring into the distance]
Us: [look at each other, confused, stunned into silence]
Bitter Old Man: [drives off, still mumbling]

This was the second straight mind-numbing experience we had had at Knight’s Play and the second time we had left the place shaking our heads. With one bad customer-service exchange, you can chalk it up to possibly being unlucky enough to run into someone not having a good day or with spoiled Depends or maybe even drunk. When it happens twice, it confirms that they are not interested in any way in your patronage. Since Knight’s Play is the only par-three course that is open in the evenings, they can aim their service at the lowest common denominator, charge a horrible fee, not keep up their landscaping and treat their customers like crap because they feel they have a monopoly.

Except did you know that you can go to a driving range AND play a full round of golf on a real course for the same amount of money that you would pay for playing 18 holes at Knight’s Play? Did you know that you can find great deals in Raleigh to play on courses that are well-maintained, with greens that don’t resemble a minefield in East Kuwait? Did you know you can deal with knowledgeable starters and course attendants who are legitimately happy that you are playing on their course and actually want you to return?

So just say no to Knight’s Play. If you’re a beginner-to-intermediate player, check out a fun, accessible, pretty course like Brevofield out in Wake Forest. If you’re looking for other options, click on this list of Raleigh golf links or on this course directory for Raleigh and Durham. You’ll be able to pinpoint a challenging course that will make for a terrific day of golf with your friends.

And if you leave the course shaking your head, it will be because you three-putted every other green -- and not because you ran into power-hungry octogenarians who are angry at the world and determined to take it out on their “customers.”

"Damn You People. Go Back To Your Shanties."

"Happy Gilmore" is a guilty-pleasure movie from way back when (1996), at a time when Adam Sandler hadn't become completely annoying. As Shooter McGavin, Christopher McDonald was at his absolute best, even better than when he played "Adult Jake" in "My Sexiest Year."

Apparently, McDonald has reprised the role of Shooter for a suspense-filled new drama ..

Limerick Friday XXVI: The Week The Blogs Died

Fellow bloggers should be embarrassed by this week
Your efforts on your sites can only be called meek
From Will, no tales of his disturbing “bachelor” pad
From Casie, no drunken stories that drive a hobbit mad
Next week, try to be creative instead of weak

Florida picked up another championship ring
For the Buckeyes, that’s got to be quite a sting
In basketball, the Gators won back to back
In football, they treated Ohio State like a hacky sack
Now Noah is about to be named the Neanderthal French king

The Mounties have their sights set on the Mark, it seems
The Martin Clan seems to have a penchant for crime scenes
It’s serious if Canada is digging around down this way
Asking, “What do you know about this jackass, eh?”
I do have to say that dude looked creepy when he saw Kya’s high beams

The Masters is underway and getting into full swing
A lot to enjoy even if golf just ain’t your thing
You have to love “Hello, friends” and Magnolia Lane
And Jim Nance crying as he discusses swing plane
And even trying to figure out, “What the hell is Vijay Singh?”

Stealing is a crime, this is true
Forgot about credit where credit is due
You’ve made an art out of how to plagiarize
Now, just admit that you’re into guys
Or is that another final gift, too?

Limer-inks

Limerick Friday I

Limerick Friday II

Limerick Friday III

Limerick Friday IV

Limerick Friday V

Limerick Friday VI

Limerick Friday VII

Best of … Limerick Friday

Limerick Friday IX

Limerick Friday X

Limerick Friday XI

Limerick Friday XII

Limerick Friday XIII

Limerick Friday XIV

Limerick Friday XV

Limerick Friday XVI

Limerick Friday XVII

Limerick Friday XVIII

Limerick Friday XIX

Limerick Friday XX

Limerick Friday XXI

Limerick Friday XXII

Limerick Friday XXIII

Limerick Friday XXIV

Limerick Friday XXV

"Sweet Fancy Moses!"

When Hump Day gives you the midweek blues, just do what Elaine does and give it "little kicks" right back.

Sadly, the "Little Kicks" dance may be better than the moves exhibited in yesterday's post ...



As an added bonus, we're given a little-known, underrated toast:

"Here's to those who wish as well
And those who don't can go to hell"

Well-said.

Bushies Get Jiggy With It

Nothing makes a lying world leader more nervous than having to be near a bunch of sweating, gyrating Brazilians ... well, maybe Scooter Libby under oath and a line of cocaine under a box held up a stick with a string attached. And well, maybe having to dance around a bunch of Brazilians.

The below video is worth watching if only to see W's horrific non-rhythm, punctuated by a staggeringly awkward high-five attempt with one of the dancers; Laura's borderline Running Man dance comingled with a Tin Man impression; and Condi applying a Hee Haw-worthy, hoe-down, line dance to a Hispanic drum beat. You would figure that three people focused on lying and destroying the world would be able to at least tap dance (around the truth) a little bit ... all that was missing was "Juwanna Mann" (Joahkhim Noah) having a seizure/dry heave in the background.

Good times ...

“Reign Over Me” Poignantly Examines 9/11’s Ripple Effect

Following 9/11, there appeared to be an uneasy truce within the movie industry that an undisclosed waiting period would have to be endured before movies could be released about the tragedy and studios could begin capitalizing financially. Five years later, “United 93” and “World Trade Center” were released, likely opening the floodgates for a host of films on the subject. That’s why a movie such as “Reign Over Me” serves as a refreshing departure from the in-your-face, grittily detailed projects, functioning as a more subtle vehicle to show the impact borne by those who were left behind, the survivors who carry loss around with them each and every day on the same streets that once meant something different.

“Reign Over Me” covers the tale of Charlie Fineman (Adam Sandler), a lost soul who said goodbye to his roles as husband, father and dentist after his wife and three daughters were killed on one of the terrorist flights on 9/11. Eerily resembling Bob Dylan, Fineman shuffles his way through the remainder of his life, wandering through the deserted streets of Manhattan on his electric scooter as the rest of the world sleeps and confining himself to his apartment to play the video game Shadow of the Colossus while the rest of society endures the ebbs and flows of workaday life. He is literally and figuratively living his life backwards, tuning out the present with his ever-present iPod, listening to 1970s and 1980s music, staving off the memories in the best and only way he can.

Alan Johnson (Don Cheadle) is a successful dentist with a beautiful wife (Jada Pinkett-Smith), two daughters and a thriving practice. Beneath the façade, however, he feels disrespected and unfulfilled at work and stifled at home, locked into photography classes and puzzles with his wife and picking up his daughters from ballet and soccer. Less obviously than Charlie, Alan is also trapped, his being an estrogen-dominated world. He sees his former college roommate, Charlie, scooting around the streets a couple of times and eventually catches up to him, knowing that Charlie lost his family and has been out of touch for years and years. Charlie doesn't even recognize Alan or recall going to dental school, leading Alan to wonder what has happened inside his one-time friend to create this parallel existence for him. What begins is a give-and-take, back-and-forth relationship in which Charlie and Alan are trying to help the other in their own way.

Writer, director and comedian Mike Binder, who shone on the excellent, underrated “Mind of the Married Man” and “The Upside of Anger” weaves in and out of the lives of these two men without being overtly sentimental or maudlin, a careful dance. Relying heavily on symbolism that is rampant — but not obvious — Binder creates a world where Alan is allowed to live on “Charlie Time” as long as he obeys the unwritten rule and doesn’t delve too deeply into their shared past or ask about the family that Charlie has pushed into the back of his mind. Every time Alan willingly or unwittingly crosses into that territory, he’s met with anger, rage and aggression from Charlie … who eventually always comes back to the one and only friend he has left. Wealthy due to government payouts and insurance policies, Charlie still lives in the same apartment his family shared, in a constant state of atonement only he can perceive and make sense of. He continually revamps the kitchen, only to tear it to pieces and start again. Why? Because this way the last major project his wife had given him, the basis for an argument that constituted their last words before she and the girls were ripped from him, combining elements of post-traumatic stress order and obsessive-compulsive tendencies. Binder asks us to imagine having a fight be the last communication with a loved one before they died unexpectedly, a very real and problematic possibility.

It’s a dream role for Sandler, as the perpetual funny man who has been trying like hell to make the leap into a serious actor. He’s able to blend fragility, humor and charm into a mix that is hard to ignore, punctuated by heavy scenes where he finally lets down the veil and acknowledges that his compartmentalized past is not so far from the surface after all. Village Voice compares his role to Bill Murray’s turn in “Lost in Translation,” while the New York Daily News and Baltimore Sun also laud his performance. Sandler is indeed at his best as the wounded, disengaged, perpetually adolescent drifter. When Alan learns that his father passed away while he and Charlie were watching a movie, Charlie’s response is whether Alan wants to go for breakfast or Chinese food. When Alan is understandably aghast at Charlie’s lack of compassion, Charlie sends his business manager to give him a million dollars as a way of saying sorry. These occurrences help us to see the level of denial with which Charlie is and has been enduring.

Yet it is Cheadle who sparkles in this film, as has become his custom in most of his work. Despite the outside appearance of success and happiness, he is brooding and dissatisfied, coming to the realization that, like Charlie, he has no true friends or outlets. Playing Shadows of the Collosus, sitting through Mel Brooks marathons, riding on the back of a scooter through crazy traffic, eating Chinese food in the middle of the night … these are as cathartic to him as they are to Charlie, even if Alan passes the time off as his way of “helping” Charlie.

To be fair, the Rolling Stone brings up some potential holes in the film, though in my opinion they harp way too much on these minor details and miss the over-arcing picture. Pinkett-Smith is admittedly underutilized as the wife, Saffron Burrows is a somewhat-convenient vehicle as the Alan-stalked-turned-Charlie-love-interest, and Liv Tyler misses the mark as a weak and pliable therapist, but the Sandler-Cheadle dynamic more than makes up for these mishits.

In the end, Binder comes up with the perfect ending to a movie that must have been incredibly tricky to end without coming across as Pollyanna-ish or too tidy. He uses music (“Love, Reign O’er Me,” the song that inspired the title, is a Who tune once described by Pete Townshend as dealing with someone going through a “suicide crisis,” making it ideally relevant) and the scooter as bridges between the past and the future and Charlie’s world and the real world. Binder even manages to bring up questions involving the justice system, whether grief can be measured on legal time, when it is OK to give up on someone, and how quickly people are discarded into the mental health system and deemed broken and unfixable. The result is a terrific flick, one of first and perhaps finest that has gone beyond the actual playing out of 9/11 into the mode of the survivor, those left behind to pick up the pieces and how they are often paid off and forgotten.

Whether the Oscar juggernaut is brave enough to recognize Sandler, Cheadle, Binder and “Reign Over Me” and match the courage it took to make this film remains to be seen, so you may have to judge for yourself whether this is a landmark movie or just another take on a tragedy. The truth may lie somewhere closer to the middle, but this is among the more poignant and well-crafted films I have seen of late.